Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4)

by Vicki Wilkerson

  “So,” he said. “This is it.” He started walking down one of the rows.

  She and Savannah followed.

  “We’ve been experimenting with different amounts of water and types of fertilizer. They’re surviving, but not thriving.”

  “Well, what are you going to do with them?”

  “Hmph. Don’t know. I don’t want to abandon the plants. It’s enough to turn quite a profit in the third year—if they were healthy. But I’m afraid they’re dying here.”

  “Isn’t there another field? More suitable?”

  “Not on this farm. I’d abandon them, but I’d hate to see all the time and money—and the plants—go to waste.” He picked some of the yellow leaves from the ends. “I’d like to give them away, but it would have to be to the right farm, a place where they’d sing.”

  The wheels were turning in Jenna’s head. Could this be it? Could this be the thing that might save her plantation? If it was, it would mean that she saved it. It would have been her idea, her hard work. “Could I have them?”

  Colton chuckled. “What would you do with this many acres of tea plants?”

  “I just might surprise you.” And herself. She explained her circumstances—physically and otherwise.

  He had a lot of questions about her…circumstances. And she had a lot of answers.

  Then it was her turn. She put him through…the French inquisition about the tea plants, their sustainability, their profitability, the harvesting, and the production and packaging. The whole shebang. Her roommate at Clemson was a Packaging Design major. She’d learned a lot through osmosis in that apartment they’d shared. Her wheels were turning. Never before had she ever had an idea this viable to save her plantation.

  The two shook hands.

  “We’d better get this little one back to the house and get washed up for dinner,” she said.

  “Yeah, I haven’t been by to check on Hogan today. I apologize for being absent so much, but I’ve been staying in the apartment above the barn to save some time. I’ve been trying to take care of this entire farm alone. Even though Hogan has the shop, he does amazing things here—all the contracts, the ordering, the books—everything that’s not in the field. I couldn’t do this without him.”

  “But you are.”

  “You do what you have to do. When you have to do it. My father used to say, ‘If a man owns land, the land owns him.’”

  Jenna couldn’t believe it. “Ralph Waldo Emerson. I thought I was the only person who recited quotes about land.”

  “My father repeated that mantra a million times,” he said.

  Jenna smiled. She understood what she needed to do. She was about to write a Letter of Intent. All by herself. Because she intended to save DeBordieu Plantation. All by herself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “When people lose their ties to the land they grow corrupt. Inevitably, they grow corrupt.”

  ~ Ruth Almog

  Hogan, Savannah and Jenna sat around the table eating dinner together. Like a family. Savannah reached out and took Jenna’s hand—the one with his ring still on it. The atmosphere around them felt so warm…like a real home. Hogan’s heart was melting like hand-churned peach ice cream on the Fourth of July. There’d be nothing left before long—especially if Jenna left. Especially when she left.

  “So, what did you girls do all afternoon? I mean besides making dinner,” he said.

  Jenna smiled “We painted a princess house on the back porch, didn’t we, sweetie?” She kissed the little girl’s head.

  “A princess house? And how does one paint a princess house?”

  “Well, we found a cardboard box in the barn. We cut out some flaps for windows and a door, and we painted it pink.”

  “Um, how’d you get the pink paint out here?”

  Jenna looked at him like he was stupid. “White house paint and red barn paint make…”

  He did feel stupid. “Pink paint.” He turned to his little girl. “Savannah, do you like your princess house?”

  She didn’t answer. Of course.

  “Yes, she does. I filled it with pillows and blankets to make it feel…secure. I read in one of my education books that…some children like to be in enclosed spaces to feel safe and embraced when they’re anxious. I thought we’d try it.”

  “I saw a movie about that once.”

  “Yeah, Temple Grandin.”

  “That was it. Well, did she like the princess house?”

  “It’s a hit.”

  Really, it was Jenna who was the hit—for him and his little girl. Did she know how wonderful she was?

  Jenna smiled as she rubbed his daughter’s hand. “We’re going to begin the week with some association training, and at the end of the week, we’ll begin our formal lessons.” Excitement decorated her words…like she looked forward to it. She gazed lovingly at his daughter—like she was hers, too.

  If only he hadn’t screwed things up at the beginning. Maybe everything could have worked out—not just the tutoring. But what was he supposed to have done? Tell her about all his problems the first night he met her? Or the first night he kissed her? Or the night he gave her the ring?

  No. There never seemed to be the right time. It wasn’t the right time at their engagement party either. But she’d found out then. And it had been too late.

  Nonetheless, he had to be grateful for what he had. For now. A teacher for his daughter. The only one who’d ever made even a hayseed’s worth of difference.

  “So what do you need me to get for you? You know. To instruct her.” He almost regretted his words even before the last word resounded in his ears. His question implied that she was actually going to stay. It was enough that she’d run back to her house the first evening they were home from the hospital to grab some things to stay with them. Now he was basically asking her to work for him…for them.

  How on earth was she going to react?

  “I should have grabbed some supplies from my house when I was there. Hmmmm. Let me think.” She tilted her head back, and her blond locks fell away from her shoulders.

  “I’m sending Buck to town tomorrow. I’ll have him pick up anything you need. It’ll be his last day here. For a while. He’s going to take over managing the Harley shop and keep Mullet America in check until I decide what to do. No telling what’s going on there since I haven’t been in. The only thing that Buck likes better than driving that combine is driving his Harley. In fact, he was the one who spurred my idea about opening the shop.”

  “Great. I’ll get a list together. I’ve been thinking about how to set up a learning center for her. In that spare room at the end of the hall.” She lifted her head back into its upright position and appeared to be thinking. “Oh, I know—”

  “Hello. Helloooo. Helloooooo,” a familiar voice called from the front door. He didn’t need to get up to know who it was. He knew.

  It was Bentley. And she had the worst timing in the world. Left them at the worst time. And now was back at an equally bad time.

  Jenna’s face showed her inquisitiveness. “Who is that?”

  Before he had an opportunity to answer, Bentley pushed her meticulously painted face into the formal dining room. Her Botoxed lips entered before she did. She was wearing a red dress that shimmered and danced. “Hey, y’all! Oh, you have company, Hogan! Hi, I’m Bentley,” she said in her rich Charleston drawl. She walked over to Jenna. “And who are you?”

  Jenna stood. “Jenna Bellingham.”

  Bentley shook her hand. “I’m Bentley Calhoun. So glad to meet you.”

  The stress in the room rose, and he was able to take the temperature of it by the increased distance in his little girl’s gaze.

  Bentley walked around the dining room and adjusted things on the sideboard, showing her disapproval at some of the décor by pursing her very full, very red lips. Finally, she sat down beside Savannah. “Mmmmm. This looks really good. I haven’t eaten anything all day.” She started picking at the little girl’s s
alad with a fork. Still, she hadn’t said anything to her daughter. Like usual.

  Savannah didn’t acknowledge her mother either. Like usual.

  So, everything was like it usually was. Except for Jenna. He stared at her. Something had changed in her face. Nothing about Jenna was like it was a few moments ago. Before Bentley arrived.

  “I heard about the accident at a party I was attending at the Dock Street Theater tonight, Hogan. Why didn’t you call me?” She said in her pretentious Southern voice. She pulled at the thin strap of her cocktail dress.

  “I was in the hospital, Bentley. And when they released me, I was…we were fine. Savannah was fine.”

  She reached out and touched his knee. “That leg of yours doesn’t look fine. How have you been managing?”

  He looked at the beautiful woman who still had hold of his daughter’s hand. “Jenna’s been here.” He glanced back up at Bentley, who was gazing at Jenna’s hand. “And I’ve had my share of physical therapists, and Colton and all the farm hands are here to manage the crops.”

  Bentley leaned over, spilling her manufactured cleavage into heaps that looked like they were trying to escape the beaded dress she was wearing. “Well, I’m here now. Jenna can go.”

  Jenna’s head snapped up.

  “Bentley, it’s fine that you visit. You know you will always have an open door to see Savannah, but she needs someone here permanently.” He couldn’t believe his ex was trying to mess things up again.

  Jenna let go of Savannah’s hand and stood behind her, brushing the child’s hair with her fingers. His little girl started stimming, rocking to and fro, because she didn’t have her Barbie doll with her to comfort her.

  Bentley got up, walked to the antique serving cart, and put away the ceramic bell that Jenna had placed on top, thereby staking off her territory. “Hogan, no one is ever going to stay on this god-forsaken farm of yours. Out here in the boonies on the other side of Summerbrook.” She glanced down to the ring on Jenna’s hand again. “Not even if you…bribe them.”

  She perched her skinny butt on the table, crossed her legs and put her foot in one of the chairs. As she rocked her leg back and forth, he noted the red under her shoe. Just like Jenna’s.

  But Bentley was nothing like Jenna. Yeah. They both were blondes. They both had weight to their family names. And they both wore expensive shoes with red soles. But they were nothing alike.

  They all stared at one another, gazes darting back and forth. It was a standoff. It was a time to make decisions. To say something.

  He should have said something. But he didn’t know what to say.

  Jenna’s gaze finally settled on Savannah, but she addressed his ex. “Bentley, I’m going to make a guess here. I bet your family doesn’t have any land. Probably sold it a long time ago, bless their hearts.”

  “What?” A confused look covered Bentley’s face. “Why would you say that?”

  They all knew the blessing wasn’t for real.

  Jenna bent down, kissed the little girl on the cheek, and whispered something in her ear. She looked Hogan in the eyes. “I need to go now.”

  “Jenna. Don’t. Stay. We can work this out.” Now he said something. Too late once again.

  She smiled and nodded. “I’ll call later. We’ll see,” she said and walked out of the room.

  Savannah stood up and started twirling. On her tiptoes. More stimming.

  He and Savannah were back at square one. Savannah had no teacher, no consistency, no rock. Bentley would be gone. In a matter of hours or perhaps days, not to be seen or heard from for weeks or months. Just like it always happened.

  And he had just lost all hope to work things out with Jenna. Once again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Though the land be good, you cannot have an abundant crop without cultivation.”

  ~ Plato

  First things first. Jenna needed to write her Letter of Intent for Mr. Slithers. And anyway, she needed to leave Hogan to sort things out with Bentley.

  The most important thing she needed to do while he was dealing with Bentley was to do the research about tea plantations. Why had she never thought of turning DeBordieu Plantation into a tea plantation before? It had everything she needed—the soil, the right amount of dappled sun for the new plants, the temperature was perfect. Everything.

  As she searched the internet for information, she realized that plants similar to tea plants already grew abundantly on the plantation—camellias and tea olives—which didn’t produce tea or olives.

  Being on the internet so much also gave her the time to finish organizing that stupid fashion show at the motorcycle shop. She was doing it for Ben. She was in constant contact with the mayor’s wife about her big idea. In fact, Lydia Stroble insisted on being in it. Jenna realized just how really, really good she was at planning and organizing—the real kind, not the organizing she’d done before in the shop or with her refrigerator.

  In the mix of everything, she and Jasper also made a trip to the Charleston Tea Plantation on Wadmalaw Island. The owner was gracious and welcoming and gave her as much information as they needed. She was going to help him with his initial harvest, called the First Flush, and learn even more when the time came.

  She had all the answers she needed for her letter this time.

  Colton’s number was on speed dial. He also helped her through the process. She called him again. “I’m finishing up now. You haven’t told Hogan, have you?”

  “Not a peep. He’s got enough to deal with right now with Bentley over there.”

  A twinge of jealousy shot through her. But she quickly put it away. It was all in God’s hands. If God wanted that woman in Hogan’s life, He’d see to it. Somehow she didn’t think God did, though. Somehow, she thought God wanted her in their lives. “Okay, one last question. When do we begin the initial transplanting?”

  “Easy. In the fall would be best. That gives you all summer to prepare,” he said.

  “This may not work. The board may not approve my plan, and then I’d be back at square one. My cousin would most probably inherit my land, for sure. So we’ve got to be super secretive. You wouldn’t lie to me…or betray me now, would you, Colton?

  “Of course not.”

  “Super secret?”

  “Yes, Jenna, super secret. You know my brother’s going to kill me when he finds out I’ve been…colluding with you behind his back.”

  “Just for a while. I’m going to tell him. Tell everyone when it’s the right time. I want to do this on my own. I want to save my own plantation.”

  “I get it. Our family has been through times like you’re going through. And look at us now.”

  “I hope this works out. It’s my only shot.”

  “Oh, one last thing.”

  He paused. “I’m almost afraid to ask. What?”

  She chuckled. She realized she was being a pain, of sorts. “Did Hogan ever say anything to you about a mock fashion show?”

  He laughed. “My brother don’t know nottin’ ‘bout no fashion shows.”

  Colton was definitely Hogan’s brother. She cleared her throat. “Oh, yes, he does. And you’re one of my models.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not.”

  “Oh, yes, you are.” She explained about Ben and that Hogan couldn’t sashay down the catwalk, and so Colton was doing it in his stead.

  He finally agreed, and she gave him all the dates and times. They hung up, and she continued to work on the letter.

  As she typed the final page of her plan, her mother gave a little half knock and walked into her house.

  Jenna quickly grabbed the last page from the printer and put it in the folder with the others. She walked to her mother, hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Would you like some ginger tea, Momma? I have a pot brewing on the stove.”

  Her mother sat on the couch. “What’s up with you and tea lately? Hot tea, cold tea, chai tea.” She eyed Jenna suspiciously. “You’re not obsessing over something new, are you?”
>
  Jenna laughed. In a way she was. But it was in a good way. A productive way. “No, Momma, I’m not. I like drinking it.”

  “In that case, yes. Let’s grab a glass of iced tea and head to the dock and sit for a while.”

  “I’d absolutely love that.” Jenna finished with the tea, poured two glasses, and they headed out. Jenna, barefooted.

  “Jenna Elizabeth DeBordieu Bellingham, where are your shoes?”

  “Safely put away in my closet. I see no need for them today.”

  As they strolled back to the dock, Jenna’s stomach didn’t knot up like it usually did. For one reason…the fireflies wouldn’t be out so early. For another reason…she’d grown to associate the loss of Anson with the inevitability of losing the plantation. That inevitability was not so…inevitable now. Could she really save her family’s plantation all by herself? Without the help of a man, or a marriage, or turning her beloved plantation into a tourist trap? Like Dudley wanted to do?

  Her plan was genuine and true to the plantation’s origins. A crop. A profitable crop. Plato once said, “Though the land be good, you cannot have an abundant crop without cultivation.” She was gearing up for cultivation.

  “Let’s sit for a while,” her mother suggested. The old bench under the live oak tree had seen its better days. One day soon the wooden slats would need to be replaced. The old wrought iron ends were as strong as ever. She’d learned that lesson long ago. Make something strong, with good bones, and it’ll last a lifetime.

  She sat and sipped her tea and watched the Ashley River make its slow progress to the point before them, where the river rounded a corner and turned swift. The old rope that dangled from the mammoth live oak tree hung sadly. The years and its participation in her brother’s death had made it so. But that was so long ago now. Though the possibility of losing the plantation had brought the old grief to the surface again, she was slowly releasing it to the river where it belonged.

  The river held good things, too. Her family had once used it to irrigate the rice fields across the water. The land they had to sell. Everything that had passed before had brought her to this moment.