Kyland

"Good, better than ever. You know about the business us hill folk have, right?"

"Business?" I frowned and tilted my head.

"Sure. We're regular entrepreneurs up here. Some of the folks even take a real pride in it. Got their yards cleaned up—"

"Yes," I said. "I noticed that. What exactly is it you're doing?"

"Growing lavender. We have a few products, too. We go to the craft fairs in the area. I even sell my figures. They go over real well." He winked.

Lavender. Lavender?

In my mind a crescent moon hung suspended above me as a beautiful boy worshipped my body, the fragrant scent of lavender in the air.

I snapped back to reality. "I bet they do," I said distractedly. "This lavender business . . . whose idea was that?"

"Oh, Kyland Barrett's. He looked into it. Found out lavender's one of the most profitable cash crops for individual growers—even just a backyard garden. Made an information pamphlet up and everything. Plus, it's the only flower that you can dry and use for other products. We've been making sachets, soaps, oil, the tea you used to give—"

"So you all are making real money from this?" I asked, shocked. I had never even considered something like that . . .

"Sure are," he said with pride. "Unlike other crops, the profits are year round. Nothing ever goes to waste. It's pretty simple really."

"Well, you sound very knowledgeable, Buster," I said and he nodded, smiling again.

I sat silently shaking my head for a second. "So, why isn't everyone doing it?" I asked, thinking of the homes I'd seen that were just as trashed as ever.

Buster scratched the thin hair at the top of his head. "Ah, well, you know, you can lead a hillbilly to lavender, but you can't make him grow it." He laughed and slapped his knee.

I let out a small, wondering laugh as well. "Well, I'll be," I said. A knock at Buster's door startled me. It was Marlo. I said a quick goodbye to Buster and told him I'd be back before too long. We hugged goodbye and I got in my car with Marlo.

"Mar, did you know about the whole lavender thing?"

She glanced at me. "Yeah. It's really pretty cool. I was gonna tell you. You just seemed really torn up about Kyland. I didn't think you necessarily needed to hear about all that your first week back."

I nodded. "It's actually . . . cool though, right? I mean, those people are making money from something that didn't require any kind of start up . . ." I bit my lip. "I wonder why he's not doing it himself."

"Yeah, I don't know."

What's going on with you, Kyland? Although, it shouldn't surprise me. He was always entrepreneurial and industrious. Just look at how he had survived on his own for all those years.

We were almost to his house and this time, I turned my head, taking in the white pickup truck parked out front. I startled slightly as his door suddenly opened and Kyland stepped out wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, a baseball cap on his head, and held a metal lunch box in his hand. I turned my head, leaning forward as we passed by and he halted, our eyes met and tangled, even from the distance of my moving car. His head turned to follow. I caught the bumper sticker on his truck, the image of a coal miner wearing a miner's hat, crawling through a dark tunnel with the message, "Friends in low places."

I sat back as we passed, trembling slightly, taking a deep, calming breath. There was so much I didn't understand, so much that still hurt me.

Why are you so very angry with me, Kyland? How could you go from loving me to hating me so fiercely?

"What was that intense stare-fest?" Marlo asked, surprise in her expression when I glanced over at her.

"I have no idea," I answered distractedly. "No idea at all."

**********

A couple hours later, when we pulled up in front of the hospital, I turned the car off and just sat staring out the front window. "Wow," I finally said.

The large brick building was old, but beautifully maintained. It was surrounded by lush lawns and landscaped to perfection. Patients strolled, some with nurses and some without, and others sat on benches that were placed on the edges of flowerbeds. Everything was shaded by ancient buckeye trees.

"I know," Marlo agreed. "It's a really nice place. And they have the best doctors, too—doctors who have made helping people with mental illness their life's work."

"How does Sam afford this?" I asked as I got out of the car.

"He has savings. I've never asked him how much this is setting him back." She glanced at me as we started walking. "I was going to tell him to stop, but then I saw Mama after just a couple weeks here, and I just couldn't do that to her."

I grabbed Marlo's hand and squeezed it.

A few minutes later, we had signed in with the nurse at the front desk and were sitting in the large waiting room.

When our mama walked around the corner, I almost didn't recognize her. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and had obviously been washed and styled and her expression was bright and excited. She was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved cream sweater. She stopped, putting her hands up over her mouth, as I stood, incredulous.

"Tenleigh, my baby," she breathed as she came toward me.

"Mama," I said, my voice hitching. "You look incredible."

She squeezed me to her and I breathed in her clean, comforting scent.