Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4)

by Valerie Comer

  Keanan touched Allison’s shoulder. “You up for this?”

  She nodded, a quick jerky nod. She lived on this farm. She and Finnley took meals with everyone else. She’d do her part.

  By now two more birds sat waiting. Keanan set one on Allison’s board and arranged the other in front of himself. Jo leaned across to watch and guide.

  Allison reached for her knife. Buying fried chicken at the drive-through had never sounded so good.

  * * *

  Brent’s heart lurched. She was there, with the others. Not that it helped. The Green Acres gang obviously had an assembly line going on as chickens squawked before they were forever silenced. This wasn’t a good time to invade her space or push her.

  Finnley turned on the little slide to watch Brent drive past.

  Brent lifted his hand to wave but dropped it before he’d finished the motion. Though he ached for the child, he couldn’t flaunt Allison’s wishes. She was Finnley’s guardian, not him. And if he wanted to win her approval — and he certainly did — it was best not to get on her bad side. Again. Or more?

  Who knew his past would haunt him for years to come? He’d thought — hoped — that receiving God’s forgiveness would wipe his slate clean. Yeah, so God promised to put his sin as far as the east is from the west, but it was different with people. Funny to think humans had a longer memory than God did.

  He parked the truck by the gorgeous structure he was building for Allison and Finnley. He tried to be thankful every day for the opportunity to construct this house for them while wishing he could also help create a home.

  To see Allison puttering in the little kitchen or glancing up from the computer nook he was building her with a look of love in her eyes. To see Finnley running down those log stairs and leaping into his arms.

  Should he push for custody? DNA tests would prove his paternity.

  He could talk to Patrick about opening a satellite office in Galena Landing. He could nail down the building projects that dangled as possibilities. But then he’d need to put Finnley in daycare. The kid sure didn’t need that, not when his life had been so disrupted already.

  Of course, with full custody, he wouldn’t need to stay in Galena Landing. He could cut Allison right out of Finnley’s picture. That certainly wasn’t the way to her heart. He’d do that only if there was no other way to keep in touch with his son.

  Would she agree to joint custody? Then he’d have to keep seeing Allison, but he wouldn’t win any points from her. He snorted as he slammed the truck door shut and crossed the yard. He had no points to lose, as far as he could tell. The judge would be the one to decide whether to allow either of them access.

  Could he stand trading Finnley off at the beginning and end of every weekend and looking Allison in the eye? Their relationship would never recover. And besides, he couldn’t do that to her. He just couldn’t.

  The guys had set up scaffolding across the front of the house. Curtis sat in the Bobcat, raising a pallet of fiber cement siding to the scaffold while Franco directed him. Now that the windows were in, they could finish the exterior.

  Brent gave the guys a thumbs-up and headed into the house through the French doors. Would anyone even use the front door across the room? He winced. Didn’t look like that was going to be his problem.

  For now, he was back to creating the best shelter he could for the two people he loved most in this world.

  * * *

  After Brent’s truck rumbled by, Allison kept a closer eye on Finnley for a few minutes. The boy had definitely noticed. He looked glummer than usual when he turned back from staring up the driveway, chin resting on both fists as he scowled at Allison.

  “You guys haven’t talked yet?” asked Jo.

  Allison shot her a sidelong look. Was nothing private around here? Oh, right, the famous full-disclosure thing that had gotten Sierra into so much trouble with the group last fall when she’d kept information from everyone. But that had been info the group needed. Allison’s love life — or lack of it — was no one’s business but her own.

  “What happened?” Jo went on. “Seemed like you might be onto a good thing with our resident contractor for a while.”

  Did Allison mistake Keanan’s sudden interest in the conversation, or was it her imagination that he shifted slightly closer to her, his head tilted just a little?

  “Nope.” Allison elbowed Keanan. “Pass another chicken, please.”

  Jo chuckled. “You may think you’re the only one who’s ever felt confused in love, but you’re wrong.”

  Allison’s back stiffened. A bird plopped onto her cutting board. She stabbed it just below the ribs. An odor more putrid than usual exploded from the bird. Allison bit back a bad word. Great. She’d split the intestines.

  Jo waved her hand in front of her face. “You’ll have to rinse that one extra well.”

  Allison glared at her. If Jo weren’t pregnant, Allison would blame her for the error in judgment and make her gut this chicken. She turned aside and took a deep breath. She could pretend Jo was at fault, but no one’s hand but hers had held this knife. Better get it over with.

  She held her breath as much as possible as she hurried the bird through the process then held it under the garden hose until the stench dissipated. “Is it really clean enough?” She held it up to Jo.

  Her friend looked a little green as she peered inside. “Yep, it’s good. Give your gloves a good wash, then rinse this guy again and drop him in the cooler.”

  “Okay.” She sprayed water on each hand in turn. “I promise to pay better attention to what I’m doing in the future.”

  Keanan chuckled. “I bet you will. So will we all.”

  When Allison resumed her station, Jo said, “What happened there kind of answered my question. You and Brent Callahan have some unfinished business, and it’s eating at you.”

  Allison wiped her cutting board clean.

  “Brent’s been looking for you every day this week. Sometimes several times a day.”

  Allison reached for a chicken.

  “He seems really concerned about something.”

  Her knife would go in just so. Not too deep this time.

  “He’s got all the signs of a man in love.”

  Perfect. Only the skin slit. Now to slip the blade under the skin and make the next cut.

  “What signs are those?” asked Keanan.

  Thank you, Keanan. You all just talk about love without me. It’s better that way.

  “Oh, you know,” Jo said. “He’s always watching for her, always brightening when someone mentions her name. He’s working long hours, but comes down to the yard oftener than he used to. Drives a nail or two into the farm school building, stares at the duplex, then goes back up the hill.”

  “I get that he’s watching for her.” Keanan reached for the water hose. “But he’s building her house. Maybe he just has a question to run by her.”

  “Wouldn’t he leave a message for her, then? A note on her door? Or—” Jo put in an effort to snap her gloved fingers “—send her a text, maybe? He’s got your number, doesn’t he, Allison?”

  In more ways than one. She nodded sharply but didn’t look up.

  “Is he sending you texts?”

  Seriously. It was time Jo stopped poking at this. There’d been a flood of texts on Monday. Tuesday through Thursday had seen dozens more. She no longer clicked through to see his words. The first few had all been the same. Reading them over and over again was like picking at a wound. Why make the pain repeat? Maybe time would numb it.

  “A sign of unrequited love, Keanan, is what Allison is doing right now. Moping. Refusing to talk about it. Being sullen.”

  She’d show Jo sullen. She’d show her refusal. If only they weren’t tied to the chicken line for hours to come. They’d done, what, a dozen of the hundred scheduled?

  “Which is exactly how Brent is acting, too,” Jo went on. “And then there’s the whole thing where they glance at each other when they think t
he other isn’t looking.”

  She had not done that. She’d stayed right off the farm as much as she possibly could.

  “That’s rough,” Keanan said. “This whole love business. You’d recommend they just talk to each other?”

  Jo leaned on the table. “Have you ever met a problem between two people that was solved without talking things through?”

  “Good point.”

  However, there was kissing. Six weeks ago it seemed, for a little while, as though kissing might solve the problem without the need for words. Hadn’t brought lasting results, though.

  “The thing is, Keanan,” Jo went on. “It’s not just affecting Allison and Brent. It’s affecting all of us.”

  Thanks, Jo. How about talking directly to Allison instead of pretending to have a discussion with Keanan? And what possessed the guy to go along with this charade?

  “It’s even affecting F—” Jo gasped. “Allison, where did he go?”

  Allison’s head jerked upright and she stared at the children’s playground not ten feet away. Empty.

  Chapter 30

  Now that the windows were in and the early July heat wave had hit, the house needed air conditioning. Brent opened all the windows on the main floor wide. When could he get the heating contractor over to hook up the air exchange system? He climbed the stairs and opened the clerestory windows in the loft and Finnley’s bedroom. A slight breeze tickled his face as he ran his fingers over the smooth window frame Franco had installed just yesterday.

  A slight movement at the edge of the trees caught his eye. Finnley.

  How could a man’s heart leap and sink at the same time? He wanted nothing more than to spend time with the boy. Okay, that was a lie. He wanted Allison more, but she and Finnley were a package. They came together… or stayed away together, if Allison had anything to say about it. He’d bet anything she didn’t know the boy had followed Brent up to the house, though she’d notice any minute.

  Brent skidded down the stairs and hurried out through the French doors. “Finnley? Does Auntie Allison know you’re here?”

  The little man crossed his arms over his chest and gave Brent a disapproving glare so similar to one of Allison’s that Brent’s throat caught.

  “Listen, squirt. You have to obey Auntie Allison. You can’t come up here without her.”

  “Hard hat?”

  Brent squatted in front of the boy. “It’s not because of the hard hat. It’s because it’s her job to take care of you. To keep you safe.”

  Part of him balked. It should be him. He was the boy’s father. Obviously something in Finnley pulled him in Brent’s direction. Like deep inside he knew there was a deeper connection than the contractor-client thing.

  The fact remained that Allison was his legal guardian.

  Finnley’s dark eyes filled with tears. “Want you.”

  Brent raked his fingers through his hair. How had this happened? This was wrong, wrong, wrong. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” His arms twitched with the effort of resisting the impulse to gather the child tight.

  “Finnley?” Allison’s voice called from down the hill.

  The boy didn’t blink.

  “Better go back, squirt. She’s looking for you. Worried about you. She loves you.”

  Finnley’s jaw set as he shifted.

  Brent’d seen the same posture in the mirror a time or two. He nudged Finnley’s shoulder. “Go find your aunt.”

  “No want to,” whispered Finnley.

  “I know. But sometimes we have to do what’s right, even if we don’t want to.” One of life’s hardest lessons. Brent’s heart ached that a four-year-old needed to learn it.

  “Finnley?” Allison’s voice was closer now. Louder.

  Brent jerked his chin toward the path. “Better go, squirt.”

  A tear trickled down the little brown face.

  Brent couldn’t stand it anymore. He scooped Finnley up in his arms and nearly stumbled when thin arms tightened around his neck, all but cutting off his next breath. He started for the path.

  “Finnley? Where are you?”

  “He’s right here. We’re coming.” Brent walked toward Allison’s voice. If nothing else, Finnley had precipitated their meeting. She’d have to talk to him now, wouldn’t she?

  One glimpse of her face a moment later dashed that thought. Her lips were drawn into a tight line and her eyes flashed fire. “Finnley Daniel Hart. You may not run off without asking me.”

  Brent felt like he’d never get a full breath again as the little man buried his face in Brent’s throat. He tried to unwind the boy’s arms, but it was impossible. An octopus couldn’t have held on any tighter, even with double the appendages. And besides, Brent kind of liked the trust his son had in him. A trust that Brent would keep him safe from his aunt. Yeah, no good could come from this one.

  “Put him down, Brent Callahan.”

  Desperation tinged his words. “Can’t you see I’m trying?”

  Allison stepped closer and pulled one of Finnley’s arms loose. “Come on, buddy. Brent has work to do. You need to come back with me.”

  The boy’s head movement was so slight Brent doubted Allison could see it. Brent only felt Finnley’s chin twisting against his collarbone. He met Allison’s exasperated gaze. Something lay behind it though. Something like panic, maybe. Anger. Sorrow. Regret.

  All that was gone in an instant when she broke contact.

  It occurred to Brent that he didn’t need to hold Finnley to keep him from falling. The kid was doing all the work. That left Brent with two sort-of free arms. He turned sideways, got an arm around Allison’s waist, and pulled her close.

  For half a second he thought his ruse might be successful before she twisted out of his grasp.

  “Don’t.”

  “Allison, I — we need to talk.” He held both hands out away from his body so she could tell this embrace wasn’t his idea. The boy clung like a leach.

  Her eyes went everywhere but to his face. “I don’t think so. There really isn’t anything to discuss.” Her arms crossed in front of her, just beyond his easy reach.

  Saying anything in front of Finnley was dangerous. He knew that, but nothing else had worked. “Allison, I love you. I know what you heard the other day. I’m sure you don’t doubt whether it’s true or not, but I’ll admit it. It’s true.” Brent wrapped his arms around the child who clung to him. “About him.” He’d stop before making it so clear Finnley could understand the meaning. The time for that would come later, but not now.

  Allison’s jaw clenched as she stared at the ground. But hey, she was here. She was listening. That was progress.

  “I lived a wild life. I didn’t figure I was hurting anyone. I know now that I was wrong, but it took a while to get that through my head. I’ve confessed my sin to God, and He has forgiven me. I know it.”

  Still no response.

  “That doesn’t undo the consequences. I have mixed feelings about that, I’ll be honest. I never imagined the powerful feelings from… this.” Brent ran his hand down his son’s warm back. He took a step closer to Allison.

  She didn’t back up.

  “But it’s definitely not the only reason I want to be part of your life. I loved you before I ever knew about… this.” He continued to caress Finnley’s back.

  Allison took a deep breath. He was close enough to hear the shudder in it. He took another step, but this time she sidled away. “Finnley, please get down and come with me.” Her voice shook. “I need you to obey right now.”

  This time Finnley let Brent disengage his grip. Brent crouched as he set the boy down. “Go with Auntie Allison, squirt.” He nudged Finnley toward Allison then glanced up at her. “This isn’t over,” he said quietly.

  “You’re right. It’s not.” But the glimmer in her eyes still shone more anger than love.

  He had a feeling the kind of “over” she had in mind was not going to be the kind he’d like.

  * * *

  “You
stay here and play with Maddie. No more running off.” Allison pointed Finnley toward the tire swing. No missing the resistance in his shoulders to both her touch and her words.

  What was his fascination with Brent? She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ground. The stress of all this was not good for any of them.

  She returned to her spot at the table and tied her apron back on, angling her body to keep a better eye on Finnley.

  He dropped to the ground with his back to her, obstinacy in every line of his body. Well, two could play that game. Half his genetics were her sister’s. Allison was at least as stubborn.

  On the other hand, half his DNA was Brent’s. Somebody else who was stubborn as sin and twice as black. How was she going to win this one?

  “I’m thinking of going to Portland for a few weeks,” she told Jo barely above a whisper. A glance at Finnley revealed no sign he’d overheard. “I need to get him away from him.” Her chin jerked from her nephew to her house.

  “Have you ever considered talking things through?”

  Had Jo ever considered minding her own business? “Do you have any idea what he’s done?”

  “Uh…” Jo glanced up the chicken line and leaned over the table. “No. Why don’t you fill me in?”

  It would be a relief to dump it on someone else. Then maybe they’d stop assuming it was something that could be merely talked away. As if talking could undo what Brent had done. What her sister had done. What her father had done.

  “This is hardly the place.”

  “That bad?”

  Allison raised her eyebrows and looked Jo in the eye. “You have no idea.”

  “We’re half done with the chickens,” Keanan said conversationally, as though reminding them of his presence.