Chapter 5 THE BORROWED DRESS

The week between the job offer and Sharon's departure didn't feel real. It was like time wasn't ticking, and the whole house was stuck in this weird, in-between state.

The grief was still there, heavy as ever, but now it had a heartbeat. There was this uneasy tension in the air, like everything was on hold, waiting for something big to crash.

Ken felt it the most. He didn't know what to do with it, so he busied himself in work. He woke up before dawn, His hands were already blistered, his shoulders tight, had an ache in his muscles.

He was scared, not just of Sharon going, Not just of something going wrong. He was scared that maybe, she'd get everything she'd ever dreamed of and wouldn't return.

Meanwhile, Sharon was drowning in her own storm. She was juggling paperwork, researching Sterling Dynamics online (which felt more like looking up a planet than a company), and panicking over what the hell to wear. Her best outfit was a sundress with tiny blue flowers and a faded hem. It had been cute at prom two years ago, but now it just looked tired and too small-town. She stood in front of her closet for nearly an hour one morning, arms crossed, trying to will something better into existence.

And then came Mrs. Gable.

She showed up unannounced, like most things in small towns. Just walked straight into the kitchen with a garment bag over her arm like it was no big deal. Sharon was seated on the kitchen's chair trying to sew one of Ken's shirts that was torn and nearly poked herself when the screen door creaked open.

"Sharon Hayes," Mrs. Gable said, "Heard you've got business in the city."

She laid the garment bag across the table and unzipped it slowly, like it was a ceremony.

Inside was a dress; Not a cheap one, Not anything you'd find at the Flynn's Creek thrift shop. It was navy blue, knee-length, simple and elegant at the same time, Just enough shape to praise, not enough to show off. It looked expensive, It looked like it belonged in an office that touched clouds.

"My husband bought this for me in Chicago," Mrs. Gable said, her tone a little softer now, "Long time ago and I've worn it twice. Seems stupid to let it sit in a closet when someone else could put it to good use."

She didn't wait for Sharon to say thank you. She just handed it over.

Sharon carried it to her room like it was made of glass. She took her time while changing, carefully tugging the zipper. When she turned around to look in the old mirror next to the bed, she could barely recognize herself.

The dress fit like it was specially made for her; though her hair was a little messy, her nails still had dirt under them from feeding the chickens earlier, but for the first time, she looked like someone who could stand in front of a Manhattan skyscraper and not fear.

Downstairs, Ken had just walked in from the field, smelling like hay and motor oil, his hands stained with mud. He saw her standing at the top of the stairs and was just short of words.

Mrs. Gable gave a knowing nod. "Don't let that city swallow you whole, Sharon," she said, picking up her gloves. "And don't forget who's waiting on you."

Her eyes looked toward Ken, who hadn't said a word.

Sharon slowly stepped down, still holding the sides of the dress like she was afraid to stain it. "Thank you, Mrs. Gable. I promise I'll take care of it."

"You'd better," the older woman replied, already heading for the door.

Ken finally spoke when they were alone. "You look... different," he said, rubbing his head.

Sharon smiled, shy and proud. "I feel different."

And that got him more scared,

That night, they sat on the porch as their custom was, acting as though all was well. The whole place remained quiet, The sky was too big and felt too empty, Even the stars looked as though they were concerned.

"Are you scared?" Ken asked finally.

She didn't lie. "i am scared of failing, of getting there and realizing that it's not a place i can belong, i am scared of leaving you behind."

"You'll be fine," he said, Then he added, "I'm scared as well."

He pulled her close to him, resting her head against his chest, his heart beating.

"I wish we were going on this journey together " she whispered.

"Me too," he said. "But someone has to stay behind and take care of the place".

Then he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out some bundle of cash. It wasn't clean, new money. It was worn, crumpled, some of it still smudged with grease.

Sharon blinked. "Ken, where did you-?"

"I sold the tractor."

Her mouth opened, Closed, She just stared.

"You what?"

"Sold it to Miguel Carson. He'll let me rent his when I need it, cheaper that way. This is for your ticket, for food, for somewhere decent to stay, For whatever you need."

She pushed it back at him, horrified. "Ken, no! That's everything, You need that tractor."

He held her hand closed around the money. "I need you to go, then come back."

She tried to speak but tears couldn't allow her. "I'll pay you back, I swear to God, I'll pay you back."

"I don't want your money, Shari." His voice cracked. "I want you to go out there and show them what you are made of."

They sat like that for a long time, Holding each other, Letting the silence say what words couldn't say

The Greyhound station wasn't even a station, just a sagging bench and a dented sign outside the hardware store. Ken's old pickup rattled to a stop, and they sat there for a minute without getting out. The snow was starting, big flakes, slow and heavy.

Her suitcase was small. The dress was folded carefully inside, wrapped in tissue like a treasure.

Her parents had cried when she left. Her mom couldn't stop blessing her and her dad had hugged her so hard that her ribs ached. "Be careful," he gently said, "The city's different from here."

At the stop, it was just her and Ken, No more words left.

The worn-out bus pulled up,

"This is it," she quietly said, trying to hold back her tears.

He hugged her tighter than he had ever done. "I love you, Sharon Hayes."

"I love you, Ken Miller." She kissed him hard, then soft. "I'll call when I get there."

He handed her the suitcase, and she stepped into the bus. She found a seat in the third row and looked out the window. Their eyes caught each other.

She waved.

He raised his hand.

The bus pulled away.

And he couldn't believe that she was gone.

---

Ken stood there long after the bus had gone off-sight. He felt empty.

He drove home in silence. The tractor was gone, The girl was gone, The sky was grey, and the road was vanishing beneath the snow.

He fed the animals, Lit the fire, Nothing felt real anymore, The house was too quiet.

His phone rang, he jumped. "Shari?"

But it wasn't her.

"Ken? Dale Peterson here."

The sheriff's voice was tight. "There's been an accident. A Greyhound, headed east on I-80, Near Platte River, Bad weather hit. We don't know for sure if it's the one Sharon was on, but it might be."

Ken's world tipped.

He dropped the phone. Just like that.

The wind roared outside, hitting the house,

All he could see was the borrowed dress,

The goodbye kiss,

Her wave from the window,

And then nothing,

Just white,

Just silence,

Just gone.