by Lisa Jordan
“No one asked you to.” He continued picking, his back to Tucker.
“Actually, your daughter did.”
“She had no business doing that.”
“You know, Joe, we can go back and forth about that all day and neither one of us will see the other’s point, so let’s agree to disagree. Besides, I came to talk to you about something else.”
“About what?”
“See that plot of land that borders your property?” Tucker pointed over Joe’s head at the acreage between his house and the diner.
Joe nodded. “What about it?”
“Well, as I’m sure you know, I own it. After the tornado nearly destroyed the farm and killed Mom, Dad divided the farm by five, giving each of us boys a piece of the property with the condition we use a portion of our properties for the Fatigues to Farming program. When Bella visited yesterday, she suggested a community garden. Dad, Jake and I talked it out, and we think it’s a great idea. Problem is, with my schedule, I don’t have time to coordinate it. With your love of gardening and experience with veterans, we wondered if you’d be willing to oversee the project.”
“And you think I have time?” Joe stood, straightened, then winced as he pressed a hand against his lower back. “Working six days, I’ve got my hands full with the diner. There’s no time for anything else.”
“But you have Bella here now to help.”
“That girl doesn’t belong here. She’s a classically trained chef, not a fry cook. She’s just home long enough to let her wounds heal, then she’ll be gone again.”
The wistful tone in Joe’s voice tore at Tucker’s gut. But he was kind of beginning to feel the same way. Although he still didn’t know what had brought Bella home, he wasn’t ready for her to leave again.
And that admission shook him a little more than he wanted to admit. He didn’t want to think of her as more than a friend. Otherwise, he was setting himself up for more heartache. And he’d had enough to last a lifetime.
“What do you know about community gardens, anyway?” With a half bushel basket wrapped in his beefy arm, Joe pushed his hat up and scratched the top of his head.
“Not much, but Bella seems to think you do. She mentioned you overseeing one years ago when you were married to her mom.”
Joe waved away his words. “That was a long time ago. Things change. People change.”
Tucker wasn’t sure what to make of the older man’s cryptic comment. “The farm wants to break ground for a community garden for the veterans and their families to begin in the spring when the Fatigues to Farming program launches, and we thought maybe you’d be willing to meet with Dad, Jake and me to talk about setting it up and coordinating the project.”
“Why not ask one of the veterans coming in to the program?”
“Because they’re going to be too new. Besides, you can be their community connection. You know practically everyone.”
Joe eyed him a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry, man. I can’t do it. Not right now. You need to find someone else.”
“At least think about it.” Tucker glanced at his watch, then shoved his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not really—kind of comes in handy when trying to save lives.”
“Well, you can forget about this conversation because you need a leader for that kind of project, and I’m not one.”
Tucker flung a hand toward the diner. “Joe, you’ve run this diner single-handedly for twenty-five years. How can you not think you’re a leader?”
“A leader wouldn’t run his business into the ground.”
“All you had to do was ask for help.”
Joe shook his head. “My diner. My problem.”
“Your stubborn pride. Bella’s worried, you know.”
“Whose fault is that? If you hadn’t told her, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
“And if she hadn’t come home when she did, then you wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me.” Tucker schooled his tone and held out a hand. “Let me help, Joe. You’ve been like a second dad to me. After the tornado, you fed us for days and spearheaded the cleanup crew. Not to mention saving my life when I wrecked my car in front of the diner when I was seventeen. Without your quick thinking, I would’ve died. I owe you.”
“Son, you owe me nothing. You have your hands full with those kiddos of yours.”
“At least consider the community garden. Your chili wins the cook-off every year, and it’s because of those homegrown tomatoes of yours.”
“That’s not enough reason for a community garden.”
“How about because I’m asking? You have a better connection with the vets than I do. I never saw combat. And maybe we could use the produce from the garden in the diner.”
“Being a reservist isn’t any less than serving in Desert Storm. And we can’t use produce in the diner that hasn’t been inspected by the USDA. You should know that.”
“You’re right.” Tucker sighed and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Okay. I get it. I’ll let you get back to your tomatoes.”
Tires crunched on the gravel in the back parking lot. Bella exited her car and walked toward him, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
His heart gave a little jump, which was totally unexpected. What was that about? He shrugged it off. “I tried talking your dad into overseeing the community garden, but he turned it down.”
“Why, Dad?”
“Would you two just back off? I said no, okay? Let it go.” Joe grabbed his basket and headed for the diner.
Bella watched him leave with sadness rimming her eyes, and once he disappeared inside, she turned to Tucker. “I’m sorry. I really thought he’d go for it, but it seems I was wrong. Dad’s been...different since I’ve been home.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. He’s been more snappish, grumpy and harder to get along with. He’s always been so easygoing—I don’t know what to make of this change. I feel like he doesn’t want me here.”
“Diabetes can cause some changes in a person. Many people with it may experience depression, mood swings and other things. You may want to talk to his doctor and see about making sure his medication stays regulated.”
“Yeah, like he’ll give me that kind of information. Due to HIPAA laws I can’t ask anything without Dad’s permission, and he’s so guarded that I doubt they’ll let me. We’ll get through it. We always do.”
“But at what cost?”
“I’m stronger than I look. I can take it.”
“I’m glad caring for two rambunctious five-year-olds hasn’t scared you off.”
“Even though I haven’t spent a lot of time with kids, it’s been good.”
“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you?” Tucker dropped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze.
Before Bella had arrived to care for them, he’d talked with Livie and Landon to ensure they were on their best behavior. And so far, everything had been working out.
Almost too good to be true.
Almost.
He knew his children well, but Bella was right—she was much stronger than she looked. And for that, he was grateful.
But now he was the one who needed to be strong and remember Bella’s time in Shelby Lake was temporary—and he couldn’t afford to lose his heart.
Chapter Five
One more hour until bedtime.
She could do it.
Two five-year-olds wouldn’t wreck her.
She was stronger than that.
Wasn’t that what she’d told Tucker earlier that afternoon?
When Tucker called in a slight panic to say he’d gotten called into work to cover a shift and didn’t have anyone else to help, Isabella had rinsed her pain
tbrushes and headed to his house. Then after learning the kids hadn’t eaten dinner yet, Isabella had reminded him she could handle her way around the kitchen.
After all, most kids liked pasta, right?
Apparently not Olivia and Landon. At least not the homemade kind Isabella had whipped up. They wouldn’t touch it because the cheese was white, not orange. Then attempts at making something else caused Olivia to dissolve into tears because Isabella hadn’t made her PB&J correctly.
At least bath time made her smile again.
Isabella rinsed the soap crayon artwork off the bathtub wall, gathered the basket of colorful plastic food and dishes Livie insisted on needing in her bath, then drained the pink water.
Two baths completed in less than ninety minutes.
Now to get the little monkeys into bed.
After agreeing to help Tucker out, she’d binged on parenting blogs, hoping to gain some insight into caring for the kids. The parenting gurus talked about establishing bedtime routines for a peaceful transition.
All good in theory, but did those authors even have children? Or rambunctious ones like Olivia and Landon?
From somewhere down the hall, Olivia screamed, then raced into the bathroom wearing a purple nightgown with a ruffled hem. Meno barked and raced beside her.
Slamming the door, Olivia pressed her back against it as tears coursed down her cheeks. She pushed wet, tangled hair off her face as sobs shuddered her chest.
Landon pounded on the other side of the door, causing Meno to bark even louder. “Let me in, Livie.”
“No, you’re being mean. I don’t like you.”
Isabella smothered a sigh and dried her hands on one of the damp bath towels puddled on the floor. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Landon’s being a meanie.”
“Am not!”
“Are too.”
“Okay, enough.” Wrapping an arm around the child’s shoulders, Isabella moved her aside and opened the door. She took Liv’s hand and reached for Landon’s. “Both of you come with me.”
She walked them to the living room, sat on one half of the gray microfiber sectional and patted cushions on each side of her. Meno jumped up on the couch, then climbed over Isabella to claim an empty spot at the other end. “Time for a little chat.”
The twins climbed up and sat next to her. For half a second, Isabella claimed it as a victory. “New rule—”
Landon groaned. “Rules are no fun.”
She tried not to let his words sting as she ruffled his still-damp hair. “Everyone needs rules, my man. Otherwise, we’d have nothing but chaos.”
“What’s chaos?”
Isabella glanced at the plastic farm animals, baby dolls, pink-and-purple tea set, building blocks, and toy cars scattered across the hardwood floor in front of the stone fireplace.
Chaos seemed to be her new adventure.
“Chaos happens when everyone does what they want, when they want, and ignores the rules. Rules keep us safe and protected. So, here’s a new rule—you’re allowed to get mad at each other, but saying you don’t like one another is not okay. Got it?” She grabbed a tissue, cupped Olivia’s chin and dried her eyes. “It’s so important to love your brother all the time, even when he’s being a meanie.”
Olivia stuck out her bottom lip. “But he threw that icky snake on me again.”
Isabella turned to Landon and gave him a firm look. “Dude. We talked about that snake twice already. And what did I say?”
He scrunched up his face and heaved a sigh. “If I did it again, you were going to take it away.”
“That’s right, so hand it over.”
Landon flung himself back on the couch and moaned. “No fair.”
“It wasn’t fair to tease your sister.”
“She’s just being a baby.”
“Am not.” Livie stuck out her tongue.
Landon returned the gesture. “Are too.”
Isabella held out her hand. “Landon.”
Muttering under his breath, he dropped the realistic-looking rubber snake in the palm of her hand, and she swallowed a shriek. No sense in giving him more power. She stuffed it behind a blue-and-white-striped pillow and glanced at the clock. “Now it’s time for a story, then bed.”
“Bed? But it’s too early. Daddy lets us stay up.”
“You have school tomorrow.” Isabella dropped a kiss on Livie’s forehead. “You two have had a long day and need some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” Landon rubbed his eyes with a fist.
“Then you can rest in your bed and think happy thoughts until you fall asleep. Now, grab a book and I’ll read to you.”
They scurried off the couch, raced to the small bookshelf and pulled off books until they found the ones they wanted and then ran back to Isabella, leaving the discarded books in a haphazard heap on the floor.
Isabella swallowed the lecture burning her tongue. Tomorrow would be here soon enough. They could talk about cleanup then. Bedtime was in sight. She could make it through two stories.
Then she’d finish cleaning up and spend an hour or so working on a new business plan for the diner. If she could stay awake that long.
Repainting and climbing up and down ladders used more muscles than she realized she’d had.
Once the twins settled on either side of her, Isabella read stories about cats and fish. Then she tucked them into their own beds, listened to their prayers that didn’t seem to end, turned off lights, then returned to the living room, where she collapsed on the couch.
She’d sit for five minutes before cleaning up the mess in the bathroom and the toys in the living room, get the dishwasher running, and then she’d open her computer.
A touch on her arm, and she looked down. Landon’s rubber snake, with its jaws open, stared at her. She screamed and threw the snake across the room. Meno barked and bounded off the couch to retrieve it.
For half a minute, Isabella considered burying it in the trash, but she couldn’t do that to Landon. Instead, she tossed it under the couch and made a mental note to have Tucker take care of it.
With Meno stretched out beside her, Isabella rested her head against the pillow and reached for a pale yellow afghan. One the twins had informed her their mother had knitted it when she was pregnant with them.
A story Tucker must have told them.
No wonder he had moved back to the farmhouse after Rayne’s death.
Every room whispered of her presence—from the shiplap wall in the kitchen to the framed photos of her and the twins scattered around the house. Even the very faint scent of lavender that escaped from the linen closet in the bathroom.
Isabella had always liked Rayne, but once she and Tucker had started dating, Isabella had kept her distance, because seeing them together all the time created an ache in her chest that never really went away.
Now, being in the house where they had raised a family together, some of those pangs of jealousy had resurfaced.
And the shadow of Rayne’s presence seemed to follow Tucker, who was still in love with his late wife.
She couldn’t compete with that. So, she’d stay strong for the remaining time she had to care for his children, and for the help he was offering at the diner.
Her heavy eyelids drooped. She’d rest for just five minutes, then get to work with cleaning up the messes.
Something soft brushed against Isabella’s chin. She batted at it, coming in contact with a warm hand. Her eyes jerked open, and she found Tucker dressed in his uniform leaning over her with the afghan in his hand. She must have knocked it on the floor. She sat up quickly, then swayed slightly when her head started spinning.
“Whoa, take it easy.” Tucker reached for her upper arms and guided her back against the pillow. “How’s it going?”
His voice, rich and velvety, w
ashed over her. She shifted into a sitting position and pushed her hair out of her face. “What’s wrong? Why are you home so early? I thought you had a twenty-four-hour shift.”
“Early? It’s after midnight.”
“Midnight? Oh man...” Isabella dragged a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. The bathroom is a wreck. The dishwasher needs started. There are toys everywhere.”
“Those things can wait. You need to get some sleep.”
“Tomorrow will have even more work to do.” Isabella pushed off the couch and picked up the afghan to fold it. “I’ll get things picked up here, then get some sleep. You didn’t answer me—what are you doing home?”
“I tried to check in to see how your evening had gone and to say good-night to the kids, but you didn’t answer your phone or the texts I sent, so I got worried. We didn’t have much going on, so I came home to check on you.”
She picked up her phone and saw the notifications of missed texts and phone calls. His care and concern filled her with warmth. When had someone cared enough to check on her without wanting anything in return?
“I’m sorry I worried you. My phone was on silent.” She opened her arms. “As you can see, I’m fine. We played a game after supper, then the kids had baths, two stories, then bed.” Burdening Tucker with the snake issue could wait. “I planned to get this mess cleaned up then do some social media work for the restaurant for a bit, but we can see how well that turned out.”
“Don’t push yourself so hard, Bella. Things will come together in God’s timing.”
Isabella didn’t want to hurt Tucker’s feelings or mock his faith, but she believed in having a plan and working hard to make it happen. Instead, she shifted the conversation back to his children. “After I send them off to school, I’m going to head back to the diner, so let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks. I appreciate everything you’re doing to help us out. And to think you were nervous about caring for them.” He glanced at his watch. “I gotta go—I just wanted to check in really quick to make sure the house was still standing. See you in the morning.”