A Hopeful Harvest

by Ruth Logan Herne

Jax was talking to Mortie. He saw her. The sadness on his face drove home Mortie’s words. She skidded the car to a stop and jumped out. “What should we do? Call 911? Rush him in ourselves? What’s the best thing to do, Mortie?”

  Mortie looked at her. Looked at her real hard and real gentle all at once, and then she slipped an arm around Libby’s shoulders. “Why, we let him go, darlin’. Same as we did your grandma last year. We sing him home on praise and worship and we remember the good times. Exactly the way he wants.”

  The way he wants. The DNR.

  That couldn’t be right.

  The thought of doing nothing, of letting death have its day made Libby panic. Her heart thrummed. Her breath caught. But when she stepped into Gramps’s room and heard the strained sounds of his breathing...

  Libby paused. Then she walked over, drew up a stool and sat right there beside him to hold his hand, just like he’d done years before when make-believe monsters scared a little girl.

  His eyes opened. She leaned in and kissed his old weathered cheek. “I love you, Gramps. So much.”

  He blinked. A hint of a smile touched his mouth, like the fledgling smile of a newborn child. “I took care of things,” he whispered and gave her hand a weak squeeze. “All I could anyway.”

  “Shh.” She laid her cheek against his. “You always did, Gramps,” she whispered. “You always did.”

  His breathing evened out. His eyes drifted shut. When she lifted her cheek from his, peace softened his expression.

  She sat on one stool.

  Mortie made a couple of quiet phone calls, then brought a second stool in. And when Jax brought them each a mug of fresh hot coffee, he pulled up a third.

  Mortie started humming.

  They sang old hymns and a few new ones. “Amazing Grace,” “Gather by the River” and “It Is Well with My Soul,” one of Gramps’s all-time favorites. When Mortie took the melody of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” and Libby joined with a soft alto, Gramps’s troubled breathing went soft.

  Softer.

  And then stilled.

  Libby was pretty sure her heart stopped beating right then, too. She clung to his hand, watching his color fade as his skin cooled. And then she laid her head against his chest one last time. There was no comforting heartbeat beneath her ear any longer. No strong arms came around to hold her, but they’d been there when she most needed them. Growing up. Trying to find the right path. Loving her through her mistakes and beyond. And now, after years of struggle, he was at peace.

  His dream had come true. He’d had his final season, the most successful one of all and now he was home with his Savior. With his beloved Carolyn.

  And while Libby was glad for his peaceful passing, part of her felt alone...so very alone...because the two people who loved her the way her parents never did were gone.

  She knew they were safe in heaven. She believed that fully.

  But she hadn’t realized how dreadfully alone she’d feel down here on earth without them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jax toyed with canceling the Seattle therapy appointment on Thursday. It was a ninety-minute drive, then an hour-and-a-half session and ninety minutes back. An entire afternoon gone when Libby needed love and support.

  He picked up the phone, then stopped himself.

  He was doing so much better. Sleeping better and facing life straight on in so many ways. And now that his outlook was improving, it flickered a fire within him. He wanted to keep the momentum going. To be as whole and healed as he could be. This new therapy could be a part of that.

  He studied the phone.

  Was he afraid to keep the appointment?

  Yes.

  Because what if it didn’t work for him? What if he could never learn to trust himself again?

  Go. You’re the bravest of the brave. Go face what you must so you can live free. His therapist’s words came back to him, urging him along.

  That was what he wanted more than anything. To feel the weight lifted. To be himself again. And stay that way. Because how could he court a woman like Libby, or father an innocent child like CeeCee if he couldn’t trust himself?

  He sucked in a breath and texted Libby, Appointment this afternoon. I’ll bring Chinese for supper, okay? The guys will finish picking today and crate everything into the cooler.

  Supper’s in the slow cooker. But fresh bread would be nice. CeeCee wanted to go to school.

  There was an extended pause before the next text came in.

  So I let her, but it’s way too quiet here without her or Gramps.

  Deafening silence. He understood that too well. She’d made arrangements for the funeral, and friends had gathered to help cover the apple store. They’d close it tomorrow out of respect for Cleve’s death and reopen on Saturday. But the thought of her there, all alone, made his afternoon appointment an even more difficult choice.

  Prayer time.

  Jax had given up prayer for a long time. But sitting at Cleve’s bedside praying in thought and song had reopened another spot inside him. A prayer spot, like when he’d pray with Grandma Molly, as if a gaping hole inside him had been filled.

  Prayer time in the apple store, she texted back and her speed made him smile. Busy hands and an open heart. One of Grandma’s favorite sayings.

  She’d have loved Grandma Molly. See you tonight.

  She sent a thumbs-up emoji.

  He stared at it, torn. He wanted to be with her. Help her. Be her port in the storm.

  But the what-ifs made him get in the truck and drive to Seattle. If this guy could make a difference in how Jax perceived that fateful day in the desert, it wasn’t an afternoon lost. It could be a lifetime regained.

  * * *

  Libby was watering mums when the small SUV pulled into the gravel lot and parked. Samantha was taking care of customers inside the barn, leaving Libby free to get things done.

  She turned as footsteps approached.

  Her mother. Dianna. Here. Now.

  The familiar adrenaline rush hit her. Her heart raced. Her fingers went cold.

  Her mother looked around. Her gaze went from the fall displays to the line of apple-stocked tables inside. She sighed softly, then turned back. “This is beautiful, Libby.”

  That wasn’t at all what Libby expected to hear.

  “It’s like he always dreamed it could be if he had a little more help. A little more time.”

  Libby heard the regret in her voice. Saw it in her face. But she was so tired of being fooled. She stayed silent and still, and knew it would make her mother the most uncomfortable. At that moment she didn’t care.

  “He wanted to make peace with me.” Her mother’s purse slipped off her shoulder. She hitched it back up. “It was a nice thing to do, but it agitated him to hear my voice. I could see that in the hospital and I’d already agitated him enough, I think. I never thought—” She sighed and paused, and her face reflected the sorrow in Libby’s heart. Seventy times seven.

  It was too much to ask. It was—

  Let the one without sin cast the first stone. Christ’s paraphrased instruction hit her squarely. She’d made her share of mistakes, and Grandma and Gramps had flung the door open wide to welcome her back. Her mother began to turn away. Libby’s voice stopped her.

  “That he’d go this soon.”

  “Yes.” She turned back. Libby’s response seemed to throw her a lifeline. “I thought I could come by after the apple season. Make amends. Catch him when he was feeling better, but it didn’t happen. Now it never will. One more mistake to be sorry for.” She drew a deep breath, adjusted her purse again, then stepped back. “I just wanted to tell you that. That I’m sorry for the mistakes, and I didn’t want to make his time worse. But it was nice how he wanted me to visit. He didn’t have to do that. But he did, and I’ll never forget it.” She began headin
g back to the SUV. The stoop of her shoulders reminded Libby of Gramps that last night. How he’d tried to lift others’ burdens all his days. To stand tall and strong. A quality he’d passed on to her by example.

  “Mom?”

  Dianna turned.

  “Please sit with us at the funeral tomorrow.”

  Her mother’s brows drew down. Her chin quivered. “You want me there?”

  “No.” Libby took three steps forward, reached out and took Dianna’s hand. “I need you there. All right?”

  Dianna’s hand trembled beneath hers. The shaking fingers testified to the difficulty in coming here. Facing Libby. “I’ll come. Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  The school bus pulled up at the roadside. Gert was still out sick, but the substitute driver agreed to drop CeeCee off at the barn. The door swung open and CeeCee bounded out. “I made the best picture for Gramps, Mommy!” She raced across the gravel drive and held up a very recognizable drawing of a tree. An apple tree. “My teacher helped show me how to do this and it looks just like a tree, doesn’t it, Mommy? I think Gramps would love this tree so much, don’t you?”

  “Oh, he would, darling. It would be his favorite. And who is this?” Libby asked, pointing to a four-legged creature lolling beneath the tree.

  “Dreamer! Dreamer wanted to be in Gramps’s picture so I couldn’t ’xactly say no, right?”

  “He absolutely belongs there.” Libby hugged her. “It’s beautiful, CeeCee. Why don’t you and Samantha hang it by the register?”

  “Yes!” She skipped off, the image of a happy child.

  Dianna followed her with a look of longing, then straightened her shoulders. “Can I meet her tomorrow? Instead of today? I’d rather tiptoe into her life than barge in uninvited.”

  Wise words. “Tomorrow it is.”

  Dianna left quietly. Libby watched her go.

  She hadn’t thought she’d find the grace of forgiveness within her, so why today of all days?

  The Lord’s Prayer, she realized. And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us... Sage words for a peaceful life.

  Libby joined CeeCee inside, and when they tacked the picture on the post behind the cash register, CeeCee beamed. “That’s the best place for it right now. Where Gramps can watch us work from heaven, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Libby watched CeeCee prance off to greet a new customer.

  She’d made it this far pretty unscarred. Every now and again CeeCee wondered where her daddy went. Libby skirted that subject carefully, but all in all, CeeCee had been surrounded by love, just like the loving example Gramps and Grandma had set for Libby.

  They closed up the apple store at six and drove up the road. When they pulled into the driveway, CeeCee hesitated. “It’s kind of dark and lonesome, isn’t it?”

  Just then a light came on. Then another. And as they climbed out of the hatchback, Jax appeared in the doorway.

  What would it be like to come home to someone like Jax every day? To love and cherish someone with such a good heart?

  He deceived you. On purpose. Please don’t pretend that doesn’t matter.

  It did matter, she realized, as she climbed the steps and saw the warmth in his eyes firsthand. But she’d never given him a chance to explain, so maybe she needed to back things up. She might be gullible, but the man standing in front of her didn’t seem to have a dishonest bone in his body. Which meant she should give him a chance to come clean. If he still wanted to, that was. And after the way she’d treated him, she wasn’t any too sure that would be the case.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was time to talk, Jax decided while Libby tucked CeeCee into bed. Not because he needed to clear his heart and maybe his soul, but because Libby deserved the truth. She came downstairs a few minutes later. When she spotted the kitchen, her eyes widened in appreciation. “I love a clean kitchen.”

  “I’ve noticed that. And yet you like to work in the kitchen. I expect you like to cook. Bake. Make things.”

  “Love it,” she told him as she settled into the winged armchair. “Grandma was like that, too. When we’re done making things, we clean the kitchen because a clean kitchen is an invitation to create.”

  He could see her doing that midwinter when the fields and orchards lay resting. He took a seat on the old sofa, opposite her. “Is this a good time to talk?”

  Was it his imagination or did she look relieved? “Yes. Absolutely.”

  He folded his hands and leaned forward. “I haven’t just been lying to you, Libby.”

  Her brows went up and the look of relief disappeared.

  “I’ve stayed pretty much out of the limelight since I got back from Iraq.” He folded his hands lightly, keeping himself slightly removed from the story he was about to tell. “I joined the army after college. I did it purposely, to give back to my country. I thought I understood the risks I would take. If God called me home, that was that. I never considered there would be consequences that went beyond death.” He paused and stared down at his clenched hands. “Chalk that up to inexperience and youth, I guess.”

  She sat quiet and still, listening.

  “My group was due to come home. We had six weeks left and we’d joke about what we were going to do first when we hit stateside. Kiss our girls, pig out on pizza, catch a dozen baseball games. So many plans.” He never talked about this because just thinking about the guys choked him up. But tonight he was able to keep going for the first time since coming home. “I was pulled off a detail at the last minute for a meeting. Four of my guys went up as planned. Good men. And when I was almost back to base command, there was a funny sound. I looked up. And that chopper with four of my men on it was literally falling out of the sky. Just that. Falling, with nothing and no one to catch it. No one to stop the inevitable.”

  “Oh, Jax.” She leaned forward. Sympathy deepened her voice and shadowed those pretty blue eyes.

  He grimaced. “I watched it. In my head I’ve been replaying it for years, helpless to stop it.” He paused, looked down, then lifted his eyes to hers. “I couldn’t get over it. I think a part of me didn’t want to get over it, as if my penance was to suffer forever. I stayed on the down low purposely. Didn’t use my full name, lived alone in the woods and just made it through the days by doing odd jobs for people. My dad owns the cabin. He took care of the utilities and the therapist, and I coasted. I didn’t want to die, but I felt like I didn’t deserve to live. I was trapped between two worlds. And then I met you and CeeCee and Cleve and everything just clicked. Like a light bulb switching on. You needed help.”

  “We sure did.” She offered a soft look of encouragement.

  “And I was perfect.”

  She made a soft hmm but smiled.

  He made a face. “I meant that I know fruits and orcharding. I know merchandising. My dad raised all of us with hammers and nails and power tools so we’d be able to tackle any job that came our way. And I’d seen my grandma through dementia. It was like God put me here at just the right time to help you because you guys needed each of those skills. And I had them. But you were so upset about CVF wanting to buy the place, that even when I had an opening to explain who I was, I didn’t dare. Not just because you needed me.” He glanced around the worn, cozy room. “Because I needed you—all of you—just as much. And I didn’t want anything to jeopardize that.”

  * * *

  She didn’t just suspect the huge heart she’d sensed in him all along. She saw it. In his words, his expressions. She got up from the chair and took a seat next to him on the sofa. “I have a thing about lying.”

  He took one of her hands in his and held it.

  “My parents were skillful liars. CeeCee’s father followed that same vein and I fell for it completely. It wasn’t until I ended up in the ER and found myself lying about how I
got a concussion and a bruised face that I realized I was becoming part of the problem. I went into a shelter with CeeCee. He took all of our money and left me destitute and homeless. Then he filed for a divorce I was happy to give him at the same time Grandma and Gramps needed our help.”

  “Libby, I’m sorry.” He drew her in then. Into the safe curve of his arm, and drew her head down to his shoulder. “So sorry. No one should have to go through that.”

  “Folks go through a lot of things,” she whispered. “It’s how we handle the aftermath that makes us who we are. At least, that’s what Grandma used to say.” She leaned back and peeked up at him. “So what now?”

  He winced, which wasn’t exactly the expression she hoped to see. “Well—”

  She nudged him with her right elbow. “In the movies, this is where the hero and heroine kiss and you know that they’re going to have the happy-ever-after they both deserve.”

  “Except what happens to the happy ending if the hero wakes up screaming in the middle of the night?”

  She drew back. Faced him. And put her hands gently on his cheeks. “Then the heroine holds him and tells him everything will be all right. And after a while, it will be. And they go on to sell lots of apples and maybe have a baby or two and name one of them Cleve. If it’s a boy, that is, because Cleveland is a silly name for a girl. That’s how I see this going down anyway. So how about you, soldier?” She met his gaze full on, deliberately. “How do you see this unfolding?”

  “Like this.” He kissed her. And when he was done, he held her close in his arms. “Are you willing to take a chance, Libby?”

  “Is that your idea of a proposal?” She made a face at him and he laughed.

  “Libby Creighton, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? The honor of working in orchards and raising little kids into fine adults and being with me through the good times and the bad?”

  “Much better.” She peppered his face with kisses. “I will, Jax. I’ll marry you and be your partner and hopefully raise a few cute kids together. But on one condition.”