by Karen Rock
“All set,” she said, and Daniel started the engine. They made good speed around a loop that doubled them back toward the house and around another field.
“Pumpkins?” she yelled in his ear when she spotted the beginnings of vines snaking across the soil.
“The kids like it here in the fall,” he shouted back, Tyler’s head lolling against his broad shoulder. “Colton and I take turns running them out with the wagon.”
“You do a lot for kids,” she said, amazed. How much time did that take out of his day? It was another example of the kindhearted man he’d become. He was as busy as—no, busier than—any corporate suit. Yet he found time to make children happy. She glanced at Tyler and smiled.
“Doesn’t Midland do that for the local kids?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I—I—”
His question caught her off guard. Her company supported hundreds of children’s charities. But somehow the simple gesture of taking kids out to pick their own pumpkins moved her more. Tyler would love that. She could imagine him traipsing through the verdant tangle, picking up the first pumpkin he saw—whether it was spotted, green, lopsided or not—because Tyler didn’t discriminate. He loved everyone and everything. Maybe the imperfect ones, like his scruffy Ollie, a bit more.
She watched Daniel hoist her slipping son and marveled when he rested his head on top of Tyler’s. Her heart expanded at the tender picture, the image banishing the hollowness inside.
Tyler wasn’t the only one who didn’t judge.
Daniel.
He’d never given, through word, look or action, a hint that he expected any more from Tyler than who he was. His straightforward acceptance of her son was touching.
While she toiled to change Tyler, Daniel simply enjoyed him. That was the luxury of a nonparent, though. One she couldn’t afford. But perhaps, by spending every free minute looking up the latest autism treatments and trying new therapies, she’d neglected simple times that were just for fun. Like today and the day at the lake.
The thought rattled her brain and shook loose the notions she’d had when she’d agreed to come home. While she’d planned to return to Chicago and a day care that would help her son, Cedar Bay and Daniel were making her wonder what was really best for Tyler. And best for her. Had she been doing her son a disservice by discounting love in her life? Suddenly her mission wasn’t as clear.
She hadn’t realized she’d made a sound until a heavy hand gripped hers before returning again to the wheel.
“It’s going to be all right, Jodi.”
There it was. That intuitive connection they shared returning full force.
And like the sun bursting through cloud cover, she suddenly realized that maybe Daniel was right. She just had to have faith.
CHAPTER TEN
“ARE YOU SURE you have no further questions?”
Jodi glanced from Archie to Bernice across a polished, Queen Anne–style coffee table the next day. The midmorning sun sliced through a bay window and painted columns of golden light against their cedar-planked floors. Like many farmhouses built a couple hundred years ago, their front parlor contained formal furniture, such as the stiff velvet-upholstered chair she sat in. But she barely felt it beneath her, her spirit soaring as she closed in on her first sale.
Archie pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket, but Bernice swatted his hand.
“No need to read anything.” Her warm brown eyes twinkled and she folded her small hands on her lap. “This is Jodi.”
“Of course.” He put them away and pulled out a pen. “Where do we sign?” When scar tissue rose in place of his eyebrows, Jodi recalled a barn fire during her eighth-grade year and how Archie and others had helped rescue a neighbor’s trapped herd.
The memory made her hesitate, her hand refusing to cooperate with her brain and pass over the purchase agreement.
In the brief quiet, an oven timer beeped and Bernice rose, smoothing a yellow summer-weight sweater over her navy skirt. “That’s the cookies. If you’ll excuse me?”
Archie stood as his wife passed, the simple, courteous gesture striking a lonely chord in her heart. In their golden years, they’d found the rainbow’s treasure...and it’d been beside them all along. Each other. What a wonderful job she had, helping good people enjoy the rest of their lives in comfort. Her lips twisted in a smile as she packed up her things. It might not be her fate, but she’d work hard to make it possible for others.
“Jodi? The paper?”
She looked up, confused. “What?”
Archie’s smile deepened the creases in his weather-beaten face, the age lines written in laughter rather than distress. “We trust you, but we’re supposed to sign that paper you just put away, aren’t we?”
Her face warmed and she unclasped her briefcase. Where was her head? “Right. Although your signature is all I need since it’s your family’s property.”
His cheeks shook in a nod. “I’d still like Bernice’s name on there.”
“Of course,” Jodi said, his devotion touching. “There’s a spot for a witness signature and we can add a note that she’s an owner, as well.”
Archie beamed and hefted an ankle over his knee. “She’s lived here most of her life. Only nineteen years less than I have.”
“Seventeen, Archie. Remember? They let us marry that young back then.” Bernice returned with a pile of chocolate-chip cookies on a fragile, flower-patterned plate that looked as old and quaint as their cedar-shingled farmhouse. Fluted glasses rimmed in gold and a bottle of something sparkly rested on the tray beside the treats.
“Sorry about the cobbler, Jodi.” Bernice shot Archie a sharp look and he lowered his crossed leg. “Turns out Archie’s small piece at dessert turned into another for his bedtime snack and then more at breakfast this morning.”
“There’s still some left,” he protested, then took the tray from his wife and set it on the table. He accepted the napkin and cookie she handed him. “Thank you, dear.”
“A big man’s got to keep up his energy.” Bernice patted his leg and Archie’s chest puffed, his shirt buttons straining against their holes.
Jodi set the paper down on top of her briefcase and accepted a cookie from Bernice. “Thank you.” She inhaled the homey scent of melted chocolate and vanilla. “These look great.”
The warm cookie was gone in three bites and she reached for another. “Delicious, as always.” The best bakeries in Chicago couldn’t compete with homemade desserts. Everything here tasted fresher, the flavors more intense.
Bernice twisted her pearl necklace, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad I was able to make them in time to celebrate.” She passed them each a glass and poured sparkling apple cider.
“To a fresh start in New Mexico.” She lifted her goblet, then lowered it, looking from a motionless Jodi to Archie. “Did I miss something?” She faced her husband. “You signed the papers when I left, didn’t you?”
Archie drained his glass and shook his head.
“But we all agreed to the price and terms.” Bernice crossed her ankles and looked at Jodi, her expression apologetic. “I’m very sorry. Archie, please sign Jodi’s paperwork.”
“I can’t.” His rheumy eyes grew wide when Bernice’s lips flattened into a straight line. “She hasn’t given it to me.”
“What? Why? Did you turn her down?” Bernice’s voice rose. “Moving means we’ll get to see the grandkids grow up and my arthritis won’t ache so.”
Jodi moved to the edge of her seat and set her glass down on the table. Goodness. She’d forgotten the paperwork. Again. “This is my fault.” She ran a hand over her hair and felt its smooth bun at the base of her neck, the dampness beneath the thick layer. “Archie’s been great. I suppose I got distracted.” Since her time with Daniel in t
he strawberry fields, she’d felt disoriented and less focused, her mind churning over the realizations she’d made when she should be nailing down farm sales.
“So—may we sign it now?” Archie’s eyes slid to his wife, whose expression had changed from irritated to suspicious. “Please? We don’t need to read it over.”
A nervous laugh escaped her as she fumbled for the paper that had slid to the floor. She was behaving as if this were her first sale.
“Perhaps Jodi’s reluctant to buy our farm.” Bernice’s speculative glance fell on her and Jodi flinched when she straightened. Deep down, there was some truth to that statement, and she sensed the answer was in those strawberry fields.
“No. Not at all. Cedar Crest Farm is perfect. Exactly what my company would like to acquire.” She forced her mind back on her job. Mr. Williams would be thrilled to hear she’d brought another two hundred and fifty acres under Midland’s control. At last, she’d have something good to report during their planned Monday phone call. She should feel excited, but strangely she experienced a faint sense of loss.
“If that’s the case, then why do you still have the purchase agreement, dear?” Bernice’s gray-brown curls fell away from her jaw when she cocked her head.
Jodi looked down at the paper sheaf. Why hadn’t she let it go?
“I think being home is doing something funny to me.” Her hands trembled a bit when she laid the documents on the table, her fingers lingering before she forced them to let go.
Bernice nodded as if to say she understood and that it didn’t need explaining.
But Archie leaned forward, his gnarled hand patting Jodi’s knee. “When I saw you at the field day, I hardly recognized you.” His hazy blue eyes crinkled in concern. “And it wasn’t the dressy duds or the fancy hair. You talked different. Acted more formal and a little, I don’t know, distant-like.” He picked up the pen. “But right now, you sound like your old self. Maybe the longer you’re in your hometown, the more you’re becoming...uh...you.” His pen scratched across the paper, and then he slid it to his wife.
Jodi sank back in her chair and considered. Before flying home, the suggestion would have horrified her. But now she wondered if she’d been too hasty to give up on the old her, too quick to discard her previous life.
Yesterday, she’d felt more excited about the five jars of strawberry jam she’d canned with Aunt Grace than the twenty appointments she’d made for next week. When she’d gone to sleep, instead of reviewing sales strategies, she’d pictured Daniel driving them on the tractor, his dark hair mingling with her son’s golden strands as he rested his head on top of Tyler’s.
Even more telling, she’d awoken thinking about tonight’s Scrabble game rather than her sales meetings. It was a sobering thought. Was she here for business or pleasure? Lately it seemed more like the latter. And she wasn’t so sure anymore if that was a bad thing.
“Thank you, Jodi. I can’t tell you what this means to us.” Bernice pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed the corners of her eyes when Archie passed Jodi the signed purchase agreement.
“I’ve wanted this for a while, but Archie didn’t trust those other men from your company enough to sell.” She laid her head on her husband’s shoulder and his large hand ruffled her curls. “After working two jobs for fifty-five years, he deserves a chance to enjoy life.”
Jodi’s heart swelled. She might be confused about the best direction for her own life, but she’d helped this couple find the stress-free future they deserved.
Archie kissed his wife’s forehead. “As long as I’m with you, I’m always happy.”
Bernice’s eyes glowed as she swatted him away and leaned forward to replenish his cider.
“To new beginnings.” Bernice raised her glass and crystal rang as they touched rims. It heralded a bright future for Bernice and Archie, but a muddled one for Jodi.
* * *
DANIEL PACED BEFORE the large window facing the driveway, his eyes searching the early evening’s gray gloom for a flash of Jodi’s borrowed car. Colton had pronounced the vehicle in good shape except for a dented hood yesterday, so he didn’t fear another accident. Yet something held him here, watching.
He peered at the dark bruise of a sky, purple-bottomed clouds blotting out the sun that’d shone earlier. Rain tap-danced across his roof and poured steadily from the gutter that ended beside Sue’s hummingbird feeder. How much longer until Jodi arrived? Strange that the concern he’d felt at the airport was replaced now by excitement. He smoothed his unruly waves behind his ears and checked his watch. Five forty-five. With supper at six, she’d be here soon.
He pictured the table he and Sue had set, the wildflower bouquet in an iron watering can, their family’s scalloped white china on a navy tablecloth. The smell of roast chicken filled the house, overpowering the apple-scented candles flickering on the brick hearth by the entranceway.
Pop muttered as he napped in the back parlor’s recliner, the television’s cheering Red Sox crowd having no effect on his buzz saw of a snore. Daniel smiled at his father. With his hearing aids out, he wouldn’t hear a tractor if it drove through the front door.
He glanced out the window and watched the sky wring out sheets of rain. There’d be no tractor rides today, but the memory of his time in the strawberry patch with Jodi and Tyler lingered. He’d slogged through his chores earlier, his mind full of Jodi’s silvery laugh and Tyler’s head snuggled against his shoulder. She’d enjoyed it as much as he had. Had the day reminded her that she’d once loved farming? Had cared for him, too?
When a car approached, he tensed, his senses jangling, until it passed by his driveway. He threw himself into a wooden chair. Its intricately carved arms and slatted seat were too delicate for his size, but it faced the window, at least.
Since their afternoon together, Jodi no longer seemed like his enemy. Her patient, caring and sometimes goofy personality had wiped away her layers of business polish. She’d taken him by surprise with her vulnerability—hiding her fear of driving the tractor and her disappointment when Tyler had rejected her. This felt like the real Jodi. Not a Midland suit and not the girl he’d once known, but someone in between. And he liked that person. If circumstances were different, he’d want to get to know her again.
Was it possible to win his hometown and his girl?
The crunch of tires outside made him stride to the door and out onto the screened-in front porch. When her long legs emerged from the car followed by a lithe body and pretty face he wondered why, of all the girls he’d met in college and at home, she alone attracted him this way.
She opened an umbrella and raced to the house carrying a red jar. His heart hammered out a drumbeat of excitement at her knock. When their eyes met through the screen, he did his best not to smile, but failed.
“Good evening, Jodi.”
He opened the door and the tang of her perfume filled his nose as she breezed by him with unconscious grace, like a cat seeking the best spot in the sun.
“Evening, Daniel,” she murmured, and then her face brightened. “Hi, Sue! It’s just me tonight. Aunt Grace offered to babysit Tyler. But he helped make some strawberry jam for you.”
Sue’s gaze flipped from him to Jodi, her speculative eyes taking notes. “That looks great, thanks.” She held out a pewter tray of glasses filled with tomato juice and celery sticks. “Would you like a drink? It’s organic.”
Jodi nodded and shrugged off her raincoat, her white sundress revealing smooth, sun-kissed shoulders. His eyes roamed over her golden skin, his hands lacing behind his back to keep from reaching for what he wanted.
“Daniel?”
“Thanks.” He grabbed a glass and bolted it back while Jodi and Sue chattered and sipped. Jodi’s loose honey-blond hair and lacy dress contrasted with the faded brick hearth of the original kitchen. When a dab of juice stained her full u
pper lip, he swallowed hard, wishing for a taste.
“I can’t take all the credit for dinner tonight,” he heard Sue say as she repositioned her slipping headband. “The juice is my creation, but Daniel’s responsible for the rest.”
“Daniel cooks?” Jodi’s gaze shot his way, her eyebrows curving up.
Sue punched his shoulder. “Come on, big bro. Modern men know their way around a kitchen these days.”
He gathered the used glasses and returned them to the tray. “I like cooking. It’s not a secret.”
“What made you decide to learn?” Jodi asked as they headed for the parlor.
He stopped for a second and looked evenly at her. “Someone had to make Thanksgiving supper after Mom left.”
Jodi’s eyes rounded. “Oh.”
He strode toward Pop and heard Sue say, “I tried learning, too, but I’m better at reading charts than recipes.”
“Pop.” He shook his father’s shoulder gently and his eyes fluttered open.
“Whaaaaat?”
Daniel wiped the wet beside his father’s mouth and handed him his hearing aids. He looked back at the women, grateful they had given his dad a moment to get his wits together.
“Jodi’s here,” he said, once his father had finished fiddling with the hearing aids. “She came for supper and Scrabble. Remember?”
Pop fumbled for the lever to lower his recliner and Daniel waited, not wanting to interfere unless it went on too long.
At last the La-Z-Boy chair straightened and his father dragged the comb Daniel handed him through his thin silver hair.
“Where is she?” he asked, his eyes brighter now, his head swiveling toward the front parlor, but Daniel blocked his view.
“Taking off her things. She’ll be here any minute.” He sent a silent thank-you to Jodi and Sue for playing along. “I think I hear her coming now.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Jodi!”