Page 113 of After We Fall

“And how do you know what it means?”

“Because we worked on it all last week.”

“Was that a hard word for you to learn?”

“No.”

“Did you ever struggle with its meaning?”

“No. We talked about this. All of those cop shows I like have people canvassing the neighborhoods all the time. What’s going on with you, Miss Penelope?”

I level my eyes with hers. “Are you purposefully underperforming?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your vocabulary.” I nod, remembering the times she has confused words. Arbitrary for dysentery, unkempt for verklempt, plutonium for pandemonium. “For months, you’ve been working on your vocabulary by yourself, but you often confuse similar-sounding words and their meanings when you talk to others. But since my accident, I’ve been working with you one-on-one. You’re sharper than a tack. It takes you very little time to memorize meanings and use the words appropriately. I’ve never seen you mix up words while you’re learning them.”

She looks away. Swallows.

I take a step toward her and gentle my voice before I lay out my final piece of evidence. “I know you know the word ‘canvass,’ which is why I was surprised to hear from Claire on New Year’s Eve that you mixed it up with ‘tyrannous.’ But you just proved my point by using it correctly right here in this kitchen without batting an eye.”

Gnawing at her bottom lip, she stares at her uniform tennis shoes.

“Tanya, why don’t you want anyone to know how smart you are?”

She shoots her head up, her eyes glistening with painful vulnerability. “Because I don’t want to have to leave the ranch,” she whispers.

Her answer hits me square in the chest, and all the pieces fall into place. “You think that if you succeed here at the house, you’ll get kicked out.”

A lone tear falls down her cheek.

That one tear solidifies what I’ve always known about this ranch. Twelve Bluebells reaches in and wraps its arms around the souls of those of us who don’t have anywhere to belong.

“Tanya, there’s going to come a day when you won’t be able to hide your intelligence and your strength anymore. It already seeps out sideways when you have your guard down. The insight you have for Finley. The fierce protectiveness you show to Bianca. Your commitment to serve others through your job in the Alzheimer’s unit. And someday, you’re going to finally let the world see the whole of you.” I lean in. “And that day will be brilliant.”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

“In the meantime, you’re not going to lose your place here, Tanya. It’s your home. And it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

In a moment so quick I don’t anticipate it coming, Tanya throws her arms around me, squeezing so tightly I lose my breath. “Thank you, Penny Lady,” she whispers in my ear. And just like that, she’s gone. Taking a piece of my heart with her.

I pull my thin black sweater down, smoothing it out at the waist, and turn to the stove. The black-eyed peas simmer, bubbles rising around the inside edge of the stainless-steel pan.

I belong here too.

Meredith might not see me as an automatic option for the program director. Maybe I, too, have hidden who I am. Maybe I’ve hidden behind my job at Harlan’s consulting business. Maybe I haven’t revealed to her the wisdom and strength that I could put into the ranch. I’ve hidden pieces of me as well.

I don’t know if Meredith views me as a candidate for the job or not. I’m not perfect for it. The fact is, Finley was my responsibility when she left the ranch. And as I manage headaches, I’m not as on top of my game as I have been. But I can’t hide behind my fears. I have to show Meredith who I am. I have to show her what I want.

And I have an idea of how I could do just that.

I can’t wait to run it past Luke.

As I smile into the beans, the alarm beeps again to note the front door opening. I glance at the clock on the microwave. It must be Luke. Butterflies sail through my stomach, and I steady my voice. “Luke?”

I turn the knob of the gas stove, but instead of flipping the burner off, I mistakenly increase the flame. My other hand jerks the spoonula, throwing a small dollop of black-eyed peas on the counter. “Shoot.”

Heavy footsteps enter the kitchen but stop at the entrance.