Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  I shrug in response.

  She claps her hands together. “Perfect. We’ll get you settled in, and then we’ll have supper on the picnic table out back. It’s such a nice night.”

  I see my suitcase sitting at the end of the couch, so I pick it up. “I’ll change and come help with dinner.”

  I turn from the room and walk through the archway leading to the hall where the downstairs bedrooms are located. I make it a few steps when Aunt Doreen races up behind me.

  I reach the last door on the right, and as I open the door, I hear her voice. “Sophie, you’re staying in my room, sweetheart.”

  The door swings open to my childhood bedroom, and I’m assaulted by every shade of purple known to man. The walls are pale lavender, and the bedding is a bold, royal hue. Polka-dotted throw pillows are strewed about the floor. There is a vanity in the corner where my desk used to be, and it is covered in makeup and hair products. Stuffed animals are crowded in the reading nook below the large bay windows that look out into the backyard.

  I stop and stare.

  My heart drops.

  All my things are gone. Not that I honestly expected it to be the same as it was when I left. Did I?

  Maybe I hoped it would be. That my daddy had kept my things the way they were when I left as a shrine and that, from time to time, he would open the door and sit on my bed and miss me the way I missed him.

  “This is Elle’s bedroom now,” she says hesitantly as she falls in behind me.

  “I can see that.”

  I swallow back the tears and turn back toward the living room.

  “I think maybe I should go,” I say as I keep my head down and march back down the hall.

  “Go? Go where?” she asks as I squeeze past her.

  “I can get a room at a hotel in town. I’m only going to be here a few days anyway.” I try to sound nonchalant as I look to escape.

  “Oh no, Sophie. You don’t have to do that.”

  I raise my head as I make it back into the room with the others. All eyes are on me. I find my daddy standing in the entryway between the living room and kitchen with his arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with disapproving eyes.

  “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. Obviously, there isn’t any room for me here anymore.”

  That’s when I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and I swipe at it as embarrassment fills me.

  Daddy clears his throat. “Doreen is staying in Ria’s room with her. They stay up half the night, watching that Netstick thingy, and she falls asleep in there most of the time anyway.”

  “He means, Netflix. We are watching The Crown. It’s so good,” Aunt Ria interjects.

  He cuts his eyes to her and then rolls them. I guess he’s not a fan of Netflix. Or the British monarchy. Probably both.

  “It’s true. We’re late-night binge-watchers. I’ve fixed my room up nicely for you. It’s quiet up there. You will be glad to be on the third floor when these loud rascals get up and stomp around that kitchen at four a.m.,” Aunt Doreen adds.

  I turn to face her. “Please,” I choke on a whisper, “can you drive me into town?”

  “Honey, there’s only one hotel in town and then the bed-and-breakfast on Route 3. Both are going to be full because of the Apple Festival next week.”

  “This is your home as much as it is anyone’s.” Daddy’s voice booms across the room. “Elle was afraid of the dark when she was little. She wanted to be down here, close to us, when she woke up scared at night. She took your room. Not your place in this family,” he says all matter-of-factly. Embarrassing me further by making my tears seem ridiculous.

  “Okay.” I nod my head at Aunt Doreen in defeat and head to the stairs without looking back at everyone.

  “It’s the first door on the right off of the landing on the third floor. It has its own bathroom,” she calls after me.

  As I pass the front door, Braxton walks in from the porch and catches my eyes.

  He gives me a concerned look for a split second, and then he walks fully in and past me without saying a word.

  Great. The last thing I wanted was for the evil step-whatever to see me this upset.

  Why did I let Charlotte talk me into this trip?

  Braxton

  Princess Sophia never came down to dinner last night. She locked herself in her room and claimed jet lag when Elle went to fetch her. It was a shit move. Aunt Madeline and Doreen and Ria had worked hard all damn day, preparing for her arrival. They’d baked bread from scratch and peeled apples for homemade pies. Elle had fluttered around as they worked, asking them all kinds of questions about the prodigal daughter. She was as excited as they were.

  Then, Sophia snubbed them.

  We all sat around the table that they had prepared outside with the fancy linens. Lights strung up in the tree limbs, eating our fancy feast and looking at each other like assholes, everyone melancholy and no one saying anything.

  This afternoon, when she finally graced us with her presence at lunch, the woman barely ate a thing and was rude when Elle tried to talk to her about New York City.

  Elle’s face fell, and I had to take my sandwich to the porch to eat before I put Miss Haughty Ass in her place. I promised Doreen I’d be nice. I’m a man of my word, but I’m afraid if I have to spend too much time with her, it will be a promise I break. No one treats my sister like she’s beneath them.

  After lunch, Emmett and I head to the stables and set to cleaning the horse stalls and filling them with fresh hay. Aunt Madeline has a new class of youngsters coming in the morning to start riding lessons.

  “What do you think of our Sophie?” he asks once we are working.

  I wipe the sweat from my brow and let out a sneer. “Not much, to tell you the truth. Seems to me like a spoiled brat who likes to walk around, making assumptions and judging everyone.”

  He cuts his eyes to me. “I don’t know about all that. I think it was probably a bit jarring for her to be back after all these years, seeing how much things have changed around here.”

  “Right. Nothing ever changes around here,” I tease him.

  “You’re right, but I bet it didn’t look that way to her.”

  Maybe not. Still doesn’t give her the right to come to our home and stomp all over our hospitality.

  “She sure grew up to be a beautiful woman. Of course, she always was a pretty little thing. Even when she was just a tomboy in overalls with wild blonde curls, bare feet, and dirty hands and knees,” he muses.

  “Can’t imagine her getting her hands dirty now.”

  And I can’t. She might break a nail or something.

  “Now, who’s making assumptions?” He gives me a disappointed look.

  “Just sayin’, with those fancy clothes and that superior attitude, no way she would fit in here.”

  “She’s got Lancaster blood flowing through her veins. That means, she’s tethered to this land. Those clothes and shoes of hers don’t change that. She has a rustic heart beating in her chest, just like we do.”

  I release an amused breath. “Right.”

  “What exactly is it about her that irritates you so much, Brax?”

  It’s a fair question. Why does she bother me so much?

  “She came here with a chip on her shoulder and an agenda.”

  “She came here because her grandmother passed, and she wants to pay her respects.”

  “Yeah, that’s the excuse, not the real reason. If she gave two shits about Gram, she would’ve visited her while she was still alive.”

  “The roads from here to New York City run both ways, son, and lest we forget, she was a child when her parents divorced. It wasn’t her responsibility to come to us. We failed her. All of us.”

  He gets a far-off look in his eyes like he is revisiting somewhere in the past that I’m not privy to.

  “Whatever. She’s an adult now, and she has been for a while. She has a parent alive and well here, and she a
cts like he doesn’t exist. She’d rather be up in the big city with her rich stepdaddy than slumming it here, which suits me just fine. Just don’t come here, riding into town like a damn princess, expecting everyone to bow at your feet, and stick your nose in the air to my aunts and sister, who have been nothing but kind and welcoming to you.”

  He stops and leans against his pitchfork as he gives me a steely look. “She was a daddy’s girl. Loved him with all she had. She lost him and everything she ever knew without warning. She comes here and sees that everything about her home has changed and that everyone has a happy life that she’s not a part of. How would you feel, walking into that?”

  “Appreciative. That’s how I’d feel.”

  “Son, you lost your mother and father. It was tragic and painful. But you grew up, knowing they loved you and that they didn’t leave you on purpose. Sophie lost her daddy too, but unlike your parents, he had a choice. He made that choice, and for whatever reason, he didn’t choose her. He chose to walk away. Not because he didn’t want to be a father or couldn’t be a father because he took you and Elle in and raised you. It was because he didn’t want her. That’s what it looks like to her anyway. It has to cut deep.”

  I take a minute to let his words set in and try to imagine if our parents had chosen to leave us. How much worse the pain would have been, being left on purpose.

  “That doesn’t sound like Jefferson.”

  I can’t reconcile that the man I know, the man who raised me and taught me how to be a man, would walk away from his responsibility to his own flesh and blood that way. Something doesn’t add up.

  “No, it doesn’t, and there’s more to the story.” He shares no further.

  “Is he going to tell her what that is?”

  “I sure hope so. He should have done it a long time ago. That brokenhearted girl hiding behind all that makeup and those fancy clothes deserves an explanation. It’s been long enough. That’s why Doreen arranged for her to come here because he was never going to face it if he wasn’t pushed. Time to set the skeletons out of the closet.”

  He thrusts his fork in the pile and picks up another batch of hay. Then, he adds, “Would be awfully kind of you to cut her some slack while she’s here.”

  “I’ll try, Em.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  “I said, try.”

  He shoots me a sideways smile. Between him asking and Aunt Doreen making me promise, I think my best line of defense is to avoid Miss Lancaster until she hightails it back to where she came from.

  The sooner, the better.

  Sophie

  “Well, I’ll be damned. The rumors are true. Sophia Doreen Lancaster has finally returned to Poplar Falls.”

  I look from my perch on the front porch to see a gorgeous woman with long strawberry-blonde curls, tanned skin, and hazel eyes standing on the lawn. She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts that barely cover her butt cheeks and a gray V-neck sweatshirt that says, Classy, Sassy, and a Bit Smart-Assy.

  “Oh my God. Dallas Henderson, is that you?” I squeal as I jump to my feet and head down the steps to embrace my long-lost best friend.

  Gone are the bright red Pippi Longstocking braids, freckles, and braces that I remember. The woman before me is stunning and a complete stranger.

  “In the flesh. It’s Dallas Stovall now.” She steps back and gives me a once-over. “I barely recognize you though. What’s with the get-up?”

  I look down at my emerald-green silk drawstring pants and flowing, off-the-shoulder white linen blouse. The teal tips of my toes are peeking out of my strappy nude stiletto sandals.

  “Sorry. My closet doesn’t carry much cowgirl chic nowadays. It was this or a little black dress, I’m afraid.”

  She shakes her head at me and laughs.

  I wait for her to get it all out before I ask, “You’re married? Anybody I know?”

  I reach back into my memories, try to place the last name Stovall to a face, and come up blank.

  “Divorced. And, no, you don’t know the jackass. He and his family breezed into town senior year. Long after you disappeared, the silver-tongued devil talked me into running off and getting married two seconds after we crossed the stage to get our diplomas. The biggest mistake I ever made.”

  I’m not the least bit surprised. Dallas was always a fly by the seat of your pants kind of girl. Even when we were little, she could talk me into the most ridiculous situations against my better judgment.

  “Wow. Divorced. You’re like a real-life grown-up.”

  “I can do you one better. I’m also a momma. I got myself a little six-year-old stud. He looks just like his daddy. Hopefully, he won’t act like him. Or me, for that matter.”

  “A son. Really? Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. He’s the one good thing that came from the whole situation, so I have no regrets. Well, maybe a few, but no need to dwell on the past. Right?”

  I assume that is her not-so-subtle intro into asking about why I’m back in Poplar Falls.

  I put my arm around her shoulders and lead us toward the porch. “Come sit with me a while. We have a lot of catching up to do. Do you have time?”

  “Sure. I don’t have to pick Beau up from school until later this afternoon, and I’m working the night shift at the tavern, so I’m all yours this morning.”

  I love this porch. It’s large with a breakfast table on one side where Gram and Pop would have coffee every morning. Then, Aunt Doreen and I would sit on the wide steps and snap green beans from her garden all afternoon. At night, I’d curl up with my mother in the huge swing. We’d rock as she read me bedtime stories. I’d always fall asleep before the end, and Daddy would join us when he finished with the cows and carry me to bed.

  “I’m sorry about Gram. She’s sure going to be missed around here. I think the entire town is still reeling from the loss. She was kind of everyone’s grandmother.”

  I let out a sigh as we take a seat in the swing. “I wish I had made it out to see her before it was too late.” I take a deep breath. “I bet she thought I didn’t love her.”

  “Ah, Sophie, she knew you loved her.” She blows off my guilt.

  “How could she? I hadn’t spoken to her since I was a little girl.”

  “Do you think she loved you?” she asks.

  I think about it for a minute. I let all the memories of her braiding my hair, teaching me how to garden, showing me how to can tomatoes, and helping me learn how to recite my ABCs and write my name wash over me.

  “Yeah, she loved me.” I don’t know how, but I know it in my heart.

  “See? She knew just like you know. You don’t have to say it. Real love survives time and distance. It doesn’t need to be constantly reassured. It just is. Besides, isn’t she the one who always said that when we die, we finally know all the answers to the questions in life, and until then, it’s a waste of time to keep asking why?”

  She did. Gram’s faith was strong. When we were younger, Dallas and I swore she could literally pray down a mountain if she wanted to.

  “Yes, she sure did.” I nod in agreement.

  “Well then, that means she knows all now, right? So, she knows how you feel, and she wouldn’t want you down here, grappling with nonsense guilt.”

  And just like that, the weight falls from my shoulders like Gram herself swatted it off.

  Just then, Madeline opens the front door and peeks out. “Hey, Dallas. I didn’t hear you drive up.”

  “Truck’s in the shop again. I had Momma drop me off at the gate on her way to the bakery.”

  “Would you girls like some iced tea? I just made a fresh pitcher.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dallas answers for us.

  I give her a tight smile before she disappears back into the house.

  “Uh-oh, did I feel tension?” Dallas asks.

  “No. Not really. I don’t really know her. Or anyone here, for that matter. It’s awkward.”

  “Madeline is one of the kindest women I know. Ev
eryone around here loves her. She was only twenty-two years old when she took Brax and Elle in after her sister and brother-in-law died in that car crash. Brax was thirteen, and Elle was just three years old. She didn’t bat an eye. Just quit vet school, and she and Jefferson took them right in. She also runs an equestrian therapy program for children with disabilities. Parents bring their kids from all over the state to have her work with them. And she puts up with your old grump of a dad. She’s practically a saint.”

  “Yeah, a saint. Who seduced a married man and stole him from his family,” I mumble under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Let’s talk about you. Divorced. Boy mom. What happened? Tell me the rest.”

  “Well, after the wedding, Travis and I moved to Denver. He was a mechanic. Just one of those guys who was good with an engine, you know?”

  I nod, and she keeps going, “Mom and Dad gave us some seed money as a wedding gift, and he opened a little garage in town. It did well. He did excellent work, and word started spreading. Travis and success did not mix well though. Fast-forward a few years, and he was working all the time. I barely saw him. And when he wasn’t working, he was off somewhere, drinking and partying. All we did was fight. It’s like he changed all of a sudden. His entire personality morphed.”

  She pauses for a moment.

  “You know, there is a reason all the fairy tales they tell us as kids end with the wedding. Nobody wants to read about how hard it is to actually be married. Falling in love is the easy part, the fun part. It’s staying in love that’s hard. I finally got fed up, and I left him. Stayed at a girlfriend’s house for about a week. Then, he came around with pretty flowers and pretty words, and I fell for his promises and went home. Then, he knocked me up. I’m fairly sure he thought that would keep me there. Before I knew it, he slipped back in his old ways. I stayed. I thought for sure when the baby came, things would be different. That is, until one day, the FBI came knocking on my front door. They sat me down and explained that my husband had been selling drugs and laundering the money through the garage.”