Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4)

by Valerie Comer

  The Grinch had nothing on Allison. Just like the Christmas story, she could practically feel her heart growing a few sizes. And it encompassed not only her nephew but all the women in this room.

  “Food’s up!” called Noel.

  Finnley was on his feet before she was, and she followed him to the farmhouse table, lured by the delicious smells.

  “Hey, squirt, I found something for you in the pantry.” Brent stood behind the chair Finnley had occupied at supper last night. “See? A booster seat. Then you can keep your chin out of your plate.”

  Finnley craned his neck to see as he moved closer, and Brent picked him up — just reached down and picked him up — and swung him into the seat then pushed it close to the table.

  And there was no response.

  Allison closed her mouth. She hadn’t dared touch Finnley beyond the absolutely required. She’d never have dreamed of simply lifting him.

  “Is that okay, Allison?”

  Brent’s gaze met hers over Finnley’s head. He looked a bit worried that he’d overstepped or something.

  She found her voice. “No, that’s great. Much better. Thank you.” She rested her hand on Finnley’s shoulder. The boy shifted slightly, but not like it really bothered him.

  Maybe that heart expansion she’d just experienced included Brent Callahan. But that was possibly the most dangerous direction she could stretch.

  Chapter 16

  Finnley Daniel Hart.

  The name had chewed at Brent’s consciousness ever since he’d overheard it before Sunday lunch. Finnley Daniel Hart.

  Hart was a common enough surname, but Brent couldn’t remember ever knowing a Finnley before. Daniel, however, was his own middle name. Coincidence? Probably. He didn’t remember a Lori Hart, but then, there were gaps in his memory. More like chasms.

  He opened the email from his mother on his tablet in the privacy of his own room at The Landing Pad. The paperclip symbol told him she’d done as she asked. Sent him a few half-remembered photos of his own childhood.

  Brent’s finger shook as he tapped the icon. An image of a little boy riding a tricycle sprang onto the screen. Brent expanded the photo so the child’s face enlarged. His face. Finnley’s face.

  Did they share more than Korean blood?

  Brent closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, God. What do I do now?”

  He swiped to the next image. Then the next. In each case, it was like someone had taken photos of Allison’s nephew. This couldn’t be. No way.

  Hart. Lori Hart. If it were true, he should have a clearer memory of someone who looked like Allison. He hadn’t spent all his time drinking. Too much, but not all.

  Mallory Hart. Mid height, white-blonde, brown eyes.

  Brent dropped the iPad to his bed and paced the small room. She’d lived with him, what, two or three months? When had it been? He’d been flunking out of school, working part-time, struggling to pay his rent.

  She was a drug addict… oh yes, it all came back now. He’d dabbled in her scene but knew better than to go all in, even though she shared his bed.

  Even now, Brent’s face burned with memories he’d tried to suppress. Mallory hadn’t been the only one, but she had been the last. She’d stolen his rent money for drugs, and he’d kicked her out in a scene the entire neighborhood probably still remembered. Because he couldn’t pay his rent, he’d been evicted, too. That had sent him back to Coeur d’Alene where Patrick had taken him in, straightened him out, and set him back on his feet.

  He’d always been thankful he’d hit rock bottom. That God had used those circumstances to work in his heart and draw him to a saving faith in Jesus.

  Brent dropped back in the chair and covered his face with his hands. That had not been rock bottom after all. This was.

  He’d fathered a child. Never knew. Never guessed. He had memories of condoms on his nightstand, but he couldn’t swear he’d always used one. And besides, he’d heard it said those things were not foolproof. He always figured he was lucky.

  Or not.

  Mallory called him Danny Boy. She’d simply dismissed his first name, saying it didn’t suit him, and shortened his second. That had been that.

  Finnley Daniel Hart. Fourth birthday next week. Brent could do his own math. There was little chance of a mistake.

  In the recesses of his mind, he’d always known he couldn’t get involved with a good Christian woman. Allison might have a temper like a whip, but she loved that little boy and treated him like porcelain. And Brent was falling for her.

  He had three choices. Tell her everything, or revert to a fully foreman-client relationship. Or he could ask Patrick to re-assign him. No, his uncle would demand reasons. Brent couldn’t tell him. Which meant he couldn’t tell Allison, either.

  She already despised men. Thought they were strong in body but weak in every other way.

  He’d proved her correct.

  God had saved him, all right, but hadn’t removed the results of his actions. All Brent could do now was pray for Finnley every day for the rest of his life. Pray that Allison met a great Christian guy she’d fall in love with, so Brent’s son could have a daddy.

  He didn’t want to think what the child had gone through. Neglect. Abuse.

  Tears streamed down Brent’s face and dropped onto his clenched fists. “Lord, I didn’t know. I didn’t know! Please forgive me. I didn’t know.”

  * * *

  Allison hadn’t seen Brent for over a week, except from a distance. She heard hammers pounding, drills screeching, and saws buzzing from up at her new house. She’d ventured up there once with Finnley, before his cast had come off, but Curtis had stopped her. “Kid needs a hard hat to come closer.”

  Of course. Brent and his rules. Yeah, yeah, she knew it made sense and was probably even a law. But how else was she supposed to see Brent when he never stopped by? His truck zoomed past the duplex several times a day, but he didn’t so much as wave.

  “You’re skittish, Allison. What’s up?” Jo worked beside her, digging barely-emerged dandelions out of the greening lawn while the two children stalked kittens nearby.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are. Every little noise has you looking over your shoulder.”

  “Checking Finnley.”

  “He’s on the other side of the garden. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were watching for that Timber Framing Plus truck.”

  Allison managed not to glance at Jo. She tossed a nonchalant shrug. “I can’t help but wonder how the house is coming along. I don’t have a hard hat for Finnley, so we can’t check.”

  Jo snickered. “I’m sure there’s a spare hard hat somewhere. Or you can leave Finnley with me for a few minutes if you want.”

  Now there was an idea she could have thought of herself. “Maybe.”

  “You guys have a fight?”

  Allison kept her voice even. “Me and who?”

  “Brent, silly.” Jo tossed a dandelion at Allison’s arm.

  A fight would explain his sudden coolness, but there hadn’t been anything at all. “Brent? He’s too civilized to fight. And there hasn’t been cause.” He’d been rather quiet at Sunday dinner last weekend and had made himself scarce ever since. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a single thing she might have said — that anyone at Green Acres might have said — to shut him down so thoroughly.

  “He seems to have eyes for you.”

  “Guess you’d be wrong, then. Not only that, but I’m never getting married. Men are a bunch of jerks.”

  Jo snorted.

  “No, seriously. They’re not worth the effort.”

  “And I thought I had a jaded upbringing.”

  Allison added another dandelion to the basket. Soon they’d have enough greens for tonight’s pesto. She glanced at Jo. “Oh?”

  “My dad disappeared when I was young. I don’t even know if he ever found out he was a father.”

  “Same as the guy my sister was sleeping with.
Who knows who fathered Finnley? Except in Lori’s case, it was probably she who left the guy. Or a mutual parting.” She couldn’t imagine any man in his right mind sticking with Lori for more than two minutes. Even that was a generous time frame.

  “My mom married when I was old enough to care. If I only had Brad and his sons to go by, I’d have to agree on the whole men-are-idiots thing.”

  Allison knew all along she’d like Jo.

  Jo sat back on her heels. “Though he’s put up with a surprising amount from my mother, all things considered.” She swept her hand. “But then there’s Zach’s dad. You’ve met Steve, haven’t you?”

  Allison nodded. Zach’s parents lived on the farm next door, and his dad’d had some kind of random neurological disease that limited his physical movement. But the man did seem to have a gentle spirit.

  “You’d be hard put to find a nicer man than Steve. And there’s Ed Graysen at church, too.”

  Ed. Ed. Allison thought through her two visits to the Galena Gospel Church. “I don’t think I’ve met him.”

  “He’s an older man. Seventy-something if he’s a day. He’s such a sweetie, though. Seriously.”

  What, Jo wasn’t going to go on and on in praise of her own husband?

  “Pastor Ron is another example of a man who’s been a terrific husband and all-around good person for eons. And Sierra’s dad.” Jo chuckled. “He is the greatest. Even Sierra’s little brother is pretty cool. You’re a friend of their family, right? Have you met him?”

  Allison shook her head. “I heard a lot about him from Chelsea, but he was away at college during the months we hung out.”

  The girls dug in silence for a few minutes. Maddie made enough noise that keeping track of her and Finnley wasn’t a problem. Finally Allison couldn’t stand it any longer. “I keep waiting for you to tell me how awesome Zach is. Isn’t that who you’re supposed to be bragging on? Your own husband? Or maybe he isn’t all that great.”

  Jo chuckled. “I figured you’ve seen Zach around enough to have a good impression of him.” She lowered her voice. “You nailed it, though. He’s not quite perfect.”

  Allison’s eyebrows shot up as she swung to meet Jo’s gaze. “Really? Isn’t that disloyal to say?”

  “I could give you a list of things that drive me crazy each and every day. Trust me.”

  Allison settled onto her rump on the damp lawn and gathered her knees under her arms. “You guys are getting a divorce?” The little Green Acres bubble quivered like it was about to shatter.

  Jo reared back and skewered Allison with a look. “Who said anything about a divorce?”

  “But you said he drives you crazy.”

  “Of course he does. He’s a man. I’m a woman. I’m pretty sure God made both genders then laughed His head off.”

  “But — but I don’t understand.”

  Jo’s voice softened. “There is no perfect guy, Allison. The only flawless man ever to walk this planet was Jesus.”

  “But—” Allison shook her head. This conversation was so not what she’d expected. “Zach seems pretty nice.”

  “Sure he does. But he can’t seem to find the laundry hamper with his dirty clothes, never mind knowing how to turn the washing machine on. He works way too many hours at Landing Veterinary and gets tired and cranky. And sometimes, especially when I’m pregnant, I like a little pampering, and I don’t really get it.”

  Allison opened her mouth and closed it again. This was stuff she didn’t want to know about Jo’s marriage. Until now she’d thought these gals were all perfectly happy… or at least portraying that publicly. Hearing these things made her want to plug her ears.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this.”

  “Yeah.” Allison glanced at Jo. “It’s not like we know each other that well.”

  Jo chuckled. “But you know me better than you did half an hour ago. We’re doing life together here on this farm, but we’re not perfect. None of us. We have to give each other a bit of grace. Sometimes a whole lot of grace.”

  Now that was a new angle. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

  “You mean by joining us?” Jo put her hand on Allison’s arm. “My thinking is God sent you here. You’ve got a lot to offer, and I’m not just talking about the farm school. I’m talking about you as a person.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Allison Hart. A woman who’s been very alone for how long now?”

  “All my life, really.” The words spewed out before Allison could stop them.

  “I understand better than you think. Until I met Sierra and Claire in college, I had no one.”

  Allison had another ten years of alone beyond that. And surely Jo’s father hadn’t — no, the other woman didn’t even know her father. “I had to be strong.” Whoa. She had to get a grip on her voice. No trembling. No teary stuff.

  “But you don’t anymore. We accept each other, warts and all. We know you’re not perfect.” Jo patted Allison’s arm again. “And you know we’re not. But we all love Jesus and believe He’s called us to do something really cool here at Green Acres. Together.”

  The words made sense. But Jo didn’t know everything, and Allison wasn’t about to fill her in. Some memories were best left jammed in a dark closet with the key thrown away. “It’s not just for my sake. I have to be strong for Finnley.”

  Finnley.

  It was too quiet. She whipped her head around. The children and kittens had disappeared.

  Chapter 17

  “Looking good,” Brent said to the electrician.

  The man nodded at the wires running through the studs of the interior walls. “Should be outta here by the end of the week. Then let me know when the drywallers are done so my guys can come back and do the final.”

  Brent grimaced. “That’s not going to be for a while. The windows won’t be here for at least two months. There’s no point in exposing drywall to the elements. We can get some driving rain in this region.”

  The older man pursed his lips. “We have a full summer booked up, but I’m sure we can fit it in when you need us. Let me know as far in advance as you can.”

  “Currently the windows are scheduled to arrive for the house the last week of June. We separated the order from the farm school’s windows so we could get a head start. They’ll be probably two weeks later.”

  “You’ll need a few days to get them in and the drywallers and such. Got anyone lined up for that?”

  Brent shook his head. Something he couldn’t bring himself to talk to Allison about. Along with too many other things. “We did have, but they fell through on account of the schedule taking a whack.” Who’d done the duplexes? He should ask Noel about that. The inside of the straw bale house was plastered, but Zach’s place had some interior walls that weren’t log. Who’d done those? But the school for sure was way too large without an experienced crew. “My boss is still looking for a crew.”

  “This here is an interesting design for a house. Packs a lot of punch into a small footprint.”

  “It does.” Every step Brent took through the space as it took shape, he could imagine Allison taking. Could visualize the finished product. Could see Finnley running down the stairs or perched at the counter. They’d changed the great room layout as Allison wouldn’t need a full kitchen. This bunch cooked and ate most meals together in the big house where Noel and Claire lived.

  Big house indeed. It really wasn’t that large by today’s standards, but it had a professional kitchen and a good flow to the public spaces.

  Everything about Green Acres Farm drew Brent in. The camaraderie with Noel and Zach for one. He hadn’t had that many close guy friends. The whole farm-and-food thing attracted Brent more than he’d have guessed. The peacefulness of country living. The heady scent of spring unfurling in the forest behind Allison’s house.

  Allison.

  Finnley.

  The electrician looked at him strangely.

  Brent shook hi
s head. What had they been talking about? Right. “It’s a great layout.”

  But not big enough for a growing family. Allison had asked him to nestle a computer space under the staircase. She’d intended to use the upstairs as an office. Now the small bedroom and loft area would be Finnley’s.

  His son.

  In the distance, he heard little Madelynn’s squealing grow louder. She and her mama must be headed back to the log house. That kid was so loud she was practically a beacon. Brent couldn’t help grinning as he crossed the space to look out a hole in the wall where one day a window would be fitted.

  Jane Eyre trotted up the path, with Maddie in hot pursuit. It’s a wonder the mother cat let the child get as close as she did, given Maddie’s penchant for hauling her around by the neck. Behind Maddie came Finnley.

  Brent tore his gaze from his son — his son! — to search for Allison and Jo, but there was no adult with the children. He frowned. These two were too young to wander the farm by themselves. Maddie had just turned two, and Finnley would be four next week.

  Where were the women?

  He strode for the gap that would be occupied by a set of French doors one day. The cat veered toward the hillside behind the house.

  “Jane Eyre!” yelled Maddie. “C’mere, Jane Eyre.”

  Brent crouched down to intercept the toddler. “Hey, Maddie. Where’s your mommy?”

  She pushed past his arm. “Mine kitty.”

  “Does Mommy know you’re chasing the cat? Where’s Mommy?”

  Maddie peered around Brent’s shoulder, but he didn’t let her past. “Jane Eyre gone,” she announced sadly.

  Lucky cat, this time.

  Brent looked past Maddie to Finnley, and his heart clenched. He’d managed to avoid a close encounter since his revelation last week, but now that the boy stood in front of him, he wondered how he’d ever missed the connection for even a moment.

  Finnley looked up the path the cat had taken, not seeming to notice that Brent knelt in the way of his and Maddie’s pursuit. The little guy wore jeans and a navy T-shirt not that dissimilar from Brent’s current attire. Bright red sneakers peeked below the jeans.