"But he's sticking around until he retires," I continued. "Which means I need to cast my professional eye further afield."
"Not for a while, though, right?" Tracy asked, a concerned frown on her face as she waited for her groceries to get bagged.
"I don't know how much longer I can last with Casey," I said, slowly edging toward a conversation I knew she wouldn't like. "And I think the boys are getting better at managing on their own." While not exactly a nose-growing whopper, it wasn't exactly true. But I figured I was just enabling them by staying as long as I had.
"I can't believe you would do that. Besides me, what is in the big city that isn't in Holmes Crossing?" Tracy asked pretending innocence.
"Men?"
"C'mon. I think you could find a few 'men' scattered through Holmes Crossing if you looked hard enough."
My eye was drawn to the neon yellow of a reflector strip glinting back at me from a hard hat worn by a man behind Tracy.
His grease-stained plaid jacket, torn blue jeans and work boots showed that this was a working man. He wore sunglasses that hid his eyes, and in spite of his full beard and moustache, I caught the smirk on his mouth, the arrogant tilt of his head that showed he was also a full-fledged guy.
That and the rolled up motorcycle magazine he tapped against his thigh.
Then he lowered his sunglasses enough so I could glimpse his bloodshot eyes, and then, incredibly, he gave me a slow wink.
I gave him my best so-not-interested look, then turned my attention back to Tracy. My case was rested.
"Holmes Crossing is guy-haven,” I grumbled, raising my voice for the benefit of the guy dropping his magazine in front of the cashier. "There's not a decent single man to be found anywhere in this town. I've lost faith in the whole 'seek and ye shall find' concept," I said as Tracy loaded her groceries into my cart.
"You haven't had much of a chance to exercise that faith with the hours you've been working the past year," Tracy protested as she pushed the cart toward the exit.
In spite of my momentary pique with the guy now at the till, I couldn't help a glance his way, surprised to see him looking directly at me. Or so it seemed from the direction of his sunglasses.
What was worse, he was smirking, as if he had expected me to give him a second look.
Which I stupidly had.
I turned away, flustered, then angry at myself.
The electric doors of the supermarket swooshed open ahead of us. "When was the last time you were on a date?" Tracy was asking.
I pulled my attention back to her. "Does sitting beside Dr. Harvey in church count?"
Tracy ran her fingers through her dark hair and angled me an exasperated look. "Danielle, the man is 60."
"He's widowed and he's a gentleman," I offered. "Of course, I don't know why I'm fussing about not having a man in my life. I wouldn't have the time for the proper care and maintenance of a relationship if I did."
"You need to let Casey know you're not a machine," Tracy continued, ignoring my feeble attempt at humour. "That you can't keep working these obscene hours. None of the other social workers in the department do."
"It's not just Casey. My dad and brothers seem to think supper appears out of thin air every day. The boys are even childish enough to believe in the laundry fairy, who comes and does their clothes every day."
"You should get them to help more."
"I should also try to bring about world peace and reconcile every broken home."
"You are working on the last part."
"I might have a better chance at a city job if I can show how invaluable I am here." I grabbed the handle of the cart and traversed the parking lot.
"Why not tell Casey to hire another social worker?"
"Like that's happening. He's got to submit his budget for the next fiscal year and he's squeezing water out of coins to maintain his cheapskate status. I wonder if he gets frequent flier miles for every penny he saves the department." We rattled our way to my waiting car, the sun shining benevolently down on us. It was spring in the country and usually the lengthening days and the increasing warmth brought out joy and happiness in me. But work had kept me too busy to take time to appreciate the freshness of the air and the unfurling of new green leaves.
Tracy's car was getting an oil change and she had needed a ride from work to the grocery store, so I had quit work a half hour early to help her out. Casey must have received wind of my defection, and this little meeting was his way of wringing out every possible minute of work from me.
But now I paused, wondering when and how I should tell her.
Like pulling a bandaid off, I told myself. Make it painful but quick.
"You may as well know I'm already looking at another job." I rattled out the words faster than the wobble on my grocery cart. "It's regular hours, and I'll be reporting to a normal boss."
"Good for you. It's about time. Who is this for?"
"It's for a private adoption agency." I waited a moment, gathering my strength to drop the next bomb. "It's in the city. In Edmonton."
I didn't want to see Tracy's face. So I pushed on, keeping my eyes on my trusty Honda Civic, fifteen years old and still going strong, thanks to Chip's mechanical abilities and body filler, courtesy of Neil. My brothers had their good points.
"But that's a two-hour drive away," she wailed
"Depends on who's driving," I offered. "Chip's done it in one hour ten minutes."
"Chip is also about half a demerit point from having his license taken away," Tracy retorted, put out with my breaking news. "You can't go. I need you. Your foster kids need you. Your family needs...your father needs you," she hastily amended.
I sighed. And that was the crux of the matter. Six weeks ago I had looked around for another job and my own place to live. I was tired of spinning my wheels in Holmes Crossing. Then Dad had his heart attack and my plans were put on hold.
All my life, Dad had been the epitome of strong faith and good humour. Even after my mother, Alice, died five years ago, Dad had grieved hard, then told us all he put his trust in God and went back to being the fun-loving, encouraging man I knew him to be. In the following years, I wondered how he had stayed so positive. How he had pulled out of his grief.
It took me a lot longer than that.
After the heart attack, Dad had become weak and frail and given to bouts of deep depression. These days he didn't even have the strength or the will to get up from his recliner or to crack open the Bible that he used to read every day. My brothers, who stopped going to church when my mom died, didn't share my concerns. Reading the Bible did not seem to be on the "approved" list of activities for guys.
I couldn't leave my father this way, but I had stayed as long as I could. It didn't look like things were changing on the work front so I was the one who needed to do the changing.
"I'm not moving to New Zealand." I pulled open the back door of my car.
"I don't drive like Chip so it would be a four-hour round trip for me." Tracy set her bags in the back and slammed the door shut. "That's a lot of time to spend in a vehicle just for the pleasure of your company."
"I would come home most weekends," I said, still loading up my own groceries. A week's supply of healthy food obviously took less time to load than three days' worth of junk food. "I have enough reasons to come back to Holmes Crossing."
Tracy didn't reply as we got into the car. She said nothing as I reversed out of my spot and turned onto the street. She said nothing when we headed toward the garage where they were working on her car. She said nothing as I pulled into the customer parking stall.
It was her turn to talk, but as I put my car into park I gave in. "Tracy, you said yourself that I needed to get another job. I heard you. I'm simply following your advice."
"I said you needed to talk to your boss about your job. Not...not..." She spun her hand in a circle, wiping away what I had told her. "This moving thing you want to do. That you didn't even talk about with me. That you couldn't e
ven bother to ask me questions about even though you knew I would be as upset as I am now." Tracy complained in a voice that conveyed to me her utter disbelief that I would seriously want to leave our home and community and head to the big, bad city.
I tried to find the words that would make her understand as I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel staring through the window of Wierenga's garage.
"So there's Cor DeWindt, regular at Terra's Cafe," I said lifting my pinky finger to point at the older gentleman leaning against the counter, frowning at Blane Wierenga behind the counter, his canvas coat covering his usual plaid shirt and crazy suspenders. "He pulled me out of Frieson's pond when my brothers dared me to skate across it. He told me to be quiet in church when I was a crazy teenager sitting with her friends. He loves to tease me about an especially touching moment of the Christmas program when I, as an innocent girl of five, lifted up the skirt of my best Sunday dress, displaying my underwear to my horrified family members and an amused public. And that's only him. There are at least a dozen other people who have some memory of me that is either unflattering or embarrassing. There are no secrets in this town for me. There is no mystery. No surprises."
And a few bad memories.
Also by Carolyne Aarsen
The Only Best Place is the first book in the Holmes Crossing Series and is currently free. Click on The Only Best Place to get your free copy!
The Only Best Place
All In One Place
This Place
A Silence in the Heart
Any Man of Mine
About the Author
Carolyne Aarsen was a city girl until a tall, blonde and handsome man entered her life and she convinced him to marry her and he did. Then he brought her to live on a farm where her resume garnered some interesting entries. Growing a garden, sewing blue jeans, baking, pickling and preserving. She learned how to handle cows, ride a horse, drive tractors, snow machines and a John Deere loader. Together they raised four amazing children and took in foster children. Somewhere in all this she learned to write. Her first book sold in 1997 and since then has sold over fifty books to three different publishers. Her stories show a love of open spaces, the fellowship of her Christian community and the gift God has given us in Christ.
To find out more about Carolyne
www.carolyneaarsen.com
[email protected]
Disclaimer
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Coming Soon
Homecoming is the first book in a new series I’ve got coming out - Sweethearts of Sweet Creek.
1 - Homecoming
2 - A Heart’s Promise
3 - Close to His Heart
4 - A Mother’s Heart
5 - Divided Hearts
6 - A Hero at Heart
In this series you’ll get to know the residents of this town set in the Kootenay mountains and surrounded by ranch land and populated with interesting characters.
Nadine Laidlaw, a newspaper reporter, who can’t seem to get rid of her meddling, matchmaking Grandmother and Clint Fletcher, her new boss, who is a reminder of all she wants to forget.
Dodie Kruger whose pain has sent her back to her hometown of Sweet Creek trying to find redemption. When her ex-fiancee, Jace Scholte shows up and she’s forced to work with him on a fundraiser she struggles with her old feelings for him and the secret she can never tell him.
Cory Luciuk is working her way through life, waitressing at the Riverside Cafe. And then the man who broke her heart and tainted her past shows up again.
Kelsey Swain, a widow with a small boy has seen her share of sorrow when her husband died. She now runs the Riverside Cafe, struggling to get it off the ground. Then his ex-partner comes back to Sweet Creek and with him a reminder of what she lost.
The rest of the series will be coming out in the fall of 2017, one book at a time. I hope you have a chance to read them.
Homecoming (Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek Book 1) Page 25