Chapter 1

My name is Amiah Jane Williams. Amiah to my friends in Vancouver, Miss Williams at work, AJ to my redneck cousins, and just plain Miah in Kingsley. That's where I was headed at the start of this story. Hardly newsworthy, you would think.

Kingsley, Alberta, population 1431. Home of the Knights, my high school insignia and my parents' before. The large green road sign in the ditch read Kingsley 27 km, Edmonton 176 km. I was almost home. Two years had passed since I ran away to Vancouver, yet Kingsley was somehow still home....

The farm--everyone called their farm "the farm"-- wasn't far from town. Half an hour by bicycle, five minutes by car. With Kingsley in sight, I turned off the highway onto the gravel, catching my red notebook before it slid off the passenger seat.

Dust billowed into the Jeep. "Shit."

I cranked up my window. The town was probably buzzing with complaints about drought. Farmers liked to complain no matter how good the crop or beef prices. Not my dad, though. "Griping's no rain dance," he would say. Ray Williams always had a better way to spend his time with fences to mend and animals to tend. He liked to be busy. No wonder Mom was stressed. Dad was couchridden and there was no hockey on TV.

I switched off the radio as I turned into the long driveway lined with a split rail fence and Swedish aspens. All led to my childhood home, a movie-worthy red ranch house with a wraparound porch. Duke and Earl greeted me first, running and barking playfully alongside my Jeep as I crept closer to the house. Then I spotted Mom sitting on the porch steps as if waiting for me.

Mom and I were about the same height with the same build and the same oval faces that crinkled when we smiled. There was something Mom had that I didn't, though, something that drew people to her while I remained invisible. My heartstrings tugged at the sight of her. At twenty-five years old, I needed her more than ever, though I never would have admitted it.

"Hey, stranger!" Mom said. "We weren't expecting you until late."

The last we had seen each other was Christmas. I hadn't gone home for Easter break. I had used homework as an excuse, but actually spent the break with some guy named Winston. Purple skinny jeans, two eyebrow rings, barely-lasted-a-month Winston. My parents hadn't come to visit me either. They had been busy with the tail end of calving and the start of seeding. My parents were as likely to visit Vancouver as Winston was Kingsley. I hadn't mentioned the farm would survive a few days without them, and Mom hadn't mentioned she suspected I didn't want to come home.

"How's Dad?"

"He finally fell asleep. The painkillers make him drowsy and a little loopy." Mom whirled her finger around her ear. We laughed, our faces crinkling.

"Let him sleep. I'll still be here when he wakes up."

"Okay. We'll have coffee. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

"I'm okay, Mom. I'm here to help you."