The Tree Keeper's Promise: A Novel (A Shafer Farm Romance Book 2)

by Tamara Passey

  Angela let out a long, exasperated breath before speaking.

  “Mom. No calls. No places. Mark and I don’t have a date yet. I don’t even have a ring,” she said. “I’m headed over to the farm to help clean up.”

  There was silence between them.

  “No ring?” Cathy finally asked.

  “We think it was lost in the water. We’re not sure,” Angela said, kicking herself for even mentioning it. “Maybe it will turn up.”

  “But he did propose?”

  “Yes! And this is where a normal mom might say something like “‘Congratulations’ or ‘I’m happy for you,’ not ‘Why didn’t you tell me five hours earlier?’” Angela got out of the truck and slammed her door, not caring if her mother heard it through the phone. She got as far as her porch and sat on her wicker chair.

  “I got caught up in the excitement,” Cathy said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved her mother was calming down.

  “We could go look at a dress or two before I leave next week?”

  Or not.

  Without the strength to argue, Angela offered a simple “Maybe, if there’s time.”

  She headed into her house to eat a little breakfast and planned to get to the farm to help clean up. As soon as she could get her legs to cooperate.

  Her phone rang again. Not moving so quickly and convinced it was her mother calling with the guest list already compiled, she picked up on the last ring.

  She heard a man’s voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Angela, is that you? You there? I’ll be in Sutton in a few hours. Are we still on for dinner?”

  Her heart sank. “This must be ... I’m sorry, what was it—John?”

  “The one and only. What are the chances that we meet a week before I have some business in Sutton? You’ve got to admit that’s pretty cool.”

  “Right. About that ...” Angela took a deep breath. This should be easy, she thought.

  “There was a flood, and I’m exhausted. And, actually, I’m engaged,” she said as she stared at her ring-less hand, shaking her head, wishing she’d said that first.

  The line remained quiet for a moment.

  “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting that. I tell you what. I’m still going to be in Sutton and there’s a great steak house not too far away. Why don’t you and your fiancé meet me there about six?”

  “You really don’t have to. With the flood, we have so much to clean up.”

  “A flood?” he said somewhat flatly. “That’s too bad. I can’t compete with that, now can I? Here’s what I’ll do. I’ve got some business over at the farm. I’ll bring a little dinner to drop off to you. Does your fiancée work at the farm too?”

  You could say that. “As a matter of fact, he does.”

  “Maybe I know this guy. I’m doing a little business with the owner.”

  If that were the case, Angela felt a wave of relief over not going to dinner with him simply to be polite. “What kind of business?” she asked.

  “Do you know Mark Shafer, the owner? We had a buyer interested in the farm last year, but he passed on it. I don’t usually do this, you know. When I go out of my way for someone and they pass up a great deal, I move on, but I can’t help myself. Something about Mark—did you say you know him? Anyway, the farm won’t be around much longer with MassDOT about to help themselves to most of the acreage. I’m going to do Mark a favor and get him more for the farm than he’ll see from the state.”

  Shock seized Angela. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “The farm won’t be around much longer? Did I hear you right?” Angela stammered.

  “I don’t know MassDOT’s timeline, but if your fiancée works there at the farm, he might want to start looking for another job. You know, I would.”

  “Another job,” Angela repeated the words slowly but her mind was reeling, her heart racing. “So you’ll be at the farm in a few hours?”

  “Yeah, I’ll bring something, maybe pizza for everyone. Courtesy of John Jackson Development. Least I can do. And you can introduce me to your fiancée. See you about six. Gotta go.”

  “Okay.” Not okay. What am I saying?

  “And, Angela,” he said pointedly, “congratulations on your engagement. Whoever it is, he’s a lucky guy.”

  With that, he hung up.

  He’s lucky, all right.

  The fatigue had left her muscles, which were now powered by pure outrage. How could he? How dare he? Sell the farm?

  She replayed John’s words. She analyzed them for anything she could have misunderstood. No matter which way she replayed the conversation—he had been clear about one thing: the farm wouldn’t be around much longer.

  And Mark hadn’t said a thing. Not one word.

  When exactly was he planning on telling her? After he proposed? After they married?

  On the way to the farm, Angela tried to cool her boiling emotions. There has to be more to the story, she told herself. Maybe this John has his facts confused. Maybe he’s thinking of another farm.

  Unlikely, and she knew it. The pit in her stomach grew larger.

  When she arrived and parked, she looked at the trees from the east to the ones that had been battered by the floodwaters. John’s words echoed in her mind. “The farm won’t be around much longer.”

  He has to be wrong.

  She marched to the front door and found no one inside. Of course they’d be working, cleaning up after last night.

  Brett walked up on the porch at the same time that she was coming out of the house.

  “Where’s Mark?” she asked without a proper greeting.

  “Not here. You okay?” Brett asked.

  “No. Where is he?”

  “After he got back from the doctor, he headed over to Bill’s Lumber Yard. The shed behind the cabin is mostly gone.”

  She thought about what had happened there. That’s right. His leg.

  “Do you know if his leg is broken?” she asked, hoping for Mark’s sake it wasn’t.

  “I’m not sure, he was walking better on it this morning.”

  “When do you think he’ll be back?

  “Don’t know, but can I help you with anything?” Brett asked.

  She eyed him and took a deep breath. She wanted to ask if Mark had told him. Had Mark told everyone but her? But something calmed her, maybe being at the farm and feeling like it was so ... so permanent, that whatever John Jackson was talking about couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Sorry Brett,” she said. “You know what, I’ll talk to him when he gets back. I’m sure it will all be fine.” Her voice rose on the last word, still trying to convince herself. “What can I help with while I’m here?”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Shaw would love your help in the craft barn.”

  “Of course.”

  It wasn’t any easier talking to Mrs. Shaw than it had been talking to Brett. But being with her helped Angela feel hopeful. There had to be a logical explanation. Right?

  They worked side by side on the shelves at the back corner of the barn where the water had done the most damage. Mrs. Shaw had strung a clothesline across the barn with all sizes of clothespins, a rather ingenious way to air out all the merchandise. The two of them hung the soggy crafts on the line, at least those that were salvageable.

  Mrs. Shaw wasn’t so talkative, focused as she was. She repeated several times how much worse it could have been, what a miracle it was that Mark had built that addition. The flow of water had been diverted mostly around the barn.

  The addition. Angela paused at the mention of it. He built a music studio and a dance floor for her, for them. Why would he have added any rooms at all to a farmhouse he was planning to sell? Something wasn’t adding up. Maybe John was wrong.

  Useless. It was useless to figure anything out without talking to Mark. That’s what she wanted to do, but she couldn’t let it go.

  “Mrs. Shaw, can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

  “If yo
u have to. I’ll have to give you a hypothetical answer,” she said with that British cheekiness of hers.

  “What do you do if you find out someone close to you has been keeping something from you?”

  “Oh, dear, that’s not hypothetical, it’s hazardous,” she said as she clipped some felt wreaths to the line. She brushed her hands together and then on her apron. “I don’t know that I want to venture into those waters—pardon my pun.”

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But there’s something I don’t know and want to know. Wouldn’t you ... want to know?” She paused. “Hypothetically speaking.”

  “Depends on who you are. Now, my Auntie Joan, she wanted nothing to do with secrets. If someone was keeping something to themselves, she’d say ‘Probably a good reason for it.’ She would also say, ‘Secrets are usually problems, and I got enough of my own. Don’t need anybody else’s.’ Depends on who you are.” She gave Angela a sideways look.

  “But what if their secret could hurt a lot of people?”

  “See, now, that’s what I meant by hazardous. I don’t want to be awake tonight wondering what you’re talking about. If you think anyone is in danger, you ought to talk to the person. Plain and simple.”

  Angela’s stomach churned, and her mouth went dry. That’s what she wanted to do—talk to Mark. She was trying not to assume the worst. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Had Todd ruined her ability to trust?

  Mark burst through the door.

  “Hi there, ladies! Looks like you’ve got things under control in here.”

  Angela looked up to see a tired Mark, his hat on backward, his jacket wet. But he had a big smile across his face. He walked straight toward her with the slightest limp, setting down some tools on a shelf so both his arms were free. Before Angela could even brace herself, Mark put both arms around her and lifted her up, then spun her a half turn before he put her back down.

  “Has Angela been telling you what happened after the flood?”

  Angela laughed at the unexpected embrace and then realized why Mark was so happy, where all his energy was coming from.

  “After the flood? No she hasn’t,” Mrs. Shaw answered, looking to their faces for answers.

  Angela hadn’t been sure if they were sharing the news yet, and she obviously had other things on her mind.

  Mark looked to Angela as if to ask, “Why not?”

  With both feet back on the floor, Angela regained her balance and quickly thought of a response. “I was waiting for you.” Which was somewhat true ...

  “Shared news?” Mrs. Shaw asked. “Go on, do tell.”

  Angela looked to Mark, and he nodded, though it didn’t look like he could wait one more minute.

  “We’re engaged,” she said.

  “Now that’s news! It took a flood, did it?”

  Mark spoke up. “I’d taken her to dinner and was going to ask her at the gazebo in town—and then we got the call from Papa.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Angela said. She’d had no idea he’d planned it at a romantic place.

  He still had his arm around her, and she liked the security of it. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” Mark said.

  “Congratulations, you two.” When Mrs. Shaw gave Angela the funniest look, Angela suddenly realized what they’d been talking about before Mark arrived.

  As she dried her hands on her jeans and took Mark’s hand, she asked Mrs. Shaw if she could manage on her own for a bit. She and Mark needed to “catch up.”

  Angela asked Mark about his leg. The doctor said it wasn’t broken, yet he walked like it could be.

  “Mild ligament sprain,” he said. “Three or four weeks and it’ll be as good as new.”

  “Is it bothering you, though?” she asked.

  “Only if it stops me from dancing with you on our new floor,” he said, smiling.

  Mark, it seemed, was full of a happy energy, while Angela was quietly trying to decide how to ask him about what John Jackson had told her. And why would he build a studio with a dance floor in a house that he wasn’t going to keep? As they rounded the side of the house to the front porch, she decided she couldn’t wait for the right words.

  “Why are you selling the farm?”

  He stopped short, turning to her in shock. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard about the Department of Transportation—the man I met, the one who offered to help me when the truck wouldn’t start.”

  “The guy in Fall River?” Mark asked.

  “He called me and told me about MassDOT and a deal. That you’re selling the farm.” Angela’s voice shook, though she tried to slow down and steady it.

  “What do you mean he called you? Deal? What deal?”

  She paused long enough to look directly at him, the indignation rising inside her. He looked sincere, but then again, he always looked sincere. Would he own up to a secret like this?

  “Don’t do this, Mark.”

  “Do what?” He threw is hands up and gestured to the house.

  “It’s bad enough you didn’t tell me in the first place. But to stand here and deny it makes it so much worse. I need to be able to trust you.” She could feel her throat tighten and the tears well up. She did so not want to cry. She turned her back on him and took a few steps as if she were headed back to the barn, but something felt wrong. She didn’t want to be walking away from him or turning her back on him.

  What if he were telling the truth?

  “You’re not selling the farm?” she asked.

  “No! And I’m not denying anything. There is no deal,” he said.

  Relief washed over her. This was the Mark she knew. He caught up to her and reached out for her arm. “What exactly did this guy say?”

  “Something about MassDOT and the farm not being around much longer. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” she asked.

  “I was going to tell you,” he said, scratching the side of his head. “It’s the expansion of 146 and a frontage road. It had gotten so busy with the farm. And I was planning our date.”

  “So they do want the land? They are going to put in a new road?” she asked, more alarmed than before.

  “Yes, but no,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’ve been working on it. I’ve talked to a lawyer, and Papa and I met with some people from the historical commission. We hope we’ve found a way to prevent them from using the land. I was waiting to tell you when I was sure it was good news,” he said. She could see the weariness in his face, the pressure he’d been under.

  “I knew there had to be an explanation. I’m sorry,” she said. She moved closer to him for a hug, which he quickly gave her. “You know you can tell me any news, good or bad, right?”

  “You’re right. I could have told you sooner,” he said.

  “So, then, what business does he have here?” she asked after a moment.

  “He’s coming here? Who is this guy?” Mark asked.

  “Hi, you two. I came as soon as I heard.”

  Angela heard the voice. “Ashley, what are you doing here?”

  Chapter 16

  None of what Angela had said to him made much sense. If he wasn’t selling the farm, how could she have heard from anyone that he was? They hadn’t even been engaged twenty-four hours and the farm was in chaos, and now some rumor had gotten started about the sale of it. But Papa had warned him about not telling Angela about MassDOT’s plans. He should have listened. It would have prevented some of this confusion.

  But what could Ashley possibly want on a day like today? He glanced at her feet. At least she had enough sense to wear boots without heels this time.

  She was speaking to Angela. “I heard what happened. I was at the manager’s office this morning. I met your friend, that sweet grandma. You didn’t tell me she works here at the farm too. I’m getting the idea that this is the coolest place in Sutton.”

  She made eye co
ntact with Mark on that word. He wasn’t up for this today. He looked toward Angela, who didn’t look like she was up for it either.

  “Of course we think so,” Mark said, though it was hard for him to make small talk.

  “It was good of you to come,” Angela said. “We can use every extra pair of helping hands for the cleanup effort.”

  Ashley’s eyes widened, and she even stepped away from Angela, just a half step, but it was clear she was uncomfortable. “Cleanup ... I didn’t think of that. And, darn, I can’t stay. My dog has a grooming appointment.”

  Mark wanted to excuse himself. Before he could, Ashley turned and asked him for his help getting some things from her car. Angela offered to help too, and in a way that gave him the impression she didn’t want them to have any alone time. Which was fine by Mark.

  “As soon as your friend told me about the rain and the flood, I thought, What would they need with all that water? And the only thing I could think of was the day our hot tub had a leak and we didn’t know it. We could not figure out where all the water was coming from.”

  Mark glanced to Angela, who was also trying to suppress a reaction.

  “The way the deck was designed—badly designed—we had water leaking right into the house! Anyway,” she continued talking even as she was leaning into her car to retrieve what she’d brought, “I knew you’d need as many of these as you could get.”

  She held up a stack of towels.

  Neither he nor Angela spoke for moment. Ashley looked back and forth between them, waiting for a response, an acknowledgment, anything.

  “Here, I can take those. Thank you. This was so thoughtful of you,” Mark said. “You didn’t have to drive all this way.”

  After Mark took the stack from her hand, she turned and retrieved another pile from her car and handed them to Angela.

  “More towels. Wow, you shouldn’t have. This is generous of you,” Angela said.

  “I already feel so much better knowing you can stay dry out here,” Ashley said, beaming at the two of them. As she announced it was time for her to go, a black Hummer drove into the parking lot and pulled up right next to Ashley’s Mazda.