“Then make me understand what makes you so different from your sister. Because I’m guessing it had to do with the fact that you had to leave your childhood behind in a hurry to take over this farm.”
Emily went to him and put a hand on his arm. “Please, Luke. I shared bits of my story with you. Can’t you do the same? Maybe talking about it will help.”
“All the talking in the world won’t change things,” he bit out.
“But it might make you feel less alone,” she reasoned. “I know I felt better after talking to you. What happened to your father?”
It was quiet for several seconds and Emily didn’t think he was going to answer. But then his voice came, low and raspy, as if the words were struggling to get out.
“Dad had been acting weird for a while. We’d all noticed it, but after Mom died…it was clear there was more to it than simple stress forgetfulness. It wasn’t until he nearly burned down the house making eggs in the middle of the night that we couldn’t ignore it any more.”
“What happened? What was wrong with your father?”
“Early-onset Alzheimer’s. Dad’s been in a care home since. Over the years it’s got progressively worse. Not so much at first. Sometimes the fog would clear and we had good visits, you know? We could talk about the farm, the girls, my mom. But those times got fewer and farther between and lately…he’s really gone downhill. I don’t expect he’s got much time left.”
Emily remembered the pictures on the old radio in the living room. The first day, she’d seen Luke’s face turn sad as he looked at the picture of his parents. The bedroom upstairs, with its faded doilies and chenille spread, looking lost and abandoned…she’d bet now that no one had slept there since his father had been put in care. And he had given it to her. She felt a little weird about that, but honored, too. What a heart-breaking decision to have to make about your one remaining parent.
“Liz mentioned you having power of attorney. That means the decision fell to you, didn’t it?”
He lifted tortured eyes to hers. “Yes. As well as the day-to-day running of the farm, and looking after the girls.”
“But surely they were grown enough to look after themselves…”
Luke laughed, but it was laced with pain. “Cooking, laundry, cleaning, yes. But at fifteen and nearly seventeen, they needed guidance. I was twenty. My prized possession was my truck. I wasn’t ready to be a parent to two hormonal teenage girls. I wasn’t that much older than they were and I was trying to keep them from making mistakes. Trying to make sure they finished school, had opportunities, you know?”
“And so you sacrificed yourself.”
“What else could I have done? And look at them. They graduated, got jobs, met fine men and started families. You can imagine what a relief that is. Think if it were Sam.”
He’d been taking on responsibility all his adult life. And she’d been whining about her problems yesterday. Luke had been so understanding. More than understanding—caring.
She had been in danger of caring right back, and this new knowledge touched her, making her respect him even more. Making her grieve a little bit for the young man who had had to grow up so quickly. “And all this while you grieved for your parents.”
His eyes shone for a few moments until he blinked.
“What did you give up, Luke? You put the girls first, so what dreams did you put aside for later?”
Luke put the bottle beside the empty plate and placed his hands on his knees. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I think it does. You were twenty, carefree and with your life ahead of you. That must have been cut short…”
“I worked on the farm for a year, but I’d planned on going to college. I wanted to study genetics so I could play with our breeding program. The idea of going away for a while was exciting. Even after Mom died, I only planned to stay a year to help and then I’d be off. But as things progressed with Dad, I knew I couldn’t leave. My responsibility was to the family, and to abandon them would have been the height of selfishness.”
He gave her a knowing look. “You know as well as I do that you put family first. You’d do it for Sam. You’re doing it for him now by making a life for him. But Emily, don’t give up on your dreams either. You give up on them and you’ll end up old and bitter like me.”
Luke got up from his stool, worry lines marring his tanned brow. He reached out for her arm, but seemed to remember the state of his hands and pulled back. Emily felt the connection just the same as if he’d touched her.
She met his gaze. The connection seemed to hum between them every time their eyes met, but she would not shy away from eye contact. She was stronger than that. “You are not old and bitter,” she whispered.
“Em…”
She swallowed. Luke was standing in front of her car now, his thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. For a moment she remembered what it had been like when he’d stepped forward and kissed her, so commanding and yet gentle. There could be no more repeats of that. He was right. She couldn’t give up on her dreams, even if right now that meant doing the right thing for Sam.
“Why don’t you go back and get your pharmacy degree?”
She pondered the idea for a moment. “It’s not what I want anymore. I have Sam now and want to be close to him. Going to school and trying to support us…he’d be in daycare more than out of it.”
“What about online learning?”