Discovering Harmony (Wishing Well, Texas #3)

by Melanie Shawn

  “But, son, answer me this: what did you think was going happen when you finagled the situation so the two of you would be working side by side on a project that you’ve been working on for over four years? And haven’t told anyone about? And is the closest thing you have to a child?”

  My mom was right about one thing. Reed Ranch, or I guess now Reed Rescue Ranch, was my baby. When I’d decided that I wanted to start a camp to help kids, that came from tough home situations, or that were headed down the wrong path, I hadn’t shared my plans with anyone. For years I’d researched both success stories and failures. Gone over liability, insurance, permits, and cost. Done all my due diligence until I was ready to move. Then, a few months ago, all the pieces had finally fallen into place and I told my parents.

  I found the perfect property. My aunt and uncle had agreed to being the caretakers and running the day-to-day operations. And now, they’d also agreed to include caring for the rescued animals that would be there year-round.

  The idea for the new direction had come from watching Harmony with Romeo, from afar of course, this week. Watching her nurturing side shine in the way she talked to him, cared for him, and protected him like a mother bear. Feeling the unconditional love that she had for him radiate from her even when he chewed up a post she was working on, or dug up a flower she’d just planted. And, most importantly, listening to her open up to him about her fears, her worries, and her anxiety. It seemed to me people could talk to dogs about things they didn’t trust discussing with people.

  Harmony always presented herself as a tough girl. A girl who wasn’t scared of anything. A girl who could take on the world and not break a sweat. And that definitely was one side of her. But that was just the surface. Beneath the hard shell was a soft, sensitive underside that no one got to see.

  Hell, I’d only seen it because I’d been watching so closely when she didn’t think anyone was. In my experience, both in my professional and personal life, people really showed their true colors when no one was watching. Harmony had shown me who she was, the real her, over and over again.

  The first time, I’d overheard her confronting three fifth-grade boys when she’d discovered they were bullying a disabled boy in her first grade class. I’d been in middle school at the time and had only been at the elementary school to pick up my brothers.

  She’d stalked across the asphalt to where the boys were playing basketball and interrupted their game by grabbing the ball and giving them a piece of her mind. At first they didn’t take her seriously. They’d teased her and asked if she was going to run and get her brothers for back up. I’ll never forget the look on the boys’ faces when she calmly and confidently explained that she didn’t need to get her brothers to kick them all in the nuts, which was what she was going to do if she ever found out they’d picked on the boy in the wheelchair again. When one of the boys stepped up to her and said that he would do whatever he wanted and wasn’t scared of a girl, Harmony took two steps forward, a large grin on her face and proceeded to lift her knee straight into the kid’s balls.

  He dropped to his knees, and his friends had to help him off the court. They were in a hurry to get away with their manhood intact. She stood tall until they were out of sight, then when they were gone she let out a breath, bent over, and put her hand on her stomach. That was the first time Harmony Briggs snuck into my heart. There was so much vulnerability in her strength and I couldn’t help but admire her bravery.

  Then there was the time that she’d been cast as Mary in the Easter play at church when she was twelve. I remembered it because I was cast as Joseph and, as disappointed as I was to have to play such a pivotal role in the performance, she had the polar opposite reaction. That was the role every girl coveted and only a few ever got. But Harmony never got to experience it because the night of the production she was “sick” and her understudy Isabella Conner, who was dating my friend and Cara’s brother Colton, filled in.

  Bella’d had a tough couple of years. Her dad had been killed by a drunk driver and her mom had decided to numb her pain by taking pills. A lot of pills, as it turned out, which ended her up in a psych ward. Bella had been taken in by her aunt, who already had her hands full with seven kids of her own. The look in Bella’s eyes as she’d held the doll that was the Baby Jesus and sat beside me had been sheer joy.

  After the performance I skipped the potluck and had gone to check on Harmony. Instead of finding her sick in bed, I’d come up the porch to her parents’ house and seen her dancing in the living room, holding a wooden spoon as a microphone and singing her heart out as MTV played on the television. When I knocked on the door, I’d heard her curse, and when it opened she had a blanket wrapped around her sniffling as she coughed.

  I’d asked her how she was feeling and she’d whispered that she had a sore throat and it hurt to talk. I didn’t need to be a detective to tell that she’d faked it so that Bella could take the role. And she’d done it so no one had thought that it was charity.

  Then there was the time that I’d overheard her in the principal’s office her junior year of high school. The time that had inspired her nickname…princess.

  “Hello, earth to Hudson.” My mom waved her hand. “Anyone home?”

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head back and forth slowly as a wide smile spread across her face. “I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

  Yeah, you and me both.

  Spending this much time with Harmony was torture. Pure. Torture. But, that didn’t change the fact that I was counting the hours, minutes, and seconds until I could see her again…and when that time came I would have to ignore and avoid her. If that wasn’t the definition of insane I didn’t know what was.

  Letting my head fall back, I reached up and scrubbed my hands over my face. Things between Harmony and I had always been complicated, but now they’d shot right past that straight to unbearable. I wasn’t just talking about the Guinness Book of World Records-worthy blue balls I’d been suffering from since the second she’d rammed into the back of my cruiser. No, that was just physical. Physical, as painful and tempting as it was, was still just mind over matter. The part that was too much to handle was the emotional pull this girl had on me. The spell that she’d cast on me. The iron-grip hold she had on my heart.

  I’d dated my fair share of girls that were, on paper, perfect for me. They were kind, loving, smart, gorgeous, and most of all, wanted the same things I did out of life. Family. Home. Stability.

  There was one I’d even considered putting a ring on—Ali Larson. We’d dated for two years. I’d gone into Dallas to go ring shopping, which should’ve been my first clue because if she was the right girl, the one, I would’ve asked my mom for Grandma Burke’s ring. Instead, I’d gone to several jewelry stores. Every time I held a circular gold band topped with a shiny, brilliant diamond and pictured myself getting on one knee, there was only one face I saw staring back at me, and it wasn’t Ali’s. It was Harmony’s. I left the third shop in a cold sweat, drove straight back to Wishing Well, broke up with Ali the next day, and hadn’t been in a relationship since.

  It wasn’t that I was waiting for Harmony. I knew better than anyone that was a losing bet. I just didn’t think it was fair to lead someone else on. So, after Ali, I was determined to get over Harmony, and then I could move on with my life.

  That was a year and a half ago. Things weren’t exactly going as planned.

  “Does she know?” My mom’s voice snapped me out of my inner wallowing.

  My personal life, especially when it included Harmony Briggs, was not up for discussion. Not now. Not ever. Over the years my mom had made not-so-subtle, thinly-veiled comments about Harmony’s and my relationship, or lack thereof. But this was the first time she’d ever called me out on it so bluntly.

  My jaw tensed and I pressed the pen harder than necessary on the paper as I signed my name where my lawyer had placed yellow arrow tabs. When I fi
nished, I pushed it across the table for her to notarize.

  Her seal was on the table as was a pen, but she made no move towards either instrument. She just stared at me. It was amazing the clarity of communication that Loretta Reed could convey without uttering one sound. All it took was one look in her single-minded gaze, and I knew that whether or not I wanted to have this conversation, it was happening.

  “No.” I answered flatly.

  “Why not?”

  “There’s no point, and that’s all I’m saying about it.” Admitting that I had feelings for Harmony was one thing. Getting into the reasons that nothing could ever happen between us was another.

  My mom’s refusal to drop the subject and my refusal to expound collided, resulting in a gridlocked staring contest. One I had no plans on backing down from. I may have taken after my dad in a lot of ways, including following his footsteps into law enforcement, but I’d definitely inherited my mom’s stubborn streak.

  Finally, when she saw this tactic wasn’t going to break me, my mom let out a small sigh, picked up her pen, and began looking over the documents. Without sparing me a glance, she warned firmly, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Me too.

  Chapter 11

  Harmony

  “A blind horse doesn’t fall when he follows the bit.”

  ~ Loretta Reed

  “Enough!” I announced loudly to Romeo, who was curled up in ‘his’ corner of the barn, sleeping peacefully. “I’ve had enough. He can’t just boss me around through vague text messages and expect me to know what the hell he’s talking about. He can talk to me. Face to face. Like an adult. This Tom and Jerry, hide-and-seek shit ends today.”

  Other than a bored, semi-irritated sigh that puffed out his jowls, my four-legged companion had no reaction to my dramatic declaration. Which was surprising. Over the past couple of weeks since I’d sprung him from the pound, he’d grown to be very in tune to my emotions. When I was sore and aching from all of the manual labor I’d been doing, he’d lie beside me and press up against me like a heating pad. When I’d cried watching my favorite movie, Steel Magnolias, he’d crawled onto my lap and let me sob it out in the best dog-hug ever. When I accidentally watched part of a commercial to the newest psychological thriller blockbuster movie, he’d left his bowl—which had chicken in it—and bounded onto the couch to stand over me like the superhero protector that he was. But now…now he seemed totally oblivious to the fiery hot indignation and frustration that was exploding through my body like a volcano.

  Whatever. I could handle this on my own with no emotional canine backup.

  With the executive decision made to ignore Hud’s latest message instructing me to build a loft…a freaking loft…in the barn with the “supplies” laid out before me, I shoved my phone back in my pocket and started climbing out of the back of the barn. A grunt escaped my lungs as I navigated a safe but speedy path over the huge pile of two by fours, four by fours, plywood, and other wood stuff that I had no idea what to do with.

  I was on a mission. And as with any good mission, I had clear objectives.

  First, I was going to find out what in the name of Dolly Parton Hud and I were doing out here. Was this some kind of Habitat for Humanity project? Had he invested in this property and, after he renovated it, did he have plans to sell it? Was this a favor he owed someone? At this point, I didn’t even care what the answer was, I just wanted to know.

  Second, I was going to demand that I have some support when it came to carrying out tasks that I had no idea how to complete. I had no problem doing the work that I was assigned, but I at least needed some kind of direction. Some training. Some education.

  And third, I was going to call bullshit on the fact that Hud was “not avoiding me” as he claimed. He most certainly was.

  Last week, I’d been fairly certain of his sketchy now-you-see me-now-you-don’t behavior, but this week it was as obvious as Pinocchio’s nose that was exactly what he was doing. Every time I would catch a glimpse of him he would disappear. Poof. We hadn’t exchanged one single word since last Thursday when he told me to be back Monday morning and added a gruff and somewhat condescending “Don’t be late.”

  It’d been seven days of zero verbal communication, barbs exchanged, spoken pleasantries, or anything in between, and I was so done. This workweek had been even more frustrating than the last, and that was saying a lot.

  Monday, I’d fumbled my way through sanding and staining two sets of bunk bed frames, which I’d also had the pleasure of constructing. Me. The girl who had never even assembled a board game. It hadn’t been easy, but I’d done it.

  Tuesday, I’d been charged with scraping off wallpaper, which had to have been stuck to those walls for at least a hundred years, in the living and dining room of the main farmhouse. It was tedious, time consuming and frustrating, but at least I’d been able to do a serviceable job, especially after I’d Googled some handy dandy tips about speeding the process up. After soaking it with water and letting it sit, it scraped off so much easier.

  But yesterday…yesterday had been the icing on the shit-cake Hud was serving me. Upon arriving, I’d been sent a text that I was back on landscaping duty. This time, however, instead of weed-pulling and flower-planting—which I was semi-qualified for—I’d been charged with installing an irrigation system. Let me repeat that. Installing. Irrigation. At least with that chore, I’d received some instructions. Of course, they were Hudson Reed’s instructions so, needless to say, they weren’t very descriptive.

  Then today I showed up to a text telling me that I had a “project” waiting in the barn, which turned out to be building a loft. Yeah…that was so not happening.

  After making my way over the large heap of lumber, I stomped out of barn doing one hell of a Big Bad Wolf impression, huffing and puffing harder with each step I took. I scanned the area for any signs of Hud-life. I lifted my hand to shield the harsh rays of sunlight blanketing the serene scene. Other than a few leaves blowing in the morning breeze, there was no movement. I knew he was here. I’d parked beside his truck not even twenty minutes earlier.

  When my three hundred and sixty degree surveillance proved futile, I started across the gravel drive towards the main farmhouse with purposeful determination and Romeo at my side. If Hud wasn’t there, I would head to the bunkhouse and then walk the fields until I flushed him out like the rat he was.

  As I searched every nook, cranny, and crawl space in the farmhouse, my mind raced with a running script of all the things I planned on telling him. And like any good script, I’d written his responses and had rebuttals cued up accordingly.

  No matter what he threw at me, I had an answer. If he told me that my being out here was a punishment and asked condescendingly if I’d rather be on the side of the road picking up trash with an orange vest, I would tell him yes, because at least then I would know what in the heck I was doing.

  If he threw the fact that I’d been raised on a farm in my face again, I would point out that if he needed cows milked, a horse brushed, or a loaf of fresh bread baked—I was his girl. But if I was required to do anything outside of that scope of work, then he needed to train me on whatever task he decided to assign me. For safety reasons, if nothing else. It was getting to the point that I was going to hurt myself, or someone else. As much as I believed in my abilities, there was no way I could build a loft, without it turning into a potential death trap.

  Was this a punishment? Yes.

  Did I deserve it? Well, that was open to interpretation.

  Was it dangerous to leave me to my own devices when I didn’t have a clue what I was doing? Yes!

  And I wasn’t being dramatic. It was absolutely dangerous. If I actually tried to take it upon myself to construct a loft, did he actually think that it would be sound and sturdy enough to pass any kind of inspection, much less be able to bear the weight of whatever he planned on storing up there? If he did, then he was crazier than Charlie Sheen when he was winning, an
d that was just one more reason that picking up trash on the highway was looking better and better.

  The hatch door squeaked as I pushed it up and peeked into the attic. Grabbing a flashlight from my nifty tool belt, which I’d picked up over the weekend and was now coming in very handy, I shone the light and called out Hud’s name. My voice echoed in the hollow space and my visual inspection turned up nothing.

  He wasn’t in the main house. Next up, I scoured the bunkhouse, fields and riverbank with equally disappointing results. By the time Romeo and I made it back to the barn I’d worked myself into quite the tizzy. A hot tizzy. It wasn’t even ten a.m. and it had to be close to ninety degrees already. My shirt was damp with sweat, which was doing nothing to improve my mood.

  Romeo, on the other hand was happy as could be thinking the entire thing was just one big adventure. He’d run through the open fields, bounding with joy. And since he’d splashed and played in the river, he didn’t seem to be suffering from the same overheating issues I was.

  Kneeling down, I ran my hand over his big, goofy head and scratched him behind his ears.

  “Why can’t you find Hudson?” I asked him the same question I’d asked at least a dozen times over the last hour.

  Romeo barked his response before he lapped a sloppy kiss up my cheek.

  “You’re cute, but clueless. Why can’t you be more like Lassie and go tell the Sheriff that Timmy fell in the well? Or in this case, Harmony fell in a pile of wood…” A plan instantly formed that some might find insane, but I was categorizing as brilliant. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

  With a tiny resurgence of renewed purpose, I stood and ran back into the barn and took inventory of my surroundings. This could work. Why go looking for Hud when I could have Hud come to me? Sure, when I’d texted him yesterday to ask him to come help with some irrigation issues I was having, he’d responded that he was sure I could figure it out. This time I wasn’t going to tell him what my problem was.