Silence reigned.
Zach stopped dead in his tracks. He made eye contact with his sister, then swallowed hard. Piper stood still, too, but then realization hit. This was nothing they’d want to talk about in front of the boys. “My dad had to go here and there, too,” she told Martin. Five years old was too young to have to deal with crazy adult drama, but Piper was no stranger to that, so she squatted until she was eye-level with the boy. “He was working on all sorts of things, and there were times when he’d pack up and go off for days. And we just kept busy until we saw him again.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Martin decided. “Right, Mom? We’ll just keep busy.”
“You’ve come to the right place for that,” Zach told the boys. He sent his sister a gentle look, so filled with compassion that Piper’s eyes grew damp. “Farms are busy places.”
“And there’s the lake.” Piper pointed down the hill. “We have a small boat that’s great for fishing. And for trolling around, checking out the water.”
“I didn’t know that.” Zach’s voice drew her attention as they took their place in line at the first window. “You have a boat?”
Piper shrugged. “My brothers aren’t big on fishing and I’m short on time.”
She didn’t look up, purposely. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. And it was pretty silly to live on a lake, have a boat and never go out on the water. “Why don’t you use it to take the boys out while they’re here?”
“I go back to work on Tuesday, so I can take them fishing for a little while tomorrow,” Zach decided. “Did you ever eat lake perch, Piper?”
“I love lake perch,” she admitted. “My dad used to catch them by the buckets. I even helped fillet them, but I probably shouldn’t admit that.”
“Because the minute you admit to knowing something, someone expects you to do it,” Julia added.
“Exactly.” Piper smiled at her.
Noreen leaned out the ice cream window to admire the boys. “Noreen, this one’s on us,” Piper said.
“I thought I nixed that idea.” Zach aimed a no-nonsense gaze her way, but Piper waved him off.
“Gotta welcome our summer visitors in style. I must get back to work, but you should have them meet the twins. And Beansy. Lucia’s in the house with the girls.”
“You’re not having ice cream with us?” Zach’s voice held a note of question. “But supper is a yes, right?”
It shouldn’t be a yes. Piper knew that. But Marty and Zach had been good to them, and refusing to let them feed her family would be rude. “What time?”
“Let’s eat late so you can get stuff done. Seven-thirty okay? And I’m making a campfire for the kids.”
Dorrie and Sonya would love that. “We’ll be there. Julia.” Piper turned and offered Zach’s sister a broad smile. “Nice to meet you. And your boys.”
“Thank you, Piper.”
Their exchanged look left a lot unstated, but Piper understood what happened to family when there was a breakup. Kids were part of the collateral damage. No matter what else happened in her life, she craved a happily ever after with her one true love.
But she’d been surrounded by the opposite, so maybe that was her collateral damage: a wounded heart seeking a perfect tomorrow.
She headed to the back pasture to screen the heifers. Some were due to calve, some were ready to be bred and others were lolling, not quite ready to join the healthy dairy herd she’d developed over a decade.
Brown grass crunched beneath the tires of her aging pickup truck. Stunted corn swayed on Vince and Linda’s knoll, up the hill. What should be lush appeared yellowed, even from this distance.
Water.
The corn needed water, and without God-given rain, there’d be none. Bad drought was a rarity in the northern Appalachians, but this year it reared its head.
But they’d survived dry years before. And wet ones. Wet ones were worse, in fact, so she’d deal with it and move forward, day by day. She had Lucia, Berto and the girls relying on her, depending on the farm. One way or another, she’d make it work.
* * *
“No one does half chickens over a wood fire like this anymore. And I don’t remember this fire pit being here, but I can’t imagine when you’ve had time to build it with the work you’re putting in on that deck. It’s gorgeous, by the way. I love how the fieldstone here complements the stone of the house.” Piper took a breath and inhaled the mouthwatering scent of grilling chicken as Lucia and Julia watched the kids zipping across a hose-fed lawn mat.
“And once again she manages multiple sentences before pausing to breathe.” Zach sounded wry, but his easy look gentled her heart. Calmed her spirit. “The fire pit came as a kit that I found at Home Depot last week when Dad and I had to make a tool run. Dad worked on it between milking, tractors and puppies.”
“Not much of a vacation for a guy who doesn’t want to be married to his work,” Piper noted, sinking onto one of the benches drawn up near the fire pit, but far enough back to avoid the heat. “Shouldn’t a vacation be restful?”
“I think helpful outweighs restful most often.” Zach adjusted the height of his grill with a clever turning device he’d mounted next to the fire pit. “My father loves helping on the farm. The puppies are thriving—”
“Can I see them?”
Her eagerness earned her the first full-fledged smile she’d seen him flash since yesterday afternoon. “Once the water wars are over.” He lifted his gaze to the Slip ’n Slide area. “Otherwise we’ll have soaking-wet kids wanting to tromp in with you. And Dad’s moving the pups to an outside pen in the shade of the garage tomorrow.”
“Smelly.” She made a face up at him and laughed when he nodded.
“Yes. They’re big enough now and it’s plenty warm enough, so if you hear yipping and yapping, please don’t call animal control on me for disturbing the peace.”
“I won’t, but only because you’ve stopped complaining about my roosters. Except, I expect they’ll annoy you again once you’re back at work. And then we’re back to square one.”
“Are we?” The look he aimed her way said he wasn’t so sure. “I think we passed square one but hit a fork in the road, and neither one of us knows which path to take.”
“The road less traveled.” Piper drew her knees up and locked her hands around them. “Robert Frost lived on a farm. Did you know that?”
Zach tipped a lazy grin her way, turning her tough-girl will to putty. “Is that supposed to make me like farming more? Because it doesn’t. And his first farm was a dismal failure. Bet you didn’t know that or you wouldn’t be spewing your poetry facts quite so freely.”
“I didn’t, but it makes little difference if he kept his eye on the goal and eventually became a successful poet and farmer. I think his story is meant to open our eyes to the possibilities around us,” she returned. “And you can’t hate farming as much as you make out or you wouldn’t have bought a house bordering a farm.”
“I like fishing. Hunting. Living in the country.” Zach reached out long-handled tongs to turn the sizzling meat. “And I must admit, I kind of enjoyed helping you out the past couple of weeks. Now and again.” He quirked a grin her way. “Probably because it was the exception, not the rule.”
“I hear ya.” She contemplated the fire, then the farm. A stray wind rose up, not strong, but enough to fan the flames, make Zach readjust the height of his grilling plate and force Piper to push her hair back, behind her ears. “I wonder what makes us love things. Or dislike them. Is the affinity for a certain profession the same as having a talent? Like painting or drawing? Or is it because the odd tumblers of fate push you in one direction or another?”
“God. And fate.”
Piper frowned. “I don’t think it can be both, Zach.”
He laugh
ed. “Sure it can. You’re born with God-given talent.”
She nodded agreement.
“But life hands you an array of experiences, good and bad. So you’re made up of those experiences. We’re like baseballs,” he noted, eyes down, keeping the flames in check.
“Baseballs.”
“You’re laughing at me, but it’s a good analogy,” he continued as he studied the meat, watching for bursts of flame as chicken fat tempted the heat to ignite. “The core of the ball is firm and hard. But the ball won’t move properly through the air without the bands surrounding that core. And each band is slightly different, made of different yarns. Different thicknesses.”
“Like our experiences.”
“Yes. But then each ball is hand-stitched and that’s like God, molding us and shaping us. Tugging us in one direction or another, if we’re smart enough to follow his lead.”
“So God led you away from the farm?” With the Realtor’s current interest in McKinney Farm, Piper asked the question sincerely.
Zach shook his head. “No, I’m going to blame that one on good old-fashioned stubbornness.”
Piper understood that. She’d dug her heels in a lot lately.
“The problem is,” Zach continued, “if I’d known what was going to happen ten years later, I might have made different choices. But no one has that vantage point except God, so we make do with our choices and move on.” He aimed a smile at his father across the yard. As Marty moved their way, Zach dropped his tone. “Let’s curtail this discussion for a bit, okay? Dad’s heading this way.”
“Gotcha.”
Marty had been very good to her and the farm these past two weeks. If continuing a conversation about leaving a farm would hurt the older Harrison, she was okay leaving it alone for now. But a bevy of questions made her wonder about the whys and wherefores of Marty Harrison’s farm. Still, it wasn’t her business, not really. And his help was a blessing, all around.
“I’ve got a proposition for you, Piper.” Marty took a seat next to her, leaned forward, clasped his hands and then indicated her barns with a glance. “I’d like to start painting the outbuildings for you.”
Piper followed the direction of his gaze and shook her head instantly. “I can’t let you do that, Marty. It’s too much, and I don’t have money to pay you to help like that.”
“Not lookin’ for money. Don’t need money. But you’re a farm girl and you know that a good roof and sound wood are crucial to a building.”
“Yes. But—”
“We’re at the lull time of the year right now. First hay is in. Winter wheat crop is still a few weeks out. And nothing after that but spreading manure and milking while we let Mother Nature and God manage the growing part of the season.”
His words made sense, but painting big buildings was a huge project. Still, the offer tempted her. But it would be wrong to put Marty to work like that. “Marty, you’ve got Julia here. And the boys.”
“I’ll manage time for both. The way I see it, if we can get one full barn done this year, we can tackle the ell of the other barn next year.”
It did make sense. Piper turned toward Zach, but he studied the grill, silent. “I...”
“Good!” Marty clapped his hands and stood, laughing down at her. “You know years ago, when I was probably Zach’s age, a couple of young fellas came by my place, looking for work. They didn’t want pay, they were doing country mission work, they said. They went from town to town, offering their help to farmers and talking about faith.” He directed his gaze toward McKinney Farm and then back to Piper. “Consider me your country mission help. It makes me feel good to walk down that center row of the milking parlor, watching those cows chew their cud. Mixing feed. Painting barns. You’re helping me by letting me help you.”
His words piqued Piper’s curiosity. Why did Marty need help? Was there something she should know?
“I’ll grab the paint tomorrow, and I won’t take no for an answer. This is my way of saying thank-you.”
“For letting you work?” Piper didn’t hide her disbelief. “You understand that’s not how this usually works, right?”
“In this case, it’s fine.” Marty laughed. He stretched his arms up, above his head, inhaled and then gave Zach a solid look of approval. “That smells really good.”
“Ten minutes,” advised Zach. “Can you have Julia get the kids dried off?”
“I’m on it.” Marty strode off, looking stronger and younger than when Piper first met him two weeks before.
She turned to pepper Zach with questions but his face silenced her. He followed his father’s progress with such a look of guilt and sadness that her heart longed to soothe them away.
She’d save her questions for later, when Marty wasn’t around. She’d ask them eventually. She needed to, to find out the Harrison history. A part of her felt guilty for accepting their help with no payment, but Marty’s story of those two wandering mission boys, back in the day...
God understood farmers. He understood sowers of seed; He’d used them in multiple parables. But He also blessed the family, the home, the heart of the farm, and asked His people to rest on the seventh day.
She never rested. Which meant she picked which commands to respect. Was she right? Wrong?
She wasn’t sure, but she needed to do an examination of conscience more thoroughly than she had in a long time. Marty’s willingness to work meant she should have more time. Instead, she kept thinking of more things she could get done because she had more time. That probably wasn’t exactly what God had in mind.
“Piper, can you get me a platter from inside?”
“Sure.” She stood, watching Zach reposition the chicken pieces to cook them evenly. He put care and caution into his grilling, his bed of coals just so.
“You’re staring.” He angled a slow smile her way, a smile that said he enjoyed being appreciated.
“I’m noting your cooking prowess. Nothing more.” It wasn’t a full truth, but she was admiring his skills. And his hands, strong and dexterous. His profile, firm and ridged from brow to chin. The little dimple in his right cheek that flashed when he grinned. Like now.
“It’s only one of my many attributes, but thank you. And that doesn’t mean you can plunk me on some bicentennial committee for next year, flipping burgers and sausages at the fair. We’ll have enough to do with crowd control.”
“Is Marty as good with a grill?”
Zach’s expression said Marty didn’t come close. “But he’s okay with burgers and hot dogs. And that’s the first time he mentioned being here next year.” Zach’s words went back to the prior conversation. “We’ve been wondering what his plans were. He’s not exactly the talkative type.”
“I gathered that. And I take it he’s not sure what to do now that he lost his farm.”
Zach’s face darkened. “Let’s just say he’s got time to decide. I pray about it. About him. The whole thing.”
Curiosity pulled Piper forward, but Zach waved her off. “We’ll discuss it sometime soon, but right now I need that platter. If you don’t mind?” His expression said he didn’t mind her inquisitiveness, but now wasn’t the time or place.
“Be right back.”
“Thanks, Piper.”
She smiled back at him, over her shoulder, and the sight of him alongside the raised pit, manning the grilling area with masculine intent, made her appreciate him.
Yes, he was a cop. But he wasn’t Hunter, and he proved that every single day.
But he didn’t like farming.
Still, with the Realtor’s offer on the table, would she actually be farming in another year? If Vince and Linda’s land sold, how would she manage enough acreage to make a profit? And should she sell now while she maintained the upper hand? Once the deal was done on Vince’s land, Piper would have to
travel much farther to rent arable land. And that trip with huge equipment meant a loss of profits.
Confusion and insecurity wrangled in her thoughts as she entered the kitchen. A large, oval platter sat on the table, plain white stoneware. She picked it up and took it outside.
“Ah, thanks.” Zach accepted the platter, set it down and began lifting the half chickens.
“Great platter. It’s huge. And heavy.”
His smile said he agreed. “It was my mother’s. We used it every Thanksgiving and Christmas for the roasted turkey.”
“How nice.”
“That woman could cook up a storm,” he told her as he turned a piece of chicken one last time. “She helped on the farm when she needed to, but her talent was raising kids. Running the house. Raising the puppies. Chauffeuring people here and there. Keeping schedules straight. And keeping the books for Dad.”
Piper took a step back to allow him room to hoist the platter. “You miss her.”
“Every day.” He sighed, then smiled. “But I believe we’ll be together again. With my brother Cameron. He died before I was born and a part of my mom never stopped missing him.”
The pure light of Zach’s heart shone through his words, his understanding of his mother’s loss. “And I bet your father worked through it differently.”
“Or not at all.” Zach waited while she slid the wide glass door to the family room open. “He’s not a talker, he’s a doer, so you might be right. But on the days when Mom went to Cam’s gravesite―his birthday and holidays―Dad didn’t go with her. I did.”
Empathetic. Caring. Kind. Loyal and faithful to a fault. God had created this wonderful man and each quality made him more attractive. He set the meat down and turned her way. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about sad stuff on such a nice summer day. It’s just that seeing Cat and her little brother yesterday—”
She nodded, remembering.
“Put me in mind of Cameron. And how my parents must have felt, tending him while he was sick and knowing he wasn’t going to make it. I can’t imagine being that strong.”
Falling for the Lawman Page 9