Educated by Tara Westover

(Dquinnelly1!) #1


MOTHER WAS OVERWHELMED WITH holiday orders, so I passed my days on
Buck’s Peak just as I had as a child: in the kitchen, making
homeopathics. I poured the distilled water and added the drops from
the base formula, then passed the tiny glass bottle through the ring
made by my thumb and index fingers, counting to fifty or a hundred,
then moving on to the next. Dad came in for a drink of water. He
smiled when he saw me.


“Who knew we’d have to send you to Cambridge to get you in the
kitchen where you belong?” he said.


In the afternoons, Shawn and I saddled the horses and fought our
way up the mountain, the horses half-jumping to clamber through
snowdrifts that reached their bellies. The mountain was beautiful and
crisp; the air smelled of leather and pine. Shawn talked about the
horses, about their training, and about the colts he expected in the
spring, and I remembered that he was always at his best when he was
with his horses.


I had been home about a week when the mountain was gripped by
an intense cold spell. The temperature plunged, dropping to zero, then
dropping further still. We put the horses away, knowing that if they
worked up a sweat, it would turn to ice on their backs. The trough froze
solid. We broke the ice but it refroze quickly, so we carried buckets of
water to each horse.


That night everyone stayed indoors. Mother was blending oils in the
kitchen. Dad was in the extension, which I had begun to jokingly call
the Chapel. He was lying on the crimson sofa, a Bible resting on his
stomach, while Kami and Richard played hymns on the piano. I sat
with my laptop on the love seat, near Dad, and listened to the music. I
had just begun a message to Drew when something struck the back
door. The door burst open, and Emily flew into the room.


Her thin arms were wrapped around her body and she was shaking,
gasping for breath. She wore no coat, no shoes, nothing but jeans, an
old pair I’d left behind, and one of my worn T-shirts. Mother helped
her to the sofa, wrapping her in the nearest blanket. Emily bawled, and
for several minutes not even Mother could get her to say what had
happened. Was everyone all right? Where was Peter? He was fragile,
half the size he should have been, and he wore oxygen tubes because

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