“You’re fine,” I said. “It’s not some big secret.”
“June, we don’t need to talk about it,” Stan started, and I interrupted him.
“Really, it’s fine, Mr. Austin,” I said. “It was years ago.” April looked embarrassed, and I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. One thing I hated about coming back home was that it was like stepping back in time. People assumed I felt the same as if it had just happened yesterday. They assumed I was a child.
“It was years ago,” Stan said. “But it was my responsibility.”
“No, Mr. Austin, it wasn’t,” I said. “And April, it’s fine, really. You’re not overstepping anything.” April looked confused, while Stan sat across from me, studying his cup of coffee. I only realized then how much guilt he carried with him for my family’s deaths, and it made me feel sad. I wondered if Cade was carrying the same burden.
Cade cleared his throat and looked up at me. “June,” he started.
“No,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with asking about it, and I want to clear the air. April, when I was seventeen, my parents died. They were killed in an accident, by a drunk driver. The driver," I said, leaning forward as I looked at Mr. Austin, "was one of the ranch hands who worked here, for Mr. Austin. My sister and him had a thing going on, that Mr. Austin didn't know anything about." I emphasized the words, trying to make it clear to Stan that he wasn't at fault.
"Anyway, my sister went out to a party with him, and my parents went out looking for her. It was bad luck, what happened. And my sister felt guilty. She killed herself later."
I watched Cade and Stan, neither of whom would look at me. "No one was responsible for what happened, except the ranch hand, and he’s dead. My sister was running wild back then, and even if anyone had known, she wouldn’t have listened to anyone. It was just how she was.”
“I’m sorry,” April said.
“Thank you,” I said. “But it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t anyone else's, including Mr. Austin or Cade’s."
April averted her gaze. It was shit like this that made telling this story difficult. People heard it, and it was such a tragedy that they wouldn't look me in the eye because because they were so uncomfortable. I hated that more than anything.
"Everything about what happened was senseless," I said. "But it's even more senseless if you all are still taking responsibility for it."
I looked directly at Cade. I knew he blamed himself. It was the kind of man he was, always accepting responsibility for others. It was part of his nature.
“It’s good of you to say that, June,” Stan said. “But -"
“No,” I said. “There are no ‘buts’. This was never your fault. It wasn’t Cade’s. And it wasn’t mine."
The room was silent, and the air felt thick. I wasn’t sure what else to say. There had been so much that had been unspoken, for so long.
It was late when I finally left Stan’s house, and I’d walked a few feet across the pasture when I heard the screen door slam, and footsteps behind me.
“June,” Cade called, jogging up behind me. “I’ll walk you home.”
“It’s a hundred yards away. I don't need an escort," I said. I couldn't help but add, "Certainly not one who thinks he's going to come over and I'm going to beg him to screw me."
Cade took my forearm, and I turned to look up at him, surprised by his touch. "June," he said.
"What?" I forced myself not to think about the heat that ran through my body where he touched me.
"What you said tonight, about your sister, your parents -”
"I don't want your dad to blame himself." Or you to blame yourself.
Cade nodded, his expression serious. "My dad," he said. "It tore him up, what happened to your sister."
“I know,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t know back then. I realize now.”
“It ate at him,” Cade said.
We weren't just talking about his dad.
"It wasn't his fault," I said. "He couldn't have known about the ranch hand. And my sister, you know how she was."
"You know how my father is," Cade said. "How he's always been. Protective."
His eyes burned with intensity, and I suddenly became aware of the tension between us. I stepped away from him, away from his touch.
"Well, I just wanted to clear the air," I said.
“Junebug,” he said. “It wasn’t just him that was torn up.”
“I know, Cade," I said, before I turned and walked away.
Axe
I walked away from June's house, filled with this strange mixture of emotions I couldn't place. What June had said about her parents, about her sister - that it wasn't my dad's fault. That part was true. But it was mine. She thought I was blaming myself for no reason. She didn't know everything. If she did, she wouldn't be able to do anything except blame me.
She didn't know that I'd caught her sister and the ranch hand, walked in on them together in the barn. She'd only just turned eighteen and he was older, too old for her. I sent her home, warned him to stay away from him.