by Amelia Adams
“You never need an excuse to come see me, Mom. You’re welcome any time.”
“I know that, but I can’t always get out of my shifts so easily. You’d think that being a volunteer, I could come and go as I pleased, but that’s not how it works at the nursing home. The volunteers are scheduled out just as tightly as the staff.”
“Well, you’re doing good work there, Mom. Of course they miss you when you’re gone.”
“I guess. So, tell me about the McClains. Are they as strange as I’ve heard?”
Melissa pulled in a deep breath. It was really hard to answer that question when the very word “McClain” made her heart beat a little faster. “I wouldn’t say they’re strange. What they are is surprisingly good-looking.”
“Oh? Just how good-looking are they?”
Melissa smiled. Her mother’s matchmaking radar had gone off big time—it was just as powerful as the dad radar. “They’re pretty much the best-looking family I’ve ever met. And if Benjamin can get the field in shape for next year, that’s all for the good.” She realized that he’d asked her not to plow the ground under just yet, but that he hadn’t said how long she’d have to wait. She’d like to get it done as soon as possible so the plants could decay and begin to nourish the ground throughout the winter that would be coming soon.
“Yes, he might be handy to keep around.”
“Mom.”
“Don’t use your teenager voice on me, young lady. You can’t tell me that you didn’t entertain a thought or two. I heard that little sigh when you said how good-looking he is.”
“I sighed. I know it. I’m just not letting myself go there, you know? I mean, I’ve done this before, getting all gaga over a guy and then having him dump me—or not even know I’m alive.”
“I know, sweetheart. But you can’t rule out every possibility forever because of those experiences. Not every man is like that.”
“Yeah. It’s just a matter of finding the right one, like you keep telling me.” Melissa glanced at the clock. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go—I’m making Benjamin some cookies, and I need to get them in the oven before he comes back.”
“Cookies? And he’s coming back? This is sounding more hopeful all the time. But I’ll shut up now—you don’t need your mother making things more awkward for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Melissa hung up the phone and turned back to mixing up the dough. She’d like to think that her mother was right and there was a wisp of a chance with Benjamin McClain, but just as soon as she had the thought, she chased it away again. Her chances were pretty much gone. She’d turned thirty the month before, and once you turned thirty, you might as well give it up as a lost cause. She didn’t care what all the articles in the women-empowerment magazines said—this was not her time to shine. This was her time to watch for gray hairs and moisturize against wrinkles.
***
“So, what do you think, Mom? Why’s she so edgy around me?” Benjamin asked as they drove back toward the McClain farm. It was nearly time for the boys to get back from school—he’d bring a couple with him to spread the “fertilizer.” First, though, he had to figure out what was with that woman. If he was offending her in some way, he’d better stop it.
Lillian laughed. “Oh, son. I can’t believe you really don’t know.”
“Don’t know what? Have I got spinach between my teeth or something?”
She laughed again. “I love it that my seven very handsome sons have no idea just how handsome they are.”
“What are you talking about?” His mother wasn’t usually this vague.
“Well, to be blunt, she has the hots for you.”
Benjamin whipped his head around to look at her. “The hots? Mom, that’s crazy. We just met this morning. She barely knows me.”
“You don’t have to know someone at all to find them physically attractive, dear. I’m sure you’re not so naïve that you don’t know that.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Benjamin wiped a hand down his face. “She’s acting scared of me because she likes me?”
“Pretty much, yes. But she’s not scared—she’s nervous. She wants you to like her too, but she doesn’t want to do something that would chase you away. And all this is happening subconsciously, so if you were to ask her about it, she likely wouldn’t know what you meant. And she’d deny it anyway.”
“And you got all that just by talking to her for a few minutes?”
“That, and watching her look at you. It was written all over her face.”
“If you say so. Women are just too confusing, Mom. I wish I could stick with plants and trees. Their needs are so simple.”
“Speaking of that, tell me what you learned about the pumpkins.”
The pumpkins. Where to even start . . . “Uh, the pumpkins are my fault.”
“What?” Lillian turned to face him. “Benjamin Jeffrey McClain, what did you do?”
He shifted on the bench of the truck. His mother had always been able to make him feel ashamed of himself down to his toes. It was her best disciplinary tactic. “It turns out that when I asked the fields on our ranch to be extra productive this year, I accidently pulled some energy from the Daniels’ land.”
His mother’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t realize that was possible.”
“I didn’t either, but when I was tracing the power flows just now, I followed them right back to our land, and when I asked, it greeted me as the originator of the request. It’s kind of hard to explain, but that’s the distinct impression I got.”
“Wow.” Lillian settled back in her seat. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, first I need to take some fertilizer back over there and pretend it’s the most amazing stuff ever invented. Then I need to stop the power flows. That’s going to be a little harder. I didn’t know I was creating them in the first place, so I’m not convinced that I’ll be able to shut them off.”
“If they recognized you as their creator, you should have some ability to manipulate them, shouldn’t you?”
“I hope so.” Benjamin turned the truck onto the road that led up to their ranch. “Thanks for coming with me, Mom. For someone without so-called powers, you sure were insightful today.”
“That’s what a mother’s intuition is, silly boy—power. Pure, raw power. And don’t you forget it.” She didn’t wait for him to come around this time either, but hopped out and went inside before he could even shut off the engine. Benjamin shook his head and pulled the truck around to the supply shed. He’d need to put the fertilizer in an empty bucket so she wouldn’t see a brand name on the sack—kind of hard to pass it off as an old family recipe if the words “Miracle-Gro” or something like that were staring her in the face.
Half an hour later, when the school bus arrived, he had the bucket ready, along with a package from his mother. Caleb was getting out the makings for an afternoon snack back at their house, and as soon as the boys had eaten—or more like, inhaled—he’d grab two of them and go see what kind of cookie cook Miss Melissa Daniels turned out to be.
Hunter and Nick seemed like the two most logical choices. Each of them had been going through a rough time lately, and Benjamin knew of little else that could calm them than plunging their hands into the soil. Of course, the pumpkin patch had very little life to offer, so the effect might not be the same. He’d take that chance.
Once the boys had finished their bologna sandwiches—Benjamin couldn’t stand bologna, but they weren’t his sandwiches—he asked about homework. The boys would have enough time to do chores and get their assignments done, so he sent the other four off with Caleb to work on the greenhouse, and he took Nick and Hunter with him.
“We’re going to fertilize the pumpkin patch next door,” he explained as they drove. “I need you boys to take the bucket of fertilizer I put in the back of the truck and use it just like we did on the wheat fields, okay? I have some special attention I need to pay to a few of the plants, so I�
�ll be doing that at the same time.”
“What kind of special attention?” Hunter asked.
Benjamin thought quickly. “Grubs,” he said, then winced. What a ridiculous answer, but he couldn’t back out of it now. “I need to kill some grubs. But don’t tell the lady who owns the patch about them, okay? She doesn’t like bugs.” Great. Now he’d have the boys lying too.
“She owns a farm, but she doesn’t like bugs?” Nick shook his head. “Aren’t farms pretty much covered in bugs?”
“Weird, right?” Benjamin flipped on the radio, hoping that would bring the conversation to a halt, and it did. He’d never been very good at covering up, and the more he talked, the more problems he was going to create.
When they pulled up at the Daniels’ farmhouse, Nick lifted the fertilizer bucket out of the truck, and the two boys headed out into the field. Benjamin directed them where he wanted them to start, and then he turned and made his way up the porch steps. Melissa answered his knock with a smile on her face and a smudge of flour on her nose.
“From my mother,” he said by way of greeting, holding up the small package.
She held the door open, and he stepped inside after glancing over his shoulder to make sure the boys had found their assigned spot. The house smelled like melting chocolate. “That was really kind of her,” Melissa said, taking the package and opening it. “The movie—and some microwave popcorn. I know what I’ll be doing tonight.”
“Mom says she hopes you enjoy it,” Benjamin relayed.
“I haven’t seen too many classic Hollywood movies, but this one looks good,” Melissa said, putting it on the entryway table.
Benjamin leaned against the doorframe that led into the living room. “Not a movie buff?”
“Oh, I love movies. I’m just more into modern stuff.”
“Action, drama . . .”
“Action, mostly.” She blushed and looked down at the floor. “I’m kind of into the Marvel Universe.”
“I don’t know why you’re embarrassed about it.”
“Because you and your family are all . . . classic.” She flapped her hand at the DVD.
“Hey, that’s why there are so many different kinds of movies—so we can all have our favorites.” Benjamin leaned forward as though telling her a secret. “If you don’t like the movie, it’s okay,” he stage-whispered.
“Are you sure? Your mom looked so disappointed when I said I hadn’t seen it.”
“My mother thinks everyone should go around singing and wearing starched calico dresses and taking pies to community events. She’ll be okay.”
“If you’re sure.” Melissa looked up at him, and Benjamin remembered what his mother had said about attraction. This woman sure had beautiful eyes. Her hair was a pretty color too. And—
He was saved when the oven timer went off. “First batch,” she said, obviously having a hard time tearing her eyes away from his. He pulled in a deep breath when she stepped into the kitchen. He needed to talk to the land—he didn’t need this distraction.
“I’ll go see how the boys are getting along,” he called out.
“Great. I’ll let you know when I have a few dozen cookies ready.”
“Sounds good.” He let himself out the front door, careful not to slam the screen, and closed his eyes for a second before crossing the grass to the edge of the field. Focus. Concentrate. Put the pretty girl to the side and think about the task ahead.
He crouched down in the soil a few yards down the first row and placed his hand flat on the soil. Something stirred deep within the earth, something that recognized him from earlier that day. He greeted it and thanked it for recognizing him, and then he asked it how he could mend the problem.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting the earth’s mind touch his. The boys were a distance away, and he found it easy to block out their chatter as he communicated with the land. It was becoming louder now. It seemed confused, but then a message came through. Send it back.
Send it back? Send back . . . the power flows. Okay. Benjamin rose and followed the withered plants to the edge of the field, where he stooped down again. He hoped he was going about this the right way—he felt out of his league, not to mention a bit foolish.
He imagined creating a line between Melissa’s farm and the McClain land, then imagined each property having a rich flow of energy that buzzed around and enlivened every plant, animal, and person, but contained within those property lines so the McClains could no longer take from the Daniels’ and vice versa. He asked the land what it thought, and he sensed approval.
All right—the land liked the idea. Now what?
He opened his eyes and looked around. The boys were still occupied and Melissa was nowhere to be seen, so he sat down cross-legged and placed both hands flat on the ground. Please, he thought as he sat there. Please make it happen.
The earth seemed hesitant, just as unsure as Benjamin felt, and then something shifted. He felt it as surely as breathing. A tingle that raced around the pumpkin patch, energy zipping around and touching the plants and bouncing off the trees. Energy that was being returned from the McClain farm to where it rightfully lived. Benjamin smiled. That was more like it.
He touched one of the vines, and it reacted immediately, turning green and perking up. “Shhh,” he told it. “Slowly. Overnight.” He imagined the plants growing in the dark and then in the dawn hours and sent that image to the field. It seemed to nod in understanding, and he came to his feet.
“Let me help you boys with that,” he called out, walking toward the row where the boys were working.
“Haven’t seen any grubs out here,” Hunter said when Benjamin drew near.
“I must have been mistaken.” Benjamin shrugged. “Let’s work extra fast—Miss Daniels has some cookies in the oven for us when we’re done.”
The boys moved from row to row, applying the fertilizer. Benjamin only watched their work enough to make sure they were doing a credible job—it really made no difference to him if the stuff was spread evenly, but he needed to know that the boys weren’t slacking. They should leave the ranch having learned valuable life skills, and the importance of a job well done was one of them.
As soon as they were finished, Hunter pulled off his gloves and tucked them into his back pocket. “Cookies?” he asked hopefully.
Benjamin chuckled. His mom made cookies regularly and took them around to the different cabins, but it wasn’t as often as the boys wanted—which would have been every thirty seconds. “Yes, hot out of the oven.”
Both boys gave a whoop and raced off toward the house. Benjamin smiled as he watched them go, taking a minute to check in with the earth. Good—it still understood his request and was eager to be compliant.
Phew.
Maybe, just maybe, the crisis would be averted.
Chapter Five
Melissa woke up the next morning just as the sun began to peek over her windowsill. Mike would be coming over at nine to start plowing the dead plants under the earth, giving her a little time to make a good breakfast and take a long shower before she really had to start her day. She considered rolling over and going back to sleep for another hour, but then she started thinking about Benjamin McClain, and instead of drifting off, she lay there with a smile on her face, remembering how he’d touched the brim of his hat before leaving the afternoon before. There was something so . . . old-fashioned and gentlemanly about him. Definitely intriguing.
She finally dragged herself out of bed and showered, then dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. After pulling her hair back into a damp ponytail, she headed downstairs and grabbed her tin of hot cocoa mix from the cupboard.
She had just settled down with a cup and a muffin when Mike knocked on her back screen door. “Come in,” she called out. “Want some cocoa?”
He stepped inside and pulled off his cap. “No, I’m fine. I’m just . . . Uh, what happened here?”
“Beg your pardon?”
He jerked his thu
mb over his shoulder. “The pumpkins. What happened?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She came to her feet and peered out the window. What . . .? She could see orange out there nestled between leaves of green. That was . . .
Before she knew what she was doing, she had run out of her house, across the yard, and into the field. Rows upon rows of pumpkins surrounded her, round and orange and beautiful. They were the prettiest pumpkins she’d ever seen, and she had absolutely no explanation for it.
Mike walked up behind her. “So, what’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” she said, almost feeling helpless at the miracle of it. “I just . . . there was a new kind of fertilizer . . .”
Mike shook his head. “No, ma’am. No fertilizer on earth would have made this happen, and especially not overnight. It’s not possible. Is someone playing a trick on you?”
“How would they? I mean, they’d have to truck thousands of pounds of pumpkins in here . . . and make them look like they were growing out of the ground . . . and why?” She turned around in a circle. Even the smaller pumpkins, the ones children loved to paint on and decorate, were perfectly formed. She couldn’t see a single misshapen one anywhere.
“Let’s get the pumpkin stand out of the barn,” she said at last. “We might as well get selling.”
Mike gave a nod and headed off toward the barn. Melissa took a step to follow him, but paused again, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what she was seeing. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible.
***
By that afternoon, Mike had gotten the pumpkin stand set up on the stretch of grass nearest the road, and together, they had hauled around a hundred pumpkins up to the stand and arranged them attractively on hay bales. Melissa had to rummage in the front hall closet for the metal cash box her grandparents had always used and was relieved to see a few dollar bills still inside. Because she’d believed the farm was a bust, she hadn’t prepared at all.
Four cars stopped by for pumpkins almost before they were ready to start selling. She took a seat on the stool behind the booth and handled making change while Mike brought up even more pumpkins from the field. Another three cars pulled up, and one older woman had tears as she spoke to Melissa.