He had never told this story. Not to Elle. What would his son think of him once he knew the truth? The truth of his story before Eleanor and the real reason that despite the smile, his eyes had never shone the same way in photos the way Elle's had. It would explain why he had lost himself in work more than he had spent time with his family.
What would his son, who psychoanalyzed for a living, make of the guilt and regret Shep had been carrying around for all this time?
As he waited for the water to boil, Adam set up the kitchen table for their little chat.
When the water was ready, he made his coffee and walked over, pulling out his seat and slipped into it. Adam had arranged two coasters on the table for them. Elle's habit. The table was handmade from raw wood, so she was always paranoid about water stains. Despite Shep's constant reassurance that it had been finished with a varnish nearly as durable as the stuff for sailboats, she had still insisted on coasters.
Shep took a large gulp, not feeling the burn of the hot water against the roof of his mouth. Playing baseball as a kid resulted in knocking all his front teeth out and wearing dentures for the rest of his life. It had its perks - no brain freezes and no second-degree burns from pizza or hot drinks. And it was always a party hit with kids.
“Alright, so… Who was she?" Adam wasted no time as he sat down and watched Shep savor his first sip. With a heavier sigh than usual, he set the cup down and resigned himself to telling his story. He was still somewhat lost on what Adam might gain from hearing the truth, but he knew there was no getting out of it.
Staring deep into the dark pool inside the cup, Shep cleared his throat and looked up again at Adam, "her name was Honey Halliwell, and I hoped I'd never see her again."
Chapter 5
1989
The next morning the rooster crowed at the rise of the sun, indicating the beginning of the workday on the farm. Despite his late night, Shep was attuned to rising early from his last few years in the army. He found he enjoyed the quietness of the sunrise when he was awake in the twilight.
Mrs. Grant laid out a breakfast fit for a king, but when he saw the other workers groggily make their way downstairs, he understood why she had so much food. He was only one in a dozen young men who had come to stay at the Grant's Pleasant Lake farm. He recognized a guy from Jeremy's group helping himself to seconds of bacon while thanking Mrs. Grant with a full mouth.
"Patrick, right?" He sat down next to him, loading hash browns and eggs onto his plate before accepting a cup of coffee.
"Rick's fine, most people call me that." He nudged the guy next to him, "this is Vince, he- uh, wasn't feeling too well last night. He went home early." Rick smirked like there was more to the story, but Shep didn't pry, tilting his cup at him before he brought the hot cup of coffee to his mouth. Immediately, he tried to school his features when his nose curled up at the taste of the fresh brew. He liked his instant coffee fine, nothing fancy like the hand ground beans he tasted in his cup. Helping himself to the creamer he filled the cup to the top, hoping the fat would affect the taste on his second try.
"It's hot." Mrs. Grant mused, watching him bring the steaming mug to his lips.
“I like it that way,” he assured her as he took a sip, feeling nothing against the roof of his mouth and his tongue long since accustomed to the temperatures he assaulted it with. The taste was better, but it still wasn’t what he loved. He made a mental note to go out and get himself a tin of instant stuff for the next morning.
"Where is everyone from?" Mrs. Grant began the conversation, and they talked as they ate, getting to know each other. They would, after all, be working and living side by side for the next few months. There was no harm in making a few friends. It reminded Shep vaguely of the barracks when he was at training camp. Except there had been no Mrs. Grant to cook them food. There was a chef whose repertoire was decided by what powdered crap he had available that week.
As they finished up, they filtered out of the kitchen to the yard where the locals who were working for the Grants had amassed. Today was the first day on the job which meant orientation if this job was like any other Shep had held.
"Okay, so today I'm going to walk you through the property to get you acquainted with everything, show you the equipment and explain how the farm works."
And thus, the day began.
The walking tour of the farm alone ended up taking nearly four hours given how big the property was. As they finished, Mr. Grant called for lunch. The guys returned to the front of the house to sit around in the shade and broke into the packed lunches provided by Mrs. Grant. It might end up being a summer of hard work, but Shep liked that housing and food were included on top of a steady paycheck. It was the kind of good, hard work a young guy needed in his life to remind him of its value. His stepfather would approve.
"I heard you were cleaning up last night," breaking him out of his thoughts, Vince's voice directed the statement toward Shep.
He finished chewing his bite before nodding, "was. Until I made an ass out of myself."
Patrick laughed before nodding, “he was trying to impress the ladies and ended up belly flopping from 20 feet in the air. I gotta say, I’m impressed you didn’t break anything.”
Shep shrugged, “takes more than that to do damage to this body.”
“I’d say, what do you bench? 210?”
“Honestly, nothing. I run and do body weight exercises. I was in the army, so I mostly keep up that regime.”
“Like you’ll find time for that with all this here work.” Vince nodded at the fields, taking a chug of his Coke as Shep laughed in agreement.
“Yeah, you’re right about that. But, heavy lifting is still heavy lifting. I’m in no fear of getting out of shape this summer.”
"True that." Vince agreed, setting his Coke bottle down. "So, is poker your game?"
“I prefer blackjack, but poker’s fine too. Generally, I like anything with cards and money.”
“I love the roulette."
“Now that’s pure chance.”
“Or pure luck if you’ve got it. Which I do.” Vince gloated, leaning back on his hands with a self-satisfied expression on his face.
"It's a game of chance. As easily as you can win, you can lose it all too. Blackjack… poker… there's an element of skill required."
“Counting?”
"Well, if you're good at math who are you to turn down a God-given talent?"
"If you're so good, let's make a wager."
“On?” Shep schooled his features, knowing better than to show his intrigue. But truthfully, he wasn’t going to pass up a good bet. He never did.
"Mr. Grant, every summer, offers a bonus to the worker with the most promise after the first week."
"What's the bonus?"
“A thousand on your first paycheck.” Well, that was nothing to scoff at. He didn’t necessarily need the money, but it wouldn’t be something he’d turn down either.
"Okay, what do you have to do for the bonus?"
"Impress the old man. The guys from last year told me to go above and beyond, show him you're committed to the job."
"Easy enough."
"You in?" Vince smirked, holding out his hand for a gentleman's pact. Being the old school guy he was, Shep spat in his hand and shook enjoying Vince's grimace. This was going to be an easy win. After all - Shep Wheeler didn't lose. He did whatever it took to win.
2019
"What does any of this have to do with a girl?" Shep looked up from his coffee cup and laughed, shaking his head.
"I'm just getting started, and I think context is important for you to understand."
“You didn't have to contextualize that you're a serial gambler, we already knew that."
"No, but it'll explain why the girl came into it later on. Now, are you going to keep interrupting me or are you going to let me get on with it?"
"Sure, go on then." Shep arched an eyebrow in challenge as Adam nodded his head to say continue. It wasn't all ab
out Honey, and he wanted his son to understand that. He had fallen in love that summer, and he had also lost a bit of himself when he lost Honey.
But the biggest thing he had come away with was the man he would become, and he hoped, if nothing else, his son took away that lesson from the story.
Chapter 6
1989
By the end of the day, Shep knew everything there was to know about operating the farm. Both Vince and Shep were asking questions, engaging with the display and every time Mr. Grant needed a volunteer their hands went up first. It was the only time in Shep's life he had bothered to be a keen at something education related.
That night, they decided to celebrate an excellent first day by heading down to the Kee again for a couple of beers. Recalling Rick's allusion to the cause of Vince's short night the day before, Shep bought Vince a couple rounds more than the rest of the guys and watched as he downed them all one by one. He, on the other hand, asked for his to be watered down every time he went back to the bar for another pint. By the time Vince got to five beers, he wanted to do shots to which Shep gladly obliged and went to get a round. One gin for Vince, one shot of water for Shep.
When they got back to the house, the guys dispersed back to their own rooms, and Vince's roommate asked someone for help carrying him in. Shep helped the other guy take the drunk right up into bed. While his roommate was in the bathroom, Shep returned to Vince's side and grabbed the alarm clock, changing the morning alarm quickly before resetting it and heading to bed himself.
His plan, ill-conceived as it was, worked a bit too well. Come morning time, from what Shep understood, the roommate had woken to his own alarm and said something to Vince. Vince, in turn, grunted in response letting the roommate think that he was getting up. Without a second thought, he began getting ready and went downstairs for breakfast.
Vince ended up going back to sleep quite easily and woke hours later when not only his own alarm had gone off, but with the work day was nearly half over. He came stumbling out of the house at lunchtime, bleary-eyed and disheveled, apologizing profusely to Mr. Grant in front of everyone.
That was that, as far as Shep was concerned. There was no way Vince was going to get the bonus now, especially not when Shep had been the first one up and out of the house ahead of everyone - including Mr. Grant himself.
However, to Mr. Grant, lateness was a sign of disrespect, and that was not something he tolerated lightly. Vince was succinctly fired. No one, of course, knew this until the next morning when Vince's roommate relayed the whole thing at the breakfast table between servings by Mrs. Grant.
"We're down a man, which doesn't seem like much but it's going to make a huge difference.
Today we're gonna be working the raspberry bushes. They're coming in fast now that it's almost July and we want to stay ahead of the birds. I’ll need a few of you to help in the strawberry fields getting the last of those before they rot.”
Shep offered to work the strawberry patch, looking forward to a quiet morning by himself. Grabbing his bucket, he walked out toward the strawberry fields and stopped short the minute he saw the gleam of blonde hair in the morning sun.
After his miserable performance on the deck the other night, Shep had secretly hoped he wouldn't ever see her again. He didn't think he could ever recover from his belly flop, so it was best to cut his losses and move on to the next conquest.
Until he saw Honey kneeling in a patch of dirt, digging at the vines of the strawberries and plucking the berries off before tossing them into her bucket. She was just as beautiful as the other night, if not more so in the hot June sun. His stomach knotted, flipping over itself and he felt nervous for the first time.
Taking a few cautious steps toward her, Shep slowed as he reached her side. His six-foot-three stature blocked the sun and cast a shadow across her work. Honey turned slowly to look up at him, her eyes betraying her own surprise.
"What are you doing here?" They both spoke at the same time, and Honey laughed before looking down at her red-stained fingers.
“Working, you?”
Shep held up the bucket he had and nodded to the stretch of field, “same.”
"You're going to do hard labor for the summer?" She sounded genuinely surprised at this idea, and Shep wondered when he gave her the impression he was a man who didn't know how to work hard and earn his money.
“Yes, that’s the plan. Why are you here?”
"It's my grandparent's farm, they were down a man so I'm helping out to earn money. I'm heading to college in the autumn." She said with the tilt of her head before refocusing on her work and plucking more berries off the vine.
He recalled Jeremy mentioning something about the Grants being her grandparents, but he had never expected to see her at the farm. He watched distractedly as she reached up, using the back of her wrist to brush her bangs away from her wet forehead.
“Wheeler! You gonna work?” Mr. Grant was scowling at him, but Shep doubted it had to do with him standing there and more to do with who he was standing near.
“Yes, sir!" He stepped into the row behind Honey and got down on his knees, beginning to pluck the berries, but his attention was focused on the blonde in front of him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it as if she knew he was staring at her, "how's your belly?"
"Fine, thank you." He grunted, making her laugh. She flicked her hair over her shoulder before going back to work. Shep could work fast, but he found his attention drawn to the girl in front of him and was overwhelmed with the urge to ask her out once more. It was eating at him, which was the stupid thing because he feared - genuinely feared - she might say no again. When Honey moved further down the patch, he hastened to catch up, crushing a few poor strawberries between his fingers as he moved carelessly.
“You don't like me do you," he asked the obvious, but it seemed the only place he could start to build a foundation of some kind.
“There’s no one I dislike,” she said earnestly, still not bothering to turn around and face him.
“Okay, sure, but you don’t like me.”
“Not true,” she said, her voice light and musical.
“You make fun of me an awful lot.”
“I think you take yourself a bit too seriously.”
“There’s something wrong with that?”
"Yes, I'm afraid so. If you're too serious, you miss out."
“On what?”
Honey didn’t answer right away as she considered her answer. He refocused on his patch and continued picking berries waiting for her reply.
“Life.” She finally answered, picking up her bucket and turning around to face him.
"Life." He repeated like he was deaf. She nodded and began to help him pick the berries in his patch. He watched her hands as she worked, they were lean and elegant, they looked soft, and he wanted to touch them.
"If you're too busy being serious, never laughing at yourself and enjoying life, it'll pass by you in a blink, and you won't know what happened."
"Because I'm serious doesn't mean I'm not enjoying life, it means I know when to act like an adult."
"Being serious is not an attribute of being an adult, especially because I guess you were a rather serious child too." Shep thought of himself as a child and realized she was right.
“Alright, well, why don’t we go out and you show me how to have fun?”
"What makes you think I wanna go out with you, Shep Wheeler?" She finally looked up, those big blue eyes connecting his dark grey ones. He was startled, unsure of how to answer her. Swallowing hard he managed a one-shouldered shrug before looking away.
“I want to go out with you, so I hoped you might humor me."
“Alright,” she said lightly, picking up her bucket and turning herself around again. He was left crouching there with his jaw almost in the dirt as he stared at her back.
“Alright?”
"Mhm," she continued to work and didn't bother to look at him again.
“How about Thursday? We can go to the dance, together?”
“Alright.” She still didn’t turn around, so he had no idea there was a big ol’ grin on her face.
“Alright." He grinned too, and she could've seen it for herself if she wanted to.
Chapter 7
2019
“I can still remember how smug Gerritt looked as he took Honey's hand and led her out of the dance hall. I wanted to punch that stupid grin off his face.” Shep shook his head as he took another slow sip of his coffee, finishing off the last of the cup.
“I get the impression she’s not the type of girl who would’ve been impressed with alpha male tendencies.”
“Oh no, definitely not. Had I done that I would’ve never spoken to her again.” He rose and walked over to the kettle, putting more water on. As he spoke, Adam took an interest in his words. He didn't appear to be disturbed by the idea that his father had been in love with another woman before his mother. But then again, Shep also hadn't gotten to the part of the story where he realized he would never love someone like he loved Honey.
“So, what did you do?”
“Well, I needed a better plan to win her over and convince her I was worth her attention.”
“I get the impression you weren’t actually as good with women as you say you were.”
Shep chuckled and looked over his shoulder at Adam, "not true. I was really good at convincing women to go out on one date with me. I was even better at convincing them to come home to my place."
Adam made a face, but he pushed on, "I was not as good at laying the foundation for a relationship. I had no idea how to talk to a woman beyond what I needed to say to convince her to sleep with me. Honey was not the kind of woman who was going to give it up on the first date, and I knew that from the start. And yet I didn't change my tactics. What happened between us was entirely my fault. She was a… special woman. But I treated her like all the rest."
Last Chance (Chances Novel Book 1) Page 3