by Ciara Knight
Tanner found the wheelbarrow in the same place they’d always kept it and chucked in a five-prong pitchfork he found hanging on the wall. That was new. While he was at it, he grabbed the broad shovel, stable broom, and work gloves. If he was going to do the job, he might as well do it right.
The two other horses in their stalls neighed, as if ordering him to tend to them, too. Based on the amount of manure and wet straw, they all needed attention. How long had the farm been in this condition? His father hadn’t been gone long enough for this kind of neglect. The familiar pinch at his sternum warned him of the grief he still hadn’t allowed himself to feel over the loss of his father, and now wasn’t the time. Not when so many witnesses were watching and gossiping on the farm.
He drove the pitchfork into the bedding and dumped the wet straw and manure into the barrel then scraped any clean hay to the side. After thirty minutes, he realized there wasn’t enough clean hay left to make it worth the effort and decided to chuck the rest of it.
Despite the cool breeze outside, the barn was warm. He removed his outer layer, hanging his flannel shirt on the nail sticking out of the pole, and returned to work. An hour passed with two stalls done. His white tank was drenched in sweat, and he was parched.
“It’s been a while since you worked on a farm.” Mary-Beth’s voice shattered his quiet morning with the promise of anger and bitterness he didn’t need. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I need the fertilizer that Felicia left in the storeroom. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
She bolted down the center of the barn to the back corner, with her brown and golden waves bouncing from a ponytail and her boots scraping the floor.
“You lift that nose any higher, and you’ll hit the peak of the roof.” He couldn’t help himself. The resentment surfaced, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with an ex-girlfriend he’d be forced to face daily until his brother came home.
“Me? You’re the one who doesn’t want to grace any of us with your almighty presence. I mean, come on, I never took you for a coward until now.”
Her bottom lip quivered, but she bit it into submission the way she always had when she was so angry, she could cry. She hurried away and opened the storage room door.
She didn’t have the right to be angry. That firmly rested in his end zone, so he tossed the pitchfork to the ground and marched after Mary-Beth. “I’m not avoiding. I’m working, trying to get this farm back into shape. The barn roof needs repairs, the stalls are disgusting, the house is falling apart, the pasture is overgrown, vegetable garden dead, not to mention the fact it’s almost time to harvest and none of the equipment is running. So, excuse me if I don’t have time to help plan your wedding. No one’s going to help get this place back into shape but me.” His anger boiled to the surface along with the stinging taste of Mary-Beth marrying another man.
“Not my wedding,” Mary-Beth mumbled.
His heart reached his throat with a leap of unwanted joy. “What?”
“Ms. Horton—Mayor Horton to you. It’s her wedding to Mr. Strickland. I assumed you knew by now.” She tugged and yanked at the oversize fertilizer bag that didn’t budge.
Energy that he wasn’t expecting renewed, as if he’d taken a dip in the lake. The southern gentleman way he was raised wouldn’t allow him to ignore her need, despite how he felt about her, so he crowded in between her and a shelf to reach the fertilizer. The storage room was even more confining and hot than the barn. He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Where does it need to go?”
“Drop it. I’ll get it. You’re too busy to be bothered with a wedding.” She pointed to the ground, her too big to be working on the farm earrings swayed.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, his tone softer than before, as if the news had doused his anger to embers. “All I’m saying is that this entire place now rests on my shoulders and I have a lot of work to do. No one else is going to help run this place. I’m not being rude. I’m just too busy to help with some event.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “Why do you think that Ms. Horton demanded to have the wedding at your farm?”
The dull warmth flickered into a skin-warming heat. “How should I know?”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she was probably the one who sent you that letter, and she’s probably the one who sacrificed whatever dream wedding she’s been waiting to have for like forty years to help utilize town members and small businesses to get this place back to some sort of functioning farm.” Mary-Beth poked her finger to his tight abs from holding the heavy bag and narrowed her gaze at him. “So, no, Tanner, I don’t need you now or ever, so drop that fertilizer.”
So, he did. He tossed it to the ground at her feet, about-faced, and returned to work. What gave her the right to speak to him that way? How would he know why Mayor Horton did anything she did? He’d never had the same relationship with the woman as the girls had. All he knew about her was what he saw at the occasional social gathering and whatever Mary-Beth had told him.
He shoveled and wheeled out two loads of waste while listening to the sliding noise, but he couldn’t see the petite, five-foot-four Mary-Beth over the wood stall frame. The only thing visible was her fancy hair clip bobbing up and down. Then the noise stopped, and he decided to make sure she hadn’t passed out or fallen or something, but she hadn’t. She was holding on to the corner of the bag, using all her body weight to drag it a few inches at a time.
“You’re just as stubborn now as you were when we were kids. Move.” Not able to watch the woman struggle any longer—and hoping for a little peace in his barn—he lifted her into the air and set her down behind him and then settled the bag over his shoulder.
“I told you I got it.”
“You can get it outside.” He marched out the door, grumbling under his breath. “Would’ve been easier to let me do it in the first place, but noooo. Mary-Beth has to always be right.”
“I don’t always need to be right. I just usually am.”
He dropped the bag next to Felicia and Carissa, squatting next to the bench. “Really? Like you were right when you decided we should skip out of math class, sure we’d never get caught, so we could go fishing, and we ended up with poison ivy? Or when you decided that you wanted to be strawberry blonde and you insisted on doing it yourself, and you ended up pumpkin orange? Or maybe when you were right about—”
“Enough. You’ve made your point. I might be stubborn, but at least I don’t run out on people and I don’t care more about myself than the people who fed and clothed me, who did without and died early so their precious son could live the football dream.”
A coldness flooded him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And this conversation’s over. I’m done being judged by you and this town. I’m tired of being blamed for all your poor decisions. Most of all, I’m tired of you.”
Chapter Five
The day was long and the night even longer, especially with the girls discussing everything except the dramatic garden episode with Tanner. How was Mary-Beth ever going to get through this wedding with him living on the farm?
She lifted the metal cup to the milk frothier, despite the knot between her shoulder blades. At least she had her coffee shop to keep her busy all day with a solid excuse not to help with anything at the farm until later in the evening.
“Good morning to the best sister in the world.” Andy settled onto a bar stool with his bright blue eyes, sandy-blond hair, and an I’m-about-to-manipulate-you grin.
She was not in the mood for games. “No.”
“Wow, way to parent. You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.” Andy swiveled in the stool, plastering on his best three-legged, preemie puppy look he could manage.
“That charming smile of yours works well with most girls, but I’m your sister and I see right through it. Whatever it is, the answer’s no.”
He held his football to his chest the way Tanner always did
in high school. Did every jock have to keep his identity with him 24-7? Andy slept with his ball on his nightstand as if it would disappear from his life if he separated from it. “You need to study more and spend less time on football.”
“I have straight A’s. How much more should I study?” Andy chuckled. “But you make a good point. You know how you’re always saying I shouldn’t rely on football for my future and that I should work on my grades more?”
She set the metal cup down and wiped the milk off the frother, trying to speed ahead to his next turn to prepare herself. “Yeah…”
“Well, I got an A on my test in calculus yesterday. The highest grade in the class. Doesn’t that deserve a reward?”
“You’re not going to the beach for spring break.”
“Geesh, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Andy sat back away from her. “It wasn’t about spring break.” He hopped off the stool. “I’ll talk to you after school.”
She sighed and tossed her rag down. “No, go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Fine, but I need you to have an open mind. This is vital to my future, and it won’t cost Mom and Dad any money, It would help with a college scholarship, and it’s only one little, simple conversation you’ll have with someone. It’s not a big deal at all.”
Her faux-parenting alarm she’d been developing rang loud and clear with warning. “Then why are you making it feel like a mega deal?”
He threw the ball up in a spiral and caught it in his arms. “It’s not. You can just be…funny about things sometimes. I don’t want you to go all girl-monthly-crazy on me or anything.”
“First off, never say that again. If you say that to a girl who isn’t your sister, I hope she knocks you down in front of the entire team.”
He held up his ball at her in mock surrender.
“Spit it out or move on.” Mary-Beth realized her espresso shot had burned from sitting there too long, so she threw it out and packed some more grounds to make another one.
“I just need you to ask Tanner McCadden to coach football this year since our coach left without notice and we don’t have anyone to step in.”
The steam from her espresso machine didn’t reach the degrees that scorched her insides. “No. The school will replace your coach.”
Andy cradled the ball like an infant against his chest. “They’re trying, but as of right now, they are talking about Old Man Praetor coaching. Could you imagine? I’m not even sure his scooter can reach the fifty-yard line. Why would we settle for him when we have a football star coach right here in town? And I know he’ll do it for you.”
“You don’t know anything.” She recalled how well things went with Tanner yesterday at the farm, and her determination to hide in the coffee shop to avoid him was a solid plan. “Besides, I have no more pull than anyone else. If the school wants him, they should ask him.”
“That’s what I told them, but they figured he’d never agree, so they’re searching more viable options. But then I told them my sister used to date him, and—”
“And nothing. Tell them to call the farm and ask for him. He’ll either do it or he won’t. It won’t make a difference if I ask him. In fact, based on his behavior toward me the last time I saw him, I’d say I’d harm more than help your chances.”
“Come on. I promise to pull straight A’s for the rest of the year. I’ll even pretend to study more.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” In that moment, Mary-Beth realized why her mother had used that exact phrase so many times.
He stood there for a moment staring at her. “Ooooooh, you still have a thing for him. Is this one of those sappy movie situations where you never got over the guy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He means nothing to me. He’s been out of my life forever.” She mixed her latte and headed for the back office so she could get her stuff to open up for the morning. She had trouble tying the apron with her shaking hands.
“You do. You so still like him. Great. Is that why you came back after college? For him?”
“No, for the family. To help Mom when she was sick. Besides, I love Sugar Maple. I belong here.”
“Good for you. I want nothing more than to get out, so help me. If you don’t have any feelings for him anymore, then prove it. Go ask him for me.”
“I don’t have to prove anything.” She unlocked the front doors, even though she wasn’t due to open for another fifteen minutes. “Besides, I’m the last person who should ask him. I might have accused him of being a coward.”
“You might have? The way I heard it, you did everything but accuse him of being a traitor to Sugar Maple. Oh wait, you did that, too.” Andy snagged his backpack from the stool at the front counter. “Go apologize and ask him. For me. Mary-Beth, seriously, this means everything to me. It’s my dream to play college ball, and with his coaching, connections, and name, I’d have a real shot.” He leaned his head on her shoulder. “Please? For your favorite brother?”
She gulped a huge swallow of hot latte that burned going down. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t you always tell me that pride is a sin and it’s going to cost me more than I want to pay in life? Didn’t you make me apologize to Nathan when I called him a wannabe water boy after a game? Are you going to be one of those parents? The kind that doesn’t lead by example but just manipulates and orders me around? Are you going to be Mom?”
“That’s a lower-than-low blow.” That was the one thing that drove them both nuts about their parents, and she’d vowed always to be honest and parent with facts, not guilt trips or twisting of circumstances. “If anyone else ever asked me this, I’d tell them to get lost. You know that, right?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
That’s when she saw it: the honest pleading from his eyes, the this-means-everything-to-me head tilt. How could she squash his dreams because her own never came true? “Fine.”
He set the ball down on the counter and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. A foreign act from her teenage sibling. “That’s amazing. You’re the best sister—I mean parent—ever.”
She shook her head. “I said I’d try. I doubt he’ll do anything as a favor to me, but you’re right. I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I want to parent the right way. Now get to school before I change my mind.”
He bolted outside, leaving her with the realization she had to face the one person she never wanted to see again to humble herself by apologizing for what she’d said, despite the fact that she’d meant every word. Tanner McCadden was a coward for running off and never returning home, and nothing he told her could change that truth.
Stella entered the shop with her hand out, ready for her free cup.
“Oh no, not today. You’ve got to pay.” Mary-Beth grabbed a spoon and the tin cup, ready to concoct the perfect apology beverage for Tanner.
“What?” Stella scratched her cheek. “Okay, here.”
Before she could reach into her pocket Marry-Beth said, “Nope I don’t want your money. I need you to watch the store for about an hour.”
“Um, okay. But Knox is on his way over to talk to you about the coffee segment for his show, remember? You agreed to be the next segment, and then Jackie will be after that so she can be the final big show.”
“Oh, right. Well, tell him I need to reschedule.”
“Why don’t you tell him?” Stella shot back.
“Because he likes you. He won’t be mad if you tell him. Everyone will be happy.” Mary-Beth stared at the empty cup. “This is important. I need to do something for Andy.”
“Everything okay?” Stella asked, settling into a seat.
“Yeah, I just need to make the perfect cup of coffee before I go ask someone for a favor for him.”
Stella chuckled. “Well, I’m sure the Coffee Whisperer won’t have a problem with that. Maybe Knox should start filming now.”
Mary-Beth stood frozen, thinking, analyzing, stres
sing.
“What’s wrong?”
She dropped the spoon into the metal mug with a loud clank. “For the first time, I have no idea what to make for someone.” With her hands in her hair, she walked circles around the small kitchen area. “Maybe it’s because I’m mad at him. Maybe it’s because I’m forced to do something I don’t want to, for someone I care about. Maybe I can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Do what?” Stella asked.
“Ask Tanner to coach high school football. It could mean a full scholarship for Andy. I can’t do this.” She stopped and faced her challenge. “I have to, though. Maybe—”
“Maybe you still love him even after all these years and that’s why you can’t make him a cup of your coffee. You don’t want to face rejection again.”
That was Stella, always ready to tell you the cold, hard, lie-to-yourself realization that was your truth.
Chapter Six
Tanner sat on the front porch, so exhausted he didn’t bother to rock in his favorite front porch chair because it would require too much energy. He blinked at the streaks of first light across the early morning sky. The sounds of nature nearly lulled him back to sleep, but his mom’s stirring inside warned him that work would begin soon. When the screen door opened, he growled with protest and tipped his hat to cover his face. “Not yet. I need five more minutes.”
A cup of coffee shot in front of him, and his mom knocked the hat back off his head. “Forgot how tough farm life could be, didn’t you?”
Frogs croaked, as if echoing his mom’s observation. He lifted his arm and groaned from the tightness all the way through his biceps, around to his deltoids, and up his neck. “I work out. I’m fit. I eat right.”