Page 34 of A Bittersweet Summer

“Hello?”

The familiar voice calls down the aisle to the tack room, where I finish wiping off the bit to one of the bridals.

“Tack room,” I shout, leading my mother through the barn in a sad game of Marco Polo.

Gentle knocking sounds on the wood by the entrance, and I turn to see her sandy hair twisted into a claw clip, the wrinkles around her hazel eyes more pronounced. It’s like looking at my sister with a few more years added to her age and a heavy dose of steady and stable added to her personality.

“Hi, Mom.” I place the bridle on the hook, plucking the next to wipe down.

“Hello, my son, I never see nor hear from.”

I let out a heavy breath, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. She’s never once passed up the opportunity to guilt-trip one of her children.

“You know how busy it gets around here,” I start with a million other excuses on the tip of my tongue. I shove them down. They’re pointless when she’s like this. “It’s good to see you.”

“You as well.” My mom moves into the tackroom, planting herself on the chest by the door. With her arms folded across her chest, I know she’s come here on a mission—there’s something she wants.

“Have you talked to Rosemary?”

Rosemary.

Not Roe.

“What did she do now?” I question, giving up on the bridal and turning to face my mother fully. “Since it seems to be upsetting you.”

My mom shrugs in a sad attempt to feign indifference. “I was just wondering. We saw her a month ago and had a great conversation about her future. I just wondered if you’d heard anything.”

Conversations with Rosemary about the future never end well, and quite frankly, shouldn’t exist.

Roe knows she wants to do music, but beyond that, nothing has ever been planned in that woman’s life.

It can be irritating. Like when she shows up at random expecting a place to stay, but Roe is a catalyst; she often pushes those around her to take risks—to question what they truly want. And she does that by being unabashedly herself.

“She stayed at the main house when she was visiting,” I answer. “Got a new employee in Grammie’s house.”

My mom cocks her head to the side. “Poor timing for that, I suppose. I thought Roe might need the place. I suppose she could stay with me, though the apartment tends to be small for the both of us. Her large personality equates to at least three roommates.”

My face falls flat. “She’s your daughter,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“And I love her dearly, Wes. Same as you. But adulthood has made us incompatible roommates. I think it’s the fact that she hasn’t really grown into adulthood at all.”

My mind flashes memories of arguments and flying hairbrushes. My mother, like most women, has a strong sense of what should be done and how it should be done. Having a daughter like my sister proved to be trying for her. While my father took a different approach, one focused on freedom and a gentler guiding hand, my mother always believed Rosemary needed more structure.

Roe did not.

“She can stay at the main house,” I offer. “It’s just me.”

My mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Wesley. What if you meet a woman? I can’t expect to get any grandkids out of you if your sister is keeping any self-respecting woman from giving you a chance by bumming off you.”

“Mom.” I grind the words out like a warning. Despite it all, despite taking on the farm and keeping it running smoothly, nothing I’ve ever done will be enough or quite right. I can see why my sister longed to get out of the cage, why she couldn’t settle here. I, on the other hand, built a bed and got comfortable within the confines of my mother’s expectations.

Even so, it isn’t enough.

It’s not that I don’t love Miller Run deeply; it’s that my dreams aligned with hers, and she somehow remains unhappy. I can’t imagine how Roe must feel.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sure it would be temporary, and Roe would be able to get her own place if she chose to. She’s fully capable.”

“Of course she’s capable, Wesley. The question is, does she want a normal life bad enough to fight for it? My guess is no. She’ll just keep moving where the wind blows if we let her.”