“Maybe the well will fill up and I can just climb out,” Summer said.
There was an unearthly silence up on earth, where Bale was sitting.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” he said.
He suddenly swung the lantern out of the well. Summer’s stomach lurched. Were she and Shortie going to drown? The lantern appeared over the edge again.
“I see the truck,” Bale said. “Just hang on.”
The well went dark again. She could hear voices murmuring and heard the tailgate open and close. The lantern appeared again. She blinked through the rain dripping in her eyes, trying to make out the shapes at the top of the well. Bale, Keefe, and Queenie all looked down at her.
“Dear heavens,” Queenie said. “You really are down a well.”
“Without a paddle,” Summer said, trying to make light of the worsening situation.
“Okay, hang on,” Keefe said.
“I don’t think there’s room for another person down here,” Summer said, remembering Keefe and Bale’s plan to get Shortie back up. “You’ll just have to throw me the rope.”
“I brought your purse,” Queenie said.
Summer was stumped. Did Queenie think she was going to do some Internet shopping while down a hole?
“Thanks?” Summer said.
“I emptied it,” Queenie said. “I thought you could put Shortie in it. We could pull him out first. God knows that felted bag could hold anything at this point.”
Summer wasn’t in a position to take offense. Bale held the lantern while Queenie tossed the felted bag into the well. It bounced off Summer’s head into the rapidly filling basin at her feet. Summer managed to fish the bag out of the water. Luckily, the thick felting kept the bag from taking on too much water. She loaded Shortie into the bag as Keefe tossed down a rope. Summer grabbed the end of the rope and tied it to the straps of the purse. She was grateful her grandfather had taught her several sound sailor’s knots.
Summer had confidence the rope wouldn’t give. She gave the rope a little tug, kissed Shortie on the nose, and watched as he made his way very slowly up the well. The purse spun and knocked against the bricks, but Shortie was getting closer and closer to safety. She could see Queenie reaching into the well, which meant Bale and Keefe must have been hauling the rope. Queenie must have been lying in the mud as she stretched toward the ascending rope. The rain poured down in a torrent. Summer could see her grandmother’s hands close in around the straps of the purse and haul Shortie out of the well.
“I’ve got him,” Queenie’s voice echoed into the well. “Now let’s get you out of there!”
Bale and Keefe’s heads appeared over the side, Bale shining the lantern once again into the depths. The water was at Summer’s waist.
“Do you know what to do?” Keefe called down.
“Of course,” Summer said, with more confidence than she felt.
When she was at the climbing wall at the gym, there was an instructor at the other end of her rope as well as a four-inch rubber pad on the floor.
“I’ve got the rope tied to the truck hitch,” Keefe said, letting down the rope again.
Summer stood back as the rope splashed into the water. Someone had made a slipknot at her end. She held it up.
“Put your foot in that,” Bale said. “Queenie is going to drive the truck. Keefe and I will be here to pull you over the top.”
“Be careful,” Keefe said. “You all set?”
All set might be a bit strong.
Summer couldn’t speak. The rain was pouring into the well so fast it was getting hard to breathe. She positioned the rope under the arch of her foot and realized she was almost underwater when she bent over. She pulled on the rope, signaling she was ready.
The rope gave a powerful lurch and Summer rose out of the water. Her hands crashed against the bricks, scraping her knuckles. She realized that she had to somehow work with the rope, work with truck, and work with the people who were trying to save her. But she had no idea how to do that and there was no Internet research that could give her the answer. She would have to work on trust, which was not her strong suit. She put her back against one wall and used her legs to climb up the other side. She gave herself over to instinct, and knew everyone involved was doing the same. With a few more bumps and bruises, she finally felt strong hands latching on to upper arms: Bale and Keefe were pulling her the remaining few feet out of the well.
Queenie came racing from the cab of the truck. Shortie, even in the driving rain, barreled toward Summer at Queenie’s heels.
Summer was grateful Bale and Keefe continued to support her. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
Chapter 24
They all piled into the truck, Keefe driving, Queenie riding shotgun. Bale, Shortie, and Summer perched on the back bench of the cab. Unlike Big Red, with every upgrade known to Detroit, the farm truck was a workhorse; no upholstered back seats here. Summer put her head against the window, eyes closed, as they drove back to Queenie’s house. She absently stroked Shortie’s wet fur. She could feel the muscles in his tail moving as he wagged. She couldn’t help but smile. All the humans involved in the drama were spent. But now that Shortie was out of the well, it was business as usual for him.
She had almost drifted into an exhausted twilight sleep when she felt a pressure on her hand. She opened her eyes, Bale was squeezing her hand. She stared at him.
“Sorry to wake you,” Bale said, not letting go of her hand. “Keefe just asked if you wanted to be dropped off at the caboose.”
“I thought you might want to get some dry clothes,” Keefe said, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
Summer wondered if Keefe could see Bale’s hand on hers. She wondered if he cared.
“That would be great,” Summer said.
Keefe changed course and headed up Flat Top Hill.
Summer and Shortie got out of the cab. Summer was surprised that Queenie got out of the truck, too.
“How did you know about that well?” Queenie asked. “I’ve lived on this farm for forty years and never knew anything about it.”
“Grandpa and I found it,” Summer said. “It was the last time I was here. He said he was going to fill it in.”
Summer could see Queenie shaking her head in the darkness.
“He kept so much to himself those last few years,” Queenie said. “I’m sure he meant to fill it in, but his health was failing and he didn’t want anyone to know. He was so full of secrets at the end.”
Summer knew that now was not the time to point out that Queenie herself had become secretive. She also knew that all of them were cold, tired, and hungry. Nothing much was going to be settled tonight. Queenie seemed to read Summer’s mind.
“I better get back to the house.” Queenie said. “I can send some hot chocolate up here if you want to skip all the hoopla.”
Summer tried not to yawn. As much as Summer wanted to get into some dry clothes and curl up with Shortie, she knew it would not be fair to leave Queenie to contend with Lynnie and Bale, who were her guests.
“Oh no,” Summer said, mustering all her energy. “I’ll come down. Shortie and I will be down after I get a quick shower.”
Summer watched the truck head down the back side of Flat Top Hill. She and Shortie went into the caboose. She let out a deep sigh. The thought of packing up all her belongings again so Bale could show the caboose at the convention made her tired to the bone. She shrugged out of her wet clothes, and tied on a warm bathrobe. She was dying for a shower but felt it only fair to get Shortie some food. He’d had a rough day. She poured out some dog food, placed it on the floor, and sat down on one of the built-in benches.
Summer woke, disoriented. There was a knocking sound. It took her a moment to realize she was in the caboose, and a few seconds longer to remember she was at Flat Top Farm instead of a Wal-Mar
t parking lot. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but considering how creaky she felt as she stood up, it must have been awhile.
Rubbing her eyes, she went to the door. She cringed when she saw she was still wrapped in her old tartan bathrobe, and prayed it was Queenie or Lynnie coming to check on her. She snapped on the outside light.
It was Keefe, carrying a plate covered with a napkin.
“I fell asleep!” she said.
“We guessed,” Keefe said. He held up the plate, but made no attempt to come inside. “Queenie sent some leftover casserole and hot chocolate.”
“Oh! That’s great,” Summer said, realizing she was starving. She knew she looked like hell, but her manners and curiosity got the better of her. “Do you want to come in?”
In three steps, Keefe was in the middle of the caboose. He handed Summer the plate.
“Have a seat,” Summer said.
“Okay,” Keefe said. He looked around. “Where?”
She pointed to the bench she had just vacated.
“Then where will you sit?” Keefe asked.
Summer perched on the kitchen counter, motioning Keefe to take the bench. She was mastering the concept of making people feel at home in her tiny house. Shortie also played host and jumped in Keefe’s lap.
“How is Andre?’ Summer asked between bites.
“No worse for wear,” Keefe said. “What a night!”
“Seriously,” Summer said.
It felt like old times reliving farm life with Keefe.
“I somehow expected Andre would lead us to Shortie,” Keefe said. “I think I’ve watched too much TV.”
“He might have pointed,” Summer said, getting into the spirit of things. “If he didn’t have a thorn in his paw.”
“Thank God for that thorn,” Keefe said, turning serious. “I’d hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t remembered…”
“Let’s not even go there,” Summer said, finding her appetite suddenly gone.
They both turned and looked at Shortie, who knew he was being discussed. He raised his head and wagged his tale.
“I heard you telling Queenie that you and Zach found that well together,” Keefe said. “I know he had his pride, but if he’d just told me about it, I could have filled it in years ago.”
“I don’t think it was personal,” Summer said.
“I know,” Keefe said. “But he was pretty direct with me at the end.”
Summer knew this was the perfect opening to put the past behind them.
“I don’t think forgetting to mention the well was his only bad decision,” Summer said, going for broke.
Keefe looked into her eyes. Neither one of them moved, but the current buzzing between them said it all. He knew exactly what she was talking about. She looked down at her shabby bathrobe and realized she still hadn’t showered. The good news was, she was naked underneath the robe. The bad news was, she probably smelled like an old well. This was not how she pictured their big confrontation and possible reconnection.
Keefe might have watched too much TV, but Summer had read too many romance novels.
Shortie started barking. He jumped off Keefe’s lap and ran to the door as he heard a knock. The spell was broken. Summer went to the door. Why was her timing always bad with Keefe? She swung the door open. Bale stood outside. He smiled.
“I saw the light on and thought I’d come see how you were doing,” he said.
She stood back and Bale strode past her, smelling like lime aftershave. Summer could not believe her bad luck. She looked like hell in front of not one, but two desirable men.
“I guess I’ll head back,” Keefe said.
Summer savored the idea that both men had come to check on her. Maybe the bromance was over and the two of them would end up fighting over her. She looked around the caboose. There was nothing breakable in sight.
Definitely too many romance novels.
Keefe stood up and grabbed the plate off the counter. Getting through the caboose with three people and a dog in it was like trying to navigate the aisle of a plane with the beverage cart in the center. After much maneuvering, Keefe stood at the front door.
“Before you leave,” Bale said to Keefe, “I just wanted to let you both know, I’m going to head up to Seattle in the morning to get my houses set up at the show. I know you two have to work tomorrow morning, but I was wondering if we could set a time to get the caboose down to Seattle.”
Both men looked at Summer.
“She’s been through a lot tonight,” Keefe said.
Summer bristled. Keefe had no right to speak for her.
“I’ll totally understand if you want to back out,” Bale said.
“No,” Summer said. “I’m happy to bring the caboose. As a matter of fact, I can be finished at the bakery by midafternoon, and I can get everything out of here and back into the truck in an hour.”
“Hold on,” Bale said, smiling at her. “I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to get the caboose to me tomorrow. In the next day or two will be fine. I’ll hold a platform for you.”
“She can get it to you tomorrow,” Keefe said. “I’ll call Evie. She can come in and help with the bakery. Summer can get the caboose ready and drive down tomorrow. Evie and I will come down before the show closes. How does that work for everybody?”
“Sounds great to me,” Bale said. He turned to Summer. “But only if you’re sure.”
If Keefe wanted to be back in the bakery with Evie, why didn’t he just say so?
“That sounds fine,” Summer said, irritated with Keefe.
No punches thrown, but Bale had certainly come out the winner.
“Okay,” Keefe said. “Well, I’ve got an early morning, so…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. It amazed Summer how fast you could disappear from a tiny house.
She turned to Bale, who was still standing in the middle of the caboose looking around. She could see how much of an interest he took in the place. He seemed at home here.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
“That’s okay. You must be tired,” Bale said. “I should go.”
“No,” Summer said, sounding a little hysterical. She calmed her voice. “No, I’m fine. I’d be happy for the company. Chamomile okay?”
“Perfect.”
Summer stretched to reach the tea in the cupboard above the sink.
“Let me get that for you,” Bale said.
He easily reached over her head and pulled down the box of Chamomile tea.
He took a step back, but their bodies almost touched. As he handed her the box, their fingers brushed against each other. Preparing a cup of tea had never been so exciting.
Bale took the seat recently vacated by Keefe. Shortie took this as a sign for a new lap to sit in and took advantage. Summer heated water in the microwave, making a mental note that she needed to get an electric tea carafe. Microwaved water might be hot, but it was not sexy.
“I have honey,” Summer said, looking through the one cabinet she’d unpacked. “I’m not sure what else I have.”
“Do you have feelings for Keefe?” Bale’s voice came from behind her.
Summer froze. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around.
“I’m sorry,” Bale said. “I have no right to ask that.”
Summer forced herself to turn around.
“Keefe and I… have a history,” Summer said.
She leaned against the counter, gripping it for support.
“Everybody has a past,” Bale said. “I was thinking more along the lines of the future.”
Gently putting Shortie on the floor, he was standing in front of Summer in two strides.
Bale took her face in his hands. Summer lifted her eyes to meet his. He pulled her close and gentl
y kissed her lips. She put her hands over his and closed her eyes. If anyone could make her forget the pain of Keefe Devlin it was going to be Bale Barrett.
“Hey, I just talked to Evie,” Keefe said as he burst into the caboose.
Bale and Summer jumped apart.
“Oh! Sorry,” Keefe said, looking sheepish. “I didn’t realize you were still here,” he added to Bale.
“What about Evie?” Summer said, all business.
“She’s happy to take the morning shift at the bakery,” Keefe said sharply, looking at Summer. “So you can go to Seattle tomorrow with a clear conscience.”
“That’s very good news,” Summer said in an equally sharp tone. “I’ll do that.”
She snuck a look at Bale, and her fears were realized. Bale, as a salesman was probably used to reading the room and the tension in the tiny house could fill a stadium. Even if she threw Keefe out, Summer couldn’t think of any way to rekindle the sweet moment they’d shared.
But there was going to be Seattle! With no Keefe to barge in.
Summer turned to Bale.
“I’ll have the caboose ready to roll by noon,” she said.
“Sounds good,” Bale said. “You can follow me in the bus.”
Without a word, Bale was gone. Keefe stood in the doorway watching Bale head down the hill. He suddenly turned to Summer.
“Why did you come back here?” Keefe said.
“You know why,” Summer said. “Queenie asked me.”
“But you always have one foot out the door, don’t you?”
Summer opened her mouth to respond, but Keefe was gone.
Chapter 25
Lying in bed, awake before dawn as the bakery demanded, Summer found herself reliving the night before. She stretched out her hand to make sure Shortie was safe. Now that everything had turned out okay, she found herself shaking at the endless possibilities last night presented for disaster. She was sure her grandfather was guiding her back through the years to the memory of the abandoned well.
In her years away from Cat’s Paw, Summer had become quite disciplined at averting her thoughts whenever they turned to Flat Top Farm. Now that she was back, so many emotions were at the surface. Her grandfather had been gone ten years, but to Summer, the pain of losing him felt very new. Everywhere she looked, there were reminders of her grandfather’s goodness, kindness, and attention. If she hadn’t been so stubborn, perhaps she could have patched things up. Now, she would never be able to tell her grandfather she forgave him. A tear ran down her cheek as she realized perhaps this was not entirely one-sided. What if her grandfather had not forgiven her for turning her back on Flat Top Farm?
Tiny House on the Hill Page 18