by Tricia Goyer
BOB TAPPED HIS TOOTHBRUSH on the side of the sink three times and then slid it into the holder.
“I don’t know, Char. I’ve wanted to call that Nashville fellow a dozen times to tell him no thanks, but something keeps holding me back.”
“Something or someone?” Charlotte patted her freshly washed face with a towel.
“Good question.” Bob shrugged. “Although what Pete said makes sense.”
“About the guy being sneaky and coming to you after Pete had already said no?”
“Yeah. Then again, Pete didn’t have a right to say no. It’s not his farm. It’s ours. And the fact is, the spring rains pushed back planting and the crops aren’t as good as they could be. And that fellow mentioned that there would be payment involved. A little extra money would be nice.”
He strode out of the bathroom and Charlotte followed, flipping off the light.
“I know. It does sound like an unexpected gift, but I’m worried about the influence on the kids,” she said. “All those music and video people hanging around. I mean, what do we know about them? Who knows what kind of lifestyles they lead? The kids are finally settling down on the farm. Will this disrupt everything?”
Bob looked out the bedroom window at the night sky filled with stars, gazing with expectation as if hoping he’d find an answer there.
“Then again,” Charlotte thought of her earlier conversation with Emily. “I’m not sure Emily would ever forgive us if we had the opportunity to have the Shae Lynne on our farm and we passed it up.”
Bob slid under the sheets and folded his hands behind his head. “True, but we’ve never based our parenting on popularity.”
Charlotte slid into bed beside him and flipped off the lamp on the nightstand. The window was open, and warm air, scented with roses, filtered into the room. The sounds of crickets and frogs from the creek drifted in too. She listened for a while, replaying all the options in her mind. Then she turned on her side and could tell from Bob’s breathing that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet.
“It’s interesting to think that we live the type of life country singers try to portray on videos. Living off the land. Quiet nights listening to the crickets and summer afternoons sipping lemonade on the porch.”
“Or eating homemade pie.” Bob sighed.
Above them, Charlotte could hear Sam’s footsteps in his bedroom. She guessed he was having a hard time sleeping, planning for his friend’s arrival tomorrow.
Bob cleared his throat, interrupting Charlotte’s thoughts. “You don’t know this, but I’ve been praying for funds, for some type of help to keep up on the bills and to maybe put a little aside. You know, this is Sam’s last year of high school, and we have very little college money saved up. And even though it’s not what I would pick, it does seem like God is plopping something on us, dropping it out of the clear blue.”
“You’re right, Bob. We don’t know how much money they have in mind, but every little bit helps.” She stared at the ceiling, almost afraid to ask the next question. “So are you saying that you’re going to tell the man yes? That we’re going to do it?”
“I think so. It just doesn’t seem like an opportunity like this comes from nowhere.”
Charlotte patted her husband’s arm and snuggled down, but her mind was far from at ease with the idea. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep, cleansing breaths, as if willing herself to be all right with the thought of their farm being overrun by big-city folks.
Okay, Lord, I know this offer hasn’t caught you by surprise. She smiled. You have a way of stirring things up, don’t you? Just give me peace, and please protect the hearts of these kids. And help my attitude, Lord. I can’t imagine adding one more thing, especially this. Yet, show me what it means to love those different from me. Show me how to … Charlotte yawned … how to show off you.
And with that last prayer deep in her mind, Charlotte drifted off.
Chapter Six
The scent of fresh rain filled the morning air, and Charlotte took her mug of coffee to the porch. Sitting on the top step, she shivered at the slight dampness from last night’s shower, and with a contented sigh took in the sight of the freshly washed earth.
Today’s a new day and your mercy is new every morning, Lord. Help me remember that.
The colors of summer—the green of the front lawn, the golds, reds, and purples of the flowers, the golden-green of the corn stalks—were more vibrant after the rain. Even the small puddles in the driveway glimmered with morning light as if not wanting to be outdone by the pink clouds above or the water droplets on the daisies near the front steps.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel and the barking dog told her the dynamic duo was approaching.
“Grandma, watch this.” Christopher called. He was slightly short of breath, and his cheeks were flushed from running.
“Watch what?”
“Our training—you know, for showing Toby at the fair.”
Charlotte patted Toby’s soft brown ear and then leaned back, straightening her shoulders to show she was paying attention. “Okay, I’m watching.”
Christopher pointed to Toby. “Sit.”
A few feet from Charlotte, Toby sat.
Christopher backed up, taking slow, smooth steps across the damp front lawn, as if any quick movements might cause Toby to bolt. “Stay.”
Toby cocked her head, watching Christopher, but to Charlotte’s surprise, the dog stayed.
Finally, when Christopher reached the end of the lawn near the driveway, he motioned to Toby. Charlotte smiled as Toby trotted to Christopher. The dog approached with her tail wagging and jumped up, her front paws on Christopher’s chest.
“Great job, Christopher! I’m impressed.” Charlotte took another sip from her coffee.
“No, Toby. Sit!” Christopher took a step back, and Toby dropped again to all fours. “She’s supposed to sit when she comes, not jump up on me. That’s what I’m working on today.”
“Well, from what I can see, you’re on the right track.” Charlotte set the coffee mug to the side, next to the railing, and stood. “Toby always follows me. She doesn’t sit and stay like that at all.”
Christopher nodded and smiled. “Yeah, she’s getting the hang of it.”
Charlotte walked toward Christopher. “You’re doing great, but if I remember correctly you’re supposed to turn your back on Toby when you walk across the ring. In fact, I think there’s also a rule about how far Toby’s supposed to sit from your feet too. You might want to check in the training manual for the specific things you’ll be tested on.”
Christopher bit his lip and raised his eyebrows.
“You do have your manual, don’t you?” Charlotte asked.
“Yeah, I have it …” Christopher’s voice trailed off.
“And?”
Christopher reached down and ruffled Toby’s fur. “And I sort of left it outside. It got rained on. The pages are all stuck together.”
“So, what are you going to do about that?” Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest.
Christopher shrugged. “Just try to remember what the book said?”
“Or maybe you can ask someone for help? That’s what family’s all about, you know. It’s not just about hiding our problems or trying to take care of everything ourselves.”
“Grandma?” Christopher strode toward her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Next time you go in to the fair board, do you think you can pick up another manual for me?”
“Sure, Christopher. I’m heading back in there today. I’ll get one.”
“Thanks!” Christopher did a small leap into the air, nearly bumping Charlotte’s nose with the top of his head.
“You’re welcome. Now you better get back to practicing the stuff you do remember.”
“Okay. You want to see some more?”
Charlotte planted her fists on her hips. “Sure. The more you practice, the better you’ll be on the big day.”
“Come on, Toby.” Christoph
er hurried back to the first spot near the front porch where he had Toby sit. He thrust out his hand, palm forward. “Sit,” he said again.
Toby sat.
Christopher again walked backward to the edge of the lawn. He signaled Toby with his hand. “Okay, come on, girl.”
Toby trotted toward Christopher. When she was half-way there, Christopher signaled her again. Charlotte watched in amazement as Toby stopped and lay down. Yet she didn’t fall over to her side as she typically did. Instead, her ears remained perked up and her eyes focused on Christopher.
Charlotte clapped. “Christopher, that’s amazing!”
Hearing Charlotte’s voice, Toby moved to a sitting position and cocked her head in Charlotte’s direction. Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry about that.”
“Toby.” Christopher frowned. His voice was stern. Toby returned to the lying-down position. Christopher waited, and Toby waited too.
“Charlotte,” Bob called from the barn.
She turned and waved at him, “Be there in a minute.”
“Okay. Toby.” Christopher motioned to her, and she trotted the rest of the way to Christopher, sitting just in front of his feet.
“Good job, Christopher.” Charlotte clapped. Then she turned and started walking to the barn to see what Bob wanted.
“Wait, there’s more!” Christopher called from behind her.
“I’m sure there is, but I need to go see what Grandpa wants. Why don’t you show me the rest tonight?”
“Okay.”
Charlotte didn’t have to turn to know that Christopher was disappointed. She could hear it in his voice. He had been working so hard. Still, Bob needed her.
She imagined there was a lot he wanted to get done before the video people arrived.
She strode over to Bob’s truck, where he was loading hay bales in the back. His neck strained, and his face flushed red as he lifted them. Charlotte thought about suggesting that Bob get Pete or Sam to help, but she bit her tongue. Bob was sensitive about getting too much “mothering” from his wife. Instead, she approached and leaned against the truck.
“You called?”
“Yeah,” Bob panted as he loaded another bale. “Can you see if Sam’s ready? He said he’d go into town and help me set up the Country Kitchen.”
“He did?” Charlotte grabbed the end of the hay bale he was carrying and helped to ease it into the truck.
“Did you tell him about the video crew coming?” Charlotte asked.
“Didn’t have to. He heard me talking to that Will guy on the phone this morning.”
“And you’re still okay with the video crew coming? I mean, fair week is as busy as they come.”
“Well, Will said they’d be in and out in three or four days. Said they wouldn’t touch my stuff and that he would drop off a check today. So I suppose I’m okay with it.”
Charlotte turned away, hoping Bob didn’t read the questions in her gaze. “Sure, I’ll go check on Sam. He should be ready.”
But am I? Am I ready for what this week holds?
EMILY WATCHED OUT THE WINDOW of Mel’s Place, looking for her uncle’s old truck. In the booth next to her sat her camera bag and camera. She’d taken a few more photos at Ashley’s house last night, but not too many. Grandpa was right. Taking photos on this camera wasn’t like taking them on her cell phone, where she could see them right away and just delete the ones she didn’t like. Now, with each photo she took using the camera, she found herself keeping track of how much it would cost to develop the photo and eventually to replace the film.
Still, she was excited to see how they all turned out. Especially the ones she’d taken with Uncle Pete on the farm.
“How do you like the coffee?” Ashley called from behind the counter.
“It’s good.” Emily took another sip and smiled. It was a bit too sweet, but she didn’t want to tell Ashley that. Ashley was training to be a barista, which was just a fancy word for the person who makes the espresso drinks.
“Do you want a cinnamon roll to go with it?” Ashley walked around the counter and waved her hand in front of the glass display, reminding Emily of the Vanna White lady and her Wheel of Fortune letters that Grandpa always watched on TV.
“Nah, I’m still stuffed from breakfast.”
One thing Emily liked about staying at Ashley’s house was that Ashley’s mom often tried new recipes on them. Emily had especially liked the carrot muffins served up this morning. They were supposed to be healthy, but they tasted like a moist cupcake. Emily had liked them so much she’d eaten three of them and a smoothie. Add the coffee to that, and she was sugared out.
Emily saw Uncle Pete’s truck rumbling down Lincoln Street; heard it too. Emily rose, grabbed her camera bag, and waved to Ashley. “Have fun working. I’ll call you about meeting up at the fair later in the week.”
“You got it,” Ashley called, glancing over her shoulder as she set to work making a latte for a customer.
Emily hurried outside and jumped in Pete’s truck.
“Hey, Uncle Pete. Thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem.” Her uncle offered her a smile, but Emily could see from his gaze and the set of his chin that something was wrong.
“Did something happen?”
“What do you mean?” Pete merged back into the traffic on Lincoln Street.
“On the farm? Did I miss something while I was gone?”
“Well, pretty much if you’re gone for a few hours you’ll miss something, but I’ll let your grandparents fill you in. I don’t want to get in the middle of it.”
“Oh.” Emily raised one eyebrow, noticing how Pete had said your grandparents. At first she worried that something had happened—maybe to a family member. But from the look on Uncle Pete’s face, he was more ticked than sad. It most likely had something to do with Sam, or maybe an argument Pete had had with Grandpa. Those were the things that seemed to bother Uncle Pete the most.
“Thanks for taking me to pick up my photos.”
“No problem. I’m kind of anxious to see how they turned out.”
They pulled up to Kepler’s Pharmacy and walked in matching strides to the photo-developing counter in the back of the store. Two other kids her age were already in line; Emily recognized them as 4-H kids.
Finally it was Emily’s turn. She smiled at the lady across the counter, whose nametag read NORA.
“Emily Slater. I should have some photos ready.”
“Oh, yeah. Slater.” The lady turned and grabbed an envelope from the top of the stack. Then she punched some buttons on the register. “That will be seventy-four cents.”
“Seventy-four cents?” Emily turned to her uncle and smiled. “That’s cheaper than I thought.”
“Actually, there were only three that turned out. The rest were too dark so we didn’t charge for those.”
Emily felt her smile fade. She felt her uncle’s hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay for a first try. Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can head home, take some more photos, and try again.” He picked up a pamphlet on the counter that talked about light settings and film. “I was so worried about showing you how to frame shots I didn’t think about checking all the light settings.” He pushed back his ball cap and scratched his head. “Man, it’s like a decade ago since I used a camera.”
Emily shook her head. “It’s okay. We don’t have to worry about it. Even if we get some shots we don’t have time to develop them. The entries for the fair need to be turned in tomorrow, and they need to be framed and stuff.”
Pete squared his shoulders. “Are you giving up that quick?” He eyed her. “I thought you had more guts than that.”
“I do have guts.” Emily jutted out her chin.
“Uh, we do have one-hour developing,” the lady, Nora, butted in. For the first time Emily realized the clerk was still waiting for her seventy-four cents.
She quickly pulled out her money and paid.
“Still, Uncle Pete, we don’t have ti
me to drive all the way back to the farm and take photos. I just—”
“Then how about we head over to the fairgrounds? There are some pretty places near the flower garden. Or you can take photos of the carnies setting up the rides.” He winked at her.
“Okay, I guess. If you’re not going to leave me alone about it. But if these shots don’t turn out, I’ll just plan on having no entries this year.”
Chapter Seven
Sam grabbed the twine wrapped around the hay bale and tugged, lifting it from the back of his grandfather’s truck. Yesterday he’d honestly regretted inviting Jordan. Really. What would his friend think of the fair … the people of Bedford … the farm?
“Over there, against the wall,” his grandmother’s friend Hannah commented, following him with a broom and sweeping up the pieces of hay that fell from the bales. Hannah’s hair was tied up in a scarf, and she was wearing paint-splattered jeans that showed she was here to work. In fact, she didn’t seem fazed by the fact that she wore no makeup and her hair stuck our from under her scarf every which way.
Looking around, Sam noticed everyone was the same. Their clothes were well-worn and comfortable. In fact, it was those “outsiders in fancy clothes” that they had a hard time trusting.
In San Diego things had been different. People dressed up to go to the store or to attend their kids’ basketball games. He and Jordan hadn’t been into clothes, but they hadn’t worn stuff from the Salvation Army either. They’d spent their time skateboarding and talking to girls at the beach. They’d bodysurfed and hung out at the mall. They’d pretty much done whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t get in trouble and weren’t out too late.
Everything was different in Nebraska. Farm life was different. The last thing he’d wanted was for Jordan to make fun of his Uncle Pete’s truck or laugh at the rodeo. Back in San Diego they used to laugh at guys dressed up as cowboys and farmers, and in Nebraska you got noticed if you didn’t dress that way.
Sam carried the bale across the fair’s Country Kitchen dining area and lined it up against the wall with the others. His hands itched from the hay, and he clapped them together, brushing off the dust as he hummed a Two Dead Brothers tune.