by Kat Brookes
“I would have provided that for you,” he said. “No matter the circumstances.”
“I know that now,” she said.
He stopped in the center of Mrs. Tully’s backyard and turned to face her. “I intend to provide for my son from here on out.”
She shook her head. “Mason, you don’t have to. We’re okay financially. It’s enough that you want to be a part of our son’s life.”
“He’s my child,” he said. “Of course I want him in my life. From the moment I found out Finn was mine, there has never been any question in my mind about whether or not I want to be involved in his life. And I certainly intend to help support him.”
“But this isn’t something you planned for,” she countered. “I don’t want you to feel...” She hesitated, as if searching for the right word.
“Trapped?” he supplied, because he knew that was where her thoughts were. Not on him, or them, but on her past.
“Yes,” she said, her reply sounding almost pained.
He released a heavy sigh. “Because it appears you need to hear this again, I’m going to tell you again, I am not your daddy, Lila. I have no intention of walking out of my son’s life.”
“No, Mason, you’re not him,” she agreed, meeting his gaze.
Honey let out a bark, jumping up at the bag dangling from Lila’s hand at her side.
With a gasp, Lila tried to grab for the treat bag the impatient pup had just snatched from her grasp.
“Honey, no!” Mason commanded. “Drop,” he said, his tone firm, and Honey immediately released the plastic baggie, letting it fall to the ground between her front paws.
“You are so good at that,” Lila said, shaking her head in awe.
Mason bent to pick up the bag. “You’ve heard the saying ‘been there, done that’? She’s tried that trick on me before. Took me quite unexpectedly. Never let her short legs lull you into thinking she can’t leap high when properly motivated.”
Lila laughed. “I will be sure to store that tidbit of knowledge away for future reference.”
Grits moved to stand in front of Mason, who now held the treat bag, and began barking loudly.
Honey wasted no time in adding her two cents’ worth.
With a chuckle, Mason withdrew two dog biscuits from their plastic pouch. “We’d best get started teaching you a few things before these two decide to team up and abscond with these treats.”
“Good idea,” Lila agreed.
“We’ll start with your teaching them to stay when you tell them to, and then to come when you give them permission.”
“Sounds hard,” she said, worrying her bottom lip.
“Not really,” he told her. “It’s more a matter of repetition, offering them a treat and praise when they follow your commands. Once they start to respond to you, we’ll start taking the treats out of the mix and offering up praise only. Because you want them to listen to you whenever and wherever you might be, and there won’t always be treats available to help with the coaxing.”
Lila listened intently, taking in his advice on the basics of what it took to earn a dog’s obedience. She asked questions and then told Mason she thought she was ready to give his teachings a try.
With a grin, Mason nodded. “They’re all yours.”
“Okay, kids,” she said as she faced off with the tail-wagging pups, “I need you to sit.”
“Be commanding,” Mason told her, fighting a grin.
She glanced his way. “That was commanding.”
“You’re not inviting them over for tea,” he said, his tone teasing. “You’re letting them know who’s in charge. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself lying facedown in a rain-soaked garden again.”
“Nothing like a reminder of one’s very recent moment of humiliation to put things in perspective,” she said with a smiling glance in his direction. “I am going to get the hang of this yet, Mason Landers. Just you wait and see.”
And she would. Of that he had no doubt. Mason suddenly found himself wondering how he might slow her lessons down. Although he should be eager to finish up his offer to help her with Mrs. Tully’s dogs, he found he was anything but.
Just as he once had, he felt content spending time with Lila now. Like his world was right again, which was so far from the reality of it all.
Chapter Seven
“This crop should be about ready to be harvested,” Mason said, looking to his son as they walked through the orchard. It was the last week of July, meaning they were right on schedule. Jake and he would harvest this section within a few days, then finish up the season with the final crop during the first week of August.
“How can you tell?” Finn asked.
“Their color changes,” Lila chimed in.
Mason looked her way in surprise. “You remembered that?” While they had spent more and more time together, mostly with Finn, occasionally without, they spent most of that time talking about their son, about Lila and Finn’s life in Alabama, and about ways to make their situation work.
Lila smiled. “I remember a lot about my time here.”
So did he.
“To all yellow?” their son pressed, clearly eager to know more.
It took Mason back to when he was a young boy, following his own daddy around the orchards every chance he got. He, too, had yearned to learn everything there was to know about the family orchards and the deliciously sweet fruits they produced. And now here he was, a generation later, standing in what had once been his father’s shoes, sharing the knowledge he had gained over the years with his own son.
“Some,” Mason replied, “but not all. Ripe peaches can also have a yellow-orange color to their skin. And it’s not uncommon for the peaches to be lighter in color at the underside that faces the ground. Once the first crop is ready to harvest, we’ll have workers come in to help handpicking the ripe peaches. Until then, your uncle Jake and I gather baskets of fruit that has ripened sooner than the rest and take them back to the house for your gramma Landers to cook with.”
Stepping up to the nearest tree, Mason set a basket down onto the ground beside him and then reached up to curl his fingers gently around one of the dangling peaches. “You’ll want to press a finger lightly into the fruit to test its ripeness before picking it.” He did as he was instructing, his finger making a slight indent in the skin. “The outer part of the peach should give slightly, just as this one has.” Glancing back at Finn, he said, “Give one a try.”
His son looked a little panicked at the suggestion. “What if I squeeze too hard?”
“Then we’ll have to eat it sooner,” Lila assured him with a loving smile. “But I have faith that you’ll do exactly as your daddy instructed. In fact, it’ll probably come to you naturally. You’re a Landers after all. Peaches are a part of who you are.”
Finn looked her way, his expression falling. “But I’m not a Landers. My name is Gleeson.”
Lila appeared dumbstruck by their son’s reply, so Mason responded for her. “That doesn’t make you any less of a Landers, son.”
Lila, having finally collected herself, nodded in agreement. “My name isn’t Tully, but that doesn’t make Gramma Tully any less of a momma to me. But in your case there are things we can do to make you officially a Landers.”
Mason’s hand froze in place as he and Finn looked her way.
“I’ve been doing some research, and it’s possible to add your daddy to your birth certificate and change your last name, if that’s all right with him.”
“We can?” Finn said, his face lighting up.
“I think that changing your name is something you need to think on awhile,” Mason told him.
His son swung his gaze around his way. “You don’t want me to have your name?”
Mason released the peach he’d been testing and stepped around the tree to where his son stood. Cl
asping a hand atop Finn’s shoulder, he said, “I would love nothing more.” He’d grown up wanting to have a big family like his own, hoping to have a son to carry on the family name, but after Lila left so did that part of his dreams. Now here she was, giving those back to him, and he was beyond excited at the possibility of that happening, but at what cost to her? “You’ve got your momma’s feelings to think about,” he heard himself saying, realizing that he didn’t want to hurt Lila. If it meant letting that old dream go again, he would do it, because a difference in names didn’t change the fact that Finn was his son.
“It’s all right,” Lila told him. “It’s the name he should have had all along.”
Finn turned to look up at Mason. “Can we change my name, Daddy? Please?”
Mason felt his heart expanding even more. Each day spent with his son—and admittedly with Lila, too—was giving that long-forgotten organ of his a reason to beat. “Your momma and I will set aside some time to discuss it.” He glanced at Lila, who nodded in agreement.
With a whoop of joy, Finn threw his arms around Mason’s waist, hugging him tight. “I can’t wait to tell my friends my new name and that I have a daddy of my own, too, now.”
Mason chuckled. “I look forward to meeting your friends.”
Finn pulled away with a grin. “Wait until they see how tall you are. They won’t be able to call me Pint once I grow as tall as you.”
“Pint?” Mason repeated, quirking a brow.
“It’s short for Pint-Size,” Finn explained matter-of-factly. “That’s what I’m called because I’m the smallest of us all.”
“Doesn’t seem like a very friend-like thing to do, if you ask me,” Mason said.
“They all have nicknames,” Lila explained. “Springer, who has a head full of red curls, Whistler, who has a small gap between his teeth and whistles whenever he talks, and Sprinkles, whose cheeks are spattered with freckles.”
“We got to pick our own nicknames,” Finn explained.
The irritation he’d felt at first faded away. “I see.”
“One of these days, I’ll be able to change my name to Stretch, because I’m going to be tall like you!”
Mason glanced Lila’s way to see her fretful expression. She knew, as Mason did, that Finn had inherited her smaller stature and was not likely to grow to be as tall as he was. But there was nothing wrong with that. “Maybe you will,” he told his son. “And maybe you won’t. What you need to keep in mind is that it’s not height or the broadness of his shoulders that makes a man a man—it’s his actions.”
“I’m still going to keep drinking my milk,” Finn replied.
Mason smiled down at him. “You do that. And be sure to eat all your vegetables, too.”
His son made a pinched expression. “I’d rather stay pint-size than eat cauliflower or beets.”
A deep chuckle erupted from Mason’s throat. “You and me both.” With that admission, he returned to the limb he’d been inspecting before their conversation had grown serious. “Now, let’s find us some ripe peaches to take back to Gramma Landers. If they’re on the firm side when you test their ripeness, leave them. That means they’re not quite ripe yet. And when you pick them, be sure to lift the peach like this,” he said, demonstrating with the one he’d tested earlier. Glancing back over his shoulder, he said, “Lila? We could use another pair of picking hands if you’d care to join us. Unless you’ve forgotten how,” he teased.
“Picking peaches is like riding a bicycle,” she said as she moved to join them. “Once you’ve done it, you never really forget how to do it again.”
“Momma’s picked peaches before?” Finn said in surprise as he rounded the tree.
“She sure has,” Mason replied as he plucked the peach he’d been holding from its branch. “In fact, I remember her outpicking your uncle Jake and me more than once during harvest season.”
Laughing softly, Lila reached up to check a peach. “Only because your brother helped me win.”
Mason turned to her. “Helped you win?”
She kept her gaze fixed on the peach she was plucking from the branch in front of her. “He might have given me some of his peaches when we were having our picking contests.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Finn asked from the opposite side of the tree.
Mason looked to Lila, who met his gaze, and shook his head with a grin. “I’d say it was more your momma and Uncle Jake having some fun with me—on more than one occasion.”
“Thank you,” she mouthed, returning his smile. Then reached up to free another ripened peach from a limb above.
The fruit being just out of her reach, Mason stepped up next to Lila. “Here,” he said, placing his larger hand over hers, “let me give you a hand.” His much longer fingers assisted in giving the peach the additional nudge upward it needed to break it away from its limb.
Lila glanced up. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said, letting his hand fall away. Then he promptly moved back to where he’d been standing, his heart remembering the times they’d gone out to pick peaches for his momma. Working together. Laughing together. Life had been so simple back then. “You doing okay over there, son?” he asked, trying to focus on something other than Lila and their shared past.
“I’ve got two peaches picked so far,” Finn replied, bringing a proud smile to Mason’s face.
It was such a surreal experience to be standing in his family’s orchard, picking peaches with his son. His heart swelled with happiness. “Set them in the basket carefully and then gather up a couple more.”
Finn did as instructed and before long he was depositing two more into the basket.
Mason gave a low whistle. “Look at you go. Keep that up and you’re going to give your momma a run for the money when it comes to picking the most peaches.”
“We’re getting paid to do this?” Finn said, clearly not understanding the phrase Mason had chosen to praise his son’s efforts with.
Lila’s lips were lifted in an amused smile.
Mason found his own grin hitching up even higher. “Maybe not with money, but I’m sure Gramma Landers will show you her appreciation for helping to harvest her some peaches by baking you something sugary sweet. Does that work for you?” he asked, peering at his son through the tree’s fruit-laden branches.
“Yep,” Finn said, his head bobbing up and down. “Gramma Landers makes the best sweets. Almost as good as Aunt Addy’s.”
“Your aunt Addy is a professional pastry chef,” Lila reminded him. “She went to school to learn how to bake sweets. So I’m sure your gramma Landers would be honored to have her baking skills rank right up there with your aunt Addy’s.”
“She sure would.” Mason carried a handful of peaches over to the basket on the ground, placing them gently onto the other ones. “Did you know that your aunt Addy first learned to bake desserts in Gramma Tully’s kitchen?”
“She did?”
“Sure did,” he confirmed. “She used to come over to visit and would end up helping your aunt Violet and Gramma Landers make baked goods to sell at our family’s peach market.”
“Which used to be a lot smaller than it is now,” Lila told her son. “Your daddy and Uncle Jake have done a lot of work on the place, adding on to it so more people can come through during harvest season to buy baked goods and browse the market’s gift section.”
“Will I work there someday?” he asked.
God willing, Mason thought. Finn was a Landers, and the orchard and its busy market were family run. But if his son chose to focus his career sights elsewhere someday, he would support his decision. Thankfully, there were still quite a few years before Finn would have to make those choices. Until then, Mason would teach him anything he wanted to know about the orchard, something he never grew tired of talking about when asked.
As the three of them worked
to fill the basket, a comfortable silence fell between them. Mason’s thoughts were centered on the time he had spent with Lila and their son in the weeks since learning that Finn was his. He’d gone from anger and resentment in the beginning to eagerly looking forward to the next time he’d get to see both Lila and Finn. Whether he was working with the dogs, helping them with Mrs. Tully’s garden or playing catch, his heart had never felt so content. And now, in the orchard that was so much a part of who he was, harvesting peaches together, it felt like they were the family they should have always been.
His gaze drifted to Lila, who had fixed her focus on the peach she was lifting ever so carefully in her hand. This was the Lila he remembered. The Lila he had first fallen in love with. And there was no denying the truth that lay in his heart. He still loved her. Always would. But he also knew the time wasn’t right to make his feelings known. He was going to be leaving the country at summer’s end, and she was going to be going back to her life in Alabama. Trying to grow a relationship from the Congo would be nearly impossible. He had no choice but wait until he returned from his mission trip to see where things might go with Lila. He could only pray she would be willing to trust in his love for her.
* * *
Lila reached for another of Finn’s T-shirts, still warm from the dryer, and began neatly folding it. Her thoughts were on the day before when she’d been picking peaches with Mason and Finn. The look on Mason’s face when she’d said that she’d be willing to let Finn change his last name had nearly brought tears of joy to her eyes. It was a gift from her heart to both Mason and her son, both of whom she loved dearly.
“Lila,” her foster mother said from the open doorway that led into the guest room Finn had been staying in.
Her gaze lifted from the basket of clean laundry she’d been folding. “Yes, Mama Tully?”
The older woman smiled. “You have a visitor in the living room. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
Before Lila could ask who it was, Mama Tully was gone.