38. Skyler

I’ve always associated Halloween with the end of harvest. In a good year, we’re already done. In a bad year, we’re starting to worry about snow.

I stand in between shorn rows, a light skiff of snow dusting my boots. It don’t mean much. This is Nebraska. The weather changes on a dime. Snow one day, sun the next.

We’re down to the last few fields. I scan the field we just finished. Usually, this is my favorite moment. I like to walk the rows and take it in, absorb the satisfaction of being done.

All I can think about is Reese.

And Mitch.

He mentioned in our football group chat that Reese called him.

She called him.

She didn’t text or message him on Facebook.

He says he’s going to help her find a job out there.

They’ll probably be married with babies within the year.

I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m definitely not.

But I keep replaying the last time Mitch was out here. The way Reese and Mitch were snuggled up on that recliner. I was agitated then, but I think I did a good job of hiding it.

I don’t have a right to keep her from other men, but the thought of her marrying Mitch makes me antsy.

How am I supposed to look my sister-in-law in the face, knowing that I’ve seen her completely naked?

How am I supposed to move on from a woman like Reese if she’s at every family gathering from here until the end of time?

“Skyler!”

I know from the whip-sharp way he says my name, that dad’s pissed at me. Seems like we’re always barking at each other these days.

He stomps over, stopping in front of me. “Did you hear a damn word I just said?”

“Uhh.”

“Pull your head out of your ass, kid. I told you to take the grain cart back to the home place and I’ll move the combine.”

He turns on heel, walking a few feet before turning back. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that old business with Donald.”

I totally wasn’t, but since he’s bringing it up… “Why didn’t you stand by him?”

“By Don?”

“Yes. Your brother.”

His expression hardens. “I couldn’t stand by my brother because I was too busy standing by my dad.”

I want to tell him Grandpa Paul, his father, was a small man and a bigot, but I’m already on thin ice.

He can tell what I’m thinking anyway. It’s written all over my face. “Don threw the first stone. You don’t know what he was like in court.”

“I don’t know because you’ve never said.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t like talking about a man who isn’t here to defend himself.”

“You’re talking about Uncle Don?”

He nods, squinting into the distance.

“Just tell me, dad. Not knowing is worse.”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t much to tell. Don went out there and hired a fancy lawyer. We just had Carl Steiner on our side and he was still wet behind the ears back then. Fresh out of law school. Truth is, Don probably could have settled with an equal share of the land, but that damned big city lawyer talked him into taking us for the whole kit and caboodle.”

“He tried to win the entire estate?”

Dad nods. “He wanted everything.”

My dad is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. If Uncle Don really was trying to take the entire farm, I can understand why they have lingering resentment towards him. “Why’d you let it get to that point? Why not split things up fair and square before he ever took it to court?”

Dad frowns. “We were trying to honor your grandpa’s wishes. It’s called loyalty, son. Maybe someday you’ll understand the meaning of it.”

Someday? How about today? And yesterday and all the days I’ve spent rotting away in a one-stoplight town?

He’s right to think I don’t understand it. Not his version of it, anyway.

I was taught you stay loyal to family, come hell or high water. But that didn’t apply to Don. Would they dump me too if I committed some imagined sin they couldn’t get over?

This loyalty he speaks of is a one-way road.