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right—”
    “When the time is right?” I interrupted him because I hated the ease with which the words rolled off his tongue. “Then what, Tommy? You’ll propose? Then what? We’ll get married, move into a house—or, worse, stay at the farm… Move into my parents’ bedroom? Is that what you want?” The idea was vile. Years of a possible future flashed before my eyes and repulsed me.
    “I love you, Julie.”
    He played it as if it were a magic hand he had been dealt at cards.
    “Oh, bullshit,” I said.
    “What?”
    “You heard me. You don’t love me. You just love the idea of me. Keep working at the farm, take over the family business, the family daughter.”
    “You’re awful. How can you even say that? And how dare you tell me how I feel?”
    “Get out.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me. Get out.”
    He was as mad as anyone would be who was three hours away from home and knew they were about to be dropped off and left behind. I didn’t have a choice. I suppose I could have been nicer about the whole thing, but that would just have encouraged him. It would have given him a sliver of hope that we shared a mutual vision for our lives, which we did not.
    As I shoved over to the driver’s side, fastened my seatbelt and reversed out of the parking stall, I took a look at Tommy in my rear-view mirror. He was cursing and kicking the pavement and flailing his arms about. I felt sorry for him at the same time as I felt I had narrowly escaped a horrid future with this grubby, small-minded man. A promise ring? What was he thinking? We had barely fooled around, and already he wanted to shack up with me? Linda Evans would have said no, too.
     
    * * * *
     
    When I pulled up to the plot of lawn where we keep the truck, my mom came running out of the house. “Show me the ring,” she cooed, rubbing her floured hands on her apron. She stopped short of hugging me. “Where’s Tommy?”
    “You knew about this?”
    “Well…uh… Your father told me not to say anything, but they had a little chat the other night and…”
    It was the worst conspiracy I’d ever had the displeasure of witnessing. I knew I’d have to leave this place. My parents were all too set on the idea of my furthering their ambitions. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing the world, of not knowing what it felt like to make it on my own. If Tommy wanted to stay here, let him. As for the farm, it was a clear oversight on my parents’ part to only have the two of us, and unfortunate that my sister was so useless.
     
    * * * *
     
    “What’d you do with Tommy?” my father asked, by way of opening up the dinner conversation.
    “I dropped him off in Boise.”
    “In Boise?”
    “Yep.”
    “What, the ring he gave you wasn’t big enough or something?”
    “Not big enough at all.”
    Faith gave me a dirty look and my parents just looked as if I’d committed the worst sin imaginable. After a lot of uncomfortable throat clearing, my mom picked up where Dad had left off.
    “I can’t believe your biggest objection is the size of the ring.”
    “If you knew me at all, you’d know I wasn’t talking about the ring. My dreams are bigger than all of this.”
    I pushed my chair out, marched past her, out into the orchard, and kept on walking. I didn’t want to talk to anyone for a while. I had been taken aback by the tone of my own voice. The strength of my words came from my heart and they were true, but as soon as I’d said them I’d known I’d said something they would not understand. They’d never be able to comprehend my thoughts, ambitions, feelings or beliefs. We were so different.
    When I came back into the house, everyone was still in the kitchen eating. A hush came over the room when I walked in and sat down. I filled my plate and, just as I began to eat my lumpy mashed potatoes, I saw my father’s smirk. The only sound in the room was cutlery on plates. Everyone averted their eyes.
    “Why, I just can’t believe you can make a