A Fall from Yesterday: A Hearts of Harkness Romance (The Standish Clan Book 1)

by Norah Wilson

  Titus looked out at the fields again. And dammit, it felt like that land was staring right back.

  She sighed, and when he looked down at her, her eyes were soft. “You owe it to the land to take care of it until the end.”

  “Until death do us part sort of thing?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “That sort of thing.”

  The kettle whistled, and she moved around him to see to the tea. As she busied herself with that task, he strode over to the table.

  She was right. He did owe it to the land to look after it, bitter or not. It just took Ocean to make him own up to his responsibility. Damn, she was good at that, making him own up to all sorts of feelings.

  And he had already paid for the straw…

  She was looking at him expectantly.

  “I’ve only got a week left before I leave.”

  “Then you’d better make good use of it.”

  “I can’t just tend the farm,” he said. “We’ve got to finish packing the house, see what Dad wants to donate to the Salvation Army and what he wants to take with him to the new place. Tear my shop down. I’ll put everything in storage for now, until I decide what to do with it. Then I’ll have to get Dad moved to Blue Breezes.”

  “Blue Breezes.” With teapot in hand, Ocean sat down at the table. “That is an awful name.”

  “God-awful.” Titus pulled out a chair and sat.

  Ocean cut the pie for both of them, put them on the waiting plates, added forks, and pushed his plate over to him. “Tea?”

  “I’ve still got a little coffee left.” He picked up his mug and sipped the now lukewarm beverage.

  She poured steaming tea for herself.

  He put the mug down and picked up his fork. But as good as that piece of pumpkin heaven looked, he couldn’t bring himself to take a bite. His hand tightened on the fork. “You’re right. I have let this place go. Let it down, and that’s just wrong. And now—”

  “Now I’ll help you.”

  Titus looked up. “What?”

  “You helped me on the mountain, now I’ll help you with the farm.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “No. I don’t have to. But I want to. And you should know I’ve got an ulterior motive. I want to pick your brain for some details for my new play.”

  “You’re writing again?”

  “Getting ready to.” Her smile was radiant. “The muse is calling.”

  “That’s good news.” He grinned. “This muse...what’s he—”

  “She.”

  “Okay what’s she saying?”

  “She’s saying Moonshine at Midnight is a great title.”

  He laughed. “It does have a nice ring to it.”

  “I’m serious, Titus.” She leaned forward and her hair swept the table. “You can’t turn me down. This story is calling my name. I need your help with the nitty-gritty details.”

  “Ocean, I’ll talk about my moonshine-making ancestors as much as you want. I’m more than happy to do it. You don’t need to do hard manual labor to earn that.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. But we’ve done pretty well with our deals so far, so let’s make a new one.” She raked her hair back out of the way, but her intent eyes did not leave his. “You need help with preparing the farm for winter. I need to pick your brain. We can do both at once.” She leaned back. “What do you say? Deal?”

  Well, he couldn’t very well let the lady down. Especially when he wanted nothing more than to spend the coming days with her. Even knowing it couldn’t go anywhere, knowing that it would probably make the parting even harder, he couldn’t resist.

  “Deal.”

  Chapter 28

  OCEAN TOSSED the last bag full of debris alongside the others in back of the nursery. She pulled off her work gloves and drew a hand over her sweaty brow. Hunching her shoulders, she stretched her back, then arched it, followed by a bend to the left and the right, and a couple of twists for good measure. Ah, that felt good. Thankfully—yellowing bruises notwithstanding—her side no longer hurt from her plunge off the cliff three days ago. Oh, she’d have some soreness tomorrow, for sure, but it would be good, old-fashioned muscle soreness from exertion. She’d forgotten how physically demanding this kind of work could be.

  But it felt good too.

  Since the straw—almost three thousand bales—wouldn’t arrive until noonish tomorrow, they’d started with the outbuildings. When she’d arrived at eight this morning, Titus had already been hard at work in the perennial plant nursery. Ocean had worked alongside him, moving the remaining plant stock outside to a tree-sheltered area where they would overwinter in their pots with the help of some insulation. Then they’d swept and tidied the interior. Sometimes they’d talked, mainly about farm stuff, and sometimes they’d worked in easy silence. Well, until about ten minutes ago when Titus had run up to the house for more heavy-duty garbage bags.

  She grabbed a bottle of water, uncapped it and leaned against a potting table for a rest. Instantly, her mind slid right back to where it had been all morning during the quiet times—to the three moonshine-making sisters. Her imagination was absolutely teeming. She’d barely been able to sleep last night, with the exploits of Titus’s grandmother and great aunts filling her mind.

  How daring they must have been!

  And industrious. Ambitious. Thoroughly unintimidated.

  Such a colorful part of Harkness history. And Ocean was going to bring it to life.

  A blue jay lighted on a bare tree branch outside the window. Its raucous cry pierced the morning.

  Since she’d come back home, she’d seen migrating geese, a fair number of crows, a few solitary ravens, and tons of chickadees, but this was her first blue jay. Lots of people disliked them—they could be loud and fiercely territorial—but Ocean had always loved them. Seconds later, another jay joined the first, and they both flew off.

  She pushed away from the potting table and went to stand in the back door, the one that looked over the fields. Even this late in the fall with the leaves gone, it was a pretty day, if a little stark. Few places could rival the view from the Standish farm. She looked out over the neat rows of the strawberry fields, appreciating the raw and naked beauty. Those rows of plants would soon be covered in an insulating layer of straw.

  She was glad Titus had agreed that it was wrong to leave the place in disarray. Not just for the sake of the land…

  But for the sake of the Ocean?

  She groaned at the corniness of the thought. It sounded exactly like something Lacey would have said, if she were here.

  Lacey. Ocean’s smile was bittersweet. Her friend wasn’t with her the same way she’d been on the mountain. She hadn’t heard one of Lacey’s giggles or witty rejoinders since they’d come back down. But it was nice to be able to reach for her, in a What-Would-Lacey-Say kind of way, and have the answer come instantaneously.

  She lifted her gaze from the fields to the backdrop of Harkness Mountain. Every single soul in town must have a story of that mountain. Even though it was a brilliant, sunny day, patches of shadow covered whole sections of it, darkening the pines where it did. It didn’t look so big to her today. But it wasn’t the mountain that had changed. Life had. And one thing was clear: she was going to be that writer. But other things were so much more complicated...

  “Ready to call it a day?”

  She turned to see Titus had entered the nursery through the other door. He strode toward her between two rows of tables.

  “Call it a day? It’s barely eleven.” She brushed an escaped strand of hair back as he came to a stop in front of her. “Did all Harkness folk get soft while I was gone, or just you?”

  “Soft?” His eyebrows soared. “That’s an adjective I don’t think anyone has ever used to describe me.”

  True that. There was nothing soft on his rock-hard, ripped physique. Nor had there been up there on the mountain.

  Titus grinned, and she realized her thoughts must be showing on her f
ace.

  “Okay, not soft,” she agreed. “How about wimpy? Have you been called that before?”

  “Wimpy?” He cocked his head. “I seem to recall being called that a time or two. Also a jerk and a complete jackass, sometimes in the same conversation. And they were just getting started.”

  That would be a short list of people who could get away with talking to Titus Standish like that, none of them male. Scott could get away with jerk, jackass and worse, but Titus would never let “wimp” stand. His mother would never use a word like jackass. If it had been a girlfriend who’d cussed him out, he likely wouldn’t be telling her. That left his sister. “Ember, I presume?”

  “Yep.”

  “She always did have a way with words.”

  “Seriously, though, you should feel free to call it a day.” His eyes were serious as he looked down at her. “When you offered to help, you probably had no idea what you were getting into. No idea how much work it takes to put this farm to bed for the winter.”

  “Hey, are you calling me a wimp?” She put her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m soft?”

  “Soft?” He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “Only in the right places.”

  Her arms went around him and she tipped her head back. She laughed up at him, giddy with gladness. Glad to be working by his side. Glad to laugh with him. And God yes, so glad to be enfolded in his arms. Her softness against his hardness.

  His smile faded and his eyes grew heated.

  “Titus?”

  His hands came up to grasp her face. “I shouldn’t be doing this, but I think I have to kiss you.”

  She went up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, in case he changed his mind. He smelled of the coffee he’d been sipping intermittently as they worked, but his lips were cool and dry. They moved over hers in a slow, deliberately arousing caress. She’d expected...something else. Something darker or more desperate, given their dwindling time together. This was the kind of kiss that said there was no hurry.

  She sighed her pleasure and flexed her fingers, digging her nails slightly into the solid muscle of his back. His fingers tightened their grip on her face in response, but his lips stayed soft and teasing, shaping and tasting hers. Tenderly, he kissed the corner of her mouth, then moved to the bow of her upper lip, the other corner, the fullness of her lower lip. Her breath came faster, and he nuzzled and nipped. Finally, he swept his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers.

  The coffee scent she’d smelled on his breath exploded on her tongue. She pulled her arms from around his back so she could loop them around his neck. That brought their bodies into fuller alignment, making her breasts ache and her whole lower body tingle.

  He pulled her tighter, kissed her harder. When he broke the kiss a moment later, they were both breathing heavily.

  He bent his forehead to hers. “Ocean Siliker, what am I going to do with you?”

  “I know what I’d like you to do with me.”

  “Ocean...”

  “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

  They stood there like that for a moment, breathing in each other’s scent, their very breath.

  Ocean dropped her hands to his chest, then pushed back. “There must be something more we can get done before the big dinner.”

  “Dinner.” He grimaced. “God, I hope it’s edible. Dad’s an okay cook, and we have pulled off Thanksgiving dinner before when Mom was sick, but usually Ember was around. And when she wasn’t here, I’ve even helped throw it together a time or two. Nothing to crow about, of course. Boxed stuffing, frozen veggies, gravy from a can—that kind of thing. But this is the first time Dad’s tried to do a proper job of it by himself.”

  Ocean frowned. “Should I go up to the house and help?”

  He shook his head. “No, he wants to do it himself. Or so he said. I just hope it turns out, if only for your mother’s sake.”

  She’d been surprised when her mother told her that Arden had invited them for Thanksgiving dinner. Faye Siliker had an eighty-dollar, fresh, free-range, antibiotic-free turkey in the refrigerator, and Ocean had assumed they’d be having their own dinner at home. No doubt her mother had seized on the invitation as a way to give Ocean more time with Titus.

  She swallowed. “It’ll turn out.”

  “Let’s hope.” He looked up at the clear, nearly cloudless sky. “Feel up to some work in the orchards? It’s mostly in good shape, but there are some young trees that need the vole guards put on. Unfortunately, it’s too early to do much in the way of sanitizing. I suppose some is better than none, though.”

  “Sanitizing?”

  “Since we don’t use chemicals, we have to rely on natural methods to try to thwart disease and pests. One of those ways is to clear the crap out from under the trees. Trouble is, a lot of the trees haven’t dropped their fruit yet. There are a few early ones, like the Gravensteins, we could tackle and probably finish up by this afternoon. If not, I can finish it off in the morning. By which time our straw will have arrived, and we can cover the berry plants.”

  “Yeah.” Thinking about working with bales brought to mind the incident when she was a flustered teen and Titus had knocked the wind out of her when she got between the bale he was manhandling and the hay wagon. She grinned. “Straw’s lighter than hay, right?”

  “A lot lighter.” When her grin widened, his brows drew together in confusion. “I get the feeling I’m missing something.”

  She chuckled. “Nothing to worry about. I was just reminiscing about haying.”

  “Glad this place has some good memories for you,” he said softly.

  She smiled—he was completely not getting it. But it gave her an opening to ask, “For you too, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Every season of this place held its joys.” She melted into the memories. “Calving time in the spring, when your dad still had that small herd of dairy cattle. Haying in the summer, and the crazy busyness of strawberry season. Harvest in the fall. The season’s first taste of cider. And oh, remember bobbing for apples at the Halloween party?”

  “I remember.”

  “And every Harkness winter, the Christmas party in the Far South Barn. Then before we knew it, spring was back.”

  “Mmm. And the work started all over again.”

  “Then there was the family stuff. I remember Ember’s parties. They were the best. Scott trying to crash the sleepovers. Oh, and the biscuits your mom used to make. And you, Titus. I have such good memories of you. Your kindness. Your sweetness. Not just to your kid sister’s awkward friend, but the way you dealt with the land itself, and...”

  Her words trailed away when she looked up and saw the pain in his face.

  Crap. She was there to help him with this transition, not make it harder for him. Well, that and to extract what information she could about the moonshine days. And okay, yes, to spend time with him. She was not here to rub salt in the wound of losing this place.

  It was definitely time to change the subject. She cleared her throat. “So, Mom had some surprising news for me yesterday.”

  He managed a smile. “The talking and baking you mentioned?”

  “It’s a Siliker woman thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Why? Because I’m not a Siliker or because I’m not a woman?”

  “Both. Thankfully.” She smiled at him wickedly, lightening the mood.

  “So what did your mother have to say while the Siliker women were making the Standish men that pie? Which, I might add, is gone now.”

  “That enormous pie, gone?” Ocean blinked.

  “Every last bit.”

  “There are only three of you.”

  “Excuse me? I think you had a slice too, and your mother.”

  “A sliver,” she allowed. “But there was still some left.”

  “Scott ate the last of it for breakfast, the jerk.”

  “Up before you, was he?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “He beat me to it b
y seven minutes.”

  Ocean laughed. “Well, if anyone deserved it, Scott does, considering the day he’s spending with my mother.”

  Last night when Scott, Arden, and her mother had come in from the barn, they’d joined Titus and Ocean around the table. As the three had eaten a wedge of pie, Titus had told them that she was going to be helping him put the farm to rights before pulling up stakes. Arden had been pleased, as had her mother, no doubt for different reasons. She’d commandeered Scott.

  She’d rationalized that if her daughter was going to be helping out at the farm, surely Arden could spare Scott to do some of the more physically challenging work around her house for a day or two. Arden hadn’t minded at all. Ocean had had to raise her teacup to her mouth to hide her grin as Scott agreed to the plan. As though he had any choice!

  “True,” Titus allowed. “I suspect the boy’s gonna need the extra fortification today.”

  “Mom’s hoping to get the wood in for the winter. All four cords of it.”

  He chuckled. “Looks good on him. But you know, Scott really likes your mom. All the kids did, me included. She has the command presence of a general, but everyone knew she cared about them, and she’d go the extra mile for anyone who needed it.”

  “She is pretty awesome,” Ocean agreed. “Though it was weird having my own mother teaching in the same school River and I attended.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Ever have her for homeroom?”

  “No, we managed to dodge that, with the school’s careful planning, no doubt. Though we were in several of her classes over the years. Can’t avoid that in a little community like this.”

  He nodded.

  “Speaking of my mother and her awesomeness, you’re not going to believe what she’s giving me.”