by Tricia Goyer
“Uncle Pete.” Sam grabbed his uncle’s arm. “Shouldn’t you think about this?”
“Heck, I’ll let you use my farm.” A man’s voice called from the next aisle over.
Pete laughed. “Yeah, see?” He pointed to the other farmer. “There you go. Problem solved.” Then Pete turned to Sam. “Ready, Sam?”
“Are you sure?”
But Pete strode out the door, and Sam had no choice but to follow. The ride home was silent, as if Uncle Pete was deep in thought.
Finally, Sam couldn’t keep it in. “I don’t understand. What are you thinking? Our farm could be famous.”
“Sam, were you just born yesterday? Did you see that guy? He was some type of scam artist. Someone from Nashville wouldn’t be dressed like that. He probably came in with the carnival and is trying to pull a fast one on someone. Who knows what would happen if you let a guy like that on your property? Why, I saw on one of those investigation shows that people come on your property, pretend to be hurt, and then sue you for the whole thing.”
“But what if it’s true, Uncle Pete? What if he is here to do a music video? What if …” Sam’s eyes widened. “What if the video is for Two Dead Brothers? They’re a rocking group.”
Pete glanced over at Sam and cocked an eyebrow. “You really think that rock-and-roll group you like would be filming in Bedford, Nebraska? In fact, what music star comes here?” Pete paused and scratched his head. “Actually, that one country singer’s coming to town. What if it’s for her?”
“Shae Lynne? Ugh, not country music.”
“Your sister likes that Shae Lynne chick. Dana too.” Pete looked in his rearview mirror as if he was considering turning the car around. Then he shook his head. “Oh well, it’s probably too late now.”
Sam leaned against the door and put his elbow out the window, letting the breeze hit his face, cooling him off. “I’m sure it was Shae Lynne. Good thing you didn’t say yes. Jordan feels the same about country music as I do. I mean, who really likes to listen to songs about dead dogs, pickup trucks, and dudes whining about the girl who got away?”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Pete chuckled. “Let some other poor sap deal with that.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte took a sip of her iced tea and glanced over the list of fair activities in the newspaper, chuckling to herself about how much folks around Bedford liked to “pull.”
Bush Pullers Tractor Pull
4-H Shows & Exhibits
Live Entertainment
Antique Tractor Pull
Mutton Busting
Parade
Commercial Exhibits
Pedal Pull
Chainsaw Artist
Coloring Contest
Semitruck Pull
Midway Carnival
She tossed the newspaper aside and set to work peeling and coring apples. As she worked, the song “Believe in Second Chances” replayed in her mind. The tune had stuck after some of the fair board members sang it. Then, to her surprise, it had come on the radio during her drive home.
It was a nice song, she supposed. The tune was catchy, at least. Charlotte made a mental note to ask Sam later about the words. Even if he didn’t listen to that music, surely he’d be able to find the lyrics on the computer. She would’ve asked Emily, but she was spending the night at Ashley’s house. And Christopher, Charlotte knew, followed country music about as closely as his grandmother did.
Charlotte continued to hum as she worked, and later her steps felt a bit lighter as she walked to the pantry for a few jars of cherries. Three apple pies and three cherry-berries. That should be enough.
As she gathered up all the ingredients, she also thought through her to-do list—getting out bedding for Jordan’s visit, rechecking the times she was supposed to work at the church’s pie booth, and marking off items she’d be entering into the fair: jars of apple pie filling, pickles, beets, that embroidery project, a wildflower bouquet, some of the sunflowers …
Most days Charlotte enjoyed baking, but today she wasn’t in the mood. She just hoped that by the time she started rolling out the pie crusts she’d prepped earlier, the desire would hit her.
“Ma Mildred,” she mumbled to herself, picturing her mother-in-law’s face, “if I’d known what we were starting that first day you taught me to roll out a pie crust, I might have declined.” She smiled at the memory of that day long ago, appreciating it even though no one else was around.
“Talking to yourself again?” Bob’s voice called from the living room, and Charlotte saw her husband yawn and stretch as he made his way into the kitchen. It was clear from his rumpled hair and glassy eyes that he’d fallen asleep after getting home from the fair board meeting. Sometimes she wished she had thirty minutes to lie down for a quick nap too.
“Yes, I’m talking to myself again, and I’m a good companion. I always answer what I want to hear, and I never disagree.” Charlotte smiled.
Bob scratched his cheek and sniffed the air. “What’s for dinner again?”
“I’m just making sandwiches since I have to get these pies done.” She took a sip from her tea on the counter.
“No dinner?” From Bob’s furrowed brow Charlotte could tell he wasn’t pleased with the idea of not getting a hearty meal of meat and potatoes.
“I’ll make sandwiches. They’ll have to be good enough for tonight. I have to replace those pies I ruined, remember?”
“I thought you weren’t going to do that.”
“No, I told you I was.”
“Well, then make an extra pie for me,” Bob wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“I think you’ve had enough pie today. Remember those two big pieces you had before you lay down? They were loaded with sugar. Speaking of which, we need to remember to set a date for your checkup with Dr. Carr.”
Bob waved a hand in the air. “I’m fine. I’m watching myself. Besides, the two pieces of pie I had were small,” he snapped, and Charlotte realized she was doing it again, treating Bob like a child. He had been doing better at checking his sugar and watching what he ate.
He’s my husband, not one of my grandkids, she chided herself. She set the apple she was peeling in the colander and then rinsed off her hands. She turned and wrapped her arms around Bob. He smelled like outdoors mixed with diesel, and she was thankful for that. Thankful to have him around. Thankful she didn’t have to talk to herself all day.
Bob gave her a quick hug in return, and then pulled back and walked over to the window to look outside.
“I still don’t think you should worry about replacing those pies,” he mumbled. “Why don’t we just put some money into the till? You’ve been working too hard lately, with all you do for the kids, the church booth, the fair board.”
“That does seem easier, but you know they’re counting on the pies. Plus, I’d like to keep our cash for the fair itself,” she said. “We’ll be having our three grandkids plus Jordan running around there, wanting to eat that expensive fair food and go on rides. I’ll be fine. I won’t worry about trying to match the original pies. I’m just making some apple-caramel and cherry-berries and calling that good. I didn’t have to buy anything. I’m just using what we have on hand.”
Bob didn’t argue, although Charlotte could sense he was a little stressed. She didn’t even want to mention the back-to-school shopping they needed to do as soon as the fair was over.
Charlotte began humming that country tune again, hoping to brighten Bob’s mood. He poured himself a large glass of milk and then sat down to watch Charlotte work.
Bob finished the milk in two gulps and then got back up and set the glass on the counter. “I chatted with Henry Dodd from the gas station yesterday, and he’s pretty excited about that country singer coming in. Hopes it will boost sales. He heard she was over at a fair in Iowa and the tickets nearly sold out. There were also 20 percent more attendees than the previous year.”
“Yeah, Emily and Ashley seem pretty excited. They said that even ki
ds who don’t usually listen to country music like her, although I’m so far out of the loop I have a hard time remembering her name.” Charlotte sliced the apples she had cored.
“Doesn’t matter if we remember. What counts is that I have a feeling this is going to be our best fair yet.”
“The fair with flair,” Charlotte said, repeating the slogan they’d chosen. She hummed more of Shae Lynne’s song as she finished slicing the apples. The smallest hint of a smile touched her lips.
WITH THREE PIES IN THE OVEN, Charlotte decided to stretch her legs and get some fresh air. Toby trotted by her side as she eyed the sunflowers, trying to decide which ones she should cut and enter in the floral competition. Not that she’d cut them yet. There were still a couple of days before the floral displays needed to be in, which was a good thing.
Christopher had run out to join Pete and Sam, helping them unload from their trip to the feed store. Bob was in the barn finishing up afternoon chores. A bird sang from the branches of the nearest tree, and the sunflowers swayed in the breeze as if following along.
Charlotte gently touched the stiff fuzz on the stalk of one of the sunflowers. Most of the huge blooms stood taller than she did, and she had a hard time picking out the best blossoms since the flowers’ heads were lifted toward the sun. Maybe she could get Bob to help her look at them later.
The sound of car tires on the gravel interrupted her thoughts. Charlotte turned and watched as a black sedan with a rental car sticker on the door pulled into the driveway and parked. A thin man with dark Levi’s and a colorful cowboy vest climbed from the car. As Charlotte stepped out of the garden area and walked toward the car, the man waved.
Hearing the sound of the car, Bob exited the barn. With a wide smile, the man strode over to him. Charlotte was sure she’d never seen him before. In fact, he didn’t look like he was from Nebraska. He had the quick walk of a city fellow on a mission.
Charlotte folded her arms over her chest and joined Bob.
“Hello there. I would guess you are Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson? The nice fellow from the feed store sent me over.” He stretched out his hand and Bob shook it. Then he turned to Charlotte.
She shook his hand too. It was soft and small, not like Bob’s large work hands.
“Yes, we’re the Stevensons. How can we help?” she asked.
The man whistled. “Sure is a pretty place you have here. Heard it won Nebraska’s farm of the year.”
Charlotte glanced at Bob, and she could tell from his scowl that he didn’t like the man’s indirect approach.
“Adams County farm of the year actually, Mr.—I’m sorry, we didn’t get your name.” Bob tilted his head.
“Taylor, William Taylor with BNC Media, but you can call me Will.”
“Sure, Will. I’m Bob and this is Charlotte. Did you say you’re with the media?”
“A media group. We design sets for shoots, work with talent scouts, and we’re actually here in Bedford to shoot a video.”
“Oh, like a documentary?” Charlotte tapped Bob’s arm. “Remember that one we watched on farming—”
Will laughed. “Oh no. Not on farming. We’re here to shoot a music video. You know, the kind they show on CMT—Country Music Television.”
“I can’t say I’ve heard of that before.” Bob lifted his hands, as if putting a barrier between him and the man. “But I can say that there won’t be any rock concerts happening on my farm.”
“Oh no.” Will laughed again, and Charlotte noted humor in his gaze. “It’s for a country music video. And this is just the type of country I’m looking for.”
“Really? We appreciate that, but—” Charlotte started.
Will continued talking, cutting her off. “Yes, there’s some beautiful country in these parts, which made us think this area is where we need to film it.”
Bob stroked his chin. “Yes, well, I’m not sure we can help you.”
“Sure you can. You see, part of my job is to scout a location. By this I mean look for the most dramatic, picturesque place we can find. And it needs to fit the story we’re trying to create, of course. I just got in today, and I need to find a place as soon as possible.” Will grinned again.
Charlotte’s mind worked to keep up with what he was saying. “And just how can we help you?”
“Well, we were looking for someplace special near Bedford. Someplace not too far from town. Someplace we can get our trucks in and out of. And someplace that will shout, ‘Home Sweet Home.’” Will spread his arms wide. “And, folks, I think I’ve found it.”
“Heather Creek?” Bob looped his thumbs through the suspenders on his overalls. “I don’t think that will work. You see, this is a real farm. Those are real crops out there in the fields. We have real animals to care for.”
“Exactly! That’s why I’m so interested. We don’t want a backstage set for this video. We want our viewers to feel like they’ve come home to the place their heart—”
“I think what my husband is trying to say,” Charlotte interrupted, “is that we have to make sure the farm runs well. We live off this land. We can’t have people running around here, trampling our crops or getting in the way of our chores. If anything goes wrong, it means we don’t eat this winter.”
“Of course. I completely understand. My own grandfather was raised on a farm in Kansas. I’ve heard the stories. I know what it’s like.”
Bob eyed the man, and Charlotte could tell that her husband wasn’t impressed by him—or by the idea he was describing.
She offered Will a friendly smile but spoke in a firm tone. “Yes, well, there are plenty of other farms around Bedford. Some are really nice. I’m sure you’ll find one you like.”
“My wife is right,” Bob said. “I’m sure there are others who would be happy to be involved. It’s just that this is a busy farm and an especially busy week. We don’t need any more excitement right now.”
Will wildly nodded and then rubbed his hands together. “Of course, I know you probably have a lot of questions. Maybe we should sit and I can explain the process …”
Charlotte felt tension building in the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, but I believe my husband has already given you our answer. It just won’t work. The answer is no.”
“Are you sure?” Will offered the same frown Christopher gave her when he wasn’t allowed a second piece of dessert. “I mean, this is quite an opportunity. There’s a nice payment for—”
Charlotte let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know how we can make it clearer that we’re not interested.”
“Besides, how do we know this is for real?” Bob asked, continuing her response. “That you’re for real? I mean, we’ve never heard of this type of thing before.”
Will chuckled to himself. “I guarantee that when big trucks and trailers with equipment, people, and props show up, you’ll know for sure that this is the real thing. And of course when Shae Lynne shows up—”
“Shae Lynne? The video is for her?” Charlotte wondered if she’d heard right.
“Yes, Shae Lynne. I wasn’t going to tell you until we knew for sure you’d accept. She draws large crowds. And if the word gets out, well, you can imagine.”
Charlotte pictured her grandchildren’s responses if they were to tell them Shae Lynne would be visiting their farm. “Bob, can you imagine what Emily would say?”
Will didn’t comment. He just smiled.
Bob looked at Charlotte, and Charlotte looked at Bob. She could see the gears turning in his mind, and she wondered what he was thinking.
“Can you wait until morning for an answer?” Bob rubbed his chin, leaving a smudge of dirt on his jaw line. “I’d like to pray about it.”
Will’s broad smile faded, and he tilted his head and looked at Bob as if that were the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Pray about it. Yes sir. Yes, that would be fine.” Will glanced at his watch. “I just want you to know that I’ll have to look around at other farms. I can’t waste any time, in case you say no for sure
. I mean, if another farm says yes I’ll have to go with them.”
Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, we understand, and if you find someplace else, then we’ll take that as an answer that it wasn’t God’s will for us after all.”
Will tucked his thumbs into his vest pockets and glanced around again, as if suddenly unsure what to do or say. “It sure is a beautiful farm,” he said again.
Charlotte placed her hand in Bob’s. “Yes, we think it is. The Lord has provided greatly.”
“Okay, then.” Will removed his cowboy hat and wiped his sleeve across his brow. “If you don’t mind, then, I can call you in the morning.”
“Sure, that will be fine.” Charlotte gave him their number, and he wrote it on his palm with a pen.
Then Will handed his card to Charlotte. “My cell phone number’s on there. Feel free to call if you come to a decision sooner.”
“We will.” Bob reached out and shook Will’s hand again.
“Thank you.” Will ambled back to his car, and then with one last wave he drove away.
Charlotte and Bob waved back, and then Charlotte glanced up at her husband.
“I don’t think he expected your answer. I’m sure it’s not what he hears every day. So what do you think, Bob?”
“Well, Char, I know what I think. It’s an odd request, and we have enough going on this week as it is, but as I told the man, I need to pray about it and see what God thinks. It’s an unusual-enough request to make me wonder. I mean, out of all the farms in Nebraska …”
“You’re right. We should ask the Lord.”
Bob turned his gaze toward Heather Creek. “I think I’m going to take a walk down to the creek. Would you like to join me?”
Charlotte glanced at her watch. “Oh no! My pies! They were supposed to be out of the oven five minutes ago!” She hurried to the house. “I’m sorry, Bob. I wish I could join you.”
Bob said something, but his words were lost in the slamming of the screen door. The warm scent of apples, cherries and browning pie crust hit Charlotte’s face as she entered the kitchen.
Oh please, oh please let them not be burned.