by Karen Rock
“I guess I’d be interested to hear more about that. Cousin-to-cousin.”
She blinked at Archie, relieved and grateful for family, no matter how distant. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Yeah. Add me.”
“And put my name down, too. I’m in the phone book.”
The remaining farmers jerked their chins in her direction and it was all Jodi could do not to ask, “Really?” Much better to take the clipboard and walk away, even if it was on wobbly legs. Sweet relief. This was going better than she could have imagined. And since she hadn’t spotted Daniel, yet, today could be a home run.
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch!” she called over her shoulder before stopping by Tyler for a quick smooch that left her cheek sticky.
“You just missed Sue.” Aunt Grace passed Tyler a daisy-chain headband she’d woven for Ollie. “She wanted me to tell you to bring Tyler over tomorrow morning anytime after eight.”
Jodi twisted her locket, her gaze darting through the thick crowd. Thank goodness Sue wasn’t holding a grudge. But what about Daniel? A few people stood by the potato sacks placed by lines chalked on the grass while others looked down into a large bucket filled with water, apples floating on the surface. The whirring of a cotton-candy machine permeated the air with a syrupy aroma. Midland sure knew how to throw a down-home party.
Her stomach churned. Where was Daniel? His stunned expression during last night’s speech haunted her, filling her with mixed emotions. It’d felt great to pay him back for his speech at the dance. Seeing him look so defeated, however, filled her with remorse. Not that she wanted a fight, but she didn’t dislike him enough to see him demoralized.
“Cedar Bay. Are we ready to rumble?” boomed a deep voice she recognized. Her body felt hot, then cold. Daniel.
He stood on the dais, his long muscular legs planted apart, a megaphone lifted to his mouth. What the... It was her party. But after last night’s speech, she saw exactly what was coming. He wanted to take charge of her day and that was not happening. She unclenched her teeth and smiled instead as she handed her aunt the clipboard and strode his way.
“Why, thank you, Daniel,” she called, and the buzzing assembly quieted. Her eyes locked with his until he passed her the megaphone and stepped back with a wink that shook her confidence. He looked anything but demoralized. Worse, his mischievous expression meant he had a plan. What was it?
“I’ve been having such a good time chatting with everyone, I nearly forgot that it’s time for Cedar Bay’s Midland-sponsored Olympiad.” Her voice didn’t shake and for that she was grateful. “All competitions will be performed in teams of two. The winning pair of each game will get fifty dollars to split and the pair who wins the most events will receive an all-expenses-paid weekend getaway to Montreal, Canada, or a thousand-dollar gift card. Pairs sign up on the sheet by the tree and attach your number stickers to your shirts. May the best team win!”
The crowd surged toward the sign-up sheet, a tried-and-true business tactic since she’d use their names to follow up as cold calls. She tried focusing on that, rather than the smell of Daniel’s musky cologne and the warmth of him beside her.
His eyes searched hers. “What do you say, Jodi Lynn? Want to partner up?”
She lurched backward, stunned, her heel then toe encountering air until Daniel grabbed her. The firm planes of his chest and stomach pressed against her and her knees felt weak. His grip tightened and for a moment she imagined his broad hands running through her hair as they once had, bringing her face closer until...
“We’d better hustle or we won’t get a spot.” He tugged her down the stairs.
On the ground she dug in her heels and he stopped, his dark hair casting a shadow across his brow. “We’re not competing together. It’s not professional.”
He released her hand, but his handsome face, all man and no longer boy, made it hard to draw in a full breath. “It’d be more professional to show everyone we can put our differences aside. Just this once.”
Jodi opened her mouth, then closed it. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound childish. Of course she needed to participate. It would help reestablish a sense of camaraderie with her former neighbors, although she wouldn’t really be competing for prizes since she worked for Midland. Yet she’d been hoping to partner with Mary, who—Jodi sighed—already seemed to have paired up with Frank. Darn.
“Fine. Let’s do this.” She strode toward a table where a temporary worker hired by Midland signed her and Daniel up and gave them numbers. Twenty-five. They were the very last.
“Want me to put your sticker on?” His slanted eyebrows rose, the challenging spark in his eyes making her rip the number from his hands and plaster it on her abdomen.
“I’m sure I can do as much, thanks.” She turned as Aunt Grace and Tyler joined them. “Hi, baby.” Tyler held up his arms and Jodi hoisted him, wrapping his legs around her waist. “Help me hold you, big guy.”
Aunt Grace eyed their matching numbers. “This is unexpected.” Her lips pursed as though she held in a smile, her brown eyes twinkling. “Tyler and I will cheer you both on.”
Don’t bother, Jodi thought but instead she said, “Wish Mommy luck, Ty.” She gazed down at Tyler’s upturned face, his back arching so far he nearly fell out of her arms. After a beat, she settled him on his feet and tamped down the familiar disappointment of being ignored. If Wonders Primary could help him—help them—it would be worth a hundred potato-sack races beside Daniel Gleason.
Fifteen minutes later, her arms wrapped around Daniel’s muscular torso as they stood in a burlap bag, she almost took that sentiment back. His steady heartbeat pulsed against her and the warm rush of his breath by her temple sent shivers down her spine. There wasn’t an inch to spare and she was excruciatingly aware of every place they touched.
“Put your feet on top of mine,” Daniel’s voice rumbled low in her ear.
“Why?” she muttered into his shifting shoulder muscles.
“Trust me. Without your heels, your toes might get trampled.”
She had forgotten about that. Her feet slid on top of his, the action feeling intimate despite the thick leather of his work boots.
“Hold on,” he shouted when the whistle blasted, and he turned so that her back was to the finish line. He sprinted them across the field, her teeth rattling and her fingers digging into his shoulders. How had she let him trick her into looking like a frail woman in need of a man’s help—Daniel’s, to be exact?
Around them teams stumbled and fell but Daniel charged as if he’d returned to his high school quarterback days, six foot three inches of solid muscle focused on reaching the end zone. In an instant, she felt the tug of a string against her back and they collapsed on the ground.
Daniel gazed down at her and spoke. But instead of words, she recalled the first time he’d held her. How that embrace had turned from comforting to caring to passionate in a breathless, stolen moment.
“What?” she asked when the memory drifted away, leaving the sweet scent of berry fields behind. She pushed against his chest and scrambled to her feet.
His handsome face glowed. “I said, we won.”
“Let’s donate the money to the second-place finishers.”
“Sounds good.” He stood and stretched, his crisp polo shirt stretching across his flat stomach. “Ready for another round?” He gave her a long look.
“I’m always up for a challenge,” she snapped. He would not put her in a bad light again.
“Good. Wouldn’t want you to run again if the going got tough.” He strode to the KanJam area where sets of buckets separated by thirty feet were lined up in a long row, a disk by each bucket.
Jodi narrowed her eyes and watched him go, his body moving easily through a crowd that was eager to clap him on the back or stop him to say hello. She follow
ed, silently fuming. How dare he insinuate that she ran from her problems? She needed to set the record straight. As an adult, she understood that she’d acted immaturely by running from Daniel ten years ago. But this was business and had no connection to their tumultuous past.
When she reached him, she tapped his shoulder and pointed to a pine copse. “A word?”
Daniel scraped a hand over his thick brush of hair, his cowlick springing back into place. Good. She’d caught him off guard for a change. Time to put things back into perspective.
“Yes?” he asked once they’d reached the green, feathered boughs.
“This—” she gestured from him to her “—thing may be personal. But our battle for Cedar Bay is not about us. Got it?”
When she turned to stomp away, he neatly caught her elbow. “I never said it was.”
“Then why were you bringing up the past? And I don’t run from my problems.”
“Sure looked like you did when you left ten years ago.”
“I had no choice.” Her voice hitched, despite her best efforts to stay calm. The smell of Christmas enveloped them, but the mood was anything but festive.
“Life is full of choices.” He lowered his head until their noses nearly touched. “You just didn’t choose us.”
Jodi pressed her palms to her eyelids for a moment. “There was no ‘us’ then, not after what you said.”
“That’s the way you wanted it.” He looked at her intently until she dropped her eyes, his vulnerable expression nearly undoing her. “I wanted to make things right. Have a second chance. But you left before I could figure out how to do that.”
A whistle signaled the start of the next game and she jerked away. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said as they strode to the cans. “In fact, let’s forget it ever happened. We were just kids.”
“Kids, huh.” He paused and nodded. “That was a long time ago. We were different then.”
She took her place behind her bucket as Daniel stooped to pick up the flying disk beside his.
“The first team to hit twenty-one points wins,” hollered their referee. “One point for hitting the bucket, two if your partner hits your disk off the side of the can, three points if your partner bats it into the top of the bucket. If your throw goes directly through the front slit, it’s an automatic win. Everyone got that?”
“Yes!” roared the lined-up teams. No! thought Jodi. She’d played Frisbee in college but never like this. She glanced at the tangle of trees and saw Tyler and Aunt Grace push through to join the watching crowd. Her aunt caught Tyler’s shirt, pulling him back before he bolted for the field.
At the next whistle blast, Daniel side-armed it and it thudded against the bucket. Point. Jodi picked up the disk and tossed it back, her throw wide enough to evade Daniel’s lunge. When the next throw winged back at her, she swatted it into the top of the bucket. Four points now! But all from Daniel. The old feeling of their childhood competitions took hold.
A familiar screech sounded to her right and her throw went wide again. Tyler. The man beside her swore and kicked a soda can. Since she didn’t recognize him, she wondered if he was visiting or a spouse of someone. Either way, his anger at her son’s yell was out of line.
Jodi turned her back on the rude man and waved at Tyler and her aunt, trying to not feel self-conscious as others stared. He strained in Aunt Grace’s arms, his hands grasping the air in her direction. Were others judging him? It had been her biggest fear about bringing Ty to Cedar Bay. He didn’t deserve for anyone to think that he was less than amazing.
“Ready, Jodi?” She nodded and swatted another of his throws into the side of the can. Five points. But surely they were way behind now.
She didn’t care if she won the game, although she’d like to outscore Daniel.
“Go Mommy,” she heard her aunt Grace call. When she looked up, her aunt waved Tyler’s hand in the air, his fussing noises growing louder.
“Could someone get that kid under control?” shouted the man beside her, and Jodi cringed, frozen by the insult despite her burning heart. Before she could react, Daniel ambled over, his athletic gait looking more dangerous than easygoing.
“What’s the problem?”
“How am I supposed to concentrate when that kid’s making a racket?” The man threw up his arms but took a step back at Daniel’s cold expression.
“It’s just a game,” Daniel surprised her by saying, his tone making her shiver. “That’s not more important than a child.”
“Well, someone had better teach him how to behave,” the red-faced man muttered, his voice muted as he stared at his feet.
“He’s autistic!” Jodi fumed, joining the two. She didn’t care if this guy was a farmer who owned a thousand acres. He would not insult her darling boy. She pulled out a card she’d gotten from her parent support group, the printed rectangle trembling in her grasp. Hurt and anger returned to her like old friends.
She glanced at a teary Tyler, then shoved the card at the insensitive man. “If you want to know more about his condition, read this. But do not say another word about my son. Got it?”
“I...ah... Yes,” he stammered as he looked from Jodi to a stone-faced Daniel. “Will do. Thanks.” He pocketed the card in his jeans and tossed the disk to his partner before slumping off the field.
Daniel whistled. “Nice.”
Jodi put a hand over her rapidly beating heart and tried to slow her breathing. People could be so ignorant. And cruel. Yet Daniel...
“Thanks,” she said, meaning it. She looked at the cheering teams around them. “Although I’m sorry for losing us the game.”
Daniel angled his head, his eyebrow quirking, his handsome face making her pulse speed. “Haven’t heard the ref call a winner. We’ve still got a shot.” He tossed her the disk and returned to his can, his flexed knees and widespread hands making him look like an action-figure version of himself. “Are you going to throw that thing or what?” he called, his expression so full of play, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“What,” she answered when she reached her bucket, one of their old jokes. His bark of laughter was infectious. The camaraderie felt good, and for a moment she wished things could have been different but...she looked at Tyler. He’d stopped fussing and now tossed pinecones with Sue. The smile on his face was all the motivation she needed to stay focused.
She blew Tyler a kiss, waved to her aunt and took her place. Daniel’s eyes urged her on and she focused on the slit, lined up the disk and positioned her arm before letting it fly.
The blue dome whizzed through the air and slid through the bucket’s front slit.
“Winner!” Daniel hollered, and the referee blew the whistle, ending the game.
Cheers rose up around her and her family rushed the field. Tyler patted every part of her he could reach and stuffed Ollie in her hand. His most precious gift of all.
She cupped the soft underside of his chin. “Thank you, Ty. That was for you.” And it was. Every single bit.
The rest of the afternoon flew by with a spoon-and-egg race and other events that she and Daniel excelled at. Then again, it seemed their natural competitiveness motivated them to win more often than not. In fact, she was so determined not to lose that she hadn’t realized they’d won the grand prize until the DJ announced it.
“I’m sorry, folks. As a Midland employee, I can’t accept. Guess I got caught up in all the fun,” Jodi shouted to the crowd who applauded as if they didn’t hear her turn down the prize. And many probably hadn’t since there was a pie-eating contest going on that had Tyler’s face looking like a blueberry.
“Daniel, would you please call up the second-place winners?” She handed him the megaphone. He couldn’t possibly want the trip to Montreal any more than she did.
“Sure.” He held the amplifying device to
his mouth, then lowered it. “Only—”
“Only—” What now?
“I wonder if, after yesterday, you’d indulge me in one thing.”
The hairs on her arms rose. He was planning something to get back at her for last night. But if Daniel insisted on going to Montreal with her, she’d take her chances with whatever he was about to propose.
“Please.” She smiled graciously. After all, she was winning over the farmers and that was the big picture, no matter what Daniel did. Today was a win for Midland. Besides, after the way he’d helped defend her son, she owed him. It’d meant a lot.
“Friends and neighbors.” Daniel strode to the edge of the podium, his tall form commanding as much attention as his voice. The babbling assembly hushed and the pie eaters stopped chewing. “For our last activity, we need everyone to assemble in the games area, find someone to whom you are related and hold their hand. This will only take a moment and I appreciate your cooperation.”
And there it was, that trademark Daniel Gleason charm that had swept her off her feet once. He both exuded and attracted energy, like iron to a lodestone. She watched, stunned, as everyone did his bidding. His effect on people was terrifying.
She trailed behind the group, watching in amazement as everyone seemed to find someone to hold hands with, the links of people growing until they created a looping human chain. Even Aunt Grace and Tyler held hands with Archie who extended another hand her way.
In an instant she saw what Daniel had done, and the crowd oohed and aahed as they realized it, too. Her heart squeezed at the beautiful moment. It touched her to see Tyler in awe, his face attentive, head swiveling from person to person as he seemed to connect with the world around him instead of being apart from it. She remembered the day she’d left him by the train table at Wonders Primary, how alone he’d looked and, worse yet, how he hadn’t seemed to mind. Yet here, in Cedar Bay, she felt as though he belonged, that he wasn’t isolated. She grasped her locket with Tyler’s picture, feeling the warm metal against her chest. For the first time in a long time, neither was she.