by Pamela Tracy
Once the door swung shut behind him, Annie hoped she could do the same—a quick getaway. She needed to think, needed to have something constructive to do with her hands.
“I’m not quite done searching the kitchen, but I’ll leave it for now until you guys are through in here.” Annie wasn’t sure if they even heard her. She cleared her throat and asked, “Mom, what rooms have you searched?”
Her mother didn’t even pause. “The basement, attic, living room, and Max’s study. You and I went through the porch the other day.”
Which left the bathroom, Max’s bedroom, and Joe’s bedroom. “I’m going to take apart the bathroom,” Annie said.
That got their attention. Max looked faintly alarmed. Margaret even stopped washing the glass she’d been working on for five minutes.
“She’s not being literal,” her mother assured them.
“Of course not,” Annie said brightly as she backed out of the kitchen. “And whatever I take apart, I can put back together. Sort of. Probably.”
“It’s a good choice,” her mom said. “You’ll have plenty of time to finish searching and putting everything back into place before you need to get ready to go help Joe with Max’s car.”
At the door, Annie took one more look at the scene before her. Unfortunately, that moment of hesitation took away any chance of getting away quick and easy. Margaret swirled her washcloth inside a glass. Her head was slightly bowed, the half smile still in place.
A clandestine tear dropped into the dishwater.
It was too much for Annie to deal with right now. Something about Margaret gripped Annie’s heart like a vise. The vise had nothing to do with her mother and Max and everything to do with the pain, mixed with longing, she’d seen in Margaret’s eyes.
It was a look Annie had seen many times, looking back at her from a mirror.
Turning, she headed for the stairs and up to the main bathroom. It was a simple room, really, with a combination bath/shower, a sink with a cabinet underneath, an oval-shaped toilet, and a hamper. An ugly brown carpet failed to brighten the room.
Annie sat on the toilet lid and frowned at the carpet. She didn’t feel like crying, not a bit. Really, she was happy for her mother. Max seemed like a wonderful man. Her only fear was of change. Things were changing way too quickly, and the fact that the changes were for the good didn’t make acknowledging and accepting them any easier.
Change was an interesting thing. After all, if she found the coins, things would change again. After all these years, would people care that Kyle Hicks didn’t take them? At the most, the coins would either be money in the bank or a family heirloom restored.
Annie doubted if Max cared about the money or if Joe needed an heirloom.
Okay, maybe Joe might care, a little. Annie still wasn’t sure why the loss of the coins ended a friendship, especially since Kyle’s part in the theft was never proven. It didn’t make sense.
Lots of things didn’t make sense, like Annie’s feelings for Joe. The man was a mystery. He had a way with animals and, yes, a way with women. Annie was most impressed with his heavy-lidded expression, those dark brown eyes that seemed to ask questions she didn’t know the answers to. They hinted at suggestions Annie wasn’t ready for.
Might never be ready for.
Speaking of change, it was best for Annie to focus on the here and now. The future she most wanted was one without surprises, not one in Bonner Springs. She was building two successful businesses from scratch, not starting over, and time was a taskmaster she shouldn’t ignore. She had her plane ticket purchased. Yes, that was what she needed to focus on.
Rachel was ecstatic—a two-man office was so much better than one. She wanted Annie home now, today, in the office in a matter of hours.
Beth, of course, wanted Mom on that plane, too. No way was Annie going to tell Beth that Mom’s adventure might—would probably—turn into the happily-ever-after kind. Not with Beth’s engagement on the rocks.
Cathy’s only complaint was that she couldn’t leave her studies long enough to hop a plane and visit Bonner Springs and meet Max. For some reason, Cathy thought it important to meet Joe, too. Annie thought Cathy just might get along with Joe. She didn’t gravitate toward peace and quiet like Annie did. She would think getting lost in a cornfield—and spending the night sleeping in a car—great fun. Cathy always managed to look beautiful and would continue to look beautiful even with pet hair on her clothes.
Annie wasn’t sure she wanted Cathy to meet Joe, yet. For the first time, Annie really didn’t want the little sister who was everybody’s favorite to be everybody’s favorite.
Not when it came to Joe.
* * * * *
Joe looked at the woman sitting next to him. Well, not exactly next to him. Jacko was in between. It was almost three in the afternoon, and he’d picked her up just ten minutes ago. So far, the only conversation, somewhat stilted, had centered on the weather. Maybe Annie was just as leery about bringing up their parents as he was. In an effort to keep communication open, he said, “So, you didn’t find anything in Dad’s bathroom?”
“Your father stockpiles Irish Spring soap. He has enough to last fifty years.”
“I knew that.”
“The carpet was ruined, though. I tried so hard to be careful when I pulled it up.”
“That carpet’s been there since I was a child. It’s older than me,” Joe said. “I wouldn’t worry.”
“Mom went to the store and bought a cute blue oval rug. It’s down and she’s already talking about going out with your dad and picking new tile and then buying a new shower curtain and some towels.”
Joe would let Annie redo his attic bathroom anytime she pleased. Unfortunately, he doubted they made cute blue oval rugs that small. As for new tiles, he doubted he’d need more than four. His bathroom was definitely a one-man unit.
“Your dad’s been on the phone and Internet all day, looking to replace his cell phone. Seems his contract was up, so he can get an upgrade if he wants it.”
“It took him a year to figure that phone out,” Joe protested.
“Tomorrow I’m doing your bedroom,” Annie continued. “Saturday, I’m hoping Mom and I can do your dad’s bedroom. After that, I think we’re done.”
Something about picturing her in his bedroom, going through his childhood belongings, was discomforting. “You’re not going to find anything in there. I lived in that room off and on for eight years after the coins went missing. If they were in my bedroom, I’d have found them.”
“You’d be surprised at where things turn up.”
“Like in cornfields,” he teased.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Annie reached down to stroke the top of Jacko’s head.
“Never.”
Kansas, for some reason, was behaving. There was only a hint of a chill in the breezy May air. Annie wasn’t quite dressed for exploring an old, falling-down farm, but she was dressed perfectly for appealing to a young, red-blooded male. Her white dress was long, with a brown belt emphasizing her waist. Not made for climbing trees but definitely made for being chased. Tennis shoes had replaced the sandals she’d worn the last time they’d been there.
Her hair was loose, just long enough to tuck behind her ears if she wanted, and because it was blowing in the breeze, she wanted.
A red sweater was carefully packed in a bag she’d brought along.
They left the Bonner Springs city limits.
Every once in a while, he pointed something out, like who lived on a certain farm and how he knew them. She now knew which cornfield his high school class liked to party in after football games. She knew the corner where he’d had his first car wreck. She even knew the name of his first date, at the tender age of sixteen, and the restaurant where he’d taken her.
Annie stretched before putting her hand on Jacko’s head. The dog nudged his nose into the palm of her hand, encouraging some serious petting. Annie obliged, even taking the time to
stroke the dog’s ears.
Annie’s hands were small, delicate, her nails painted a pale pink. She was more compact than the women he’d dated. In vet school, his female classmates were usually big girls with boisterous laughs who had little use for the latest hairstyles or much jewelry. Of course, they were busy getting a hands-on education with cats that swatted at dangly earrings and horses that nibbled on hair.
Annie was small and girly, yet he saw in her what he liked best about those women he’d been close to in college. She was willing to get her hands dirty, willing to do what must be done, and quite good at it.
When they passed some cone-like white structures, she sat up. “I don’t remember these from last night.”
“You couldn’t see them in the dark. This is an old ammunition plant. It’s huge. It would take a whole day just to explore. It closed down when I was little.”
He watched her as she stared out the window. She was counting the white structures, her mouth silently saying the numbers. He was fascinated by watching her lips move, but he had to keep his eyes on the road.
“There’s more than a hundred,” he said. “Every once in a while the paper reminds us that this place is not really closed, it’s just on standby.”
They passed an orange billboard that advertised the plant. From their spot on the road, four water towers and a few bunkers were visible.
When they left the ammunition plant behind, Joe said, “I was so glad when we finally found our parents last night because in the back of my mind, I was thinking I wouldn’t like to explore this at night.”
“I’m glad you mentioned our parents,” she said, too casually. “I couldn’t read your expression this morning after my mom said she’d make a great preacher’s wife.”
He’d wondered when she’d bring it up. Of course, in some ways, she already had. Her mother was buying bathroom rugs, talking new tile, and such. Her mother wouldn’t make a good preacher’s wife; she’d make a good wife. And if Joe thought about it long enough, he knew his father had been lonely.
He knew one of the reasons his father had stopped preaching was because he thought a preacher’s wife as important as a preacher. Joe’s mom had always been right by Dad’s side, helping organize potlucks and baby showers, teaching Bible classes and going along when a woman’s presence was necessary.
Without a helpmate, his dad felt hindered, and he’d wanted more for the congregation.
“I always told Dad he should get remarried, even encouraged it,” Joe admitted. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for him to meet someone from out of town and fall in love in a matter of days, but it is what it is and I’m okay with it.”
Annie opened her mouth to say something, but Joe cut her off. “And your mother is quite nice.”
“She’s more than nice,” Annie said, somewhat defensively. “He’s lucky she’ll have him.”
Joe only nodded.
This morning, when the kitchen had gone so quiet after Willa’s announcement, Joe had looked at his father and witnessed something in his eyes that had been missing for four years: fulfillment.
And, selfishly, even while Joe somewhat rejoiced for his father, he couldn’t help but think that having Willa for a stepmother meant having Annie around, too.
Annie was getting used to dog hair.
Joe was getting used to Annie.
Chapter Fifteen
“‘Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.’”
“What?” Annie and Joe had been riding in companionable ease since Joe admitted he’d wanted his father to remarry and was okay with it.
Okay with Mom.
“It’s Matthew 7:7. I was thinking about my dad. When Mom passed away, it made him an eligible bachelor. There may not be many single women my age at the church, but there are plenty of single women his age.”
“So, you’re saying he dated a lot?” Annie asked.
“He didn’t date at all,” Joe replied, “until now. And I’m wondering if he ever prayed about it.”
“Prayed about what, dating?”
“Well, yes, finding the right woman.”
“I’ll bet that not in a million years did he think the answer to his prayers would be an armchair detective from Tucson, Arizona.”
Joe chuckled and stopped the truck. “You’re right about that. Especially one who leaves his tools in a pile by the side of the road.” Hopping out, he quickly gathered a stack of tools—one Annie hadn’t even noticed—and tossed them in the back.
“Just think of all the fun they’ll have,” Annie said when he got back behind the wheel, “and all the stories they’ll get to tell about the way they met.”
As they pulled off the rural route and onto an almost obscure drive leading to something she couldn’t see, Annie tried to stop evaluating herself and whether or not she was okay with Max and all the fun he’d be having with her mom.
It was easier said than done.
So, Joe had told his dad to get remarried, even encouraged it. Why hadn’t she expressed the same sentiment to her mother? Why hadn’t her sisters? Granted, Joe’s mom had been gone longer than Annie’s dad, but still, Mom had been a widow over a year now, and she was fairly young, only in her early fifties.
Had her mom been petitioning God about being lonely?
This was not something she wanted to share with Joe as he parked the car on packed grass in front of a broken-down farm.
“My dad always called this the Chicken Farm.”
“Why? Did his family mostly raise chickens?”
“No, they had a little bit of everything. It was called the Chicken Farm because Great-Great-Grandma would sell fresh eggs and fryer chickens to the members of the church.”
Annie immediately thought back to the Whittakers and the way their cows stood at the fence and how much she’d liked their chicken condo. What remained of the Kelly Farm, the Chicken Farm, however, looked nothing like the Norman Rockwellish Blue Sunflower Farm or any of the farms they’d passed while driving down the country roads. No, what Annie was looking at looked more like a Tim Burton creation with peeling gray-weathered wood and a collapsed roof.
Jacko barked once as Joe parked the truck. The dog clearly liked visiting the old Kelly place and wanted out. Annie opened the door, braced herself as Jacko scampered over her, and watched as he raced toward the farmhouse, around the corner, and out of sight.
“He’s thinking about rabbits,” Joe said.
“I hope he doesn’t catch one.”
“He hasn’t yet, although one time I had to chase him for over two miles before getting him to turn back.” Joe came around the truck, and before she knew it, he was holding out a hand to help her down. She couldn’t remember the last guy who’d been so gallant. “That’s why I put the bandanna around his neck—so I can see him while I chase him.”
She stood by the door of his truck and studied the farmhouse, trying to picture it as a home with a wife, a husband, and a few kids running through its door. What remained of the house was too broken for Annie to fix, even in her imagination.
“Why haven’t you sold this place? I mean, you have to pay taxes on it.”
“Sense of family, sense of commitment, I don’t know. Mom talked about living here. She even drew her dream house. I have the drawing somewhere in my stuff. Just think of the animals we’d have kept. Dad neither felt the urge nor felt we had the money.”
“You should turn this into your vet practice,” Annie said. “I mean, you’re only in the office two days a week and it’s really small. If you moved out here, wouldn’t it be easier to build exactly what you want?”
“I like the way you dream, but dreams don’t solve the reality of student loans. A vet practice is a huge investment. I’m just now building my clientele. I haven’t been around long enough for anyone to feel the type of loyalty necessary to drive all this way. Plus, in order to live and work out here, I’d have to tear the farmhouse down and start from scratch.”
He was right. Not only was the wood gray-weathered, it was also rotted. The glass was gone from the windows, and even though there weren’t that many, not only had the weather been allowed inside but also animals.
The landscape, however, promised more. Grass swayed in the wind. In the distance, wispy cirrus clouds streaked across the sky until they seemed to dip and touch the land.
“Imagine,” Joe said. “No electricity, no running water, no phone service, no public transportation. No wonder my ancestors moved to town. Every time my mom brought up moving out here, Dad told her stories to discourage her. He’d talk about the hardships. He’d talk about having to scrub drainpipes with lye and about cows getting into buttonweed and dying.”
“It would be fairly easy to get electricity here now. The lines run down the road already. I can’t imagine your mom letting the stories discourage her.”
“They didn’t, not really. She knew Dad wanted to stay in town, and she knew he needed to be near the church.” Joe’s hands were in his jeans pockets, but his look—which hadn’t left her face even once during this conversation—was intense. Annie felt the touch of his expression and it made her shiver.
“Wives tend to give up a lot for their husbands,” she said softly.
Joe nodded.
The porch looked ready to collapse, and Joe shook his head when she started to head for it. “Let’s try the back.”
The back of the house was worse than the front. Whereas the front looked like someone had, at one time, wanted it to be presentable, the back looked like no one had paid any attention to it, ever. The porch was just flat, rotted wood. There were no eaves, no arches, nothing to distract from just a straight up-and-down look.
“They were sensible,” Joe explained. “When they built this, it was more important to care for the animals, the family, and the necessities.”
Stepping on the porch, Annie peered in through the gaping hole where a door once hung. The room she stared at had to have been the kitchen. Nothing was left except dirt on the floor, the dim smell of animals, and a few holes in the ceiling. Turning, she looked out at the plains. The wind was rippling anything willing to bend. It did the same to her hair. She brushed it out of her eyes and tried to figure out where the barn might have been. Finally, she saw a spot of land where the grass wasn’t nearly as tall and where a patch of barren dirt remained. “Is that where the barn was?”