by Ami Weaver
They sat and the doctor went over the details. The upshot was Uncle Joe would be sidelined for the next six to eight weeks. Darcy knew it would make him crazy.
They shook hands with the doctor and went back in the waiting room.
“He’s okay,” Marla said to Carol, and promptly burst into tears. Her friend opened her arms and hugged her close. Mack came over and stood next to Darcy, but didn’t touch her.
“Good news,” he said quietly.
She nodded and gave him a wan smile. “Very. A huge relief. They said Aunt Marla can see him soon, once he’s out of recovery.” She glanced at the clock. “Another forty-five minutes or so, I guess. He’s got a long road in front of him, but the doctor was optimistic.”
This would mean Joe couldn’t work at the farm. They’d need full-time help. He’d check his schedule and see if Jennifer could take over a bit of his load, which would free him up to spend more time at the farm.
Near Darcy.
He wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing or not. Right now they were on fragile ground, because she was distracted—and because the memories that bound them were centered on this hospital. The real test would be when he spent more time at the farm.
“After I see him, you can go home,” Marla said. “No point in both of us being here all night.”
Darcy sent Marla a worried look. “You can come, too. Lie in your own bed, even if you can’t sleep.”
Marla shook her head. “I need to be here, Darcy. Please. You’ll need to run the farm for now. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” Her response was swift and sure.
“I’ll help more,” Mack said, and watched shock flit over Darcy’s face. “I’ll work my schedule around it as much as possible. You and Joe don’t have to worry about anything but getting him well.”
Marla squeezed his hands. “Thank you. I knew we could count on both of you. Don’t let it get in the way of your practice, though.”
“I won’t,” he assured her. Darcy looked less than pleased. He’d talk to her later, get her to see his point. They could work around each other just fine. He knew the peace they’d forged tonight was fragile, but they’d have to find a way to make it all work. Put aside the past for the sake of the couple they both loved.
His family would be fairly certain he’d lost his mind.
After Marla’s visit, and she’d reassured Darcy she was okay now and nearly shoved her to the elevator, she and Mack rode to the first floor in silence.
He saw the worry etched on her face and the exhaustion. “Do you want me to stay?”
Her shock showed he’d overstepped. “Excuse me?”
“At their house. I can sleep on the couch. Keep you company.” Clearly, he was so tired his mouth had separated from his common sense. Still, in for a penny...
She blinked and shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” she amended, apparently seeing him forming a rebuttal. “Really.”
He bit back a sigh. He had no grounds to push, wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway. There were lines, and tonight they’d been grayed out a bit, smudged.
Darcy collapsed on her bed after a tense ride home. Mack had followed her, damn him, reminding her what a great guy he was. She didn’t want to be reminded. It was hard enough with the past hovering between them, with the memories, with their loss. All of it combined into an overwhelming emotional morass that she could not deal with tonight on top of her worry about her uncle.
Mack had turned around in the driveway. She was grateful he hadn’t tried to talk to her. “Do you want me to stay?” indeed.
Of course she didn’t. Not after he’d kissed her and later, held her while she’d cried. He’d been so sweet. Dangerous.
She peeled her clothes off and crawled under the covers, fairly sure sleep would not come for her tonight.
* * *
She woke the next morning to light streaming through the window. With a gasp she sat up and grabbed her phone. It was nearly eight. She had to get to the hospital. Aunt Marla needed to come home and sleep and Darcy wanted to know how Uncle Joe was doing. Then she had a tree farm to run. A run through the shower was a necessity and she washed up quickly, ran downstairs as her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Darcy, it’s Aunt Marla.”
Dread pooled in her stomach. “Is—”
“Everything is fine, honey. Joe is tough. He’s doing exactly what he should be doing for someone postsurgery.”
Relief had Darcy slumping against the wall. “Okay, then. That’s good.”
“It is. Carol and her husband are bringing me home. Did I catch you before you left?”
“Um, yeah. I overslept—”
“No, you didn’t.” Marla’s voice was soothing. “Go back to bed if you can. It was a rough night for both of us.”
Darcy looked at the coffee can in her hand. Not likely, but there was no point in saying so. Once she was up, she was up. “I’m good. So I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes. We’re going to grab a little bite to eat and then I’ll be there.”
A few more words and Darcy hung up. Thankfully, Uncle Joe was okay. Should she tell Mack?
She stuffed the phone in her pocket. No. They’d already crossed too many lines. If he wanted to know he could call her. Or better yet, call Marla.
She started the coffee and poured a bowl of cereal, pulling the books out to peruse over breakfast. She was surprised Marla hadn’t strong-armed him into computer records. The records were very complete and organized, but that would have to change— She stopped the thought. It didn’t matter now. She wasn’t going to use a computer when she’d only be here another week.
The schedule was spelled out in detail. Today she had to oversee the cutting of a fresh load for a big box retailer a couple towns to the south. If they’d had more of that kind of order, maybe the farm would have been okay.
The slam of a car door brought her head up for a moment from the books and her cereal. Must be Aunt Marla. When no one came in and a second door slam got her attention, she stood up and walked to the window.
Aunt Marla was just now being dropped off. So who had come before her?
Her gaze landed on the truck. Oh, no. That couldn’t be—could it?
Marla and Carol came in before she could go stomping out in the snow to make sure it wasn’t Mack, skipping work to help out here.
Her aunt enveloped her in a hug. Her skin was gray and she looked exhausted, but the little brackets of tension were gone around her eyes. “He’ll be okay,” she said, and Darcy squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears.
“Of course he will,” she agreed. Those doctors had better be right. She didn’t think her aunt could take losing her husband of so many years this early.
Marla gave her a little squeeze and stepped back. “I see Mack is out there.”
Darcy sighed. “There’s no need. I can handle it.”
Marla exchanged a look with Carol and patted her arm. “Accept his help, honey. The farm needs it. It’s nice of him.”
Nice. Darcy nearly snorted. He wanted this place for his own purposes, to expand his vet practice. His brother was going to build houses on it.
Marla slipped off her coat. “Besides, it’s going to take some doing to convince Joe to relax and let the farm be managed by someone else. Mack will go a long way to easing his mind.”
There was nothing to say to that, so Darcy didn’t try. Instead, she pulled her aunt in for a hug. “Are you going to catch some sleep now?”
“She’s going to try,” Carol answered firmly, and shook her head when Marla opened her mouth. “The doc told you to get some sleep, Marla. Joe needs you to be strong. I promise I’ll be back for you in a few hours.”
Marla tugged at the hem of her shirt, which was wrinkled. Exhaustion was
etched clearly on her face. “I’ll try.” Then she pointed at her friend. “You, too.”
“Me, too,” Carol agreed. “I’m going home now. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
She left and Darcy steered Marla toward the stairs. “Let’s get you settled in,” she said.
“Did you sleep?” Marla asked.
“I did. You will, too.”
Marla paused in the bedroom doorway. “Accept Mack’s help, okay, Darcy? I know you’d rather not be around him, but—”
“I’ll be fine,” Darcy said, and smiled at her aunt. “We’ll make it work. Now go. Sleep.”
Chapter Seven
Mack looked up from his conversation with one of the employees to see Darcy striding toward him, a frown on her face. He excused himself from the conversation, not missing the other man’s interested expression. No doubt this was best done without anyone overhearing. He met her halfway.
“Why are you here?” The anger in her tone caught him off guard, as he took in her flushed face and fisted hands. She wore a green fleece and a red vest, with a red knit cap over her hair. She looked festive. And angry. And hot.
He took a second to focus on something other than the hot part of the equation.
“I’m here because your uncle needs help,” he said carefully.
She narrowed her eyes and he resisted the urge to pull her in and kiss her. It wouldn’t help things right now.
“I can handle it,” she said, lifting her chin.
So she was feeling a little territorial about the farm. He got that. “I’m sure you can. But it’ll be easier with more help. You’ve been gone a long time.” She stiffened and he guessed that hadn’t been the best choice of words. He caught her arm and she didn’t pull away. “Darce. I don’t mean that as a criticism. I mean that as a fact. You have. And you’re leaving before the season is over.” And once she left, the farm would be down two people.
Her shoulders slumped a bit, then she straightened back up. “You’re right, of course.” Her expression was a polite mask, but he caught a hint of pain in her eyes.
He hated to see all the fight go out of her, hated that he was the one who’d done the deflating. He resisted the urge to apologize—for what? For buying the place? For being available to help? “My schedule is pretty flexible. I’m happy to help you guys out. It’s no trouble at all.”
Her lips curved in a smile that still didn’t reach her eyes. “I know my aunt and uncle appreciate it.”
“If you are that unhappy about us buying it, you can always buy it yourself.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
She snapped her gaze to his, eyes wide. “No, I really can’t, Mack. My life is in Chicago. I can’t just—I can’t just walk away and leave it behind.”
He sent her a sideways look as he started back toward the barn. “Sure you can. If you want this bad enough.” His point made, he walked off, leaving her fuming in his wake.
* * *
Darcy got the order filled and sent on its way. It was a good thing they had orders to fill. That people came out here to get their trees. It made her happy.
Or would have if Mack weren’t about to take it all away. To be fair, yes, it was her aunt and uncle’s farm. But how could Mack and his brother look at this place, look at the families, some of whom had been coming here for decades, and decide they could just build houses on it?
And how dare Mack hint that she had a choice? That she could leave her job, leave all she’d done, just walk away from it all?
So, okay, she hadn’t been super happy at work lately. She was overworked and stressed, but that was normal for someone trying to make partner as she was. Right? And yes, she felt at home here, even more so than in the city she really did love, but she’d grown up here, so it made sense.
Didn’t it?
Damn Mack for making her think. She just wanted to get through all this and back to Chicago. Okay, fine, they were going to tear apart her home. A home that would someday have been their son’s—if their baby had lived.
Darcy stopped in her tracks at the thought. She’d never thought of it in those terms before. That the farm would have belonged to their child. That at seven, he’d be running all over, marveling at the magic of Christmas, doubly so on a farm that celebrated Christmas. Something warm hit her face and she realized she was crying. She dashed at the tears with her gloved hands, but they were already crusted with snow.
No. Why now? She’d worked so hard to keep the loss at bay, to lock the pain away. And she couldn’t even rectify it—after the accident and the miscarriage, the doctors said she’d probably never have kids. Ever.
Just another reward for her selfishness, and something she’d learned after the fact. Another reason why she’d left. Mack had been so torn up over the loss, but he’d kept saying they could have more kids. Well, they couldn’t.
“Darcy. Darcy?” Mack’s concern cut through her fog. She tried to ignore him, but he came up behind her. “Darcy?” Now there was concern in his voice.
The snow fell around them, and not too far away, she could hear the happy calls of a family looking for the perfect tree.
“I’m sorry you’re upset about the farm,” he said, and sounded sincere. “It works well for all of us.”
Except me.
Darcy kept the selfish thought to herself and dug though her pockets for a tissue of some kind to wipe her face. Would he think her red face was just from the cold? She could hope.
“Well,” she managed in almost normal tones, “of course it does. I mean, you’re right. I’ve been gone. I left. I made my choices.”
How could one choice have so many consequences? Over so many years?
“Yes,” Mack said carefully as if he sensed a trap. Smart man.
“Okay, then. I’ve got to—” she checked her watch as if it would give her the answers she needed “—run.”
She scooted around him and sent him a wave over her shoulder as she trekked back the way she’d come, hoping he bought her line and left her alone.
* * *
Mack watched Darcy flee as if an army of rabid dogs was on her heels. Ah, well. It was better than having her fight with him.
On the other hand, when she was mad, at least she looked at him. And damn if she hadn’t sounded as though she’d been crying. But since she’d been so clear on not letting him know he’d opted to honor her. Since his buying this place upset her so much.
Which he didn’t want, either. But he couldn’t tell her his reasoning. Owning it kept it near him. A piece of her.
Yeah, the fact Chase was going to develop it sucked a bit. But he’d be careful and tasteful. Chase’s company specialized in green environmentally sound building practices. It was a big thing up here and, all told, it was much better than some other builder buying it and putting up cookie-cutter houses. Still, he knew it was cold comfort to Darcy.
* * *
That evening, he checked in on the animals, even though he didn’t doubt for a minute Jennifer was doing a great job. Minnie was doing better, looking perkier and even filling out a little. He stroked her head a bit. When she was healed he’d either find her a new home or keep her himself.
Darcy had been very taken with Minnie that evening she was here. That evening he’d broken down and kissed her, which had been all kinds of stupid, but there it was. Would she like a dog? Or would that not fit in her big-city life?
The beagle licked his hand and he rubbed her ears.
“Everything look okay?”
There was only amusement in Jennifer’s tone, and some surprise he’d stopped in here.
“Of course. I just— It’s a habit.”
“Like tucking in a child before bed, I would imagine.” She pushed off the doorjamb as his gut knifed at her comparison.
I wouldn’t know. The thought speared him. Jennifer didn’t know he’d lost a child. “Most likely.”
If she caught the odd tone in his voice, she gave no sign. “It’s been as smooth as it always is, Mack.”
“Are you saying you guys don’t need me here?” he joked, hoping to dispel the tension in himself that had nothing to do with Jennifer and wasn’t her fault.
“Of course not.” She scratched behind Minnie’s ears, as well. “There’s always room for a token male.”
Surprise huffed out in a laugh. “Damn, girl. You don’t pull any punches.”
“Nope. You should know that by now.” She stepped away from the cage. “You going to fix things with Darcy?”
“What?” He wasn’t sure what, if anything, to say.
Jennifer held up a hand. “I have eyes. I can see. The two of you have a lot of unfinished business. I hope she’s smart enough to know what she’s got in you.”
What she had. Past tense. They were long past the point of being able to fix things. To pick up where they’d left off and move forward.
“We’re very different people now,” he said simply because it was the truth. “We want very different things.” He shrugged.
Jennifer made a sympathetic sound in her throat. “Too bad.” She turned to walk away. “I’ll leave you to your tucking in, then.”
“Thanks,” he managed as she left. Why couldn’t he be interested in her? She was smart, funny, cute and he enjoyed her company. She just wasn’t Darcy. Not her fault.
He sighed and finished his rounds before heading out to his house. The house he’d bought for his wife as a present, hoping to cheer her up, to give them a project to work on together.
Instead, she’d left and he’d signed the papers alone. And renovating it had been his therapy. Maybe someday he’d show her. But not tell her the whole story. It seemed cruel somehow, to tie it in with the past.
The house was a small one-story bungalow, white, with a very traditional front porch. He pulled into the drive and up to the garage—he rarely parked in there, since he had to shovel the snow somewhere and it ended up often as not in front of the garage—and got out. The motion light came on as he entered the kitchen. It took a few minutes of blessed busyness to take care of the animals’ food, water and outside needs.