Page 65 of Cherry Tree Ranch

“We didn’t want you to be afraid. You’ve always loved this place like it’s a part of you. No, it’s bigger than that. I didn’t want to break your heart if it scared you. I wanted you to be old enough to understand what you feel about the ranch is more important than the stories you’re told, or what others believe. Sometimes as parents we go too far in protecting our children. You’ll understand some day if you have babies of your own. But it’s about time for the truth, isn’t it?”

My eyes widen and my mouth parts. “You haven’t been telling me the truth?” My heart thunders in my chest. Feeling slightly betrayed, but also incredibly eager, I’m on the edge of my seat.

“Not the whole truth,” she says, studying her empty coffee mug as though she wishes it would refill itself. I put out my hand to get her more, but she waves it away. “When you were only two years old, you told me about Dottie and Daisy.”

“I … what?”

“It was little things you said, stories you told me. Things about the desk in the barn and how a lady fell off the cliffs. There were many details in between, all in toddler language, of course. There were even times when you used slang words, and I didn’t understand where you’d got them from.” She chuckles at the utter shock on my face. “I had to look them up, and found out they were terms from the 1920s. My favourite one was ‘horsefeathers’.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, a little terrified and completely intrigued.

“Darn,” Mom says, grimacing like a toddler. “You’d stomp your feet, clench your fists, and say, ‘Horsefeathers!’ You even told me the lady – Daisy – fell on her head.”

“What?” I cover my mouth with my hand.

“Let me finish, let me finish. Sometimes, you’d grab your own head and say, ‘Mama, she fell.’ At first, I thought you’d actually fallen. Then I’d ask where you fell from, and the answer was always the same. ‘Cliffs.’”

“And … I’ve always had a phobia of falling,” I say slowly.

Mom nods. “I never really liked going near the cliffs after that. Stopped picking the blue sage with you and Grandpa. I’m not sure exactly what you meant by all of it – it could’ve been a vivid imagination – but little kids can sense things, and I think you feel the energy of this place very strongly.” She shrugs. Then she puts up a finger. “Or maybe … just maybe … Daisy’s soul was reborn in you.” She peers at me. “Did you know some people believe souls reincarnate several times?”

“Wait a minute. Reincarnate?”

Mom smiles. “Not everyone believes in that kind of thing, of course, but, in my opinion, there are too many lessons to master in just one short life.”

“No…” I draw out. “I know you’ve always believed in that kind of thing, but … but wouldn’t I know?” My heart races. I think of the dreams I’ve had, of little glimmers that seem taken from another time. The way I can slot myself into Daisy’s shoes in my imagination with such ease.

“Maybe you did know. You remembered when you were little. Growing up has a way of blinding us to certain truths.”

“You think that’s why I’m afraid of falling? Because I was Daisy?”

“There are lots of possibilities, but that makes the most sense to me,” Mom says. “I can’t tell you what to believe, honey.”

I wrinkle my forehead. In all my wildest dreams, this is not what I was expecting my mom to say. I take sharp breaths for several beats. Then I remember something.

“Cash said his mom thinks the birthmark on his neck is from a past life.”

“Sounds like I need to meet this woman. I’ve heard that about birthmarks before.” She puts her hand out and pats my shoulder. “And you do have that mark on your head.”

“I know,” I say into my hands. “This is a little too crazy.”

“You said you’ve been having dreams about the ranch too, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’ve been reading all those letters.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Or dreams could be how you connect to her.”

“Like some sort of clairvoyance?”

“Dahlia, my love, I wish I could tell you for sure. All I know is those stories you told were impossible for you to know at that age.” She rests her palm on my forearm and I look up. “This ranch is special to you, and that’s the important thing – regardless of the reason.”

I nod, and eat up the last bite of my pie for comfort. I use my spoon to scoop up the sweet, melted ice cream at the bottom. It makes me think of Emery. Her favourite dessert is ice-cream cake. Her birthday is coming up, and she’s been good to me lately. I’d like to do something special for her.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I’ve got something for you, Cash texts, waking me.

We’ve traded texts back and forth every day for the last ten days, though I refused to let him come and help pick cherries, despite his insistence. I’ve picked at night. I’ve picked during the day, and I’ve practically been picking in my sleep. Emery helped me bring the cherries to the market on Thursday in her truck, but I underestimated how much extra work it was going to be without Cash. Getting some distance and headspace while the online storm calms down has been the right thing, but it’s been hard work.