“I didn’t say anything. I left it to Gramps because the farm is still in his name, and he was adamant as he told the fruit rep to leave.”
“So he left?”
“He did. And he didn’t seem insulted. He said...” She paused a moment as if gathering her thoughts. Or maybe her emotions. “He’d give us time to think about it because he understood what a big decision it was. And he left the contract with Gramps, just in case.”
That would be Kenneth, his older brother. Kenneth had a heart. But he also had a goal, and if they needed more land, Ken would find it.
“Total world domination of the world’s fruit market.” That was a tongue-in-cheek corporate goal.
They used to laugh about it but Libby’s expression showed this was not a laughing matter.
The acquisition of land near the Yakima and Wenatchee Rivers was important to the development of new apple types. Not all apples were created equal and microclimates were crucial for production. The microclimate in Golden Grove was ideal for newer cultivars. “Are they offering a fair price?”
“More than fair,” she admitted. “Our current cash flow makes it quite tempting. But I made a promise to my grandmother and I never break a promise. Although I don’t know how we’re going to pull it off without a barn or a tractor.”
He swallowed hard.
He should tell her who he was. But then she’d wonder why he was here. Why he was helping. It would look like a setup to get in her good graces.
It wasn’t.
It was something to keep him from thinking. From remembering. From seeing that helicopter spin over a Middle Eastern desert, then watch helplessly as it came crashing down.
“Well.” She took a step back. “I’m going to call Baker Orchards and see if they’ll let me borrow their tractor for this last application on the September fruits. If they’re open to that, I can get one thing done.”
He nodded.
She didn’t have to do this.
She could walk away and no one would criticize her choice because this was an autumn disaster. Her inexperience was either her saving grace or worst enemy, because with no place to store the apples, there was little sense in continuing. “Your grandfather can stay here with me if you need to leave.”
That realization changed her expression. Knowing she couldn’t just hop in the old pickup truck and run up the road to the Bakers’ place, another roadside fruit stand on the opposite side of Golden Grove. “You wouldn’t mind? I’d take him but there’s no way to bring him back on their tractor. If it’s available.”
“Don’t mind at all.”
She pulled out her phone, made the call and was on her way in less than ten minutes.
Gutsy.
Resolute.
And he’d be a stupid man if he didn’t add downright lovely to the list of attributes.
He wasn’t stupid, but Jax knew his limitations. No one wanted any part of the nightmares, cold sweats and sadness that hit him when least expected. He didn’t want it, either, but he had little choice. It was his reality.
Little choice?
His conscience upbraided him none too gently.
Allison recommended you for that new treatment. The guy has an office in Seattle. A ninety-minute drive that could make a difference. So why haven’t you done it?
Fear? Doubt? Lack of faith in much of anything anymore?
Allison was a solid therapist. She made him think, sometimes too much. He wasn’t against getting help, but if nothing worked, why waste time?
He’d come home as damaged goods, but at least he’d come home. Those four men and the chopper pilot never got that chance.
So yeah, the big, brave warrior didn’t want to remember but couldn’t possibly forget. It wouldn’t be right to impose this reality on anyone else, family or friends. And that meant he’d quietly keep on doing what he’d been doing in the lush valley for the last few years. Helping people as he could. And pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
For now...
It was enough.
Chapter Three
Libby finished spraying the September fruit acreage just before CeeCee’s bus was due, but that brought new problems to the table. CeeCee couldn’t be left alone. Libby had lost a couple hours of time by driving Si Baker’s John Deere down the two-lane this morning and she had to have the tractor back to him by early the next day. And then there was Gramps.
Who was going to keep an eye on him when she was in the orchard?
She parked the tractor at the edge of the Gala apple rows. She should be picking them now, and she would have been if things had gone all right yesterday.
But they hadn’t.
The bus rolled up to the driveway. The door opened and Gert Johnson waved a hand as CeeCee came racing up the short drive to the house. “Libby, we’re all so sorry about what happened yesterday! A bunch of us bus drivers will be happy to help with whatever you need. And that includes pickin’ apples between bus runs. Call me. Okay?”
“I will, Gert. And thank you.” Oncoming cars made her yell the response back because Gert couldn’t be holding up traffic. On quiet days it wouldn’t matter so much, but during apple harvest season there was no such thing as a quiet day. Harvesters and pickers and trucks rumbled by continuously. In the Columbia Valley, the beautiful words of Ecclesiastes 3 came to life. “To everything there is a season.” Right now the season was apples.
“Mommy, look! Look!” CeeCee held up an unrecognizable picture. She beamed with pride and excitement. “Isn’t it so beautiful?”
“It is! I love how you captured the shape, darling.”
“Barn shapes aren’t real hard,” CeeCee told her, having no idea she’d given her mother a solid clue.
“Hard or not, you did a great job. Is this our barn?”
CeeCee shook her head. Her curls bounced as Gramps and Jax came around from the back. The last dump truck was being loaded, then the damaged sites would be scraped clean.
“It’s that one.” She pointed up the road to the Moyer building. The Moyers had sold their farm to CVF two years before. Their land stretched east but this one lone building hadn’t been used for anything except storage for over a dozen years. “See the slopey top?”
“I see it.” Jax smiled down at CeeCee.
CeeCee smiled back. “Because you know stuff about barns, maybe.”
“A bit.”
CeeCee grinned up at him.
He grinned back.
A warning stab hit Libby squarely. She wasn’t unfamiliar with how some men toyed with a woman’s heart. Been there. Done that. Not pretty.
But no one was going to mess with CeeCee’s emotions. Her ex-husband had already done his share of that with his lying and cheating. For years she could have called her life an old-time country song.
Not now.
Now her life would be an hallelujah. Because she had the power within herself to change what she could and shrug off the rest.
“Can you hustle inside and grab a sweatshirt? The Bakers’ tractor has a cab, so you can ride with me while I spray,” Libby told her.
CeeCee hugged her great grandfather and nodded eagerly. “I love helping!”
Jax stepped forward. He smelled of apples and fall and Washington fresh air. He put out his hand, then set it on her arm. “Let me do the spraying.”
Her arm warmed beneath his touch and her pulse skittered.
She hid her reaction and started to refuse, but he dropped his gaze to CeeCee before lifting it to her grandfather. “You’ll do better here and I’ve run a lot of spray arms in my time. Is the tank full?”
She nodded.
“How far did you get?”
“Through the Red Delicious.”
“I’ll start at the Granny Smiths, then. They’ve finished the demo removal and I’ve got nothing going on
the rest of the day.”
Why was that? she wondered.
But she didn’t wonder long because it made sense. “If you really don’t mind, that would be wonderful. Then I can get the tractor back to the Bakers and start harvesting tomorrow.”
“Glad to help.” He’d lost his army cap somewhere and was wearing a faded baseball cap with USA in bold letters on the front. He tipped it slightly. “You know where I’ll be.”
He didn’t just walk to the tractor. He strode as if spraying her trees was the most important job ever given.
CeeCee jumped into her arms. “I’ve got so much to tell you guys because school was so much fun!”
Her genuine delight eased Libby’s school concerns.
“Tell me all about it. Gramps, how about if I make you a cup of tea and you can rest awhile?”
“I won’t mind it a bit. These feet are tired of standin’ watchin’ others do the work, but it was some quick work, wasn’t it? I told your grandmother that policy would be just fine. I told her.”
“You did.”
She’d read that green tea helped cognition. She’d read a lot of stuff, but nothing seemed to help Gramps’s hastening decline. She brought him the tea and turned the TV on softly. He was asleep in five minutes. By the time Jax rolled the tractor back up the access drive, she had a pot of red sauce ready and water simmering for pasta.
He knocked at the side door. CeeCee rushed to let him in. When she went to hug him, he held back. “Not with spraying clothes on, little lady. Chemicals and kids don’t mix.” He ignored CeeCee’s look of disappointment and called up the side stairs. “Give me your car keys and I’ll run the tractor up the road, then bring your car back.”
She crossed to the stairs and looked down, right into his eyes. A gaze that hinted at melancholy, much like hers. “You don’t have to do that. You’ve done so much already.”
He smiled. “I think a plate of pasta and whatever sauce you’ve got cooking makes it even. Don’t you?”
Having him stay for supper? Um, no. Small-town single mothers and stray men were not a good mix.
“You can have supper with us? Like, tonight?” CeeCee didn’t hug him, but she grasped his hand. “That would be so nice! Wouldn’t it, Mommy?”
What could she say without being rude? She wiped her hands on a dry towel, stepped down and handed him her keys. When she did, her hand brushed his. The lightest touch. So why did that minimal contact send her heart beating stronger again? Faster? She drew her hand away quickly. “We’d be honored to have you to supper. Of course.”
“I don’t have to stay.”
He was graciously offering her a way out of the predicament. Because he sensed her hesitation? Or because he disapproved of how she handled Gramps?
Either way, he’d gone the distance for them today. “Please stay.” She lifted her eyes to his as he took a step back toward the gravel drive.
Big mistake. Because she was pretty sure when she looked into his eyes, she saw his soul. A soul that was just as fractured as hers. Then the glimpse was gone, replaced by a smile that seemed well practiced. She knew because she had polished one of those smiles herself.
“Mighty obliged, ma’am.” He winked. Then he climbed back onto the tractor, whistling. She couldn’t hear the whistle when he started the old John Deere up, but she’d recognized the tune. Gramps used to sing it to her twenty-five years ago, when she’d dash in and around the apple trees. It was their song.
She hummed it now.
Gramps woke up as she put the pasta into the boiling water a few minutes later. He grinned as he came into the kitchen. “Remember how we used to sing that when you were a little girlie?”
“I sure do.”
“And then you went off and started sittin’ under apple trees with other folks. Not listenin’ to your grandma and me.”
Every now and again he’d start scolding. It took everything she had not to take offense. He wasn’t wrong. They’d tried to warn her about her choices. In a search for someone to love her, she hadn’t listened, and every now and again Gramps brought it up. “We all make mistakes, Gramps. Look, I made red sauce. Your favorite.”
Trying to change the subject didn’t work today. “I told ya. Your grandma tried to talk sense into ya, but kids don’t like to listen. We saw what happened with your mother and we didn’t want the same thing to happen with you.”
She set down the spoon and crossed the room. “I learned my lesson. Now I’m here and we can leave all that behind us. Can’t we?”
His brow drew down. His forehead wrinkled. He seemed to be grasping for something to say, but Jax walked in the side door right then.
He seemed to size up the situation quickly. “Sir, can I take you for a short walk to the barn sites? I need your opinion on a couple of things.”
“Me? Oh. Sure!” The transformation of Gramps’s face was almost instantaneous. “We’ll be gettin’ the apples in the barn soon, if I can get this girl on some kind of proper schedule.”
Kindness deepened Jax’s expression when he looked at her. Then he took Gramps’s arm and helped him down the three steps to the side door. “Still smells real good in there.” He flashed a quick smile her way, but it was a smile tinged with compassion. “How much time do we have?”
“Eight minutes until the pasta’s done.”
“We’ll be back.” He led Gramps outside.
She breathed.
Minute to minute, she wasn’t sure what Gramps would say or do. Remember or forget. She would seek Mortie’s advice once Gramps and CeeCee were asleep. Mortie wouldn’t mind her calling after hours. She’d been a good friend to Libby’s mother when they were young, before her mother took a walk on the wild side. Mortie would advise and counsel. Never blame. And Libby could use a dose of that wisdom right about now.
* * *
Worn down.
That was what he saw when he looked into Libby’s dark blue eyes. Eyes that matched the Central Washington sky.
Was she worn down by life? Circumstances? The current situation?
Maybe all three. Which meant he needed to keep his distance like he did on every job. Trouble was, this job was different. If he stayed to help rebuild that barn, he’d be here every day, wanting to help because something in her called to him. The pain she tried to hide. The self-confidence she pretended to have. The hurt he’d seen from something the old fellow said.
Grandma Molly had been the same way. She’d gotten downright nasty at times, and he’d been one of the few people who saw beyond the curt words. The hurled insults. Because he knew it wasn’t her saying those rude things. It was the disease.
He should leave this job to someone else. The family foundation could have the whole thing done as an act of mercy, but then she’d know that it was Central Valley Fruit footing the bill and might refuse their help.
“Them apples, them first ones, they’ve got to come off those trees now.” Cleve gripped Jax’s arm with one hand and pointed with the other. “They should be in the barn, and out on the sales tables out front. What’s that girl been doin’?” he grumped, then stopped dead to rights. “Where’d the barn go?”
The old fellow’s angst made Jax’s decision. Yeah, the foundation could rebuild the barn but they couldn’t get to the root of the problem. The old man’s declining state.
He could. If nothing more than giving her some respite as things got worse. He’d faced this disease with his grandmother with a host of help, professional and family.
Libby had no one but herself and her little girl and the nurse from the local agency. Jax knew the score. This was a 24/7, 365 kind of illness. Two hours a day, three times a week wasn’t going to cut it.
He’d see it through.
He’d try to keep his distance from Libby Creighton and her precious daughter. He’d stay civil and kind. That was what they needed right now
. Strong hands, a strong back and someone to help with Gramps. He readdressed the orchardist’s concern about the barn. “We had a wicked windstorm yesterday, sir.”
“Call me Cleve. We’re friends, ain’t we?”
“I’d like that. Well, Cleve, we had a bad windstorm, as bad as I’ve seen it get, and it took down the big barn and the smaller one, too. So we got them cleaned up today, and we’ll have supplies brought in to start rebuilding soon.”
“Supper’s ready.” CeeCee dashed down the drive to meet them. “Mommy said to tell you.”
Cleve glanced back as they moved toward the house. “Them big trucks came, right?”
Jax encouraged the memory. “They did. They cleared the site for us.”
“I told Mother. I told her our insurance policy was plenty good enough and she argued to beat the band but I stood my ground.”
“You did just fine, Gramps.” Libby shot Jax a look of gratitude as he helped Cleve up the stairs. “It all worked out.”
“Won’t she be surprised when she gets home and sees I was right all along?” Cleve almost preened at the thought. “She’s smart as a whip but there’s no flies on me. If you know what I mean.”
“That means you’re smart.” CeeCee offered the old fellow an adorable grin. “You told me that and I believe it, Gramps.”
Cleve’s smile grew. He took a seat. For the moment, he was happy. Satisfied. But when Jax glanced back at Libby, he read the emotions there.
She knew it wouldn’t last. She understood. But how could one woman handle an elderly, sometimes contentious, dementia patient and run an apple orchard at harvest time? With a little girl who loved to run around?
She couldn’t.
But she could with his help, and that made it a no-brainer. As long as he could keep his distance.
“Can you say grace, Mr. Jax? Please?”
He froze in place, wondering how to reply.
Libby laid one hand on Cleve’s and one on his, and gave a soft blessing. A sweet note of thanks. Then she looked up and met his gaze. Held that look longer than she needed to.
A Hopeful Harvest (Golden Grove Book 1) Page 3