A Hopeful Harvest (Golden Grove Book 1)

by Ruth Logan Herne

  He looked back, the feel of her soft hair, the smooth cheek and her gentle beauty calling to him.

  And then she stepped away. “We’re not going to start something we can’t finish.”

  Instantly he wanted to figure out a way to that finish line.

  “Neither one of us is ready for something serious, and I don’t do casual,” she warned him. “Ever.”

  “That makes two of us, because I stay as far away from serious as I can get,” he told her.

  “Then it’s good we understand each other.” She said the words, but then she laid her hand over his. “Because I’m enjoying working with you. You’ve made a difference here, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am. But I can show you,” she went on.

  He frowned.

  “Have supper with us tomorrow night. We’ll be busy at the new apple shop, then we can order pizza and celebrate our first weekend of the season.”

  “Only if you let it be my treat.”

  “Dutch,” she proposed. “We split the cost.”

  “Uh-uh.” She’d moved her hand, so he had to move his, but as he started for the apples, he took a parting shot. “I buy the pizza. You donate a jug of cider.”

  “Done.” She smiled at him from her spot on the steps.

  He smiled up from the driveway, and when she went inside, he grabbed a stack of sacks from the back porch and moved toward the orchard, whistling.

  He’d been exhausted when he arrived. Worn. Drained.

  He wasn’t a bit tired now. CeeCee’s excitement, Libby’s grace, the beautiful day—had all energized him.

  She said she’d moved on.

  From what, he wondered? How bad could it have been?

  He had no idea, but he knew one thing. He didn’t want anyone or anything to hurt her again. Ever.

  And as long as he was around, nothing would.

  * * *

  No way was she ready for heartbreak.

  Libby schooled herself as she backed the truck up to the apple barn’s new front doors. Gramps almost jumped out of the passenger seat. His feet hit the ground and he hurried forward, excited. “Well, this is prettier than I remembered, isn’t it? A sight prettier, and our name is on the barn.” He spun toward Libby. “Who put our name on Glenn Moyer’s barn?”

  “Jax and his friends cleaned it up for us. They painted it and added the shelves and tables. Mr. Moyer said we could use his barn as long as we needed it.”

  “A good neighbor is a good friend by proximity.”

  “Wise words. I’m going to unload these things and stock shelves, Gramps. Do you want to look around?”

  “I want to help,” he declared in a voice that sounded like the old Cleve. Strong. Vital. Focused.

  “I’d appreciate it,” she told him. They unloaded bakeware and canning supplies to fill the new shelves. The cider delivery arrived while they were setting up. Libby showed them to the back door and they dollied the cases of fresh-pressed cider into the cooler.

  She had them bring the last dolly into the front, and they had just left when Janas Farms arrived with pumpkins, gourds and cornstalks.

  When Jax arrived at eleven forty-five, he swung into a parking spot, jumped out and whistled. “You guys moved all this stuff into place?” He motioned to the full tables and shelves. “Please tell me the delivery guys helped.”

  Libby flexed her right arm in a show of strength. “They got the stuff here,” she replied. “The rest was me and Gramps. But I’d love some help on that last pumpkin display.”

  “Not our first rodeo, son.” Cleve grinned as he settled an armload of cornstalks into a stanchion. “We’ve done this kind of thing since Libby was real little. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

  The lucid moment made her heart soar.

  That was the real Gramps. A go-getter, a man who tackled whatever job came his way. The smile, the ease of motion.

  This was how she wanted to remember him. And this was why Grandma made her promise to keep him on the farm if possible. There was no replacement for the joy in his face, in his gaze. As he helped Jax move the pumpkins into place, he moved with the agility of a younger man. For this moment, that was what he was. She snapped a few pictures with her phone, and a short video of their shared smiles and light repartee.

  They finished arranging the pumpkins at twelve noon. “Cleve, I’m going to take you back to the house for lunch, all right?”

  “I am hungry, that’s for sure.” Gramps turned quickly, looked at Jax, then frowned. “Who are you again? Did you come with that nice gal over there?”

  And just like that, the moment was gone.

  Jax sent her a look of sympathy.

  He knew, she realized. Somehow he understood the roller-coaster ride she faced each day.

  “I’m Jax, the fellow who’s helping in the orchard this season. And I’ll oversee the barn building, too.”

  “You’re building a barn?” asked Gramps, perplexed.

  Jax steered him toward the truck. “I’ll explain while we head back to the house, okay?”

  “I’m hoping there’s tuna on the menu. Carolyn likes to make me tuna.”

  “Tuna sounds good,” Libby told him.

  “I’ll bring back a sandwich.” Jax shut Gramps’s door and faced her before he moved to the driver’s side. “It was a good morning, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded, fighting against the rise of emotion. “The best. And I’ll take every one I get.”

  “Back soon.” He climbed into the truck, drove down the road and was back in a half hour.

  She’d finished the inside displays and was adding seasonal touches outside when he pulled in. He not only brought her a sandwich, he’d grabbed chips and fresh, hot coffee.

  When he dropped the tailgate on his truck and pulled out a similar lunch for himself, she took a seat beside him.

  The simplicity of eating a tuna sandwich and chips felt right. Sharing the moment with him felt right, too. She held up the second half of her sandwich and indicated her appreciation. “This is haute cuisine in my book.”

  “The same.” He motioned toward the barn with his coffee. “I’m going to stay here for an hour, help you finish, then get back to the orchard. Courtney is with Cleve until two o’clock. The bus crew is picking the Granny Smiths, and they’re quite excited about beating the two hired men, so the speed of today’s picking is notable.”

  The image of the middle-aged bus drivers taking on the two young workmen made her laugh. “They challenged them?”

  “Gert takes no prisoners,” he replied. He was right, but Gert Johnson had another side, as well.

  “That woman has the kindest heart in the whole valley,” she told him. “She was my bus driver when I was little, she’s been on the job for nearly thirty years and she always treated me with such thoughtfulness. When others brushed me off or didn’t let me play with their kids, Gert was the soul of compassion. A kid doesn’t forget people like that.”

  “Why wouldn’t people let you play with their kids?”

  He looked astounded, which meant he hadn’t gone around asking about her or their family. She liked that. “My parents were notorious for drinking, doing drugs, swindling and outright stealing at times. My time with Grandma and Gramps was my respite, my safe haven. They loved me unconditionally. And when my parents were almost run out of town because of their misdeeds, Grandma begged them to leave me here. To let me stay at the farm.”

  “And they did.”

  She set the sandwich down for a moment. “They didn’t. Gramps wouldn’t give them money and they knew the best way to hurt my grandparents was to take me. Not because they wanted me,” she said softly. “That had never been an issue. They took me away to punish Grandma and Gramps, then sent me back eighteen months later. So in the end, that chapter of my life turned out okay. After no small number of mistakes
on my part. Now I’m where I should be, and I’m pretty sure it’s exactly where I want to be. So maybe all is well that ends well.”

  Chapter Ten

  Unwanted.

  Uncherished.

  Uncared for.

  Jax had a hard time wrapping his head around that. What kind of heinous person treated a child like a commodity? He couldn’t imagine it, but then he’d been raised by a loving father and a wonderful grandmother. “Libby, I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged and lifted the remainder of her sandwich. “It was wretched, but it made me stronger. Stronger within myself and stronger in my faith. Don’t get me wrong,” she went on, facing him frankly. “I hated parts of my life and I made some major mistakes. I was in a rough place emotionally a couple of times, but when I look back on that now, I realize I grew as a person. That doesn’t mean I ever want CeeCee to face that kind of trauma. I’ve got the chance to give her a good, normal life and I intend to do it. But if iron becomes steel by being forged in the fire, so can I.”

  The candor of her words broadsided him.

  His therapist had said similar things. He’d brushed them off as same old, same old and kept on doing exactly what he was doing now, moving from one quiet job to another, making no waves and absolutely no commitments.

  But hearing her talk about being made stronger made him want to be stronger. Could he truly improve his mental state? Nothing had worked so far.

  Maybe it didn’t get better because your heart and soul had to heal first. Who puts a time frame on grief and pain? What if you just needed more time? Just because something didn’t work the past few years, doesn’t mean it couldn’t work now. If you’re willing to try.

  It was eye-opening to him that Libby made him want to take a chance. He had nothing to lose by trying, right?

  What if it fails again?

  The dark thought encroached as he swigged the last of his coffee. He tamped it down.

  Libby hopped off the tailgate, dusted off the seat of her pants and faced him. “Let’s get a spot arranged for the Granny Smiths and we should pick at least enough Honeycrisps to make a display. I know they’re a little shy of ready, but they’ll ripen in the baskets. And thank you so much for the lunch, Jax. That was another wonderful surprise on a really good day.”

  He slid off the tailgate, too. “Courtney was responsible for the sandwiches, but I’ll take credit for the chips and coffee.”

  She laughed.

  That was when he knew it was worth the risk.

  He wanted to inspire that laugh more often. To have a chance to look after her and CeeCee. And Cleve, too. She’d already faced losing her grandmother. She shouldn’t have to deal with Cleve’s illness on her own. “We’ll get the Granny Smiths and I’ll bring back a few crates of Honeycrisps. Then we’ll be set for tomorrow’s big opening.”

  She scrunched her face a little. “I’m not sure how big it will be because folks might not know we’re here. If they heard about the barn they might think we can’t open up. But word will trickle out and if we don’t have a great opening weekend, I expect we’ll be busy in October. It just takes a little time for news to travel and we’re three weeks late already. Most fruit stands were up and running in late August.”

  “Better late than never.”

  “Exactly.”

  They worked side by side to finish things up. She worked steady, like him. No rushing, no dawdling. The really nice pair of blue jeans topped with a red T-shirt added to the look of a perfect all-American apple season. She looked beautiful, focused and capable, and she clearly had an eye for merchandising because the new apple shop didn’t just invite people in, it coaxed them to purchase with clever displays. So well-done. She’d said she loved the merchandising side of retail and it showed in the inviting details of each display.

  His phone buzzed a reminder a short time later. “Gotta go. This looks amazing.” He folded his arms and looked at the well-stocked sales space inside the barn and then at her.

  “It is amazing.” She spoke softly and he had to lean a little closer to hear her. “I don’t even know what to say, Jax McClaren.” She turned to face him and she was close. So close he could count the tiny points of ivory in her blue eyes. “None of this would have been possible without you.”

  He started to wave that off, but she ignored the gesture. “It’s true,” she insisted. “You quietly came on board like on one of those TV shows where people show up out of the blue and help someone out of a jam.”

  “I’m just a guy who happened along at the right time.”

  “Not just a guy.” Still speaking softly, she reached out a hand to touch his arm. “A special guy. A guy who goes the distance. There’s not a night that goes by when I don’t thank God for sending you down that road at the perfect time, because having your help has made all the difference. And I wanted you to know that.”

  Her voice was melodic and soft yet strong.

  Her touch like velvet against his skin, even though her hands put in a lot of work and effort day after day.

  Suddenly, he just stopped thinking, leaned forward and caught her mouth with his.

  She fitted. In more ways than he would have thought humanly possible. And when she didn’t pull away, he slipped his arms around her. Jax was pretty sure he’d found everything he’d been looking for. When he paused, his heart was beating a mile a minute. So was hers.

  He drew her into his chest and held her there, close and safe for long, beautiful seconds. “Well, then.”

  She started to pull back and he tipped his face down to catch her eye. “We can stop wondering now.”

  She raised a brow.

  “About what it would be like if we kissed each other,” he whispered. “Please don’t tell me I was the only one wondering, because I don’t know if I can take the shot to my ego.”

  Her blush confirmed what he already knew. He loosened his embrace but kept his hands looped lightly around her back. “And just so you know, it was better than I’d imagined, and I’ve been imagining a lot these last few weeks.”

  “Jax—”

  Her voice held a note of caution. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I know there are a dozen reasons why we shouldn’t do this, but I want to ignore every one of them and kiss you again, Libby.”

  “Like, once?” she asked, and he felt her lips curve in a smile.

  He kissed her cheek. “Like, a lot more than once.”

  She laughed and drew back, but then she turned serious. “We’re grown-ups, Jax. We both know the attraction isn’t one-sided. But I’ve got a little girl up the road who thinks you’re pretty special. I can tell you’re her knight in shining armor right now, but she’s the reason I don’t date. Because she matters more than anything. She’s already had to deal with a father who didn’t care about her, Grandma’s death and Gramps’s condition.” She eased out of his arms. “I won’t deny the magnetism between us. But we can’t be doing this again.”

  “And yet here I was wondering when we could do it again.” He grinned down at her, not because he was all that funny, but because when he was around her, he wanted to smile. And often. Wasn’t that a wonderful change?

  The blush deepened. “Then stop thinking of it,” she scolded lightly. “You’ve got to go.”

  He did have to leave. He’d promised the workers he’d be back. “We can discuss this later. Why don’t we all go out for supper tonight? You, me, Cleve and CeeCee.”

  “We can’t,” she told him. “I’ll be making display signs tonight. I want to hit the ground running tomorrow morning at the apple shop, even if it’s not busy.”

  “I can help.”

  She’d turned away, but then she swung back. “Actually, you could. If you could entertain CeeCee and Gramps so I can have an hour with a permanent marker and card stock, I can get a whole lot more done than if I’m interrupted every five minutes.�
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  “I’m happy to, Lib.” She hadn’t offered more about CeeCee’s father, and he wasn’t about to ask. A man with secrets had no right prying confidences out of another person. “See you later.”

  He climbed into the pickup truck, turned it around and looked back to wave goodbye.

  She didn’t look up. Didn’t wave. Eyes down, she pretended to be busy, but as he turned the truck onto the two-lane, he glanced back at the same time she sneaked a peek in his direction.

  He slowed down and smiled, then gave his roughed-up cap a light tap of the finger.

  He couldn’t see if she blushed again, but he saw the smile, and for now, that was enough. He drove up the road, whistling. He pulled into the driveway, ready to grab Cleve and join the apple crew in the orchard, except they weren’t in the orchard. Ten people were scattering in multiple directions, all shouting Cleve’s name, and when Courtney saw him, she raced his way. “He’s disappeared, Mr. McClaren.”

  Jax’s heart jumped into overdrive. They’d gone through this with Grandma Molly and he’d never forgotten those terrifying hours before she was found. “When did you first miss him?”

  “Just now.” Her voice shook. She fought tears, swallowed hard, then explained in a stronger voice, “I was tidying up the kitchen and bathroom areas. He was sound asleep in his reclining chair, and I don’t know when he got up and went outside. I came back to check on him and he was gone.”

  Jax texted Libby instantly, Cleve’s gone missing.

  Her return text was short. On my way.

  “The orchard’s the most likely place,” said Jax. “He knows it’s harvest season and he wants to help. I know you were supposed to leave, but can you stay at the house in case he comes back or someone calls?”

  Courtney nodded. “Yes.”

  “Libby will be here any minute. Tell her we’re all out looking.”

  “I will.”

  He raced for the orchard. Thick leaves and spreading branches made it impossible to see through the trees. He ran to the western end and began making his way down the fruit-laden rows, calling Cleve’s name. It wasn’t cold right now, but the upper thirties were predicted overnight. He paused and texted Libby again, I’m in the Pinks. I’ll work my way back toward the house.