“Is it nice?” Becca asked a little wistfully.
Emma ducked back guiltily. “Is what nice?”
“Being married?”
“So far, yeah. He drives me nuts sometimes, but overall, he’s really sweet.” She glanced back out the window, where her gorgeous husband was now tipping back a glass of iced tea. Emily wanted to fan herself. Brodie looked like the July picture on a Hot Cowboys calendar. “We’re still in the getting-to-know you stage. We haven’t . . .”
“Haven’t what?”
Becca’s eyes were wide and curious. And innocent. Emily herself was a virgin, but she felt downright knowledgeable looking at Becca’s face.
“We haven’t fully gotten to know each other yet,” she said instead.
“How long did you date before you got married?”
“That’s just it. We didn’t. We met at the altar,” Emily said. “There’s this matchmaking genius—her name is Dr. Lachele—and she set us up. We didn’t meet until the day of the wedding.”
Becca’s blue eyes got even wider. “You can do that? Weren’t you scared you’d get stuck with someone you didn’t like? Or someone that didn’t like you?”
“Kind of. But I needed a husband.” She had already explained about Faith and Alec and suddenly becoming a mother. “Once I saw him, not just the way he looked, but the way he was, I just felt like everything could be all right. Now, I’m just trying to be the kind of wife he deserves.”
“A matchmaker, huh,” Becca whispered.
Emily didn’t hear her. She was thinking about the things she would need to do to become the wife Brodie needed. Learn to cook more than just boxed meals. Clean a house without being a total klutz and hating every second of it. Maybe learn to ride a horse. Definitely, she needed to learn how not to want to scream every time she thought about riding a horse. Her husband was a cowboy, for crying out loud. She needed to be a country girl.
Brodie was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. His muscles ached, but it was from honest work, and he knew he’d sleep well that night. Plus, he was getting to use his carpentry skills from the first job he ever had—a contractor’s assistant. He settled down in the shade and assessed his progress. The porch was starting to take shape, and he’d matched the dimensions to the original. With luck, provided his calculations were right, the new porch would be an exact replica of the old one. He could picture it clearly in his mind: sitting in a rocking chair on the screened-in verandah, a glass of iced tea in his hand and his beautiful wife across from him.
His eyes went to the bedroom window on the second story, where he could see Emily talking to Becca. He grinned. He’d caught her earlier eyeing him, but only because he kept looking up there, hoping for a glimpse of her. He was glad she’d made a friend since that would give her one more anchor to Wolf Creek, Tennessee. Back in New York, she’d had a lot of friends.
He was also glad that Emily’s new friend had introduced Alec to her brother. Maybe, he thought wickedly, they could arrange a sleepover soon. Brodie was hoping that he and Emily could finally have a sleepover of their own.
Later that evening during dinner, Brodie’s phone rang. He spoke to someone briefly, and then hung up and whooped, making Alec jump. “All right, guys—the driver is almost here. Want to go see our horses?”
They got to the pasture at the same time a truck and horse trailer were pulling in. In a few moments, Brodie was leading out a lovely all-black horse. Her coat gleamed in the setting sun, and she pranced nervously, tossing her long, crimped mane and rolling her eyes wildly. Emily cringed when the horse suddenly tried to rear, but Brodie just held her lead tightly and spoke calmly and quietly. Finally, the horse settled down, and Brodie led her to the barn.
The next horse was even worse.
It looked very much like the first horse, shiny and black, but it was even bigger. And it looked mean. Brodie had his hands full trying to control the animal, but again, he patiently waited it out until it was calm. Emily realized she’d been biting her knuckle. Some country girl she was going to make, she thought bitterly. It looked like her childhood fear hadn’t gone away. She was still afraid of horses.
Looking at Brodie, though—he was in his element. He came out of the barn, his smile wide. “Aren’t they incredible?” he asked Emily, not waiting for a response. Instead, he picked her up and swung her in a circle, surprising a shriek of laughter out of her. “I’ve gotta call Ryder. This is an incredible pair of horses. Tennessee Walkers, too.” He walked away, already taking out his phone to make the call and laughing at his friend’s obvious joke.
Emily cautiously approached the fence, where Alec already sat on the top rail, studying the new arrivals. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Alec asked her.
Pretty terrifying, she thought silently to herself, but she had to admit, the horses were beautiful.
“My mom liked horses," Alec said quietly. "She said the neighbor where she lived growing up had one."
“That’s right,” Emily said to Alec. "His name was Pepperpot.” This was the first time Alec had opened up to her enough to talk about Faith, and Emily was grateful to the big, mean horses for making it happen.
“Do you like horses?” Alec asked, glancing at her.
“Um, sure,” she said unconvincingly. "How could you not like an animal that pretty?” She looked out at the field, where the female horse was delicately lifting her tail . . . to relieve herself. Alec snickered, and the next thing Emily knew, she and her nephew were laughing like lunatics.
The next day was moving day. Becca came back to help, and between the two of them, she and Emily had everything moved over to the main house in just a short amount of time. Not that they had much. Just clothes, air mattresses, and sleeping bags.
“Well, we’re ready for William now,” Emily said, dusting off her hands and looking around the shabby living room. “Living in the main house . . . for better or for worse.”
“I guess you won’t need me anymore, huh?” Becca looked around, too, but wistfully.
“Actually,” Emily said hesitantly, and Becca’s face lit up.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to teach me some things.”
Becca looked baffled. “You went to college. You lived in New York City—by yourself! You’re just so . . . competent. What could I possibly be able to teach you?”
Emma shook her head and wandered into the kitchen. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. You know how to do things I would never in a million years be able to do. You can cook, clean, sew, can vegetables, grow food in a garden. I can get along okay in a big city, but out here, I’m useless! I want to learn to do all the things a country wife knows how to do. I want my husband to love me.”
The last sentence came out unintentionally, and Emily bit her lip.
“Em,” Becca said softly. “You don’t have to know how to do all of that to make Brodie love you. Have you seen how that man looks at you?”
“Please, Becca. Teach me everything your grandma taught you.”
Becca sighed. “Do you want to learn for you or Brodie? You can’t make yourself miserable on account of someone else. I know you hate cleaning, and you said yourself you’re not big on cooking. Maybe you’re the kind of person that needs to have a job or a business?”
“Around here?” Emily wrenched open the antique refrigerator door to pull out a soda. She offered one to Becca, and they both sat down at the kitchen table. “No offense,” she said to her friend, who lived just across the French Broad River, “but what kind of job could I get here in the back of beyond?”
“What did you do in New York?”
Emily gave her a sheepish look and fiddled with her Coke can. “Well, I was a yoga instructor.”
Becca shook her head. “The Methodist church on Main does yoga classes every Thursday, but I don’t think there’d be a market for a yoga studio. People around here aren’t really into that. Did you do anything else?”
Emily dropped her eyes. “I w
as a dog walker. And a receptionist for an advertising agency. And I worked for a flower shop for a little while. After that, I took a couple of classes and worked as an assistant for an interior designer. I also did waitressing. Oh, and I was a nanny for a couple of months. I forget what else . . .”
“Wow. You’ve done a lot of different things, huh?” Becca quirked a little smile. “The job market’s not that big in Newport, but I hear the Tasty Time Deli is hiring.”
“And now we’re back to cooking,” Emily replied with a laugh. “Just teach me. Please? I’ll keep paying you, and you can do your best to turn me into a passable housekeeper and cook. At the very least, I’ll have someone to keep me company. And if it doesn’t work out . . . well, I’ll figure something else out, I guess.”
William arrived later that day, honking his horn merrily as he came up the drive in a big U-Haul truck, towing a vintage white Cadillac behind it. Alec ran to him, almost stumbling over a rock on the way, he was in such a hurry, and threw his arms around the elderly man in a hug. Brodie raised his eyebrows. Looked like the boy had formed an attachment with at least one person in his new life.
“Did I say thank you?” Emily asked him, her eyes gleaming at the sight of her nephew so happy. “Because I mean it. Thank you for bringing William here.”
He watched as she ran down the hill, almost as fast as Alec had. William grinned widely and hugged her as well. “William,” Brodie said, “It’s good to see you. How was your trip down?”
William shook his head, his eyes a little misty. “It was like coming home. Thank you for offering to take me along with you.” He smiled fondly at Emily. “New York had gotten pretty boring already with you gone. And after working there for so many years, I hadn’t realized how much I needed a change of scenery.”
“Come see your apartment, William!” Alec said, grabbing the man’s hand. “It’s all cleaned up and ready to move in.”
“That’s something we need to talk about,” William said. “I’ll need to know how much rent will be.”
“There is no rent,” Brodie replied firmly. “Consider yourself retired and hang on to those Social Security checks of yours. Now, do you mind if we start unloading your stuff?” Brodie asked. “We can get you settled in in no time, and then maybe the four of us can go get dinner in Newport.”
“I’d like that. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily assured him, already heading to the back of the U-Haul to open the doors. “You’re family now. We’ll take care of it.”
William nodded and surreptitiously wiped at his eyes while Brodie pretended he didn’t notice, then gave them another wide smile as he let Alec lead him away.
“It seemed like a weird idea at the time,” Brodie said after they’d gotten out of hearing distance, “But I think inviting that man down here was the right thing to do.”
Emily looked up at her husband, leaned onto her toes, and gave him a sweet, soft kiss. “It absolutely was. Thank you.”
Eight
Life settled into a routine, and if Emily didn’t find it enjoyable yet, she was determined to learn. Becca was at the house nearly every day, giving Emily pointers on the fine art of keeping house. Usually, she brought Jacob with her, and the boys were inseparable—either scarfing down cookies together on the front lawn, their heads together as they schemed about ten-year-old boy stuff, or spending time with William in the apartment, where he regaled them with tales of his time in the army or his father’s famous exploits.
Brodie spent much of his time down at the barn with his horses or working on the outside of the house—clearing down the kudzu vines that had climbed the walls of the house or replacing windows brought in from town a few at a time.
Emily worked.
“No, be sure to add the eggs one at a time.”
She glared down at the cookie dough in the big stoneware mixing bowl she held. “Why?” she challenged. “Doesn’t it all just get mixed up anyway?”
Becca shrugged and smiled. “Honestly, I don’t know. But you wanted me to teach you the same way Granny taught me, and she always insisted that the eggs be added one at a time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Emily grumbled. “I’m just going to burn them like the last two batches.”
“Come on now,” Becca encouraged. “You’re doing fine. After we get the cookies in, I’ll show you how to make a pot roast in the slow cooker. Men can’t resist a good pot roast,” she teased, “and women can’t resist a good Crock Pot.”
But that evening, despite Emily’s best efforts, the pot roast had the leathery texture of an old shoe. “Don’t worry,” Brodie soothed. “The flavor’s good. I’m sure this will all come to you with practice.” William shrugged apologetically. “Dentures,” he said, pushing the roast beef to the side and focusing on his mushy carrots and potatoes. Alec didn’t care. He wolfed the tough meat down at the same speed he ate everything else.
William and Alec raved over the chocolate chip cookies she brought out for dessert, but that didn’t make Emily feel any better. After the last batch she tried turned out so hard and dense, they were like little boulders—probably because she didn’t add the eggs one at a time—Becca had taken pity on her and baked a batch up herself, magically turning out cookie perfection from the temperamental seventy-five-year-old oven. They were just the right combination of chewy and crispy, and the flavors melted on the tongue. She felt like a fraud when Brodie complimented her lavishly and didn’t want to tell him that she hadn’t baked them at all and risk seeing his face fall in disappointment.
Brodie insisted that she get off her feet after dinner, saying that he’d wash the dishes, and Alec would put them away. She sat on the horsehair sofa in the parlor, absently picking at a tear in the brocade upholstery. She wanted to give up.
But that was the problem. She gave up on everything. All of the different jobs she’d hopscotched around to in New York . . . Emily was afraid she had a commitment problem.
So, she decided to work twice as hard. Her biscuits were like bullets. Her fried chicken was undercooked on the inside and an unappealing shade of dark, dark brown on the outside. Her custard pies were runny with doughy crusts. Even Becca’s unfailing good cheer was starting to fail.
Alec loved William’s apartment. Unlike when he and Emily and Brodie had stayed there, William had furniture. His plaid easy chair was old, faded, and, somehow, matched the carpet perfectly. He had a couch, a big TV that he let Alec watch cartoons on, tons of books to read, and he always kept Cokes in the fridge—the ones in the glass bottles. Currently, they were working on a one-thousand-piece puzzle, the pieces arranged on a card table within reach of William’s easy chair.
“Grab me that corner, will you, son?”
Alec held out the piece. “William, have you noticed that Emily’s not happy?”
“Well now,” the old man said, pushing up his thick glasses as he leaned forward to fit the piece into place. “I wouldn’t say she’s unhappy.”
“She is,” Alec insisted. “Did you see her face this morning when she served us up those soggy waffles?”
William chuckled. “Those waffles were a little on the squishy side. I think Emily’s just trying hard to please us all.”
“Jacob says she made Becca teach her how to cook because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” He made a face and snapped two more pieces of the puzzle together. “Which I think sounds gross. But she’s totally not going to be able to impress Brodie if she keeps burning everything or leaving it raw in the middle.”
“Now, now, don’t worry about the grownups,” William chided. “You need to let them figure things out for themselves.”
“I know,” Alec sighed. “Jacob says they should be kissing, though. His mom and dad and his sister who is married kiss all the time. If they’re busy kissing, they won’t get divorced. But how are they supposed to kiss with Brodie in the fields and Emily in the kitchen all the time?”
Will
iam gave the boy a long look. “I can’t argue with that logic, son. Tell you what. How would you like to spend the weekend with me? We can drive over to Pigeon Forge and hit some of the go-kart and mini-golf places, eat a bunch of pizza, and crash in a hotel for a couple of nights. Maybe then your aunt and Brodie can have some time together.”
Alec grinned. “I like the way you think.”
“Those are some beautiful horses. Just look at that filly. Those legs go on for miles, don’t they?”
Brodie jumped a little. He’d been so busy staring off into space, mooning over Emily, that he hadn’t heard the older man come up behind him.
“I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind me taking Alec with me for the weekend,” William said, looking closely at Brodie. “I’ve got an itch to drive over to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge area, play some arcade games like I used to when I was younger, maybe check out that Ripley’s museum I read about. And I think it’s time you spend some time with your own little filly instead of hiding out here in the barn.”
Brodie’s heart immediately skittered at the thought of having Emily to himself for two uninterrupted days. He wanted to tell William to go ahead, take off now. Leaving Thursday was even better than leaving Friday, right? But instead, he flushed and laughed a little. “I’m not hiding from anyone, especially Emily.”
“Sure you are, son,” William said wisely. “She’s practically bending over backwards to make you happy, but you can see that everything she’s doing . . . it isn’t working for her. And you’re too afraid to tell her so. You all need to have a good, long talk, and maybe a little fight to get everything out in the open. And you don’t need an old man and a little boy underfoot when you make up afterward.” He winked.
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