A hundred feet back? That would mean taking out at least five Gala apple rows. That might seem like a small loss, but profit margins on a farm were tight. A bumper crop dropped prices while a poor crop drove prices up, so losing five rows of productive early-season trees was no small thing.
She started to respond but Jax put a hand on her arm. “May I?”
She didn’t want to say yes. He’d deliberately backed off that afternoon and the sting of that rubbed raw. But he and his friends had done an amazing job on Moyer’s barn so she put the lid on her ego and nodded.
He stood and faced the board. He’d said the board was accustomed to seeing him and their friendly greetings proved him right. He motioned to the plans in her hands, then to Lora Moore. “I think the neighbor’s concern is justified.”
Libby turned quickly, because it wasn’t justified. It was mean and spiteful because Cleve had chewed Lora out for letting her animals get into his carefully tended orchard and now she saw a way to get even. Everyone knew that folks frequented local farms and orchards during harvest time and drove accordingly.
“I’ve actually looked at the area for Cleve O’Laughlin and his granddaughter and we have enough room to move the barn back by sixty feet to the north and sixty feet west. That way we have more parking and better ingress and egress out of the orchard lanes. And a direct line to the back of the barn for apple storage.”
He was right, there was room to do that now. And it wasn’t as if they had to use the original barn’s footprint or base. It wasn’t the right size.
“That could allow Ms. Creighton to turn the concrete slab that had been the floor of the former barn into an outdoor selling area during the season, something that was impossible with the old barn’s placement.”
“I like that compromise.” The supervisor turned toward the board. “Since we’ve already discussed and approved the plans, does anyone have further concerns to bring up before we vote?”
“I do.” Vanna Rodas spoke quietly from the far end of the board’s slightly elevated dais. “Ms. Creighton is not the owner of record. Her grandfather is and I’m sorry to hear he’s in declining health.”
When the bank officer had shared regret, Libby knew it was real. That wasn’t the case now as she faced Stephie Rodas’s mother.
“I’d like to know Ms. Creighton’s plans for the future of the orchard.”
She wanted to know Libby’s plans? Why was that their business?
She looked from the supervisor to Vanna Rodas and back.
She started to stand, but the supervisor waved her back down. “That’s got no point of reference for our approval or disapproval, Vanna.”
“It has a bearing on our town, therefore it’s justified,” the woman argued. “If we approve this only to have a big fruit grower swoop in and buy the property at a handsome profit for Ms. Creighton, then we’re offering a single citizen preferential treatment, aren’t we?”
Libby couldn’t stay silent any longer. She’d had to deal with Vanna’s bias as a child. She refused to do it as an adult. “To replace a barn blown apart by a once-in-a-hundred-year windstorm?” She stood, ready to argue, but the supervisor made it a nonissue.
“That’s not the board’s call, Vanna. Our approval is based on town law. The presented plan meets all the requirements. I move that we put it to a vote.”
“But—” Vanna’s frown etched tight lines around her eyes and mouth.
“I second that motion,” offered B.J. Johnson. He sent a smile of support Libby’s way. And a wink. To her surprise, the wink and the smile soothed her.
“All in favor?” The supervisor was deliberately ignoring Vanna’s protest, but why was she protesting in the first place?
Maybe it’s not about you. Maybe she’s just a jerk.
The barn was approved by a margin of six to one.
“Congratulations.” Gert’s husband stopped to shake her hand briefly as he headed for the door. “I’ve got to pick up Charlie and get him from football practice to his SAT prep class, but I’m glad this worked out, Libby. And Gert’s been having a good time in that orchard. She says it’s like old times, hauling sacks of apples.”
“She’s been amazing,” Libby told him. “They all have.”
“Well, she wants to be in shape for our daughter’s holiday wedding, and she says this is accomplishing two goals. It’s helping you bring in the apples and helping her stick to her new diet.”
“Glad I could help.” She smiled up at him. “Your wife is a wonderful woman, Mr. Johnson.”
“She sure is.” He hurried off.
Lora had hustled out of the meeting once the vote was taken. She didn’t say a word and Libby wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
But Vanna had stayed right there in her seat, staring at Libby.
Libby refused to look back, but she felt the older woman’s gaze boring into her as she started to leave. A part of her wanted a face-off. The little girl she used to be wanted to know why Vanna was so mean.
But she wasn’t a child any longer and Vanna had no power over her. She had her permits for a barn that might be sold in a year, but if having a barn nearby kept Gramps happy, then she’d have a barn nearby. Even if it took a large share of the harvest money. She’d scrimped and saved as long as she could remember. She could do it again.
Jax was waiting for her in the aisle. He fell into step alongside her as she moved toward the exit. “Sorry I was late.”
“It’s fine.”
He sent her a dubious look. “Your tone says it’s not fine and you’re right. I tried to get here and—”
She turned. “I said it’s fine. I’ve been standing on my own two feet for a long while. I’d studied the plans, they were fairly basic and I handled the questions. It all worked out.”
“Except you’re angry.” He moved forward to open the door for her.
She didn’t want him to open the stupid door, and yes...she was angry.
Angry that small-minded people put deliberate roadblocks in the way of others. Angry that a grown woman didn’t have the decency to treat her with respect. And yes—angry that he was late and hadn’t bothered to let her know. “Long day and still stuff to do.”
“Libby, I—”
She walked off because if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what she might say but she was pretty sure she’d regret it. By the time she got home, she’d cooled off enough to thank Mortie for coming over, tuck CeeCee into bed with one story and two prayers and a drink of water, and make sure Gramps was asleep. One positive of his illness was that he slept a good ten hours most nights, which was a much-needed breather at the end of the day.
She tucked the folder aside, walked onto the back porch and studied the orchard by the light of a full moon. The leaves glowed quicksilver in the pale glow. With the barn gone, she could just make out the late-variety trees in the distance, still heavy with fruit.
She was blessed by the harvest. Blessed by her sweet daughter. Blessed by so much.
And yet it was never quite enough, and Vanna’s words brought that back tonight. She was instantly drawn back to the little girl whose parents didn’t love her, didn’t take care of her and shipped her to her grandparents because she was too much bother.
Had she been a bother to Gramps and Grandma, too? Did raising their granddaughter rob them of the chance to just be elders, unfettered by school schedules and a child’s needs?
Why are you letting one sour person negate all the good people you’ve seen today? Mortie giving of her time and expertise. Gert and her bus-driving friends. Gert’s husband and the town supervisor and all those board members who gave a quick thumbs-up to your project? And Jax with all of his hard work?
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
The sweet, short verse said so much with so little. She needed to cling to that more often. To put aside the worri
es of the world and take heart in the stillness of God. Most times she was able to grasp that mentality, but she’d lost the grip when she faced Stephie’s mother tonight.
No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.
She had the Eleanor Roosevelt quote on her bedroom wall, right above a picture of her and CeeCee in last year’s ripe orchard.
She’d forgotten that resolve tonight. That was her fault.
Tomorrow she’d begin anew. She’d greet a brand-new sales season and apologize to the man who made it possible, Jax McClaren. If her heart took a hit because he shied away from her, that was her problem. Not his. The last thing he deserved was for her to take cheap shots because her feelings got hurt. He’d been a true friend from the very first. Returning that favor was the least she could do.
Chapter Nine
The dream came that night. He’d hoped it was gone.
Nope.
This time it didn’t roar up like a hungry lion. Tonight it crept up like a snake, insidiously, with flashback moments that could have changed lives if other decisions had been made. But they weren’t and he viewed the faces in his dream until the most life-changing moment of all came along, when that helicopter began to fall out of the sky.
And he could do nothing to stop it. Again.
He struggled to wake up.
Sometimes he woke up quickly. Other times the dream dragged him under, holding him captive while he struggled to grasp reality, and when he finally sat up, a cold, clammy sweat claimed him.
His heart raced.
His hands went numb.
He sat on the edge of the bed, aware of nothing but how absolutely alone he was. And how his choices affected others because he didn’t take his place on that chopper.
He couldn’t have stopped the crash. A mechanical malfunction caused the engine failure, and despite the experienced pilot’s best efforts, the huge chopper wouldn’t respond.
But Jax was supposed to be on it.
Aunt Connie believed God still had work for him to do.
His father agreed.
His therapist asked what he thought and Jax was pretty sure the words pure chance came out of his mouth.
Grandma Molly used to tell him Bible stories all the time. She’d share the words with all three boys, and he bought into them from the time he was small until that mechanical bird fell out of a clear blue sky for no good reason.
He didn’t care about those words now.
He knew what he wanted.
He wanted to be able to save his men and see them safely home six weeks later. It burned him that six short weeks had separated them from the rest of their lives and the life-stealing crash.
He couldn’t change it.
But he couldn’t seem to get over it, either, and maybe that was his life sentence. To face that day repeatedly, wishing he’d never sent those men off on that practice flight because if he hadn’t, they’d all be alive right now. And he had no clue how to deal with the reality of that.
He didn’t want to go to Libby’s the next morning. He’d messed up the day before, and he didn’t want to face that look of disappointment in her eyes again, but he’d given his word so he dressed for orchard work and climbed into his truck.
He pulled into the farm’s driveway and parked as usual. The school bus hadn’t come yet. CeeCee was dancing along the edge of the stone drive as if going to school was a celebration. Libby was smiling at the child’s antics while they waited. It was a nice routine. Normal. And he hadn’t felt normal in a long time.
“Mr. Jax!”
CeeCee raced his way as he stepped down from the truck. She was full of delight and he had to smile back, even though the last thing he wanted to do was smile. But he couldn’t help it because her joy was infectious. “Hey, kid.”
She twirled. “Do you love this dress so much?”
His smile grew on its own. “So much.”
She beamed, matching her smile to his. “Because it’s so special, right? And guess what. Guess why I’m wearing such a pretty dress today.”
He didn’t have a clue, but he tried his best. “Somebody’s birthday?”
She laughed. “I love birthdays this much!” She spread her arms as wide as they could possibly go. “No, Mr. Jax, I get to wear it cuz it’s not a gym day! When it’s not a gym day I can wear a pretty dress because I don’t have to run around and kick a soccer ball or climb ropes or do anything like that!” She planted her hands on her hips and spoke in the most adorable stern voice he’d ever heard. “I don’t even like doing those things, I mostly like playing outside on the playground or climbing apple trees because they’re just the right size, but my gym teacher makes us do ropes and stuff.” She frowned and he was fairly amazed how quickly her features morphed from one emotion to the next. “But when he tells me to do it, I do it, because Mom says, ‘CeeCee, you have to follow directions. When a grown-up tells you what to do, you do it.’”
“Moms are smart like that,” he agreed as Libby drew closer.
Just then, they heard the rumble of the bus coming down the road.
He lifted CeeCee up and carried her to the road’s edge, and when Gert pulled up he set her down and waved her onto the bus. And when all the kids on the bus began waving to him, he waved to them, too.
Their happy faces touched him. Their innocence soothed until the bus rolled away and Libby cleared her throat behind him.
He turned, ready to make his apologies.
She beat him to it. Meeting his gaze, she said, “I’m sorry I was a jerk last night.”
Her words caught him by surprise. “You weren’t.”
She aimed a face of disbelief his way. “I totally was. I let one snippy person get under my skin and I should know better. I’ve worked hard to move away from things that trigger me and yet I still let it happen. I’m ashamed of myself because then I was short with you and you’ve been such a wonderful help to us. I’m so sorry and I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
“You have triggers, Libby?” He knew about triggers. He didn’t like going into Seattle because the choppers along the water carried him half a planet away. If someone brought up questions about his time in the service, he walked away. He didn’t talk about the war or his time in uniform. Ever. Oh, he knew about triggers, all right. But the thought of this kind, gentle woman having triggers made him want to fix them for her. And then keep her safe. “Why did it trigger you, Lib?”
She waved it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, then he realized she was refusing to let it be a big deal. “Old stuff, best left buried. But maybe not buried deep enough if I let Vanna Rodas get to me like that. I kicked myself all the way home because I have so much to be grateful for and it’s silly to let one person’s bad attitude have that kind of effect on me. In any case—” she turned as if to go back to the house, then didn’t “—you’ve been nothing but good to us. To me, to CeeCee, to Gramps. And I let a little thing like being late to a meeting get under my skin. That’s not like me.”
That wasn’t what got under her skin. Not the only thing anyway. Although neither one addressed it, he’d pulled away from a sweet moment yesterday and he’d seen the hurt in her eyes.
He knew it. She knew it. But a kind person like Libby deserved all the good things life had to offer. That didn’t include night terrors and cold sweats. Or wanting to dive under cover when the beat of chopper blades filled the air. A woman deserved the best a man could be and he hadn’t been that man for a long while, although sometimes—here on this farm, with Libby and CeeCee and the old fellow in need of a helping hand—he almost felt like he could be that guy again.
“You like your privacy.”
She scrunched her face instantly. “A measure, yes. But it’s mostly because I promised myself that I’d move on. Grab the future and leave the past behind. It’s not worth thinking about or wasting ti
me talking about because it is what it is. I can’t change it, but I can make the future whatever I want it to be. So I don’t ponder it.” She flashed him a quick smile. “Not when there are apples waiting. Actually, the two fellows you hired should arrive any minute and I’ve got an order to pick up at Spragues and Janas’s for the apple shop, so I’m going to grab Gramps and take him with me.”
“And you’re all right if I set up Quincy Construction to get going on the barn?”
“We have approval and some funding. And the apple sales will give us the rest, so yes. Let’s do it.”
He had no intention of using her apple harvest to pay for the barn, but she didn’t need to know that yet. “I’ll come get Cleve around noon or so. That way his lunch isn’t delayed.”
“Perfect. The home health aide gets here at noon and Gramps doesn’t like to wait for meals,” she agreed, and then she swung back his way.
So beautiful.
The light in her eyes was such a winsome joy that it was almost easy to forget that other look. The sad look he’d witnessed. What would it take to wipe that hollowed sadness away forever? He couldn’t deny that he just might want a chance to do it.
He couldn’t, of course.
His conscience scolded him quickly. If you wouldn’t set up roadblocks to your recovery, you might find a way. Set up an appointment in Seattle. You’ve got nothing to lose.
He’d avoided some of the suggested therapies because no amount of talk or mumbo jumbo was ever going to erase the reality of what happened.
A puff of wind blew a strand of hair across Libby’s face. He reached out and tucked that errant strand behind her ear. And then he left his hand there. Cradling one side of her head.
She stared up at him.
A Hopeful Harvest (Golden Grove Book 1) Page 8