Chapter 23
There it was.
Not help.
Pride.
"You did this because of Adrien?"
"I did it because you shouldn't need him."
"I don't need him."
"You work for him."
"That is not need. That is employment."
"You let him into our lives."
"Our lives?"
I stepped closer.
"Curtis, there is no our life."
His face twisted.
"I came back."
"And you still don't understand."
"What don't I understand?"
"Clover."
He looked at the cow as if she were proof I had lost my mind.
"It's an animal."
"So was my father's horse."
His face changed.
"That's not fair."
"It is exactly fair."
"I was trying to get ahead."
"That is what you always call it when you gamble something somebody else loves."
"I wasn't gambling."
"You were gambling Oscar's trust."
His grip loosened.
I took the rope.
He did not stop me.
Clover moved instantly toward me.
She pressed her nose into my shoulder.
I closed my eyes.
Curtis watched.
"He'll forgive me."
"Maybe."
"You did."
I opened my eyes.
He looked almost hopeful.
"I have forgiven you."
His face softened.
Then I continued.
"But I do not trust you."
Hope vanished.
"What's the difference?"
"Everything."
I led Clover toward Birdie.
Curtis followed.
"I can change."
"Maybe you can."
"Then give me time."
"Time for what?"
"For us."
"No."
He stopped.
"Why?"
The question was so naked that my anger weakened.
I looked at him.
This was the man who had danced with me in a barn when I was twenty-two.
The man who had built Oscar's cradle badly and rebuilt it twice.
The man who used to sing while splitting wood.
The man who had left.
All of them were true.
That was the tragedy.
"You think the worst thing you did was go," I said.
"It was."
"No."
He frowned.
"The worst thing was deciding for us."
"What?"
"You decided your shame was too great to face. So you left me to carry it. You decided we were better off without you. You decided not to write. You decided to return. You decided you still had a place in my house. Today you decided Clover should be sold."
My voice shook.
"Every time life frightens you, Curtis, you decide for everybody."
He stared at me.
"I was trying to help."
"Then ask."
That one word seemed to hit him.
"Ask me."
He looked away.
"Ask Oscar. Ask what we need. Ask whether your plan belongs to anyone but you."