Rustic Hearts

Sophie

I barricade myself in the bathroom for way too long. A mini breakdown is had. I didn’t realize how enormous the flood of emotions would be when they finally washed over me, memories crashing over me like waves. This place was my home. This house was where I learned how to walk and talk. I learned to ride my bike on the driveway out front, and I fell from my horse and broke my left arm when she was spooked by a rattlesnake out by the big barn. It’s where Dallas and I played and where she kissed Myer Wilson—a boy we had both been crushing on since third grade—during a cutthroat game of Truth or Dare. I didn’t speak to her for three whole days after that.

This ranch is where I learned to milk a cow, how to saddle and brush my own mare. I was my daddy’s shadow, following him all day long as he worked this ranch. I woke up with him before the sun every day. During the school year, I would help him feed the cows, horses, and chickens before I caught the bus. On summer days, I would spend hours helping him and Emmett mend fences and build new coops. This is where I picked up a charcoal pencil for the first time and started drawing. I would sketch the landscape or the house and barn and present the masterpieces to Gram. She would proudly display them all on the refrigerator door. This place is where I became me.

I wash my hands and look up into the mirror above the sink. I brush my carefully curled hair behind one shoulder with my perfectly manicured fingers. My makeup is flawless. I’m a far cry from the tomboy who used to climb trees and shovel stalls. That girl doesn’t exist anymore, except for in my dreams. My armor is securely in place.

A small knock at the door startles me.

“You okay in there, Sophie Doe?” Aunt Doreen’s muffled voice comes from the other side. Concern evident in her question.

“Yes, I’ll be out in just a minute,” I call back.

I take one last look in the mirror and take a deep breath. I have come this far, no reason to chicken out now.

“You’re not a little girl anymore. You can put on your big-girl socks and handle your feelings. Be brave.” I give myself the small pep talk, and then I open the door and walk to the living room.

Everyone is awkwardly standing around, waiting for me.

Madeline is the first to speak, “You want supper, Sophie?”

I ate on the plane a few hours ago, but I could eat again.

I shrug in response.

She claps her hands together. “Perfect. We’ll get you settled in, and then we’ll have supper on the picnic table out back. It’s such a nice night.”

I see my suitcase sitting at the end of the couch, so I pick it up. “I’ll change and come help with di

I turn from the room and walk through the archway leading to the hall where the downstairs bedrooms are located. I make it a few steps when Aunt Doreen races up behind me.

I reach the last door on the right, and as I open the door, I hear her voice. “Sophie, you’re staying in my room, sweetheart.”

The door swings open to my childhood bedroom, and I’m assaulted by every shade of purple known to man. The walls are pale lavender, and the bedding is a bold, royal hue. Polka-dotted throw pillows are strewed about the floor. There is a vanity in the corner where my desk used to be, and it is covered in makeup and hair products. Stuffed animals are crowded in the reading nook below the large bay windows that look out into the backyard.

I stop and stare.

My heart drops.

All my things are gone. Not that I honestly expected it to be the same as it was when I left. Did I?

Maybe I hoped it would be. That my daddy had kept my things the way they were when I left as a shrine and that, from time to time, he would open the door and sit on my bed and miss me the way I missed him.

“This is Elle’s bedroom now,” she says hesitantly as she falls in behind me.

“I can see that.”

I swallow back the tears and turn back toward the living room.

“I think maybe I should go,” I say as I keep my head down and march back down the hall.

“Go? Go where?” she asks as I squeeze past her.

“I can get a room at a hotel in town. I’m only going to be here a few days anyway.” I try to sound nonchalant as I look to escape.

“Oh no, Sophie. You don’t have to do that.”

I raise my head as I make it back into the room with the others. All eyes are on me. I find my daddy standing in the entryway between the living room and kitchen with his arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with disapproving eyes.

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. Obviously, there isn’t any room for me here anymore.”

That’s when I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and I swipe at it as embarrassment fills me.

Daddy clears his throat. “Doreen is staying in Ria’s room with her. They stay up half the night, watching that Netstick thingy, and she falls asleep in there most of the time anyway.”

“He means, Netflix. We are watching The Crown. It’s so good,” Aunt Ria interjects.

He cuts his eyes to her and then rolls them. I guess he’s not a fan of Netflix. Or the British monarchy. Probably both.

“It’s true. We’re late-night binge-watchers. I’ve fixed my room up nicely for you. It’s quiet up there. You will be glad to be on the third floor when these loud rascals get up and stomp around that kitchen at four a.m.,” Aunt Doreen adds.

I turn to face her. “Please,” I choke on a whisper, “can you drive me into town?”

“Honey, there’s only one hotel in town and then the bed-and-breakfast on Route 3. Both are going to be full because of the Apple Festival next week.”

“This is your home as much as it is anyone’s.” Daddy’s voice booms across the room. “Elle was afraid of the dark when she was little. She wanted to be down here, close to us, when she woke up scared at night. She took your room. Not your place in this family,” he says all matter-of-factly. Embarrassing me further by making my tears seem ridiculous.

“Okay.” I nod my head at Aunt Doreen in defeat and head to the stairs without looking back at everyone.

“It’s the first door on the right off of the landing on the third floor. It has its own bathroom,” she calls after me.

As I pass the front door, Braxton walks in from the porch and catches my eyes.

He gives me a concerned look for a split second, and then he walks fully in and past me without saying a word.

Great. The last thing I wanted was for the evil step-whatever to see me this upset.

Why did I let Charlotte talk me into this trip?