by Nella Tyler
“Oh—if you had plans for them…” I felt my cheeks burning with a blush. Mom laughed.
“The Jones’ sent us four turkeys,” she pointed out. “And, two breasts on top of it. I can get one of the whole birds out of the big freezer and roast that up—make dinner another night and sandwiches for the week.”
She shrugged and went into the living room, leaving me alone. I took a deep breath and began to get down to work: I would need to make and rest the pie crust, and boil the turkey and make the broth, and put everything else together. But I was sure that Cade would love the end result—my turkey pot pie was not quite as amazing as my fried chicken, but it was definitely well worth eating.
I blushed as I moved about the kitchen, gathering up the things I would need and calling the recipe up in my mind. Mom wouldn’t rat me out, I knew that; but I couldn’t help showing Cade a little love, even if I couldn’t tell him what I was doing.
Chapter Fourteen
Cade
The smells coming from the kitchen when I stepped into the house to clean up for dinner nearly blew me away all on their own. I didn’t know what Autumn had decided to make, but whatever it was, I was certain it was delicious.
I went into the bathroom the same as I had maybe ten times since I’d started working for the Nelsons, and cleaned myself up as quickly as possible: washed my hands and face, combed my hair and pulled it back, dusted off my clothes, and dried myself off. I really would have preferred a full shower—but I hadn’t brought clothes to change into, and anyway, that would be delaying dinner too much.
I stepped out of the bathroom and crossed the living room to go into the kitchen. Tuck had washed up, as well, and Mrs. Nelson was finishing up the table setting. Bob Nelson emerged from upstairs, and I looked around until I spotted Autumn, She had a big casserole dish in her hands, and that—I was pretty sure—was where the delicious smells were mostly coming from.
“Thanks for inviting me to stay for dinner,” I said, smiling at the different members of the family. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
“We’re happy to have you,” Bob said, taking his seat at the head of the table. Tuck settled in the same spot I’d always seen him in, to Bob’s right, and Mrs. Nelson took the foot of the table.
Autumn brought the casserole dish to the table and set it down, and I took a few moments to survey everything in front of me as I sat in one of the only seats left.
There was a cucumber-tomato salad, dressed in something creamy, and a pitcher of lemonade. I spotted some pickles of different kinds—I wondered how much Autumn and her mom put away every year—in jars scattered around. The casserole Autumn set down at the center of the table had a golden-brown crust on the top of it; it was clearly some kind of pie.
“What have we got here?” Bob Nelson put his napkin in his lap and began helping himself to dabs and forkfuls of pickles to go with the main course.
“Turkey pot pie,” Autumn replied, seating herself.
My eyes widened. “Really?”
Autumn raised an eyebrow, meeting my gaze. “Something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No—no, nothing is wrong with this.” I smiled. “Turkey pot pie is one of my favorite foods.”
Autumn grinned and I saw the color rising up in her cheeks. “I had no idea,” she said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I began to serve myself along with all the members of the family. I waited until after Bob and Mrs. Nelson took their servings of potpie to get my own helping. It was pretty promising right away: flaky, delicate crust, thick sauce, lots of turkey and vegetables. I filled my plate with the potpie and the salad and a few pickles and got to work eating the delicious food, listening to the ebb and flow of conversation around me.
The first few bites of turkey potpie and nearly brought me to my knees. It was better even than my aunt’s—it was delicious. Not too salty, not to rich, not watery, with really good turkey flavor and perfectly cooked vegetables. “This is amazing, Autumn—really amazing,” I said, meeting her gaze across the table.
“It’s not difficult,” she said, smiling coyly. “It’s basically turkey stew in a pastry shell at the end of the day.”
“Well, if this is turkey stew, it’s some of the best turkey stew I’ve ever had,” I told her.
The blush in Autumn’s cheeks deepened and I decided to let up on her a bit; obviously she didn’t want anyone suspecting there was anything at all between us. There isn’t anything at all between us and there can’t be anything, because you promised Bob Nelson there wouldn’t be anything, I reminded myself.
“So, how was your boys’ day?” Mrs. Nelson asked between bites of potpie and salad, looking from me to Tuck to Bob.
“Productive,” Bob said, nodding. “We managed to get everything we needed to do done—always a good thing.”
“I’m not happy with the noises I’m hearing from the spreader,” Tuck said, shaking his head. “I’m going to take a look at it first thing in the morning, when there’s some good light out.”
“What sort of noises were you hearing?” Bob wiped his mouth on his paper napkin, and Tucker shrugged and mimicked a chucking, stuttering noise with his mouth.
“Cover your mouth with your napkin if you’re going to do that while you eat,” Autumn said sharply.
“Stop showing off for your new boyfriend,” Tuck countered.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Not even close.”
“Autumn is right,” Mrs. Nelson said, her voice firm. “I don’t want Cade thinking I raised a heathen child, and you’re setting a bad example for Addie, too.”
“Addie can barely manage to keep her food off of her face anyway,” Tuck said, though he wiped at his lips. “I’m going to take that spreader apart in the morning and see if there’s something gumming up the works.”
We talked about the schedule for the next few weeks. The work around the farm was pretty steady—not as frantic as the planting was, but there was something to do every single day, even when there wasn’t something specific to the plantings. Things around the farm needed tending, repairing, painting, building. Tuck and Bob had talked about putting in a pen for a few pigs and maybe picking up some weaned piglets from a neighboring farm.
“It might not be a bad idea; we’d have a lot of pork at the end of it, and the pigs could eat some of the compostable stuff,” Tuck pointed out.
“Pig shit stinks,” Autumn countered. “I am not mucking out a pig pen.”
“If you build it the right way, all you have to do is hose it down once a day or so,” Tuck insisted. “And if we got, like, three pigs, we’d have enough pork to last us all winter.”
“While we’re at it, why not get, like, four cows—we’ll have milk and beef that way,” Mrs. Nelson said drily.
“Cows are way more expensive than pigs,” Tuck countered. “Hell—if we got four or five pigs, we could barter two of the finished carcasses for some other stuff, or sell ‘em to the butcher shop.”
“I think we’re doing good with the expansion already,” Bob said, helping himself to another, smaller serving of the potpie.
“Don’t eat too much dinner,” Autumn interjected. “I made dessert, too.”
“What’d you make?” Tuck broke away from the topic of the pigs to look at her speculatively.
“Strawberry cream cake,” she said with a little grin.
“What’s that?” I glanced at the excited faces on the table; only Addie seemed to be as confused as I was.
“It’s layers of pound cake, strawberries, and whipped cream,” Mrs. Nelson explained. In spite of how much I’d already eaten, my mouth watered at the thought.
“We have those strawberries just about to give up for the season, so I figured I’d put them to use,” Autumn said. She shrugged, still grinning. Tuck’s irritation seemed to have vanished at the mention of the treat.
“I don’t know how you guys are able to put away such big meals every day,” I said, shaking my head with a smile. �
��I’d be completely useless if this was my daily dinner.” Everyone at the table laughed.
“It’s not always this rich,” Mrs. Nelson told me. “But we certainly work it off.”
“It’s easier to work when you know you have to,” Tuck said. There was a strange little tone in his voice.
“Well, I have to work, too,” I pointed out. “After all, no one is paying me if I’m not working.”
“Yeah, but what I mean is that if you’re the actual farmer—if you don’t work, everything goes to rack and ruin in a matter of days. It’s motivating.”
I pressed my lips together for a moment and shrugged. “I can see that,” I said.
“There are some days, I’ll admit, when I find it pretty difficult to go back to the fields after a big lunch,” Bob Nelson told me, smiling slightly.
“See—that’s what I meant,” I said. I nodded to him. “The food is wonderful, absolutely delicious. I just don’t know how you don’t end up overstuffing yourself every day to the point where you just want to curl up and sleep.”
Autumn laughed, and I glanced at Tuck; there was a weird little look on his face, to match the weird little tone in his voice from his comment before.
“It’s a whole different ballgame when you own the farm,” Tuck said firmly. “I mean, I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve never worked for yourself, I don’t think; right?”
“Technically I work for myself as a default,” I countered, as mildly as I could. “I’m a contractor, so I have to motivate myself, especially when it comes to something like going for the next job.”
“You’ve had some interesting work experiences,” Autumn said, and I could hear the slight strain in her voice. “I remember looking at your resume and thinking that you’ve done a little bit of everything.”
“Just about,” I agreed.
“But it’s different—you still have a boss at any given time,” Tuck insisted. “Someone else is paying you to work. If you get fired from a job, you can just pick up a new job.”
“Technically, you’re more secure than I am,” I countered, starting to feel irritable at Tucker’s persistence. “Since you can’t get fired.”
“But if the farm fails, there’s no backup plan for us,” Tuck said sharply. “If something wiped out the crops next week, we’d be screwed—but you’d be able to just go and find another job. You’re not really in a position to be as committed to this as we are.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If you really want to get precise about things, you could get a job if the farm failed next week,” I pointed out. “Nothing is stopping you from hiring out on one of the other farms or getting a job in town.”
“I think that Cade has shown a great deal of dedication to his work with us,” Bob Nelson said firmly. “I don’t think he’s any less motivated just because he doesn’t own the place.” Bob turned his gaze onto his son, and I could feel the significance in his look.
“In fact, I can recall a time when you were less than fully motivated to do your part, Tuck. So why don’t we clear this up and get into that strawberry cream cake your sister made? It won’t get any better sitting around waiting for us to eat it.”
Autumn took her cue and stood from the table as I let out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“You’ve been great,” Tuck said, sounding almost resentful of that fact. “Guess I’m just tired—long old day today.”
“Bound to get to anyone, this heat,” I said, giving him the most polite smile I could. “No offense taken.”
But in spite of that—and in spite of the way things lightened afterward as Autumn served up the cake—I knew that Tuck had something of a beef with me. It wasn’t just some silly little argument about whether or not I was more dedicated than he was. There was something deeper going on underneath.
My mom always used to say that arguments are never about what they say they’re about. My argument with Tuck at his parents’ table was proof of that.
Chapter Fifteen
Autumn
Days after Cade had dinner with us, I still felt bad about the way Tuck had gone after him. Cade had defended himself just fine, and he’d stayed respectful the whole time, but it still annoyed me that Tuck had started anything at all.
My parents had raised us both better than that, and I wasn’t sure if he’d gone after Cade as hard as he had because he suspected that I had a thing for him or because of something else. Tuck had a real possessive streak about the farm and a real insecurity about his position in the world.
I’d finished all my chores around the house, and Mom had finished hers; with the guys taking on some of the building, painting, and repair work around the farm and the most relaxed part of the growing season on us, there wasn’t as much to do.
I tried to sit with Mom and watch something on TV—some cooking show she followed—but I felt fidgety. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t really have anything to do. Addie was napping in the guest room, and there weren’t any dishes or laundry to be done. We had more than enough food for leftovers, and it was Mom’s turn to cook, anyhow.
“You’re pretty antsy today,” Mom commented, looking at me during one of the commercials.
“I just feel kind of…” I shrugged. “Off, I guess.”
“You should get out then,” she suggested. “Go do something in town for a few hours, get yourself out of the rut.”
“Do you need me to get something at the store?” I would definitely have welcomed the distraction of grocery shopping or even going to the post office—anything that would occupy my time and my mind.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, go out and do something fun.”
I laughed. “I’m a single mom,” I pointed out. “I’m not allowed to go out and have fun.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said, shaking her head. “Your father and I used to go out once a month when you and Tuck were babies. We’d get Genie to come by the farm and watch the two of you. We’d go to dinner, maybe catch a movie or a play, and forget we were parents for a few hours.”
I sighed—that sounded heavenly. “Yeah, but you had Dad to go with you,” I pointed out. “It won’t be as much fun by myself. And besides, people will talk.”
“Since when have I raised you to care about what people say?” Mom grinned, even as she shook her head at me. “Addie is well taken care of here, and you could use the break.”
I smiled, but I was still feeling doubtful. “I don’t want to hang out all by myself,” I said. “That—if I like, go to a movie by myself or something, that’s just going to look pathetic.”
Mom held my gaze for a long moment. “Well, I have it on good authority that the boys aren’t up to very much this afternoon,” she said slowly. “You could invite Cade or Tuck to go with you.” I felt my cheeks burning.
“If I invite Cade, then Tuck will never let me hear the end of it, and you know it,” I pointed out.
“So invite both of ‘em,” she suggested. “And, make sure you do it in front of your father. Tuck will have to turn you down, after that rant he went on the other day about how responsible he has to be, and you and Cade can go see a show.”
I laughed out loud and then slapped my hand over my mouth, thinking I might have awakened Addie.
“You are too clever, Mom,” I told her. I shook my head, thinking to myself. If I was going to go to the movies with Cade—assuming that he even accepted my invitation—I wanted to look a little more put together than I already did.
Since I’d planned on hanging around the house all day, I’d stuck with just a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. But I didn’t want to go out onto the field looking as though I was going on a date. That would give Tuck all the ammunition he needed to suggest I was interested in Cade. He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want to hear about it every day for the next month.
“Go get yourself changed into something a little nicer, and get out there and ask the boys if they want to go with you to see something at the mo
vies,” Mom said firmly. “Your dad shouldn’t have any problem letting Cade go for the afternoon, and if that boy has the sense that God gave little green apples, he’ll jump at the chance to spend the afternoon with a pretty girl like you.”
I didn’t even correct mom that I wasn’t a girl—I was a grown woman. To her, I knew, I would always be a girl. I didn’t think she was even capable of seeing me as any older than a teenager.
I got off of the couch and walked back to the guesthouse I’d taken after Addie was born. I considered what I should wear; it wasn’t that simple a question, considering I wanted to look nice but not too nice, and signal Cade, but not Dad or Tuck.
I settled on a pair of nice slacks that I’d gotten a few weeks before and a blouse I wore to church sometimes in a soft, creamy peach color. I grabbed a sweater since the movie theater was always chilly and headed out to where I was pretty sure the guys would be.
I found them camped out in the shade, working on one of the pesticide spreaders. “Hey,” I said, smiling as casually as I could. Dad was working with one of the sprayers nearby, and I kept Mom’s strategy in mind. “I’ve been feeling restless and Mom suggested I go into town and catch a movie—either of you want to come with me?”
Tuck looked up from his sprayer hose and glanced quickly at Dad. “Sorry, Sis,” he said, shaking his head solemnly. “I should stick around and work this issue with the spreader out.”
“You going into town, sweetie?” Dad stepped out from between rows and looked me over. “A movie sounds just about right—you need a break from all the work you’ve been doing.” I smiled at him.
“I just don’t really feel like going alone,” I said, shrugging. “But if Cade and Tuck are both too busy…”
“It’s not that busy,” he said with a shrug. “Would you mind taking a half day, Cade? We’ve just about got this field sprayed, and there’s not much to do after that anyway.”
Cade shrugged, but I could see—for just an instant—that he was interested in going. “If you’d rather just head home, I’d understand,” I told him, trying my best to look neutral.