by Karen Rock
“Yep. They’re nice animals. Nicer than cows, even. Well, see you.” Colton strode off, his coveralls billowing around his narrow frame.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Guess that just leaves us.”
“Guess so.”
Her soft voice did something funny to his heart, and he tried focusing on her bid to destroy his community, how her plan would banish elderly farmers to nursing homes. Anything but how much he wanted to feel her full lips against his.
“The milk parlor?” she prompted, and he gave himself a mental shake. Get with the plan.
He gestured. “It’s this way.”
They passed rows of roomy stalls with wide head openings for feeding. Since the cows were outside, the stalls were raked and lined with sweet, fresh-smelling hay. With the sun sluicing through the oversize windowpanes, he could tell that Jodi was impressed. He felt his chest swell a bit when her face swerved from side to side, her expression astonished.
“All of these improvements were done to meet the standards for the ethical treatment of animals.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice if he tried. As a kid, it’d bothered him to see the cows penned in narrow spaces, enduring freezing winters and stifling summers.
“But you don’t make more money for this.” Her voice sounded hollow, surprised. Her eyes met his and he leaned his hand on the beam beside her head.
“Yes and no. Mostly it makes me feel better about my job. That’s all you can ask for in life, right? To know that you’re doing the right thing?”
Her eyes dropped and he gazed down at her golden hair, wondering. Did she ever have second thoughts about her work?
“Do Midland barns look like this? You’ve seen one, right?”
Her lower lip dropped and her chest rose and fell. Surely she’d seen one of their barns, knew everything about the company she represented....
“No.” She ducked beneath his arm and strode ahead. “I haven’t.”
He caught up to her and slowed his long strides to match hers. “Aren’t you curious about your company? What they do once you’ve bought up the private farms?”
“I—I—” She stopped for a moment, shook her head, then hurried on. “No. It’s not my part of the job. That’s a completely different department.”
“But it’s still part of the, what did you call it the other night, American dream that you sell to the farmers.” Daniel shrugged, irritated that she’d kept herself in the dark. He’d heard plenty of disturbing rumors of these industrial-size farms. “You owe it to every farmer to know what happens to their farm once they leave it.”
They walked in silence and his gaze flicked her way, noting the clash of her eyebrows, the paleness of her skin. He had her on the ropes, and took another jab. “I challenge you to visit one.”
Her head whipped his way, eyes wide. “What?”
“With me,” he added. He’d always wanted to tour one, and they wouldn’t deny Jodi access.
“Don’t be crazy.” She stopped and stroked a cat lounging in a pool of sunshine.
“It’s reasonable. Practical, even. What are you afraid of? Is there something that you’d rather not know?”
She straightened so fast he had to take a step back. But that was Jodi. Whenever you thought she was down for the count, she fought back the hardest.
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Her blue eyes sparked like the center of a hot flame. “And there’s nothing to hide, if that’s what you’re suggesting. A tour can be arranged.”
“For both of us,” he added, his smile wide.
She sighed and tapped her fingers on her slender hips. “Together. Happy?”
“Like a pig in—”
“Did you say something about a milking parlor?” She cut him off and pulled out her cell. “I only have a few more minutes before I need to get some work done.”
He could imagine the kind of work she had in mind. Especially given the sticky note with names and phone numbers attached to the back of her phone. He was in no rush to hurry Jodi along. In fact, it felt good having her here. And for personal reasons, if he was honest.
They walked to the milking carousel, their shoulders brushing in a way that drove him crazy with awareness. He couldn’t stop picturing the times they’d spent together here and how much that’d once meant to him.
When they arrived, the repairman finished tinkering with one of the machines and stood.
“You got it figured out, Bill?” Daniel called.
“Replaced a faulty valve, so it should be good to go.” Todd left with a wave and they were alone once more, a state Daniel was growing more and more conscious of.
He tried not to stare at Jodi as she gazed around the room. Yet even with his eyes closed, he’d be able to conjure her features, the symmetry of her large eyes and heart-shaped face. It was as if she was burned into his retinas.
“This is impressive.” Her voice had lost its coolness and sounded awed instead. Impressed. “Daniel, you’ve done a good job.”
He fought and lost the battle to keep the pride out of his voice. “Thanks. Things were rough for a while but we’re back on track now.”
“Your parents must be very proud.”
He flinched. One was anyway.
“Daniel?” A soft hand descended on his arm and his biceps tightened. “When I...ah...came by the other night, Sue said your dad was sleeping, but she never mentioned your mom.”
Daniel watched the whirring ceiling fans and fought to control his voice before using it.
“She left shortly after you did.” His voice cracked and he strode to the room containing the milk tanks, needing a moment to get ahold of himself. He’d tried not to blame Jodi, and realized that, after all these years, part of him still did.
“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she said when she joined him inside the dim, close room. “I didn’t know. No one said.” Her sympathetic tone made him blink back a sudden sting in his eyes. Why was he letting the past get to him like this?
“Grace didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Jodi’s eyes looked navy in the gloom. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Maybe because it had to do with you,” he blurted, and then wished those words back again. It didn’t pay to get that personal with her. Not again.
Jodi looked at him in shock and she gripped the edge of one of the large milk tanks. “How did I have anything to do with it?”
He looked at her, considering, then decided to tell her the truth and spare Grace the tale. “She didn’t like my dad loaning our equipment out since it often came back broken. Mom accused him of being too soft and letting our farm get in financial trouble.”
“And that has to do with me because—” Jodi’s features scrunched and he imagined the wheels turning in that sharp mind of hers. “Because you loaned us the skid loader that crushed my dad’s arm and it broke,” she finished in a breathless rush, realization coloring her voice like dawn on a stormy day.
He didn’t speak, his mind recalling the bitter arguments leading up to the divorce, how working with Jodi in the barns, their friendship and romance, had helped. Only, his latent anger at the situation had led to a moment of cruelty he’d always regret.
“So replacing it made your mother decide to leave your dad? I was so focused on my own family’s problems that I didn’t think about that.” A fine line appeared between her eyebrows.
He nodded. “We’ve had to replace lots of parts and entire machines that Pop let neighbors use. Sometimes they had the money to pay for the repairs, but most times they didn’t. But he never quit wanting to help and my mother didn’t understand. She wasn’t from around here.... Look, Jodi, it wasn’t your fault.”
A breathy exclamation escaped her. “But you resented me anyway. That’s why you agreed when your friends called me The Charity Case. And
when I asked, you admitted that you pitied me and my family. Worse, you never denied dating me because you felt sorry for me. I couldn’t understand how you could have real feelings for me when you looked down me. I didn’t want that kind of relationship.”
He held her hands but she yanked them away. “I cared about you. Being together helped me get through that tough summer.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “But I didn’t put you down, label you.”
Her words stung and he flinched. Echoes of the argument that ended their relationship sounded in his head. “I should have told those guys off for calling you a charity case and told you the truth about my mixed-up feelings. You were everything to me then, but I blamed you, too—for my parents’ arguments—and that was wrong.” There. It wasn’t the best speech, but he’d needed to get it out. An apology long overdue. Saying the words made something inside him lighten, release and drift away.
“Thank you,” Jodi murmured with her eyes lowered. He wished he could see her expression. Know if she really understood and forgave him. It still bothered him that she’d left without a word, but he now saw that he’d had a hand in that.
“Well.” Suddenly her voice sounded crisp again, detached, as she studied a picture of herself and Tyler on her phone. “That’s water under the bridge. I’m sorry for your parents’ divorce, Daniel. Had I known—”
Her voice trailed off and she scrolled through the contacts on her cell, the action sparking his temper.
“Had you known, what would you have done? Left a note before you walked out on me? Or, I don’t know, maybe warned me?”
She lowered her phone. “Daniel. This is old news. Ten years ago. We’ve moved past it. Now. If you’ll excuse me.” She brushed by him, then turned in the doorway, the outside light illuminating her silhouette but casting her features in shadow. “It was a lovely tour.”
And with that she walked away, leaving Daniel too drained to chase after her. Not that it would have done any good. Jodi left when she pleased, causing destruction without a backward glance. It was true in her personal life and it was true when it came to business. She hadn’t cared enough to see the new and “improved” Midland farms—at least until he’d challenged her. Why would she want to continue discussing how they’d both felt that long-ago summer?
She might have moved past it, but suddenly, he realized, he had not.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAKE WATER SPLASHED Jodi’s face three days later, a wild screeching filling the late afternoon air.
“Tyler, stop.” She reached for his fingers but they evaded her, churning Lake Champlain’s cobalt surface to silver. Droplets sprayed into a cloudless sky. The vibrant sun kissed her son’s face, and his happiness and the water’s cool caress refreshed her. It soothed the ache of Daniel’s revelation and the sting of another canceled meeting today. Her tenth this week.
“Roooooo.” Tyler formed his mouth into an O and imitated one of Daniel’s farm animals, his favorite new trick. He giggled so hard that he quit splashing and Jodi pulled him close, his swim vest and armbands making them buoyant. If only her problems felt this weightless.
Her toes dug into the soft sand and she bounced them up and down in the chest-high water beside her aunt’s dock. Overhead, shrieking white-and-gray-feathered terns wheeled and Tyler cawed back. And then it hit her. Why hadn’t she noticed before? He might not be speaking, but his silent life had turned on its speakers.
Elation made her twirl them until silt rose around her knees. Could the shift in his daily routine have helped? Wonders Primary would be impressed at his new verbalization. Was there a chance they might get him to say words by the holidays? Her heart flew with the soaring birds. It would be the greatest gift of all.
Yet her happiness was tempered by the anguish she’d felt in Daniel’s barns. She’d called their former relationship water under the bridge to keep herself from revealing her true feelings. His unexpected apology had touched her and it took everything not to tell him so. If only he’d said all of this to her ten years ago. Now it was too late and they were locked in a battle where the lines were clearly drawn. She couldn’t cross them.
“Caw!” Jodi shouted to the chattering flock, startling a heron fishing off the end of the dock.
“Caw!” Tyler called, his eyes tracking the long-billed bird as it flapped away.
She cupped the back of his small head and pressed her nose to his, uneasy but happy for this time with her son. The feeling of failure over today’s lost meeting and her inability to open up to Daniel receded. Unexpected moments with Tyler were precious and meant so much. He was her priority.
She tossed a rainbow of plastic rings onto the rippling surface and Tyler wiggled free.
“Find green,” she suggested, following Sue’s advice for continued, real-world motor skills work. So far Sue’s therapy sessions had gone well—meaning no meltdowns or injuries. Better yet, Tyler handled the transition of being dropped off and picked up with less fuss than he had when she’d brought him to her Chicago neighbor’s apartment. Another improvement: he went down for his naps easier, his eyes fluttering closed, head drowsing as she carried him to his bed. Maybe not huge progress to some, but to Jodi, every positive change, no matter how slight, felt like a victory.
Tyler slapped the water and strained toward a bobbing green ring, his legs scissoring, his voice rising in agitation.
She lifted his belly and pulled up his legs so that his thrashing propelled him forward. When he grabbed his prize, she let go and clapped.
“Good job! Now stick it on your vest.” Using the Velcro she’d glued onto the ring, she helped him adhere it to a similar patch sewn on the swim garment. It rode high on his chest like a medal. And maybe it was. Great deeds were measured by effort in Jodi’s book. “Now get the yellow one.”
This time Tyler pushed his feet against her thighs, making her stumble and lose her hold on him. When his head dipped in the water, he resurfaced coughing and crying.
“Shh. Shh. It’s okay, Tyler,” She caressed his blotchy face. “You’re okay. See. Safe. And you still have your green ring.”
Tyler sniffled and patted the plastic on his vest, his eyes wide and questioning. His quivering lower lip steadied.
“The yellow ring is right there.” She pointed to a nearby ring and helped him onto his stomach with his legs stretched behind him.
Patience. Perseverance. Persistence. Her mantra.
She needed to apply it to herself and her worsening Cedar Bay situation. The local town hall meeting tonight felt like her last chance to undo the fallout from Daniel’s “living family tree” exercise. She’d been touched by that unforgettable moment; it haunted her still. But after farmers who’d agreed to meet and discuss selling canceled, she’d known that it’d hurt her sales.
One had told her outright that he couldn’t sell his farm when his neighbors felt like family. Daniel’s demonstration had been a powerful reminder of Cedar Bay’s roots and how they connected the community. His talk with her in the barn had also been powerful, but in a wholly personal way she needed to stop thinking about.
Tyler butted against her and pushed the yellow ring in her face, pulling her out of her reverie.
“Gentle touch, Ty.” She moved the plastic away from her cheek and guided it toward his vest. “Stick it.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed behind his prescription swim goggles and his tongue appeared between his teeth. He struggled, then succeeded in attaching it, his smile lighting him up from the inside out.
“Good, little man! Now go for the red.” She guided him to the left and was blinded by a spray of water as he kicked in that direction. She wiped the blur from her eyes and blinked until her vision cleared.
Disoriented. That was how she felt around Daniel lately. Seeing the confident swing of his arms, the pride that firmed
his square jaw, his earnest expression when describing his farm improvements, and his heartfelt apology, had moved her in a way she refused to think about. He’d matured and changed, but so had she.
She flipped onto her back and floated, the sun’s rays warming her face. She kept her eye on Tyler, who grabbed at the bobbing red ring, missed and lunged again. She smiled at his perseverance. It ran in the family.
She trailed her fingers in the water and glimpsed Tyler snatch the ring and jerk it aloft. Victory. One step at a time. It was an important reminder when things seemed more lost than ever.
A few minutes later, all four rings swung from his swim vest, his “medals” lifting and lowering as he bobbed. She smiled despite her work and personal worries and was contemplating another round of ringtoss when she heard her aunt’s voice.
“Jodi, phone call!”
Aunt Grace waved her cell from the porch and Jodi made out her boss’s ringtone, the ominous chords of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Her chest tightened.
“Would you answer it?” she called in a breathy rush. “And tell Mr. Williams that I’ll return his call in a minute?”
Her aunt nodded and disappeared into the house, the phone to her ear.
“Okay, merman. Time to go.” She swam Tyler over to the rocks rather than hoisting them both onto the dock. Her feet scraped against shale but she was in too much of a hurry to watch her footing as she carried a protesting Tyler.
He reached for the lake over her shoulder and cried, wanting more swim time, maybe more Mom time, since they hadn’t been together this much in...in...she couldn’t remember. Maybe not since the six weeks’ maternity leave she’d had to cut to four.
The thought saddened her, but that was the reality of being a single mother. Occasional choices that involved food on the table versus play on the floor.
Aunt Grace handed her a towel and the phone when she burst into the kitchen. With the wave of a Sue-recommended organic cookie, Tyler quieted and her aunt took him into the living room.