Love Finds You in Sunflower, Kansas

by Pamela Tracy

  Joe stopped peering in the kitchen and turned to survey the land with her. “My dad has always thought so. It’s almost completely gone back to nature. Don’t sell yourself short. For not growing up in the country, you have good instincts—both with the land and its creatures.”

  Joe stood so close that Annie almost stepped away. Not because of any other reason than she felt herself losing her breath, thinking about touching him, and wondering why…why this man affected her so.

  Maybe it was because she was out of her comfort zone, away from her sisters, her work, and because the person she was supposed to be helping—her mother—didn’t need help at all.

  Jacko barked, and Joe whistled. The dog burst from the grass, jumping in exuberance, and raced to Joe as if to say Yes, I’m still alive, but I’m busy just now before turning to go back to whatever he’d been doing.

  Annie stepped down from the porch and started following the sound of Jacko’s barking. The distant sun began its descent. She liked it here, liked exploring, and liked the ideas that were starting to form in her mind.

  Joe followed, every once in a while reaching out to steady her or guide her away from what he must consider dangerous territory. Annie thought about laughing at him for being overprotective, but she rather liked it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Joe meant to take care of his dad’s car first and then explore. That was the practical, sensible thing to do. That way, if darkness came more quickly than expected, they could hop in his truck and head for home.

  Once Annie had stepped toward the old farm, like a moth to a flame, he’d left behind the practical common sense that had always been a part of his life and become helpless to do anything but follow and answer her questions, tell her about the past, and try to understand just why he enjoyed being with her so much. Maybe it was because she didn’t know all his stories. Everything he shared with her was new. She asked questions no one else did; she paid more attention than he was used to.

  She didn’t remind him of the females he knew in Bonner Springs, the ones he’d hung around with all his life, the ones who knew all his stories and didn’t act like they were special.

  Like he was special.

  She paused before the sea of blowing grass that Jacko had disappeared into and went down to her knees, reaching for something he couldn’t see. After a moment, she came back with a bright yellow wildflower. It looked the same as the hundreds that were positioned across the grass.

  “I love this color. I need to do something with earrings and this shade.”

  He nodded because he didn’t know what else to do. It was a wildflower, nothing more. He didn’t see what she did.

  “The garden was here,” she continued. “It’s close enough to the house that your great-grandmother could get to it easily, but far enough away that the kids had a backyard to play in and that what they used for fertilizer wouldn’t waft into the house.”

  Joe doubted she could tell where a garden had grown more than a hundred years ago. He also wondered if she knew that the fertilizer from his ancestors’ day was manure. More likely she was imagining where she’d put a garden and why.

  “Do you garden?” he asked. This wasn’t a pastime he imagined her having.

  “No, but your aunt Margaret’s sure proud of her flowers and garden and has told me some things. I think I’d like to garden. Something about all the neat rows really appeals to me. I love tomatoes.”

  “My aunt loves tomatoes, too, and grows way too many. She starts giving them to my dad in June. Soon she’s giving them to everyone she knows and even people she doesn’t know, complete strangers she meets on the streets. When she wrote to me in college, she spent more time telling me about her garden, especially the tomatoes, than she told me about what was happening at home.”

  “You know much about gardens?” Annie asked.

  Suddenly Joe wished he did, wished he’d listened closer to Margaret and all her talk. “I know about pulling weeds,” he finally offered.

  Actually, he never wanted to pull weeds again, but for Annie maybe he’d make an exception. “You’ve gotten to hear about my family,” he said. “Now, tell me about yours.”

  She sat, cross-legged, smiling in the last of the sunshine and pulling a few sunflowers into her lap. Her bracelets clinked against each other, adding a purely feminine melody to the sound of the Kansas wind.

  “I’ve met Dad’s parents,” she said. “I’ve had dinner with them, five whole times. They weren’t the touchy-feely kind. I got the idea they had a hard life. Dad didn’t share many stories except for hating to ride in the backseat when they took trips. That’s a funny thing to remember, don’t you think?”

  “As an only child, I can tell you that always sitting alone in the backseat is incredibly boring. I, at least, had video games. I doubt your dad had anything.”

  “He said he used to sing in the car, but his mother made him stop. Whenever we went to church, he’d turn to whatever page the song leader requested, but then he’d just stand there. He wouldn’t sing a word.”

  “You like to sing?”

  “Mom and Cathy are the singers. Mom often leads singing for the ladies’ class at church.” Annie smiled, and suddenly Joe realized that she missed her sisters, even though she spoke to them on the phone every day. “Cathy sings karaoke. She won a prize once for singing ‘You’re So Vain’ by Carly Simon. I like to sing, but my voice isn’t anything to get excited about. On my mom’s side, Grandpa leads singing at the church. He’s good.”

  “That’s one thing I don’t do,” Joe admitted. “Lead singing. My voice scares people. The few times I have, Agnes Miller sings louder than I do so there’s some hope the congregation will stay on key.”

  Annie laughed. “My grandpa, Mom’s dad, would love you. His job took him a lot of places, even Japan sometimes, for years at a time. Grandma always went with him. They flitted in and out of our lives. But they sent cards and pictures and brought back great presents. They sent me a rock tumbler when I was just eight. I think that’s how I got involved in making jewelry.”

  “No cousins?” Joe asked.

  “None I’d recognize if I passed them on the street. You?”

  “No cousins. You know my aunt Margaret. She never married. Grandpa had one sister. I know she married, but they moved to Texas, and I never heard about any kids.”

  “I think my favorite thing in life is my sisters. I talk or text with them every day.”

  “You solve their problems,” Joe pointed out, “or at least try to.”

  As if to prove his point, her cell phone went off. She took it out of her pocket, glanced at it, and then said, “It’s Beth.”

  “I’m going to find Jacko. Then we probably need to head to my dad’s car before it gets dark.”

  She nodded and pushed a button before putting the phone to her ear. As he took off through the grass following the sound of Jacko’s happy barking, he heard Annie order, “Stop crying and tell me what happened.”

  He paused and shot her a questioning look, but she waved him away. Clearly, she didn’t need him.

  * * * * *

  Beth was not the sister who cried. Annie didn’t cry much either. Cathy was the one who cried at Hallmark commercials. She did enough crying for all of them.

  Not today. Today Beth was making up for lost time. Through the phone, Annie could hear the sobs and imagine the endless stream of tears that didn’t allow for conversation. What words Beth did attempt were so broken, they couldn’t be understood.

  Annie didn’t need the words. Beth had already told her that Charles had asked for breathing room. In the world of dating, when a guy asks for breathing room, it really means I-don’t-want-to-breathe-in-the-same-room-with-you, not right now and possibly not ever.

  While Beth cried, Annie stood and watched Joe walking through the tall grass. The fading sun shimmered on his dark hair. He stopped and Annie had to strain to see why. She hadn’t realized there was a creek. Even as she watched, Jacko bound
ed out of the water, shaking his fur and apparently giving Joe a bit of a shower.

  Joe didn’t seem to mind. He ran at the dog and Jacko backed up, then ran forward, initiating a game of cat and mouse that seemed well orchestrated. In a full-out run, Joe took off after Jacko, and the sound of Jacko’s barks were the stuff of laughter and joy. After a minute, Jacko let Joe catch him, and boy and dog—er, man and dog—slowed down to a companionable walk.

  Until Jacko took off after what appeared to be a rabbit.

  No wonder Joe took Jacko everywhere. They were a team.

  She hoped there would be time to come here again. She wanted to join in the game. And she wanted to know what kind of tree Joe was heading for. It was huge and black and unlike any tree she’d seen in Tucson.

  Finally Beth calmed down enough to say, “He. Asked. For. His. Ring. Back.”

  “Did you give it to him?”

  “No, it was a gift.” Ever the lawyer, she added, “I can prove the three criteria that make it a gift. He bought it for me, he gave it to me, I accepted it. I’m not giving it back. I’m flushing it down the toilet.”

  “Don’t do that.” Annie was well aware that the ring cost more than her car, make that her last two cars put together.

  Beth’s silence meant she hadn’t really decided what to do.

  “So, what happened?” Annie asked. “Why did he call the wedding off?”

  “I don’t know what happened. He called me on the phone. He said he’d been thinking and that he wasn’t happy. Apparently, he hasn’t been happy for a while and just now decided to clue me in. He thinks it’s me.”

  “Thinks it’s you? He had no definite reason?”

  “The only thing he was willing to say is that I tend to talk too much when we’re out with people he wants to impress. He says I draw the conversation to what I’m interested in, whether I agree with popular opinion or not, and that I forget that somewhere down the line he wants to go into politics and that I should be agreeing more with the people I’m talking to and sharing more positive things about him.”

  “There are no positive things about him,” Annie said.

  “Yes, there are!” Beth protested.

  “Okay, okay.” Annie backed down. In a month, Beth would be more likely to agree that there was nothing good about Charles Simon Reinfeld. Right now, she was still reeling, still thinking she had imagined his phone call.

  “Why don’t you take a few days off and come down here? You need to meet Max.” No way was Annie going to say how nice he was and that now it looked like Mom would most likely be sporting a wedding ring sooner than Beth.

  “I can’t. I’m working on a big case. Plus, tonight I’m meeting with the criminal justice teacher. Hopefully, I’ll find out something from him that will convince Mom to come home once and for all since nothing you’re doing seems to be working.” Beth had stopped crying, although an occasional sniff punctuated her words.

  “Everything is fine here. Mom is fine. Quit worrying about her. Cancel the meeting with the criminal justice teacher.”

  “I can’t. I’m worrying about everything, including you.”

  “I’ll be home on Sunday night. Grab Cathy. It’s time to find out how school’s really going, and let’s have a sisters’ night out.”

  “That might be good,” Beth agreed. “I’ll call you after I have coffee with the professor.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still going to meet him tonight.”

  “Believe it. It’s better than staying home and having a pity party.”

  Annie almost felt sorry for the professor. Beth would be in a mood. “I’m sure the professor will tell you that Mom’s an adult and we don’t need to worry.”

  “I’m sure the professor will tell me as little as possible,” Beth grumped. “Schools and privacy laws leave very little room for conversation.”

  Annie ended the conversation as Joe walked up, Jacko by his side.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “I am, but if there’s time, I want to come back. There’s so much left to explore. You didn’t tell me there was a creek, and I want to see the big tree that you were standing next to, and I want to see—”

  “You’re talking about the black walnut tree.” He glanced at his watch. “I wish we did have time. You’d like the wild raspberries and gooseberries that grow here, but right now we need to head to Dad’s car before it gets dark.”

  In daylight, exactly what happened and what could have happened were even more pronounced. Max’s car was several yards off the road. The ditch he’d almost crossed was about five feet wide. The front wheels had almost made the leap. They were resting against the mud and dirt of the berm, with the front bumper on the edge.

  “This is not going to be fun,” Joe muttered.

  Annie had no clue where he’d begin.

  “Traction is going to be a joke” was Joe’s first assessment. Nevertheless, he positioned his truck so the rear was toward Max’s car. “At least I don’t need to worry about being in the way of other cars. No traffic out here.”

  “No one to stop and offer help,” Annie said glumly.

  The look Joe shot her implied she wasn’t helping, either.

  Joe waved Annie out of the truck. She found an old tree stump to sit on. Unfortunately, he didn’t let her sit for long.

  Next thing Annie knew she was back in his truck, in the driver’s seat, and Joe was in his dad’s car to make sure it was in neutral. Jacko ran back and forth between Max’s car and Joe’s truck, unable to decide where he belonged.

  “We need a tow truck,” Annie advised, loud enough so Joe could hear. “A real one.”

  After a moment, he yelled, “Move forward until you don’t feel any more slack.”

  “I won’t recognize when I don’t have slack. I’ve never helped tow anyone before.” She pressed the gas pedal, and his truck moved forward, its wheels spinning. She watched as the Cadillac tilted a bit, not enough to be called a lurch. To Annie’s thinking, lurching would be good, because then the car would be heading her way. Instead, the car slid down, and it looked like the front bumper separated from the body.

  “Back up,” Joe yelled. “Turn the other way. Try to move forward gradually.”

  She felt the wheels spinning again. Jacko started barking. Over in his dad’s car, Joe was saying something and she doubted he really wanted her to know what it was. Still, when things quieted down, she asked, “What next?”

  He jumped from the car, looked at the front bumper, shook his head, and walked back toward her and said what she already knew. “We’re calling a tow truck.” He flipped out his cell phone and punched a few numbers, and after a moment, one was on its way.

  “Can we go back to the creek while we wait?”

  “If we have time, but first we need to unhook the tow strap and move my truck out of the way. Plus, I need to get Dad’s and Willa’s belongings out of his car.”

  It took only a moment for Joe to unhitch the tow strap. After he’d put everything back where it belonged in the truck’s toolbox, Annie followed him to Max’s car. It took a while longer to clean out the backseat. There were two bags with purchases her mom had made. Joe handed them down.

  Annie opened the bags and gasped. “Paint supplies.”

  “Your mother paints.”

  “She used to, before she married my father and we all came along.”

  “Why’d she quit?”

  “I just told you. She married my father and we all came along. She no longer had any time.”

  “Then she didn’t want to paint or she would have made time.”

  “Spoken like a true male,” Annie said. “You have no idea what it’s like to work and raise a family and try to find time for something you love, like painting or making jewelry.”

  “Sure I do.” Joe put one hand on each side of the door frame and started to lower himself out. “My mom managed to do it and take care of animals. I watched her, and Dad and I helped.”

  Annie rea
ched up to steady him. She half-believed him, that in his mother’s situation, both Joe and his dad helped. Her mother didn’t have that luxury. Annie’s father wasn’t the kind who would have encouraged a hobby like painting, no matter how good at it Mom was.

  That’s when the car shifted. The bumper separated from the car and the car nosed its way down in one abrupt motion.

  Annie scrambled backward but not fast enough. The door caught her on the chin. She’d barely registered pain when something heavy knocked her down. The next thing she knew, Joe’s dark brown eyes were a mere inch away from hers and her chin didn’t hurt at all.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Luckily, she was. She’d already been moving out of the way when the door hit her chin, and it more or less helped her along without really hurting her. “I will be when you get off me.”

  “Oh, right.” He eased up and rolled to the side before jumping up and offering a hand to her.

  “We’ve managed to make things worse, huh?” she asked.

  Joe looked at his dad’s car and then back at her, still just inches away. The fingers that had clasped hers to help her up were still tightly gripping her hand. They were rough and warm and strong.

  Annie wasn’t sure she ever wanted to let go.

  Moments went by, but time didn’t seem willing to allow for words. His fingers had just gone to her chin, to gently touch the area where she’d been bruised, when a horn sounded.

  The tow truck had arrived.

  Joe tugged her toward the side of the ditch and helped her up. She didn’t need his help. She had a scratched chin, not a broken ankle.

  A man was climbing down from the tow truck, a vehicle unlike any tow truck Annie had ever seen. It was huge, with a winch-like thing taking up most of the space in the rear. The operator’s red shirt matched the lettering on the side of his vehicle: KC TOWING. He reached in the front seat and drew out a clipboard. When he turned around so they could see him, Joe stopped.