His Hometown Girl

by Karen Rock

  Although Jodi wanted to keep their relationship a secret, he couldn’t resist a quick kiss after she’d strapped Tyler into the back of Sue’s car. He respected her wish to keep Tyler separate from their temporary relationship. It was the temporary part he couldn’t accept, deep down.

  He glanced at her pert profile, the bright blue sky behind her matching her eyes. After this week of stolen kisses and hidden hand holds, his heart couldn’t feel fuller as his eyes darted from the beautiful woman beside him to the boy he wished to make his son someday. The rightness of it settled inside him, patching up the potholes he’d swerved by these past ten years. He registered a lightness, a happiness, even; the contentment of someone who has, at last, found his match. Now, how to keep her when she was set on leaving?

  His grumbling father had passed on phone messages from co-op converts hoping to meet with him. Adding the number of calls to his growing list, he already had two-thirds of the area convinced—as much as he’d hoped to get. Enough to apply for the Organic Farming Upgrades grant. Better yet, it blocked a Midland takeover.

  But before she and Brady divided up the rest, he needed to build his case and convince her to stay. This industrial farm tour would be a start. The farm’s conditions would surely open her eyes to what she was selling, and selling out.

  Tyler hummed the “Old MacDonald” tune and he fought the urge to hold Jodi’s hand when he glimpsed her eyes brighten with hope. If she heard him speak, she might give Sue a chance. But deep down, he knew Jodi needed more. As much as she said this was all for Tyler, he suspected she needed to prove herself, too. But she didn’t have to be in Chicago to do it.

  “How would you like to be the director of the Cedar Bay Co-op?” The question charged out of him before he’d given it the go-ahead.

  She gaped at him. “Come again?”

  He felt the small hairs on the back of his neck rise. It was now or never. Time to put every persuasive skill he had to use. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

  “Jodi, you’re the right person to lead the co-op and the board would agree.”

  “The board?” she echoed, her voice faint, her eyes wide.

  He strove to keep his tone light but confident. “The co-op elected a governing body on Monday and now we need a director. You.”

  “I—I didn’t know you’d made that much progress.” Her voice sounded suspicious, a hint of fear flavoring it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m not supposed to discuss this with anyone until we get our grant,” he said, wondering why he’d opened his mouth in the first place. But he needed to get her thinking about it. Give her a reason to see that she could help the community and her family without Midland or Chicago—especially now that Sue would have her Ph.D. and could continue working with Tyler. Jodi had to see that there was another way, one that included him in her future.

  “I see.” She rubbed her temples and peered at him. “And what happens if your grant is turned down?”

  Anxiety forked, lighting quick in his gut. “That won’t happen. Especially if you’re working with us.”

  Jodi glanced up at the mirror in her visor. Checking on her son, he imagined.

  “I already have a job.”

  His fingers brushed hers for an electric moment, then withdrew. “But not here. Not with me.”

  She brought her foot up to rest on her seat and hugged her knee to her chest. “I can’t work here.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” He glanced at her sharply but she gazed back steadily, her eyes clear.

  “Wonders Primary is in Chicago.”

  Tyler switched up his humming to another tune. “Bingo.” Daniel glanced in the mirror as the child danced Ollie to the beat; he was a smart kid. “What makes you sure that’s the best route for him?”

  Her back straightened. “I’m his mother.”

  Case closed. For now. Time to switch tactics.

  “You could fly in on weekends, handle weekly business from Chicago.” But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t work.

  Her extended sigh signaled that she agreed. “Daniel, directing a co-op is a hands-on job. You’ve got an MBA. Why don’t you do it?”

  “Because I want to work outdoors, not in an office.”

  “That’s my world,” she drawled as they passed a sign that said Welcome to Bennington.

  “It doesn’t have to be, Jodi. At least not in Chicago. Think about it.” He looked her way, his voice strengthening. “You can still use your MBA, but in your hometown, doing something that will help farmers. You heard what I had to say at the town hall. You have to see the good in this plan. Plus, who better to handle Midland than an ex-employee?”

  Her eyes narrowed, her features gathered in a pucker. “And you’ve been thinking about this for how long?”

  “Since we set up the board meeting,” he said, then wished he could smack his head. Idiot.

  “I see,” she said slowly. “And this has nothing to do with what’s going on between us?”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, noted a preoccupied Tyler prancing Ollie in the air, and touched her cheek. “They’re separate. My feelings have nothing to do with this.”

  Or everything, he added silently. But how to untangle one from the other? Either way, he needed her here, and if that also meant her brilliant mind managed the co-op, then it was the win-win he hoped for.

  He put his hand back on the wheel when she turned away. “I want you and Tyler in my life. Period. We’ll make it work.”

  “We agreed on a summer-only relationship. And even if we took things further, we could only see each other on holidays and my vacation. Would you be okay with that?” she asked.

  His mouth dried and he found it hard to swallow. It was painful to imagine, but a future without her at all? Not a chance.

  “Yes,” he said as he spotted the right exit and slowed. “Though I like my idea better.” Besides, once she got a look at how an industrial farm really operated, she’d want to leave her job and work for an organization that valued animals’ and owners’ rights.

  “It’s better not to want what’s impossible,” she said, her sad tone echoing his mood. If they only had the rest of this summer together and a sporadic future, it still wouldn’t be enough. He’d only be kidding himself if he thought that was true.

  “You look beautiful today,” he said lightly. And she did, especially when her cheeks pinked at his compliment, her beauty a knife to his heart. How much longer would he get to see her? The way her blond ponytail showed her graceful neck and the delicate jaw that he couldn’t stop kissing made it hard to look away. He could still taste the peach of her skin and planned to get her alone tonight after they had supper at her aunt’s house. Never before had he considered time as he did now, both treasuring it when it came, resenting it when it passed.

  “You look nice, too.” Her sidelong glance and the upward tilt of her lips made him sit a little straighter.

  “Ollie’s the best dressed.” He returned her smile, his fingers gripping the wheel as he fought to keep his mind on the road instead of on his concerns for their future.

  “I think a candy necklace is the perfect accessory for a leopard-print unitard.”

  Daniel nodded, solemn. “Good thing I didn’t wear the same outfit today.”

  They laughed together, the sound filling the car. If only he could store it in his memory, bring it out to hold close on the lonely winter nights ahead.

  “There it is!” Jodi pointed, her voice rising, and he spotted a massive compound in the distance. “Those are Midland colors.”

  The barns were painted a navy blue, the metal-sided silos emblazoned with a yellow logo so bright it outshone the sun. A decent enough looking fence of white boards and electrical wire ran along either side of the road. But without crops inside he wondered, did cows graze out
here?

  From the piles of droppings, he’d say yes, yet he’d heard a different story about these industrial farms. That the cows rotated from milking to their stalls and back again until they were dried up and sold to slaughter. He hated thinking of anyone mistreating animals. Just as he wouldn’t be penned up inside an office, he wouldn’t make his cows stay indoors unless the temperature dropped too low. Even in winter they were quick to head out when they could, jostling until they got their pecking order right before passing through the gate.

  Tyler’s humming quit when Daniel clicked on the blinker and turned up the paved driveway. He imagined the cows’ hooves striking this hard surface and shook his head until he spied the barn’s massive side doorway that opened to a beaten path and pastures. Jersey cows grazed at a distance. Yet their calves were penned separately rather than free to roam with their mothers. Jodi frowned at the sight of the calves, but she kept her voice neutral as she spoke over her shoulder.

  “Tyler. This is Mommy’s work,” she said as Daniel pulled into a visitor parking spot. “The company, I mean,” she corrected herself. “It looks...decent.” The uncertainty was audible in her voice. Had she been worried? His jaw clenched. She’d have plenty more second thoughts once they got inside.

  But instead of heading into the barn, she pointed to a separate building with a shingled roof and windows with geranium-filled flower boxes. What was next? Hansel and Gretel?

  “That’s the main office. Jeff said he’d be in there.”

  Jeff? Who was Jeff? He imagined a guy in a suit with perfectly styled hair, and pushed the pinch of jealousy away. Jodi cared about him, not some office jockey. Still, there’d be plenty of Jeffs in Chicago when she returned, while he stayed behind in Cedar Bay, his mind too full of Jodi to consider anyone else.

  He shoved the thought off for another time and lifted Tyler from his seat. After adjusting the boy’s askew eyeglasses band, he set him on his feet, careful to shorten his strides so the youngster didn’t trip to keep up with him. Lately, he’d taken to dogging Daniel’s footsteps. And Daniel enjoyed every minute of it.

  A bell jangled as Jodi limped across the doorway, him and Tyler right behind her. To his discomfort, a man about their age rose from his desk and seemed to keep on rising, his imposing height making Daniel step back rather than look up. Why wasn’t this guy on a basketball court instead of working on a corporate farm?

  “Hi. I’m Jodi from central office. We spoke on the phone.” Her hand was engulfed in the Goliath’s paw and Daniel ground his teeth when the man held on a moment too long.

  “Jeff.” He stepped around his desk and gave Daniel a nod that he returned with a brief jerk of his chin. “It’s nice to see our salespeople out on the field. Thanks for taking the time to stop by.”

  His voice was pleasant enough, but Daniel wasn’t fooled. The guy was clearly impressed with Jodi. And by the way he kept smiling at her, he had more on his mind than showing her around the farm.

  “And who might this little guy be?” Jeff turned to Tyler. “What’s your name? Would you like to see some cows?”

  Jodi’s horrified glance met Daniel’s when Tyler buried his head in Daniel’s leg and whimpered, hands flapping.

  “Did I scare him?” Jeff looked at them, confused. “I have some lollipops.”

  Daniel put his arm around the shaking boy. “He’s not one to warm up to strangers right away. We’ll see the farm now, thanks.”

  Jeff shrugged and his congenial expression returned. “Have you ever been on a farm?”

  Jodi’s snort turned into a cough and she turned away, red-faced. Daniel shrugged. “One or two.”

  Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re in for a treat, then. There are no farms in the world like Midland’s. It’s the best place to work.” And with that he led them outside, leaving Daniel to wonder how this guy felt the same way he did about his job.

  At least now the whole aw-shucks act was about to end. The barn loomed.

  Jodi pointed to the calves as they walked past their pen. “Why aren’t they with their mothers?”

  “Company policy. Males are picked up for slaughter on the first of every month.”

  Daniel covered Tyler’s ears and the boy shook, as if understanding what he’d heard. Male calves were sold to slaughter, but his conscience demanded that he give their shorter lives some happiness by allowing them time with their mothers. Separating them this young was traumatic. Disgust filled Daniel. What a place. What further inhumane scenes awaited them?

  But as they ducked inside the cavernous space, the length of it about as long as half a football field, he spotted empty stalls being raked out by robotic arms and hoses letting loose powerful cleansing spray that misted and freshened the air. Massive fans dotted the outside wall, drawing out the heat and keeping the air circulating. Inside the cool, dim space, the summer’s roar faded.

  He felt the dry rushes of hay underfoot as he strode deeper inside. Each step released a fresh, sweet smell.

  “Where are the cows?” Jodi asked as she walked alongside Jeff, her head barely up to his shoulders.

  Tyler reached his hands up and Daniel swung him onto his shoulders to the boy’s laughing delight. Jodi turned and her eyelid twitched.

  “Don’t let him fall.”

  He lowered his chin and shot her a significant look. He would never let any harm come to Tyler or Jodi. But how to guarantee that when she returned to Chicago? What if Wonders Primary wasn’t so wonderful? What if they made Tyler feel worse about himself instead of better? The way he perceived the world might be different from others, but that didn’t make it wrong.

  He tightened his grip on Tyler’s hands and marveled at the boy’s improving balance. He might not be speaking except for occasional words to Sue, but he was progressing in lots of other ways. Plenty of people talked a lot of nonsense that no one heard. If Tyler spoke few words, then they were worth paying attention to. Jodi needed to listen to Tyler’s mood and body language. See how much the kid liked spending time on the farm, had even started brushing the alpacas, his hand-eye coordination growing, too. Wonders Primary might help him “progress,” but would they make him happy? And when it came down to it, wasn’t happiness more important in life than anything? Why couldn’t Jodi see a different path for her son?

  Tyler beat the top of his head and he looked around the space he was grudgingly starting to admire, with the exception of the veal calves. Wasn’t he guilty of the same tunnel vision? Believing all industrial farms were bad and, until now, never giving them a chance? He’d never considered other viewpoints but now he wondered—what if he had tried figuring out why Jodi had run off without a word ten years ago instead of letting her go? Where would they be now? On the other hand, Tyler wouldn’t be here, so he’d take the ten-year break if it meant this amazing kid was in his life.

  “This looks very nice,” he overheard Jodi say as they passed cows stepping onto one of several revolving milking stations, electronic arms bringing the tubes under the cows’ udders, workers below guiding them into position. “Orderly.”

  Jeff nodded, his grin so wide it seemed to split his face. “Everything revolves around a schedule. Sections of cows alternate between feeding, eating, milking and grazing. They grow up with it, so they crowd to come back in when they know it’s time.”

  Daniel had to give him that. Cows were creatures of habit. He could see they’d like this setup, though it lacked the personal touches his farm had. And he’d never create “downed calves” by chaining them up. Keeping them from standing and walking crippled them. They might be destined for the slaughterhouse, but even a short life deserved dignity.

  When they’d reached the end of the first barn, Jodi gasped at an outdoor pen holding a sow and her litter of piglets.

  “Daniel would you let him down? Tyler, baby, you’ll want to see this.”


  He lowered the boy, but Tyler clung to his leg again. “He doesn’t want to look that close, Jodi. Let me put him back up and he can see them from there.”

  Her lips firmed. “He’s my son, Daniel. He just needs a chance.”

  When she peeled Tyler off his leg he squealed louder than the pigs. He kicked and flailed in Jodi’s arms, beating his head against a wooden beam until she gave him back to Daniel, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  Daniel scowled until Jeff closed his gaping mouth. “He’s autistic.” He pulled out one of the cards he’d ordered for Sue after spotting Jodi’s and handed it to Jeff. “Everything’s spelled out on the card. Let’s go, Jodi,” he said over Tyler’s sobs, the child’s arms, and Ollie, flung around his neck.

  She looked down at her feet and, after a small sound that could have been a sniffle, she said, “I agree. Time to leave.”

  * * *

  THE RIDE HOME was silent as Tyler napped and Jodi leaned her head against the window, her mind twisting the facts around until they made less sense than ever. Midland farms were every bit as high quality as she’d suspected. Despite the lonely calves, the equipment had looked new, the animals generally well cared for, the farm run as efficiently as a business. Yet she’d missed something indefinable there. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Something about the place seemed too well-oiled, too precise, impersonal. It hadn’t felt like a home, and no matter how she tried, it was growing harder to separate farming from that sentiment.

  Beside her, Daniel tapped out some rhythm on the steering wheel as she stared at the familiar landmarks near Maplewood Farm. She’d wanted to stop and check in on Sue. Find out how she’d made out this morning after her quick flight home. She lowered her window to release some of the heat from the car’s interior—the day was baking hot.

  As they drove, she noticed that the hillside lambs looked bigger now, their bodies filling out as they gamboled farther away from their grazing mothers. Would she ever feel that way about Tyler? Secure that he could safely roam without her? Besides Sue, Wonders Primary was the only place that made her feel that way. If only it wasn’t thousands of miles from the man she’d fallen for. The thought made her stomach clench.