“Sounds great.” Something in his demeanor told her there was more to his plan. “What else are you doing?”
“Can’t keep anything from you. I put one of the milk goats in the pen by the barn and named her Jugs.”
“You’re kidding. Jugs?” She shook her head. “Sometimes, I think you’re just a bit crazy.”
“Crazy about you.”
The words hovered between them with an air of expectation. She knew she’d missed something, but what eluded her. Then a memory niggled—prodding her with something Cheri had said once. “That’s one of those cheesy lines that I’m not supposed to like.”
“Cheri.”
She grinned. “Yep. I just don’t get what’s so bad about it. I think it is sweet. Well, it wouldn’t be if you didn’t mean it, but—”
“You know I do.”
She stood, bowl in hand, and hugged him before carrying it to the sink. “I know. Even if I didn’t, those chickens would have told me.” At the sink, she turned, leaned against it, and crossed her arms. “Did you say you figured out the Jason Ross issue?”
“Yep. Something about him bothers me.”
“Mom says you’re jealous.”
Chad shook his head. “I wish that was it—really. But it’s not. I just wish I knew what it was. Oh, and Brad says Ross was trying to figure out how to come out here.”
“I did say he was welcome to take a tour, but he hasn’t come…” She shrugged. “If he does, I’ll get Becca to give him a tour.”
He crossed the room, filled his bowl with water, and wrapped his arms around her. “Thanks, lass. If I knew what—”
“Well, it doesn’t matter really. You’re not comfortable with him. That I can understand. I’ll work with that.”
Chapter 183
Jason watched Chad hit the beat and smiled. Time to visit Willow. Had she been waiting for him? She must have wondered why it took him so long to take her up on her invitation. The way she pretended to snub me when she was in town—kind of cute. The cop didn’t appreciate his wife. Men like you shouldn’t get married. You’re too self-centered. Women like her need someone to show lots of attention and appreciation. She’d be sorry she married him. From what he’d read, he was the first person she’d met after walking off that farm—that evil farm.
Each mile that brought him closer to the farm drove brought fresh waves of angst over him. Could he do it? It was her fault. Then again, it wasn’t. Do you blame the child for the crimes of the mother? Then again, without the child, the mother wouldn’t have committed those crimes, would she? Still, he hadn’t expected her to be so kind—to like him.
She definitely likes me.
In his mind, he pictured Chad staring at the suitcases she set outside the door as she ordered the fool to leave. You should have been a better man. The curve came upon him sooner than he expected. The other cop—Brad—he hadn’t been kidding. The curve was more of a bend than a true curve. The farm came into view and Jason choked. Such a peaceful-looking place. What was the word Marta had used when she saw the picture—serene.
Flipping on the blinker almost took every ounce of willpower he had. Turning—nearly impossible. He managed, however, but stopped at the end of the long curving drive. Maybe he shouldn’t come. Maybe he should go home, tell Marta that he didn’t like the area, and move on with his life. The past had held him captive for a quarter of a century. Wasn’t that long enough?
Movement. He saw someone step off the porch and knew instinctively that Willow had brought her children outdoors. The golden grasses, rich colors of the trees behind the house and on every side—beautiful. Like her.
As his car neared the house, she glanced up at him, but a straw hat hid her face. Was she happy? He stepped from the car, waving. “I came to take you up on that offer of a tour.”
Willow’s eyes slid to the basket beside her. The baby—the one named after the woman. You were the same age when your mother killed my father. You’re just like her, aren’t you? You Finleys. You kill innocent visitors. Was it here? He swept the area at the corner of the yard. That’s where the article said she’d shot his father. Did he beg for mercy or did he even have a chance?
A flicker of something—was it fear?—skittered across Willow’s face. You should be scared, but you don’t even know it. That’s the best part. You don’t even know it.
“Did you find us okay?”
“Not hard at all once you know which way to turn off the highway. Officer Brad said the first house on the left and about five miles from the turnoff.”
“That’s right. Welcome to Walden Farm.” She rolled a ball for her boys to chase.
“Why Walden? Why not Finley or Tesdall—even Fairbury?”
“It’s because of Thoreau. The beginning of his book, Walden, says that he decided to live life deliberately—”
“‘To suck the marrow out of life.’ I remember that from school.”
She grabbed the ball from one of the boys bonked him gently on the head with it, and rolled it away again. “I always feel like I’m making them play fetch like a dog, but they love chasing the silly ball.” She stepped forward when one of the boys fell and then relaxed as he got himself up, stared at his hands, and then tried to catch up to his brother. “Mother was very purposeful about her life—our lives.”
She had that luxury. She stole that luxury from Dad. You stole that luxury. There it was again. That flash of something that made Willow look so unsettled. Keep calm. Don’t let her see you upset. She can’t help her mother’s evilness.
Twice since his arrival, Jason had unnerved her with strange expressions. Did he really care what she did on her own farm? Was living a full life truly that awful? Before she could respond, he glanced around the yard. “So, what do you grow here?”
Willow pulled out her phone and punched Becca’s number. “Hey, we have a visitor. I thought you’d like to give the grand tour this time.” There it was, another flash of irritation. This time, she had no doubt. “Great. See you—oh, okay.”
“Our employee, Becca, will be right here. She’s just closing off the gate to the pasture—moved the sheep this afternoon.”
“Why wouldn’t you give a tour of your own farm?”
“Oh, I’ll bring the boys and Kari and come too, but I thought it would be good practice for her.”
“I see.”
The cold tones of Jason’s voice unnerved her even more. She tried to make small talk, but the boys kept darting in every direction, something else that bothered their “guest.” In an attempt to keep the awkwardness at bay, she pointed to the lavender along the drive. “There,” Willow raced to stop Lucas from tearing out the mums by the front step. “—we planted the lavender Mother always wanted. She just never had the time to water them in the beginning.” In another direction, she pointed to the strawberry bed. “I doubled the strawberry bed that first year. We used to have more than we could eat, but the birds enjoyed the rest, so it was okay. Now we have almost a quarter acre and it provides enough for us and all who want them in Fairbury.”
“That many strawberries on a quarter acre? Seems a bit fantastic.”
“That quarter acre can produce eight to ten thousand pounds of strawberries if we push it. We freeze maybe one hundred pounds for our use over the year. That leaves a lot for residents of Fairbury and for the birds.”
“So you’re telling me that farming is for the birds.” Jason winked.
All hesitation dissolved. There was no reason to read anything into facial expressions that left before they could settle. He could have a nervous twitch or something—particularly after she had been so welcoming in town and so odd when he arrived at the farm. Smiling, she agreed, “Something like that.”
As Becca rounded the corner, Willow beckoned her. “Jason, this is our new employee, Becca. Becca, this is Jason. He’s visiting Fairbury—trying to decide if he wants to live in the area. Would you start with the gardens behind the house while I get Kari in the wrap and a stroller for the
boys?”
Without waiting to see his reaction, Willow turned and tried to corral the boys into the house. Kari squirmed in the basket, but thanks to the boys’ antics, Willow spent more time keeping them from dismantling the house than getting her baby tied to her. Frustrated, she carried them into the kitchen, strapped them in their chairs, and rushed to tie Kari to her before they realized that they weren’t getting a snack.
Something about her nervousness at failing to meet her sons’ expectations, bothered Willow, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Instead, she pulled each boy out of the chair and led them outside, excitedly talking about the stroller, the chickens, and the sheep. “We might even get to see the big cows!”
“Cow.” Liam echoed with a solemn expression on his face.
Not to be undone, Lucas clapped and almost laughed as he said, “Cow.” The way the lad’s head cocked like a confused puppy made Willow doubt that her son knew what he said actually meant.
“Exactly. Now, let’s—oh, there they are.” She wheeled the stroller—bounced it more to be precise—across yards and paths to reach Becca and Jason. “What’d I miss?”
“I just told him about how Chad moved your personal animals back closer to the house and separated them from the flocks and herds.”
“Seems like adding a lot of work to your plate. Can you manage?”
The concern Jason showed started to irritate her, but Willow stamped it down again. People who didn’t grow up with daily chores like that didn’t know or understand how rewarding it was to have that routine—that personal connection to their food. “It’s very little work to let out the chickens and feed them each morning and evening. Milking the goat is a bit trickier, but Chad does it most of the time anyway—”
“And I’d do it if she needed me to,” Becca interjected.
“Exactly. I missed the routine, so Chad moved them back. He’s like you. He doesn’t quite get it, but you can’t wipe out twenty years of habit overnight, and I didn’t want to.”
“Makes sense. So who buys all this stuff?”
She followed, listening as Becca explained their operation. It surprised Willow how quickly her friend had adapted to the changes in her life. Poor Josh—each time he came out, he found her elbow deep in animals, plants, or candles and shuddered. She missed the first part of something Jason said, but caught the rest mid-sentence. “—your fiancée plan to join you, or does he have a job in town, or…”
“Josh is working on a way to avoid the commute to Rockland. Right now, he has a job in a fabric store in the city, but that doesn’t pay well enough for such a long commute.”
“Fabric store. What does he do?”
“Well, he’s supposed to be a department manager and buyer, but half the time it translates into a floor clerk. He’s wonderful with fabric.”
“Well,” Jason hedged, “that’s interesting.”
“The orchards are back here.” Willow pointed to the barns, hoping to distract Jason from the “horrible” realization that Becca’s husband-to-be happened to enjoy working with fabric. The idea irritated her, but Chad had assured her that in some circles, a man who enjoyed fabric wasn’t much of a man at all. Ridiculous, in her opinion.
“So how many acres of trees do you have?”
As Becca explained each facet of the farm, Willow listened, pointed out different things to her sons, and tried to keep Kari from deciding that close proximity to her chest meant lunchtime again. Halfway to the alfalfa field, she stopped. “Kari insists on eating again. I’ve got to go back. I’ll pull out some cherry-almond bars from the freezer and put them on the top of the stove to defrost. Come on in when you’re done.”
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried back to the house and left Jason in Becca’s charge. “So, lads, do you think you’re old enough for a couple of bites of cherry-almond bars, or do you think you should stick to your cookies?”
Neither boy responded. A glance through the clear vinyl in the cover showed boys that looked too sleepy for her comfort. “It’s not naptime yet. You boys wake up!”
Liam leaned back, met her eyes, grinned, and promptly fell asleep.
Becca led Jason into the house just as Willow crept downstairs after putting the boys to bed. Kari slept in her basket under the dining room table, and Becca laughed, pointing it out to Jason. “She always puts that basket under a table.”
“Why?”
“Because Chad tripped over it once and she’s convinced that if she puts it on the table, the baby will learn to roll over at that very instant.”
“Liam nearly fell off the bed once—in the basket! I’m not risking it.”
Jason stared at each of them, shaking his head. “Who knew a farm could be so fascinating? I sure didn’t. Wow.”
Willow and Becca snickered, but neither bothered to explain when Jason raised questioning eyebrows. Instead, Willow encouraged them to follow her to the kitchen and served the cherry-almond bars. Jason almost agreed to a cold glass of milk, but Becca shook her head. “He won’t like it, Willow. Better give him water.”
“I don’t know what is wrong with people. Why would anyone prefer that plastic milk over good, fresh goat’s milk?”
Their guest nearly choked. Coughing, he shook his head. “I think water will be fine, thank you.” He glanced around the kitchen. “This is a big room for such an old house. That stove—is it real a real wood cooking stove?”
“Yes. We don’t use electricity in the house much.”
“So,” Jason began, “I overheard some strange rumors in town—one being that you were born in this house.”
“I was.” Willow and Becca exchanged glances before Willow continued. “Mother had planned to walk to town at the beginning of labor—thinking it would be good for her.”
“She thought walking five miles in labor was a good idea?”
Willow tried to keep from snapping. “Well, most first babies do take quite a while to come. I’m sure Mother planned to rest along the way. Even if it took three hours to get there, she wouldn’t have been anywhere near delivery.”
“So you were a faster baby than she expected, then.”
“No…” Willow poured a large glass of milk, feeling just a little smug about making him squirm, and sat at the table. “There was a thunderstorm. She couldn’t walk; we have no phone so she couldn’t call, so she was alone.” Without meaning to, Willow added, “It was horrifying.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what would make a mother tell her child—”
“You assume much when you know little, Mr. Ross.” Willow stood. “I think perhaps this visit is probably best ended here.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jason began.
“No, perhaps not. Nevertheless, you did. I would appreciate it if you would leave. I don’t want to have to call my husband.”
“Surely he doesn’t have jurisdiction—”
Willow stared at him agape. “Regardless of the fact that the city limits are just the other side of our property, Chad most certainly has jurisdiction of his own house.” She pulled out her phone. “Shall I call and ask him what he would like me to do about a man who refuses to leave or—”
“I’m going.” Jason stood, took two steps, and reached back for the cherry bar. “Might as well take this. You can’t eat it now.” He nearly dragged his feet through the house, his eyes almost refusing to leave the bathroom door, and yet he paused at the front door. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive. Thanks for the tour. You have a great place here. Not everyone has such an idyllic childhood. The rest of us just wish we had one.”
Becca and Willow stared at one another. At last, Becca said, “That was weirder than weird.”
“You said it.” With a sigh, Willow pulled out her phone. “I suppose it’s time to eat crow with Chad.”
“He didn’t want that man here?”
Willow shook her head. “Didn’t trust him.”
Becca started for the back door muttering, “D
on’t you just hate it when they’re right?”
Chapter 184
Sun shone through the windows by the time Willow finished nursing, changing, and dressing Kari that Friday morning. Undaunted, Willow took the boys outside to feed the chickens and Portia and gather eggs. Kari, wrapped to Willow’s chest, cooed as Willow passed the boys their tiny baskets. “Well, chickens cluck more than coo, but you have the right idea.”
Once in the coop, she opened the doors and scattered seed across the soil. Each boy stuffed their hands in the feed bag she held out to them and flung it on the ground. Liam reached down to grab some back, but Willow stopped him. “No, Liam. Stop.” She waited for him to obey. A silent, unmoving battle of wills began. He stared at her, at the tempting pile of chicken feed, and back at her again.
“Some?”
“No. We’ll go get breakfast in a little while. Chickens’ turn.”
“Turn.” Liam stared back at the ground as if the most tempting thing since the fruit in the Garden of Eden. He sighed. “Turn.”
As she watched the boys look for eggs, Willow wondered just how much her little son understood. The boys were mimics—little mocking birds who copied nearly everything they could. Did he merely echo her words in an attempt to be a “big boy,” or were those words slowly starting to make sense to the little guy?
The chickens, unused to little feet, scattered as they neared the door to the coop. Lucas turned to chase, but Willow pushed him through the door. “We need to get eggs. Leave the chickens alone. Look.”
She moved a few pieces of straw and pulled out an egg. “See? Can you find one?”
Both boys plunged their hands into the straw in the same nesting box. Laughing, she moved Liam to the next one. “Look. Right there. Be gentle. Very gentle.”
The egg squished in seconds. “Well, now we have to change out the straw, don’t we?” Despite the calm that she forced herself to display, Willow was frustrated. She’d hoped for some kind of egg gathering prodigy who would know instinctively what “gentle” meant and be able to pick it up and put it in his little basket. Before she could stop him, Lucas plunged his hand into the nearest nesting box and crushed an egg. “Well… two down…”
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