This is my place. I bared my soul on this very rock, in these very waters in the days, months, and years after my dad took his life. I cursed God. I cursed Jonathan Berkshire. I swore revenge, and I thought I’d finally made peace with my father’s death. Thought.
But I’ve never felt rage hit me like it did when Jonathan introduced himself and I realized Holt had lied to me. In that flash of a moment, I realized I’d never truly be at peace with my father’s death. I’ll always be broken.
I pull my knees tightly to my chest and let the crisp autumn air sting my tender face. There is absolutely nothing better than fall in the Midwest. You can smell the change of the seasons in the air. The trees are colorful, full of vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows, and yet the grass is still green. It will be until the first freeze.
I sit in the silence for a while when Murphy lets out a quick bark and lifts his head, looking behind me. His ears perk up as I hear the footsteps approach from behind me. As I’ve always been able to, I can smell him. I can feel him. I’ve always been able to sense his presence. My heart races and I will myself not to turn around to look at him. I’m not ready. He betrayed me.
“Hey, old guy,” he says as he walks right past me and over to where Murphy lies in the grass.
I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye as he kneels down next to Murphy and runs his fingers through his thick fur. Murphy lets out an audible moan as he rubs that sweet spot behind his ears, his favorite spot to be rubbed.
“Traitor,” I whisper under my breath while my dog rests his head on Holt’s thigh, soaking up the attention.
“It’s beautiful here,” Holt says, his back to me.
Whether he’s talking to himself, Murphy, or me, I have no idea, but I don’t respond. I won’t deny his words because he’s right, but I’m not going to answer him. This farm, this land is the most beautiful place on earth. This is my home; it always will be.
After a long moment, he stands up and brushes off his jeans. Even dressed casually, Holt is the epitome of a runway model. Worn jeans and a cream sweater, he looks like a J Crew model, but I keep my eyes fixed on the creek. His feet shuffle through the long grass over to the boulder I’m sitting on.
I can’t be near him. I’m not ready for this. I slide down the opposite side. “Let’s go, Murph.” Murphy struggles to get up, his old legs shaking, and it takes a few seconds for him to get moving. “Come on, boy,” I encourage him, and he begins a slow, stiff walk over to me.
“Saige,” Holt calls to me from behind.
I don’t answer him, but I turn around to look at him.
His eyes are sad and dark circles have settled under them. “I’m not here to try and change your mind. I’m not here to grovel for your forgiveness because I know I’m not worthy of that. I just came to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know my words are meaningless because I lied to you. But I mean it when I say I never wanted to hurt you, Saige.” He takes a deep breath and tips his head back, pointing his face to the sky while shoving his hands in his pockets.
My emotions fluctuate between anger and hurt. “Is that all?” I back away further from him. It’s hard to be close to him because, even though I want to hate him, I still love him. I’ll always love him. But I don’t let any of that show. I keep my face devoid of any emotion. “Because I have to get back to the house.”
He blows a puff of air from his mouth and looks at me sadly. “You know, I hired you because I wanted to do something good. My father destroyed many families, Saige. Not just yours. He robbed countless families, most of them close friends of his, and he got away with it. He walked away scot-free, leaving a trail of destruction behind him, and I’ve spent the last thirteen years trying to make up for his sins.”
He clears his throat. “He destroyed our family too, Saige. My mom walked away with nothing. She wanted nothing from that marriage. She believed nothing he provided for us was earned, and assumed everything we had was stolen from others.” He raises his voice.
Rage fills me, and I don’t know why, but I become emotional, feeling my throat clench. “Do you want me to feel sorry for you, Holt? Because I’m really struggling to find a sympathetic bone in my body right now for your luxurious upbringing—”