by Jayna Morrow
The boy slung his hair out of his eyes. “Things change, Uncle Garrett. ’ Sides, I got better things to do anyway.”
Slade played the cool card for his friends quite well.
“Better things to do, huh? We’ll see how your attitude changes come baseball season, won’t we?”
The kid shrugged.
“Where’s your father?”
Micara understood how teenagers could be. She’d helped with the youth program at her church several times. Teens required a little TLC. She hung back and observed the conversation. Garrett seemed to know what he was doing. With his job, he dealt with hormonal teenagers on a daily basis.
Slade shrugged. “Work, I guess. I keep up with him about as well as he keeps up with me. I care about as much, too.”
Garrett grimaced. “You need a ride home?”
“Nah, I rode my bike. Thanks, anyway.” Slade gave them both the peace sign before walking toward the front gate with his buddies.
“Who was that?” Micara asked.
“Gabriel’s son, Slade.” Garrett’s gaze followed his nephew through the front gate, where the kid picked up a bike that leaned against the ticket window and rode off across the parking lot.
Gabriel had a son? Two full days she’d worked at his home, with no sign of a child. There must be some issue between them. She sent up a quick, silent prayer for both the boy and his father, asked God to take control, to touch their hearts, and do what was best for them. She shot up a prayer for Garrett, too. He seemed distraught over his nephew’s behavior and his attendance problems at school.
She’d prayed for Garrett a lot in recent days.
5
“The yard looks awesome, Micara.”
Micara peered over her shoulder, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Garrett stood admiring the assortment of native flowers, earthy grasses, and freshly-trimmed shrubs. He wore his usual athletic attire—school colors, of course. Bright red and white.
“Thanks.” She pointed her soil-covered spade at him. “What’s behind your back?”
He produced a bouquet of flowers with the aplomb of a magician popping a bouquet out of his magic wand. “I do realize this is like giving flowers to a florist.”
Micara rose and pulled off her gardening gloves. She dusted her shorts and shirt. “No, it’s perfect. I’m a great admirer of nature. That’s why I became a landscape architect. Thank you, Garrett.” She smiled and inspected the bouquet. “Do you know what these flowers mean?”
“Mean? I don’t even know what kind they are. They’re just pretty.”
She rolled her eyes but grinned to let him know she was teasing. “All flowers have meanings. These red ones are gladiolus, and they symbolize strength. The white irises mean wisdom.”
“Not exactly what I meant to say.” He shrugged.
“You chose them because they’re beautiful. Most people don’t know what flowers mean. They just give them to show love, encouragement, or sympathy. You chose with your heart. And school colors, too. Good choice.”
“I’ll admit the colors were the deciding factor.”
She took the flowers in one arm and hugged him with the other, but pulled away in a hurry. “Sorry, I’m sweaty.”
“So am I. Just came from practice. One sweaty body cancels out another, right?”
“Right.” She laughed.
“I need to see my brother. Is he here?”
Uh-oh. She cradled the bouquet like a pageant queen. “Um, yeah. He just walked inside. The past couple of days he hasn’t arrived home until much later. But he didn’t look upbeat, so I figured something must be wrong. Usually, he’ll comment on the landscape’s progress first.”
“Something is wrong, very wrong. I wish things were different, but that’s life.”
Micara could sympathize. “Can I do anything to help?”
“I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
“I’m here if you need me. I’ll put these in a bucket of water so they’ll make it until I get home. Go on in. Gabriel’s inside.” She gave him an encouraging smile.
He headed for the house and entered without knocking, the way family often does.
She found a bucket in the back of her car, added a little water from the hose, and set the flowers inside. Bucket and flowers went in the front passenger-side floorboard. Micara left the door open for circulation.
The day was a scorcher, and she’d been working since morning. A few more plantings remained, and she was determined to finish this job early, even if she had to put in twelve hours today. She marched to the area below the kitchen window—the last section—determination steeling her spine.
She dropped to her knees and arranged her tools around her. Then, she picked up the spade and started digging.
Male voices drifted through the open window.
“I don’t have time to deal with you today, Garrett.” Irritation edged Gabriel’s deep voice.
“It’s about Slade.”
“What about him?” Gabriel’s voice softened, laced now with concern.
Micara’s digging slowed.
“I saw him at the football game last night.”
“You saw Slade? And you didn’t pick him up?” Gabriel’s voice grated with anger.
“Gabe, the boy’s almost as big as I am. I can’t exactly throw him over my shoulder with this brace on my leg. But I did offer him a ride home. Of course, he turned it down. Said he wanted to ride his bike home.”
“Well, he never came home. So where is he?”
“It’s not my job to keep up with your son.”
A sharp crack made Micara jump. Someone had slammed something against a hard surface. A fist against counter or a slap to the side of the fridge?
“There ya go, Garrett. Never taking an ounce of responsibility. Is nothing sacred to you? That’s my son out there...somewhere!”
Micara stifled a gasp. Eavesdropping outside a window crossed a line, but she couldn’t pry her knees up off the ground. Now, she was concerned for Slade…and Garrett.
“Gabe, what am I supposed to do? You can’t control him, and he’s your son. He was with those boys from the city. They drove off in another direction. I was sure he’d go home. Otherwise, I would’ve followed him.”
“You just don’t get it.” Gabriel’s voice, though loud, sounded defeated. His heavy footfalls crossed the kitchen floor, and then both men appeared around the back side of the house.
Micara barely had time to resume her digging and look busy.
Gabriel wasn’t through with his tirade. “You and Sparrow Walker both breathe down my neck all the time about my kid, but if neither of you can reach him, how do you expect me to?” He climbed into his pickup truck and slammed the door without waiting for an answer. The engine roared to life, and he revved it before peeling out of the driveway.
Garrett turned toward Micara. She’d given up on looking busy and stared in silence.
“Sorry you had to see that.” He sounded old and tired. Arguing with his brother had affected him deeply. The defensive manner Gabriel reacted hadn’t made the situation any easier.
She stood and crossed her arms, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry about your nephew. Is he going to be OK?”
Keeping his distance, Garrett pointed to the open window. “Guess you heard it all, huh?”
She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Yeah, it was hard not to listen. But there’s nothing for Gabriel to be ashamed of. Raising teenagers is tough for everyone. I didn’t even know he had a son.” She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, hesitated. “I’ve been working out here for three days straight and never saw Slade. And he never comes to church with Gabriel.”
Garrett sighed. “He’s been missing for four days. The boy runs away a lot, so the police can do little. But he’s a smart one. He somehow manages to keep his grades at a passing level. And come baseball season, he never misses a class. Slade is one of those brilliant kids who knows he’s brilliant and therefore has
nothing to prove to anyone. He hates authority and will conform to rules only if it benefits him. And even then, only if he’s tried everything to get around the rules and failed. Take baseball, for example. He knows there’s no way around the ‘no pass, no play’ law, so he’ll do just enough to make a seventy in his classes, even though he should be in a gifted and talented program. He shows up for school because he knows he can’t go to practice if he doesn’t. And if he can’t go to practice, then he can’t play. ” He huffed out a breath. “I feel terrible for my brother, having to deal with such a defiant child, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to be there for Slade, but it’s as if he knows what we’re doing, and he rejects every effort.” As he talked, Garrett shortened the distance between them.
Micara‘s limited involvement at church taught her that teens had to be handled with care, but she had no idea what care Slade needed. “I don’t know what to say, Garrett. Between his irritable son and his absent fiancée, your brother is living in a house of cards that’s about to come crashing down. Sometimes it takes losing everything to find yourself.”
“Maybe all I can do is be here for him and Slade when that happens.”
“That’s a good plan, but don’t forget to pray about it.”
“Does prayer ever work?” Garrett’s eyes held a sincerity that told her he was serious.
“The power of prayer is absolute.”
He was silent for a moment. “When we prayed together the other day, that was the first time I’ve prayed in a long time. I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything at all. Just take a deep breath, open up your mind...” She pulled in a deep breath and then exhaled like a retreating tide. “And let your heart do the talking.”
Garrett nodded. “I can do that.”
“Breathe in...”
They took a deep breath together.
“Now breathe out.”
In and out like the steady ebb and flow of the sea.
Micara gave him a pat on the arm and returned to her plant. “Want to help me finish this job, so I can get paid?”
“You bet. I gotta get back up to the school to get ready for the game though.” Garrett rubbed his hands together. “What do you want me to do?”
“You can start loading everything into my car. Once I get this plant in the ground, I’ll be good to go.”
“Loading the car. Now that’s something I can do. Any particular way?”
“It’s a small car. Just make everything fit.”
“Where’s your trailer?” His gaze darted around the yard.
“I didn’t bring it today. I knew I wouldn’t need everything.”
He lifted a bag of potting soil and a shovel and carried them to the car. Plastic sheeting lined the trunk “I got the easy job.”
“Well, I’m almost done. It’ll just take me a minute or two.” Micara filled in the hole around the plant and patted the earth. She grabbed a nearby hose and started down the flowerbed to soak the roots of all the plants.
“Is that it? You’re done?” Garrett continued to load the car while he talked.
“Almost. Hey!”
“What?” Garrett turned his head in her direction.
“Leave that. Don’t lift it.” She jutted her chin in the direction of an unopened bag of bedrock.
“It’s OK, Micara. I can lift it just fine.” He leaned forward on his good leg and reached for the bag.
Micara took aim with the sprayer. “I said leave it.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Micara stared him down while she twisted the dial from spray to jet stream.
He reached for the bag again, and she sprayed him.
The water hit him in the shoulder. “Aaah! That’s cold.”
“Told you not to lift that bag. I’m not letting you injure yourself again—not on my account.”
“All that’s left is this one bag, and then you’ll be loaded up.”
“You come water the plants, and I’ll load the bag.”
The corner of his mouth turned up, and a glimmer lit his eyes. “Sure.”
Pleased, she handed him the hose, then turned to pick up the rocks.
Big mistake. A cold spray zapped between her shoulder blades, and the back of her shirt was dripping wet.
“Hey!”
Garrett held his hands up in surrender. “Now we’re even. Truce?”
She couldn’t help but smile. The cold water felt good in this heat. If she had on a bathing suit, she’d jump in Gabriel’s lake. “Truce.” Micara plunked the bag of bedrock into the back of her car and shut the trunk. “So, uh, Gabriel is having a little get-together tomorrow night to celebrate the completion of this project.”
“Gabriel is having a dinner party? I did not see that coming.” His eyes went wide.
“He’s anxious to show off the yard to Lyra. That’s the fiancée.”
“Yeah. What about this get-together?”
She took a deep breath to muster up the courage. “He said I should bring a date, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather bring than you. Will you come? It doesn’t have to be a date.”
Garrett shook his head.
“Please?” She stuck out her bottom lip.
“Didn’t you just hear the conversation that went down in the kitchen? Gabriel won’t want me to come. I haven’t exactly made the shortlist of his favorite people.”
“He can’t do anything if you just show up with me.”
“All right, but only because you want me there. I ain’t going ’cause I want to.”
Micara squeezed him. “Thank you, thank you. This means a lot to me.”
6
Garrett rounded the side of his brother’s house, a modest structure made of light-colored stone and a gray metal roof. It featured a veranda-style porch that was as broad as it was deep. A pair of rocking chairs was situated to the left of the door underneath a ceiling fan, and a whitewashed railing enclosed it.
His brother’s fiancée, a woman he’d met on a couple of occasions, was a city girl through and through. Lyra came here only when she had to. Gabriel did all the driving to see her. In Garrett’s opinion, if Gabriel thought he had a chance of getting that city gal to move to this small town out in the country, he was bound for disappointment.
Lyra stood, tall and thin, next to Gabriel. She took in all the potted plants that decorated the porch. Pointing to a potted tree with fiddle-shaped leaves, she smiled and said something to Gabe. Maybe she was pleased with his gift.
On the other side of the house, Lyra’s luxury sedan shone like onyx. Lyra didn’t belong on a dairy farm, and she didn’t drive a dairy farm car. A real estate broker, she lived and worked in the big city of Bishop.
Why was Gabriel having a get-together to celebrate the completion of a landscaping job when he hadn’t even bothered sharing the news about his engagement?
“Hi, Micara. I’m Lyra.” She’d spotted them and crossed the patio, a smile turning up the corners of her lips.
Behind her, Gabriel’s face lacked the same welcome.
The two women shook hands.
“I want to thank you for the beautiful job you did with the landscaping. I love it.”
Micara nodded. “My pleasure. It was done for you, so I’m thrilled you’re satisfied with it.”
Lyra glanced up at Gabriel and smiled.
He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Only the best for my baby. Lyra, you remember my little brother, Garrett.”
So Gabe had decided to play nice. Good, that would make things easier for everyone.
“I do.” Lyra nodded and extended her hand.
Garrett hoped Gabe’s gift had worked its magic, and the two were getting along again. Despite their prickly connection, he wanted the best for his brother. Why couldn’t Gabe want the best for him, or at least accept his decisions?
“Get cookin’, good lookin’!” Lyra led the way to the picnic table.
An obedient Gabriel returned to the
grill. He lifted the lid, and the smell of meat filled the air.
Bridal magazines cluttered the tabletop.
“What’s this?” Garrett jutted his chin toward the scattered books.
Lyra grinned at Gabriel. “Honey, should we tell them?”
“Sure, go ahead.” He saluted with his spatula. “No use waiting.”
Lyra’s smile widened. “We’ve set a date for the wedding.”
A date? That was the big announcement? So this wasn’t just a celebration to present the newly landscaped yard to Lyra.
“Just a few months away.” Lyra seemed eager to share. “It’ll be a winter wedding in January.”
“That’s pretty soon.”
“We’re both so stubborn we decided to get married quick before we had a chance to change our minds.” A burst of throaty laughter followed this shocking revelation.
Why in the world were they getting married if their relationship was that shaky? That wasn’t the right attitude about such a serious step. Garrett had never considered himself a religious man, but he was confident these two could use some kind of counseling session—maybe with a pastor.
Micara shifted in her seat but managed to be gracious.
Garrett was sure he felt her disapproval.
Lyra chattered on. “Traditional winter weddings are all white, and that’s exactly what I want, a winter wonderland.” She opened a magazine to a marked page and turned it around for them to view. “See how everything at the church and reception is white? No accent colors. White fabrics, white flowers, white lights, white everything. Even the bridesmaids will wear white. I’m opposed to color of any kind. White is so pure and beautiful.”
Garrett stood and nodded to the women. “Excuse me, ladies. I need to check on the chef.” He couldn’t listen to Lyra go on and on about a wedding when they weren’t getting married for the right reason. He went to over to his brother. “Anything I can do?”
“Yeah, put some foil on the bottom of that pan. The burgers are almost ready. And I’ve cooked a special surprise in the house.”
Garrett measured off a piece of foil and tore it along the serrated edge. Then he smoothed it onto the metal sheet pan, wrapping the extra length and width over the sides. “A bigger surprise than setting a date for your wedding before you even told anyone you were engaged?”