by Sosie Frost
Not that I’d dreamt of that.
Not that I’d secretly started imagining it.
Not that it was just the sort of home my child deserved—away from the bustle and artificiality of the city. A real farm. A real home. Surrounded by family.
With two parents, a man and a woman humble enough to admit their feelings.
But it wasn’t going to happen now. Not after Julian made it clear what he’d thought of my gift. I’d sacrificed my job, my life, my heart for him, and he’d torn it in two.
What I thought was a perfect declaration of my love was nothing more than scraps of paper he’d ground into the dirt.
Gretchen batted Ambrose away from my purse and handed the Louis Vuitton over with only a bit of drool and one puncture mark in the strap. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I really am sorry about the job.”
So was I. “A good zoning officer doesn’t make a lot of friends.”
“But I think you did…” Her eyebrows wagged. “I could have sworn something was going on with you and Jules.”
“No.” The thought crushed me. “I mean…it’s complicated. Or it was. But it’s done now. Whatever we had.”
“And what did you have exactly?”
No sense hiding it now. “A baby.”
Gretchen rolled off the couch, smacking against the carpet with a thud. “A what?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“You’re…”
“It’s his.”
Gretchen shushed a barking Ambrose with a glance and retrieved the second bottle of wine I’d given her to take home.
“You are kidding.” She popped out the cork and took a swig directly from the bottle, offering me a hit before realizing. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“But…why…how?”
Exactly how I felt. “It was all a mistake.”
“That’s one hell of a mistake.”
“We were just…fooling around. Never meant for it to happen. We weren’t even…I wasn’t looking for a relationship.”
Gretchen laughed. “You got something a little more serious than a fling!” My friend bounced to the couch, giggling with glee. Her smile faded as she glanced over the apartment stacked with boxes. “So why are you leaving?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Because…I got the job in Ironfield.”
The thought didn’t process between her pigtails. “But you’re having Julian Payne’s baby.”
Already a little town celebrity, and hardly out of the first trimester. Those were some good genes.
“It’s not like that,” I said. “We’re not together.”
“Why the hell not?” Gretchen stared at me in disbelief. “Are you crazy?”
Probably. Crazy to leave. Crazy to not take the chance. Crazy in love.
“It’s just…” Even I didn’t believe the words. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
Gretchen had a streak of sass in her that surfaced when she should have been supportive. Her hands settled on her hips. Might have looked intimidating if she wasn’t wearing her florescent green Geese Police uniform.
“You like this guy?” she asked.
Sometimes.
“We had a very…” My eyebrow arched. “Physical relationship.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that he’s the biggest pain in my ass,” I said. “He’s arrogant. Conceited. A bastard.”
Gretchen hummed. “He’s a pain in your ass who worked his ass off at the fair.”
“To get his barn.”
“Who bent over backwards to help you.”
“Because he thought I was incapacitated instead of pregnant.”
Her grin turned sly. “Who sexed you up on the regular.”
“Because we’d agreed it would just be sex.”
“And who, presumably, wanted to start a real relationship with you.”
I rubbed my tummy. “Only because of the baby.”
The wine bottle was almost chucked at my head. “You’re such an idiot.”
I frowned. “You know, you didn’t help me pack at all. The least you can do is limit the insults.”
“Na-uh. No way.” Gretchen shook her head. Ambrose, her permanent shadow, whined and covered his eyes. “You know what your problem is, Micah?”
I had a dozen at the moment, all vying for the opportunity to screw me over. And each complication began and ended with the man who’d invaded my womb, heart, and soul.
“My problem is that I let Julian Payne get too close,” I said.
“And why would that be a problem?”
“Because…he’s ruined everything! My life. My career. My…” I looked away. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for anyone yet. Wasn’t supposed to start my family now.”
“And why not?” she asked. “Just what is so terrible about finding the man of your dreams, settling down, and starting a life outside of a dead-end career in Butterpond?”
“Because it wasn’t time! You saw the plan, Gretchen. You remember the plan.”
She rolled her eyes. “I remember telling you the plan was insane.”
“But it was my plan. How to get from where I was to where I wanted to be. I know I wasn’t meant to be the zoning officer of Butterpond, but this job was going to get me somewhere better. All I needed to do was keep my head down, finish my work, meet the right people, say the right things, approve the right plans, network with the right organizations—”
“And then what?” Gretchen sat on the floor beside me. “What then? Once you had the great job and the nice salary and the right house, what’s left for you?”
I shrugged. “I’d fall in love with a man who wouldn’t make me want to strangle him. We’d start a life. A family.”
“But you can have that now.”
I stared at my fingers. “But it’s all wrong.”
“It’s not wrong. You are.” Gretchen took my hand. “You are so concerned with building a perfect life—a safe life—that you’ve lost sight of what’s important—yourself. Your own happiness. What you want, not what some self-determined, inconsequential rules scribbled down in a planner say. You can’t plan happiness, Micah. You have to make it.”
Happiness?
Wasn’t happiness a stable job? Wasn’t happiness savings in the bank that’d provide for me and my baby? Wasn’t happiness knowing day-in-and-day-out what would happen, where’d I go, and how I’d get there?
The dread settled in my stomach. That twisting, aching sense of confusion and disbelief. My head demanded action, but my heart refused to budge.
What would make me happy?
Really happy?
A healthy baby. A warm home.
A farm full of laughter and family.
Julian.
Happiness was another hour with Julian. Another day in his arms. A moment of forgiveness.
A life at his side.
A baby in his arms.
Three little words on his lips.
Tears prickled my eyes. I blinked them away. “There’s nothing I can do. I already took the job.”
Gretchen sighed. “Is the job really that important?”
“Yes,” I answered reflexively, but my heart thudded hard. “No.”
“What about Julian?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want him?”
More than anything. “It’s not about me and him anymore. There’s a baby involved.”
Gretchen squeezed my hand. “I know you want to take care of that little baby, but you have to take care of your heart too. What does it want?”
I didn’t trust my heart—the greedy, terrible thing. Not now. Not when it beat a little faster thinking of Julian, and not now that it beat for the little life growing inside me.
My heart wanted everything.
The baby. The man. The family.
The farm.
My phone buzzed inside my purse. For a quick, futile moment, I lurched forward, hoping to
see Julian’s name on the ID.
The excitement turned to nausea. The name that’d flashed was the only other force in the world besides morning sickness that would twist my guts.
Dad.
I answered with a grunt. “Yes?”
Dad ignored the hostility, but he always did when he needed a favor. “Micah, sweetheart. I just heard the news about your job. I am so sorry.”
I found that unlikely. “You sat in on the meeting where Mayor Desmond threatened to fire me. Don’t act surprised that I picked Julian Payne over you.”
He snickered. “Of course, you did. And it ruined your career, but we knew that was going to happen. Now you’re free to pursue other opportunities. You can thank me for what I’m going to do for you.”
Jesus. “What?”
“I’m going to pay you ten—no, twenty—percent more than you were making at the municipal offices.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’ll need someone who knows the area and the particularities of the town’s zoning law when we start the new development.”
Acid burned my throat, but the rage banished it to my stomach. “You don’t really expect me to work for you.”
“It’ll be a better job than you realize. Think of all the exciting projects! Homes and offices and shops and apartments. It’s a dream come true for you, Micah.”
No. It was his dream. A beautiful, idyllic town, ripe for the fucking. Rural homes and country charm flattened to make way for artificial communities and superficial neighbors.
But I didn’t have to say no. Julian would do it for me.
I smirked. “You realize you’ll never get the land. Julian Payne will never sell the farm.”
Dad chuckled. “Sweetheart, he’s already made the appointment. I’m meeting him later this week.”
I dropped the phone. The world didn’t fall out from under me—I crumbled over it. My stomach twisted, but it wasn’t sickness that crippled me.
It was heartbreak.
“What’s wrong?” Gretchen took the phone, read the name of the caller, and ended the call with a scowl. “What did he say?”
“Jules…” I couldn’t believe the words came from my lips. “He’s selling the farm.”
“No. Why?”
I wished I knew.
A new sickness flushed through me. I curled my knees to my chest, but the ache remained.
“I don’t understand…that farm is everything to him,” I said. “Everything. His hopes. His future. His family.”
My stomach pitted. Nothing about this was right.
“Something’s wrong,” I said. “He wouldn’t do this unless something was wrong.”
Gretchen sucked in a quiet breath. “Oh, no. I know what it is.”
“What?”
“He’s not going to get his barn.” Her words hissed, a sharpness reserved only for her ongoing fued with Mayor Desmond. “Without you there to push the application through, he’s stuck. Desmond isn’t going to let anything stop him from getting that development. Selling is his only option—especially since his farm isn’t in operation. No buildings. No crops, no animals—”
I froze. So did Gretchen, wincing as I squeezed her hand a little too hard.
“That’s it,” I said.
“What?”
“That’s how he gets the barn. That’s how he keeps the farm!”
She massaged her aching fingers. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you have animals in the county shelter?”
Her words murmured, cautious. “Yes…but they’re not…great quality.”
“They don’t need to be. The more pathetic they are, the better!”
“Well, these guys are one sad kitten away from a Sarah McLachlan charity commercial.”
I raced to my feet, wobbled when the nausea caught up to me, and ripped open a box near the couch, meticulously packed with my Butterpond related materials. Books and papers fluttered across the room, but I found the code book and flipped it open.
I spun, jamming the book in Gretchen’s arms. “An animal sanctuary.”
“What?”
“You said Special Critters Animal Sanctuary closed. That’s why you have the animals.”
“Yeah, a Noah’s Arc of rejects.”
“Send them to Triumph Farm.”
Gretchen blinked, attempting to decipher the legalese on the page. “Why?”
“Julian can’t get a barn without a variance—and he can’t get a variance without a special reason to build the barn. While the township would fight him on his own private livestock, there’s a special provision that will guarantee him the variance in an agricultural zone for an animal sanctuary.”
Gretchen laughed. “You’re going to saddle him with all of these animals?”
“No. I’m going to give him his barn.” My hand cradled my tummy. “A barn…and a family.”
Chapter Nineteen
Julian
This was one decrepit fucking rooster.
Hardly had any feathers. Wasn’t sure a bird could have a club foot, but something made him limp. He was scrawny, ornery, and cawing on my damn porch at three-thirty in afternoon.
The question was why.
The old man who dropped him off had no answers.
Not sure how the man or the truck made it up the driveway. A thick layer of dust coated them both, but the old man didn’t seem to mind. He gnawed on the end of a cigarette he hadn’t lit and didn’t say a damn word, just stared me in the eye, opened the cage, and released his cock.
“What…” I had no idea what to say to a stranger delivering not only an unwanted animal to my farm, but also the worst example of rooster to cross this side of the road. “What the hell are you doing?”
The farmer spat, tipped his hat, and returned to his truck. “The others are coming later.”
The hell did that mean? “What others?”
The rooster crowed again. I swore, shooing him away with my foot. The idiot didn’t move, just let me swat him in the chest.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
It was the middle of the day.
Cock-a-doodle-dooooo!
What was wrong with him?
Cock-a-doodle—
“Is he blind?” I shouted at the farmer as he escaped into his truck. “Why is he blind?”
“He does all right,” the man said. “Does his job. Just does it at the wrong time.”
That made even less sense. “Why is he here?”
“He’s for the farm.”
I had no fucking idea what was going on, but this was the exact sort of prank Quint would pull. I seethed, gripping the railing.
“You better get your ass over here and grab this rooster,” I said. “I’m not going to have a farm in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be back with the others.”
The old man pulled away with a wave as he backed down the driveway.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Jesus. I rubbed my face. The rooster pecked around the porch before shuffling into a railing. He squawked, ruffled his feathers, took a step, then smacked into the same post again.
Great. Now I had three animals to handle before selling the property. A chicken who didn’t lay eggs, a three-legged goat, and a blind rooster who was one mirepoix away from coq au vin.
I’d deal with them after. It’d taken a goddamned miracle to get my family in one spot at the same time for this. Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make it any easier.
Or hurt any less.
But I was a man accustomed to pain. An ache in my back and the pain in my ass. Selling the farm alleviated one of the problems. Too bad it complicated everything else.
The door clattered shut behind me. I whistled between two fingers, drawing the family out of their corners of misery and to the dining room table. They took their seats, leaving Dad’s chair empty. Probably the first time we’d all sat down together since before he’d died. Figured that this would be the last time we’d have the opportunity.
>
I tossed the papers onto the table. No words. No explanation. No need to say a damn thing.
“Sign it,” I said. “All of you.”
Cassi didn’t move, sharing a questioning glance with Tidus. For the first time since Dad’s death, she wasn’t living out of a suitcase, threatening to escape our constant fighting with packed bags and intentions to flee to Ironfield. Her boyfriend, Rem, was a good influence on her, but it wasn’t just him changing her heart. She’d wanted the family to survive too. The farm. The possibility that maybe, one day, we’d find a way to make it work.
So, I didn’t look at her. Just rolled the pen across the table.
“What’s this?” Varius was the first to reach for the papers.
Marius didn’t need to read the fine print. Writing was on the wall. “What the hell are you doing, Jules?”
The only thing I could do. Only thing that seemed right anymore. Only thing that would put me out of my misery and end this ridiculous obsession with a dying dream.
Quint scowled, rubbing the hangover from his temples. Surprised he’d made it to the table. I was more surprised he wasn’t passed out under it. The carnies partied harder than he’d anticipated. His ass was dropped off on the porch only an hour before the rooster.
“Can we not…talk?” He blindly reached for the pen. “What am I signing?”
Cassi’s voice wavered. “You’re selling the farm.”
The silence punished me.
Their stares gnawed through me.
And the finality of it all would have broken my heart if Micah hadn’t destroyed it first.
“Yeah.” I tapped the table. “We’re selling. Got a good price. Sign it.”
It’d been years since the dining room got this goddamned quiet. No yelling. No fights. No laughing. No talking. No Dad sitting at his chair, complaining about the weather or feed prices. A stark, miserable silence deadened the little life remaining in the home I’d tried so hard to revive.
“Sign the damn papers,” I said. “And let’s get on with our lives.”
Cassi’s lip trembled. She stared at me, her chocolate eyes wide. “But…why?”
I’d expected it from her. The resistance. The hesitation. I’d fully anticipated my baby sister to rage at me, hold me in an utter contempt, and quietly resent me for the rest of her life.