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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 2
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 2

US PRESIDENT: WILLIAM J. CLINTON | 1993–2001
“BARRETT, OVER HERE!” I holler before climbing up a few steps of the ladder Mom told me pacifically not to climb. She won’t see me now because she’s too busy going goo-goo, ga-ga over my twin cousins Jasper and Jessie.
All I know is that babies make adults act stupid. That’s all I know. Barrett and I have been able to get away easy today from our parents’ eagle eyes because they can’t stop gushing over how cute they are. I don’t see the big deal. All they do is cry, poop, and throw up all over everything. Jasper pooped and throwed up on me when I held him.
“Barrett,” I holler louder, and he drops the stick he was poking the dead squirrel with and runs over to me as I try to figure which apple to pick. We came to the farm today because Mom, Dad, and my aunts and uncles spent all day helping clean and fix up the boarding houses to get them ready for the laborers.
During harvest, all our ’stended family comes from Georgia and Florida. Daddy doesn’t let Barrett and me come to the farm when they’re here because he says a lot of them ‘don’t have the sense God gave them,’ and they drink and curse too much.
Barrett squints up at me from where he stands at the bottom of the ladder as I reach as high as I can from the middle of it.
“Tyeeelerrr,” he whines, “Uncle Carter said not to pick apples.” He looks over to where our parents are grilling chicken and drinking beer next to a big bonfire. Right now, the smoke is risin’ to the sky and giving us some needed cover.
“They aren’t payin’ us no attention. Uncle Grayson’s talkin’ about that Kurt Cobana guy again, who shot his own head, but Daddy’s going off about the Major League strike. ’Sides it’s just one apple, and Pawpaw said this land is as good as ours, and if we want to be real farmers, we need to start getting our hands dirty early on and work our land.”
“Well, you can be a farmer, but I’m not gonna be no alfalfa desperado.”
“You don’t even know what that means.” I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, I do. I’m not gonna be just a farmer who grows apples and vegetables. I’m gonna raise livestock too, so I can be a real cowboy.”
“Well, I won’t have time to be a cowboy ’cause I’m going to be a Marine like Uncle Gray, Daddy, and Pawpaw.”
“Then you’re gonna be just a farmer. Alfalfa desperado!” he teases, pointing at me.
“Shut up!” Tired from reaching, I wiggle my shoulders. “I guess I could be a cowboy, too. Maybe I can put a horse and cows on your land, and you can watch after ’em while I’m a Marine?”
“Maybe.”
“Until then, we have to be grunts,” I tell him.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. I think a laborer. Grunts have to start with apples.”
“Fine.” He looks back towards the bonfire. “But if your daddy catches us, he’s going to smoke our butts.”
“So what?” I swat a fly from my nose. “I can take an ass-whoopin’. I don’t cry like you do.”
“I don’t cry,” he calls up to me.
“Yeah, you do. You cry louder than Jasper and Jessie when you get a whoopin’. Bet they could pick apples better than you anyway.”
“Shut up.” Barrett wipes his nose with his shirt. “They’re just babies. They don’t know they own land yet or even have apples to pick because they have baby brains. Duh.”
“Which means I’m the oldest cousin and the boss. Now hold my legs, crybaby, and hurry up.”
“I don’t cry,” he lies as he reaches up and holds my legs. Twisting the apple on the branch, it finally comes free, and I hold it down for Barrett. “See, no big deal. They’ll never know one is missing.”
“Let me pick one,” he says as I start to climb down.
“You have to work your own land.”
He scrunches his nose as I take the last step down. “Where’s my land going to be again?”
“Gah, you never listen.” I nod toward the other side of the highway. “Over there. From the road, up the hill, and then some behind Pawpaw’s house.”
“We can’t go over there! It’s ’cross the highway. If we go ’cross the highway, we’ll both get whoopin’s.”
“It’s not a highway,” I tell him. “It’s just a road, and you’re always scared.”
“Am not, and Mom says I’ll be as big as my daddy someday.”
“We’re not big like them yet ’cause we haven’t hit our growth spurt.”
“What’s that?” Barrett asks.
“When you get hair in your armpits,” I tell him, “and,” I whisper low, “I heard Uncle Grayson say our balls will drop.”
“Drop where?”
“I dunno.” I scrunch my nose, wondering where my balls will drop to.
“Till my balls drop, Tyler, let me pick one of your apples on your land.”
“Nope,” I say, wiping my apple on my shirt before taking a bite. “You have to work your own land. Those are the rules.”
“Fine,” he puffs. “But you got to help me carry the ladder ’cross the highway.”
“Why? I can carry it by myself.”
“Liar, I saw Uncle Carter carry it over here!”
“Boys!” Mom calls. “Dinner!”
“Shit,” I mumble. “You’re gonna have to wait.”
“Come on, cousin,” Barrett whines, “let me pick one of your apples. I’ll be quick.”
I toss my apple and cross my arms. “What are you going to give me for it?”
“I don’t have any more money in my piggy bank. You already tooked it all,” he huffs out.
“Fine.” I tug down my ballcap. “You owe me two dollars next time you have money. Spit shake on it.”
“I’ll never have any money if you keep taking it.”
“That’s tough shit,” I say like Daddy does. “That’s the price of pickin’ on my land.”
Barrett moves around me to get to the ladder, and I block him and shake my head. “Nuh uh, spit and shake on it. Two dollars.”
“Fine. Two dollars.”
We both spit in our hands and shake to make it a real deal between men.
“All right. Get on up, and I’ll hold your legs.”
“I should make you pick it for two whole dollars.”
“Barrett, you want to be a real farmer who works his land or not?”
“Yes!” he shouts as I shush him when Mom calls us again for dinner.
“Coming, Mama,” I holler back, ducking so she can’t see where we are in the orchard. “Tell her you’re coming and hurry up,” I order Barrett. He hollers at them and climbs the ladder. When he gets as far as he can with me holding him, I point out one he can reach.
“Almost . . . got . . . it,” he says, stretching to grab the apple. When he finally picks it, I lose my grip on his legs, and he screams as he starts to fall. Daddy appears and catches him before he hits the ground. I straighten my spine as Daddy turns toward me with Barrett wiggling in his arms, Barrett’s eyes as wide as mine.
“Daddy, that was so, so fast,” I tell him. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“Nice lecture, Son,” Dad says in his ’thortive tone. “This boy was a foot away from his first break,” he says in a way that tells me I’ve earned a whoopin’, and it’s going to hurt. I lift my hand to the sun to see how mad he is and can only see him shake his head. That means he’s disappointed. “For a boy who likes to give orders, you sure have a horrible salute.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” I say, putting my hand down. “I wasn’t salutin’. The sun was in my eyes. I was just . . . well, Barrett—”
“Best think a little longer before lying to me, Tyler,” Daddy warns.
“I was just—”
“Oh, I heard what you were telling him,” he says in the same way he does when he’s playing with me. I squint at him as he tosses Barrett around, making him giggle.
“Every single word, Son, including your curses.” He sounds like he’s playing with me again, and I swear I see him smile, but the sun blocks it. He spins Barrett ’round one more time, and Barrett squeals before he lets him down.
“Thanks for catchin’ me, Uncle Carter. I’m sorry we didn’t listen. I tried to tell Tyler we would get in trouble. Are you gonna whoop me too?”
“We’ll see. You can spend dinner thinking about what you’ve done.” Daddy puts a hand on Barrett’s shoulder. “Now, go get washed up and take your seat at the table for grace.”
“K,” Barrett says, making big eyes at me behind Daddy’s back.
“Sorry, what was that?” Dad calls after him.
“I mean, yessir,” Barrett shouts behind him as he runs toward the porch.
Daddy kneels next to me and picks up the apple I bit into and tossed on the ground. “Son, if you’re going to take responsibility for being the oldest and in charge, you best know what you’re doing before you start doling out orders and lectures.”
“But I’ve been watching you, Pawpaw, and Uncle Grayson, so I know what to do.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right then. Tell me, son, how much is an apple?”
“Pardon?”
“Buying time and being polite won’t give you the answer. So, I’m going to ask you again. Do you know the cost of an apple?”
I swallow and swat a fly away from my nose. “No sir, I don’t.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we don’t have to buy them.” I smile and stretch my arms out. “We own a farm!”
“True, but we do have to sell the apples to make money, and you just cost your Pawpaw the money for that apple, which you will pay for.” He picks up Barrett’s apple. “Think we can sell a bruised apple?”
“No, sir, I’m sorry—”
“Your apology doesn’t count, Tyler. You’re not apologizing because you’re sorry—only because you got caught. If you want to be a real man, apologize when you mean it, or it never will count for anyone. And don’t think you can fool them. People know when you mean it and when you don’t.”
“Yes, sir.”
He lifts my ballcap and ruffles my hair. “You’ll be a man soon enough, but until you are, you have no business lecturing another boy on how to be something you aren’t. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I tell him as he pulls my cap back down.
“Now come on, your mother’s called you twice for dinner, so if you want to keep some hide on that butt, I suggest you get washed up and to the table.”
I nod as we start to walk toward the patio where the family sits on picnic benches. “Hey, Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“How much will be mine? You know . . . when I become a man?”
Stopping, he lifts me above his head and onto his shoulders. I laugh because I know I’m getting too big, but he’s so strong he can still carry me. Everyone says I’m the spitting image of him, and I know I’ll be as strong as him one day. He points toward one of the hills ahead of us. “Straight ahead up that valley—”
“Twelve o’clock,” I tell him, knowing it’ll make him proud.
“Exactly. See that tree line out there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“From twelve o’clock to four o’clock and then all the way to the back of Uncle Grayson’s house, to the road, and back where we’re standing right here.”
“That much is all mine?”
“Yes, son, it will all be yours.”
“Why don’t you want to work on our land? Pawpaw said you didn’t take your share to work it.”
“I guess I wanted to be a Marine more.”
“Do I have to choose?”
“Nah, you can be both if you want.”
“Pawpaw was both,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well, Pawpaw is a better man than me.”
“No way he’s not,” I say, ruffling his hair like he does mine, and he laughs.
“That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to be a Marine and cowboy, not no friggin’ alfalfa desperado neither.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” he laughs as he lifts me from his shoulders to stand in front of him. “It’s something I couldn’t manage, but I believe if anyone can do it, it’ll be you. But do me a favor for a bit?”
“What?”
“Stay a boy just a little while longer, for your mom and me? Think you can manage that?”
“If I stay a boy for a bit, can we play catch after dinner?”
“Always the barterer,” he laughs and tugs my ballcap down over my eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Your nature,” he chuckles as I put my hat back right. “And it’s a deal, but try not to break any more of your cousin’s bones this weekend and apologize for cursing in your prayers tonight.”
“K . . . so . . . are you going to whoop me? Cause Mom told me ’pacifically to stay off the ladder.”
“That’s specifically, and no whoopin’ today, but now you know better.” He grabs my hand as we walk toward the porch, and I hold it tight. He stares down at me as we walk, and I can tell by his eyes that he’s proud. “Love you, son.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
We walk a few more steps. “Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for saving it for me . . . the land. I can’t wait to be a Marine and cowboy.”
“Welcome.”
“Hey, Daddy?”
“Good Lord, son, what now?”
“How much is an apple?”
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