by Nella Tyler
It had hurt me more than I had imagined it would that he hadn’t wanted to be around for her birth and hadn’t even made the trip to see her in the week or two after she was born.
I could understand—maybe—Titan falling in love with someone else. But Adelyn was his child. Surely, he’d at least want to know who she was, wouldn’t he?
While I pondered that, I found my laptop in my bedroom and started it up. I could have checked my email on my phone, but I preferred to check it on my computer. I was more likely to actually reply to something that way.
I started when I heard the start-up tone, looking into Addie’s room in the suspicion that she might have woken up. There wasn’t even the faintest sound other than her breathing, and I sighed with relief. It wasn’t just that I occasionally needed a break from constant chores and care of my daughter, but also that I knew that if she ended her nap early, she’d be grouchy and fussy all the rest of the day.
I opened my browser, logged into my email, and took a deep breath. There were a few spam emails, a forward from one of my cousins…things that I didn’t particularly care about and couldn’t bring myself to do more than just delete, sight unseen.
But then, as I scrolled, I saw that Titan had replied to my email—a week after the fact. At least he replied at all, unlike the other times you emailed him, I thought. The only other reply I’d gotten from Titan since he’d left for the East Coast had been his response that he wouldn’t be coming out for Addie’s birth.
I opened the email and read. Hey, Autumn. Forgot to reply to this earlier, but Katie said I should probably get back to you. I rolled my eyes at that; apparently his new girlfriend—Katie—was reading his emails.
I figured that considering he’d met her online while he was engaged to me, I couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. If I were the type of woman to get involved with someone in a relationship, I don’t think I’d ever be able to trust them, which was why I was not that type of woman.
I made myself keep reading. Katie and I are really happy together, and I don’t plan on coming back to Iowa any time soon for any reason. I hope that answers your questions. He had attached a picture of himself and his new girlfriend to the email, snuggled up close on a couch in some bar.
“Well,” I said to myself quietly. “He’s right about one thing: that answers my questions.” I shook my head and closed the email, setting my laptop aside.
I told myself that I hadn’t really thought I’d ever truly see Titan again. I told myself that I had expected something like this when he didn’t reply to my email within a day or two. I tried to convince myself that I’d been expecting it ever since he’d said he wouldn’t be in town to see Addie when she was born.
But I knew better. I’d been hoping that at least he would be a little curious about his own daughter. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore; not romantically, at least. But I had hoped for our daughter’s sake that he would find it in him to want to know who she was, and how she was doing.
I’d been prepared to make concessions, even—I would have taken her to his parents’ place in town and dropped her off with them for him to meet her, if he’d wanted. I had obviously been completely wrong about the kind of person Titan was when we’d met…and that disturbed the hell out of me.
Almost unwillingly, my thoughts turned to Cade instead. “Cade would never pull something like this,” I murmured, bitter and wistful all at once.
If Cade had been engaged to someone, I had to believe that he would be loyal to her. And even if somehow he fell out of love with the mother of his child, everything I had seen of him told me that he would at least take an interest in his own child’s life.
Sure, if I wanted to deal with all the stress and strain of filing for child support, I could go to the courts and make sure that Titan had to pay for the rest of Addie’s childhood, but I wasn’t interested in money from him. The farm was making enough money that, provided we didn’t run into any catastrophes in the next 18 years, I would be fine and so would my daughter.
But I wanted her to have a daddy. I wanted her to have a father figure. I glanced in the direction of Addie’s room and sighed to myself. At least, I thought, she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of having had a father and losing him. I sighed again.
It was almost time to get Addie up from her nap. I would take her over to Mom’s place and start on dinner, since Mom would be late coming home from the doctor.
I thought about Cade again, imagining him with a child of his own. For the short time I’d known him, he’d done so well with Addie, amusing her whenever they were in the same place together, paying attention to her, interested in her little life. If he had a child of his own, I could only imagine that he’d be a great dad.
Adelyn didn’t exactly want to wake up, but as soon as I had her out of her crib and told her we were going to Grandma and Papa’s house, she perked up. I carried Addie across the farm to the main house, singing her a little song and listening to her chirp back to me—every once in a while she caught a lyric, but mostly she was just belting out noise in the same key. I let myself into the house through the back door and settled my little girl in her playpen in the living room with a few toys to keep her busy while I checked on the kitchen.
As I was taking stock of things, putting together a rough idea in my head of what to make for dinner, Mom came in, smiling. “You’re in a good mood for coming home from the doctor,” I said, giving her a tart look.
“I got nothing but good news,” Mom replied. “I am 100% A-Okay.”
“That’s awesome!” I grinned at her. “Anything in particular you want for dinner to celebrate?”
She shrugged. “I am in the mood for anything—see what needs picking in the garden and make up what you like.”
Mom kissed me on the forehead and started to head towards the living room to greet Addie before going to her bedroom to get out of her nicer clothes. “Oh! I meant to tell you as soon as I came in: I invited Cade to stay for supper, too.”
“Oh?” I tried to keep my voice neutral but my heart started pounding in my chest. My big idea for dinner—some beef stroganoff and marinated tomatoes—suddenly seemed cheap and tawdry. I needed to come up with something better. “Have we got any of that turkey that the Jones’ sent us? Or is it all frozen?”
I tried to remember what kind of frozen vegetables we had. Mom and I had been harvesting from the kitchen garden every day, but as it headed into summer there was more than we could eat at any given meal, and so we blanched and froze the extra for later on in the year.
“What are you going to make with turkey? You can’t roast a turkey in time for dinner,” Mom said dubiously.
“No—no of course not,” I said, laughing at the idea. “I was thinking I’d make a pot pie.” Mom raised an eyebrow at that; potpie was more than a little labor intensive, even if it didn’t take as much time as a roasted turkey.
“You really are interested in celebrating my clean bill of health,” she said drily. “I think we’ve got a couple of breasts in the fridge still; I was going to cook some up for sandwiches.”
“Oh—if you had plans for them…” I felt my cheeks burning with a blush. Mom laughed.
“The Jones’ sent us four turkeys,” she pointed out. “And, two breasts on top of it. I can get one of the whole birds out of the big freezer and roast that up—make dinner another night and sandwiches for the week.”
She shrugged and went into the living room, leaving me alone. I took a deep breath and began to get down to work: I would need to make and rest the pie crust, and boil the turkey and make the broth, and put everything else together. But I was sure that Cade would love the end result—my turkey pot pie was not quite as amazing as my fried chicken, but it was definitely well worth eating.
I blushed as I moved about the kitchen, gathering up the things I would need and calling the recipe up in my mind. Mom wouldn’t rat me out, I knew that; but I couldn’t help showing Cade a little love, even if I couldn’t tell
him what I was doing.
Chapter Fourteen
Cade
The smells coming from the kitchen when I stepped into the house to clean up for dinner nearly blew me away all on their own. I didn’t know what Autumn had decided to make, but whatever it was, I was certain it was delicious.
I went into the bathroom the same as I had maybe ten times since I’d started working for the Nelsons, and cleaned myself up as quickly as possible: washed my hands and face, combed my hair and pulled it back, dusted off my clothes, and dried myself off. I really would have preferred a full shower—but I hadn’t brought clothes to change into, and anyway, that would be delaying dinner too much.
I stepped out of the bathroom and crossed the living room to go into the kitchen. Tuck had washed up, as well, and Mrs. Nelson was finishing up the table setting. Bob Nelson emerged from upstairs, and I looked around until I spotted Autumn, She had a big casserole dish in her hands, and that—I was pretty sure—was where the delicious smells were mostly coming from.
“Thanks for inviting me to stay for dinner,” I said, smiling at the different members of the family. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
“We’re happy to have you,” Bob said, taking his seat at the head of the table. Tuck settled in the same spot I’d always seen him in, to Bob’s right, and Mrs. Nelson took the foot of the table.
Autumn brought the casserole dish to the table and set it down, and I took a few moments to survey everything in front of me as I sat in one of the only seats left.
There was a cucumber-tomato salad, dressed in something creamy, and a pitcher of lemonade. I spotted some pickles of different kinds—I wondered how much Autumn and her mom put away every year—in jars scattered around. The casserole Autumn set down at the center of the table had a golden-brown crust on the top of it; it was clearly some kind of pie.
“What have we got here?” Bob Nelson put his napkin in his lap and began helping himself to dabs and forkfuls of pickles to go with the main course.
“Turkey pot pie,” Autumn replied, seating herself.
My eyes widened. “Really?”
Autumn raised an eyebrow, meeting my gaze. “Something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No—no, nothing is wrong with this.” I smiled. “Turkey pot pie is one of my favorite foods.”
Autumn grinned and I saw the color rising up in her cheeks. “I had no idea,” she said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I began to serve myself along with all the members of the family. I waited until after Bob and Mrs. Nelson took their servings of potpie to get my own helping. It was pretty promising right away: flaky, delicate crust, thick sauce, lots of turkey and vegetables. I filled my plate with the potpie and the salad and a few pickles and got to work eating the delicious food, listening to the ebb and flow of conversation around me.
The first few bites of turkey potpie and nearly brought me to my knees. It was better even than my aunt’s—it was delicious. Not too salty, not to rich, not watery, with really good turkey flavor and perfectly cooked vegetables. “This is amazing, Autumn—really amazing,” I said, meeting her gaze across the table.
“It’s not difficult,” she said, smiling coyly. “It’s basically turkey stew in a pastry shell at the end of the day.”
“Well, if this is turkey stew, it’s some of the best turkey stew I’ve ever had,” I told her.
The blush in Autumn’s cheeks deepened and I decided to let up on her a bit; obviously she didn’t want anyone suspecting there was anything at all between us. There isn’t anything at all between us and there can’t be anything, because you promised Bob Nelson there wouldn’t be anything, I reminded myself.
“So, how was your boys’ day?” Mrs. Nelson asked between bites of potpie and salad, looking from me to Tuck to Bob.
“Productive,” Bob said, nodding. “We managed to get everything we needed to do done—always a good thing.”
“I’m not happy with the noises I’m hearing from the spreader,” Tuck said, shaking his head. “I’m going to take a look at it first thing in the morning, when there’s some good light out.”
“What sort of noises were you hearing?” Bob wiped his mouth on his paper napkin, and Tucker shrugged and mimicked a chucking, stuttering noise with his mouth.
“Cover your mouth with your napkin if you’re going to do that while you eat,” Autumn said sharply.
“Stop showing off for your new boyfriend,” Tuck countered.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Not even close.”
“Autumn is right,” Mrs. Nelson said, her voice firm. “I don’t want Cade thinking I raised a heathen child, and you’re setting a bad example for Addie, too.”
“Addie can barely manage to keep her food off of her face anyway,” Tuck said, though he wiped at his lips. “I’m going to take that spreader apart in the morning and see if there’s something gumming up the works.”
We talked about the schedule for the next few weeks. The work around the farm was pretty steady—not as frantic as the planting was, but there was something to do every single day, even when there wasn’t something specific to the plantings. Things around the farm needed tending, repairing, painting, building. Tuck and Bob had talked about putting in a pen for a few pigs and maybe picking up some weaned piglets from a neighboring farm.
“It might not be a bad idea; we’d have a lot of pork at the end of it, and the pigs could eat some of the compostable stuff,” Tuck pointed out.
“Pig shit stinks,” Autumn countered. “I am not mucking out a pig pen.”
“If you build it the right way, all you have to do is hose it down once a day or so,” Tuck insisted. “And if we got, like, three pigs, we’d have enough pork to last us all winter.”
“While we’re at it, why not get, like, four cows—we’ll have milk and beef that way,” Mrs. Nelson said drily.
“Cows are way more expensive than pigs,” Tuck countered. “Hell—if we got four or five pigs, we could barter two of the finished carcasses for some other stuff, or sell ‘em to the butcher shop.”
“I think we’re doing good with the expansion already,” Bob said, helping himself to another, smaller serving of the potpie.
“Don’t eat too much dinner,” Autumn interjected. “I made dessert, too.”
“What’d you make?” Tuck broke away from the topic of the pigs to look at her speculatively.
“Strawberry cream cake,” she said with a little grin.
“What’s that?” I glanced at the excited faces on the table; only Addie seemed to be as confused as I was.
“It’s layers of pound cake, strawberries, and whipped cream,” Mrs. Nelson explained. In spite of how much I’d already eaten, my mouth watered at the thought.
“We have those strawberries just about to give up for the season, so I figured I’d put them to use,” Autumn said. She shrugged, still grinning. Tuck’s irritation seemed to have vanished at the mention of the treat.
“I don’t know how you guys are able to put away such big meals every day,” I said, shaking my head with a smile. “I’d be completely useless if this was my daily dinner.” Everyone at the table laughed.
“It’s not always this rich,” Mrs. Nelson told me. “But we certainly work it off.”
“It’s easier to work when you know you have to,” Tuck said. There was a strange little tone in his voice.
“Well, I have to work, too,” I pointed out. “After all, no one is paying me if I’m not working.”
“Yeah, but what I mean is that if you’re the actual farmer—if you don’t work, everything goes to rack and ruin in a matter of days. It’s motivating.”
I pressed my lips together for a moment and shrugged. “I can see that,” I said.
“There are some days, I’ll admit, when I find it pretty difficult to go back to the fields after a big lunch,” Bob Nelson told me, smiling slightly.
“See—that’s what I meant,” I said. I nodded to him. “The food is won
derful, absolutely delicious. I just don’t know how you don’t end up overstuffing yourself every day to the point where you just want to curl up and sleep.”
Autumn laughed, and I glanced at Tuck; there was a weird little look on his face, to match the weird little tone in his voice from his comment before.
“It’s a whole different ballgame when you own the farm,” Tuck said firmly. “I mean, I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve never worked for yourself, I don’t think; right?”
“Technically I work for myself as a default,” I countered, as mildly as I could. “I’m a contractor, so I have to motivate myself, especially when it comes to something like going for the next job.”
“You’ve had some interesting work experiences,” Autumn said, and I could hear the slight strain in her voice. “I remember looking at your resume and thinking that you’ve done a little bit of everything.”
“Just about,” I agreed.
“But it’s different—you still have a boss at any given time,” Tuck insisted. “Someone else is paying you to work. If you get fired from a job, you can just pick up a new job.”
“Technically, you’re more secure than I am,” I countered, starting to feel irritable at Tucker’s persistence. “Since you can’t get fired.”
“But if the farm fails, there’s no backup plan for us,” Tuck said sharply. “If something wiped out the crops next week, we’d be screwed—but you’d be able to just go and find another job. You’re not really in a position to be as committed to this as we are.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If you really want to get precise about things, you could get a job if the farm failed next week,” I pointed out. “Nothing is stopping you from hiring out on one of the other farms or getting a job in town.”
“I think that Cade has shown a great deal of dedication to his work with us,” Bob Nelson said firmly. “I don’t think he’s any less motivated just because he doesn’t own the place.” Bob turned his gaze onto his son, and I could feel the significance in his look.