Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you today.” Linc set his protective mask and vinyl gloves on a tarp beside the empty sprayer.

  “You know how to arouse my curiosity.” Daryl Frieberg met Linc with an extended hand. “I figured you’d be working in the orchard today. Is that Ms. Smith?”

  “She wants to be called Mona. Wait here.” Linc marched past the van and the support posts anchoring the long trellis to the row where she worked.

  Mona pressed the trimmer switch and pushed off the protective ear muffs when Linc got her attention from the other side of the wire. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got company.”

  She leaned the tool against the trellis and pulled off her gloves. “Is it good or bad?”

  “The guest? He’s a friend of mine. A complete opposite of your non-friend Basil.”

  She pulled off her hat and sent her hair into motion. It fell loose to her shoulders without a hint of the band which held it in a ponytail earlier this morning. “A break sounds good. What time is it?”

  “A quarter to lunch.” He shortened his steps to match her pace as they went to meet Daryl. He both cursed and blessed the fence between them in silence. Little flecks of grass in her hair begged him to reach out, brush them away, and test the texture of the strands. Then he’d take a finger, just one, and skim it across her lower lip where she’d applied lip gloss early this morning.

  Too soon they reached the end of the row and he introduced her to Daryl.

  “I’ve known Lincoln all his life.” Daryl gestured them to sit on the tarp as if he hosted the meeting. “His dad and I tormented the teachers together from first grade through college applications.”

  Mona propped the trimmer against the shed and eased down on the tarp into a perfect tailor position. “So you’re the one who knows his secrets?”

  “I also know which ones not to share.”

  “That’s even more important.”

  Linc retrieved the lunch cooler from the van and listened to the casual banter between the others. Daryl squatted, keeping his attention on Mona with the exception of a quick occasional glance.

  “Is there any corner of the country you’ve not lived in, Mr. Freiberg?”

  Daryl stood, brushed invisible dirt from his black dress pants, and gave her an asymmetrical smile. “I’ve only lived in six states and DC. All the other places were mere visits, a few weeks at most.”

  “Sounds exciting to me. Until recently I’d not set foot out of Minnesota.”

  “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time. Don’t want to impede progress in the orchard and all that. However, you are invited to supper. Kathy and I will pick up the tab at Jack’s. Agreed?”

  “That’s the tavern in town,” Linc reminded Mona. “We’d be in for excellent pizza and a variety of beers. If you’re so inclined.”

  She nodded. “Pizza is good. After this heat a beer will hit the spot.”

  “Good. What time, Linc?”

  He shrugged, glanced at Mona, and decided to go early rather than late. “Five thirty?”

  “See you then. We might even be ahead of the thunderstorm in the forecast.”

  • • •

  “You have interesting friends.” Mona stood in the tool shed doorway drinking water after Daryl drove away. “Do you have any of your own generation?”

  “A few.” Linc finished washing his hands under the cold water tap. “My classmates and I scattered, followed the jobs. Or did you mean face-to-face friends?”

  She rested her head against the smooth wood of the door frame and watched him in shadow dry his hands and fill a water bottle. Intriguing. Too tempting. She discovered breathing became easier when she looked away from the actual man and gazed at his thin white coveralls on the grass beside the sprayer. At the moment they reminded her of a deflated Christmas decoration. “In my case they’re the same.”

  “I’ll have to broaden your horizons.”

  “You already have.” She walked over to the cooler and sat down. She remained aware of his gaze as he left the shed. With a blink and silent plea to the sky she conquered the urge to look at him. The more she looked, the more she wanted to touch. And if previous brief contact was any indication her hands would stay on him longer than their short acquaintance warranted. “Did you pack this before I came upstairs? What did you find?”

  “Very basic peanut butter and strawberry jam. You can thank my mother for the jam when you meet her.”

  Mona’s hand hovered over the top sandwich bag. Meet your mother? She must have heard wrong; his parents lived in West Allis, next to Milwaukee, hundreds of miles away. Did she miss a comment about a visit? She worked moisture into her throat. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

  “It is. Plentiful too. She’s gotten most of the backyard into berries now.”

  “Is that where you get it? The plant thing? From her?”

  “Hard to say.” He ripped plastic off a sandwich and took a bite. “The garden at home interested me a little. But when we came to visit the farm I never wanted to leave. I guess Grandmother put in a good word or two because soon I was staying for two weeks per summer and then the entire school break.”

  “Did your grandfather have cows then?”

  He nodded and swallowed. “He sold the herd when I was seventeen. His arthritis and a bad winter forced it. He continued with the crops until almost the end.”

  “So he knew about the orchard?”

  “We fenced it off and planted the first eight rows together.”

  She estimated the number now at double that. The rows and trees number from this morning calculated out to almost 2,000, depending on how large his give or take ended up. Any way you looked at it a lot of trees grew on these acres and there was still plenty of empty space inside the fence. “I enjoy cooking with apples. Last fall I tweaked an apple crisp recipe well enough to get an ‘excellent’ on it.”

  Linc concentrated on his lunch as if it were a defense against further conversation.

  I bragged again. She licked a drop of jam off a finger and stared off into the orchard. She could almost picture ripe apples, as large as her fist, among mature leaves in September.

  “Mona.” Linc broke the elongated silence. “I need to talk to you about my problem with the farm.”

  “Can you buy it from the estate? You did say the family owned it.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “My backpack is not full of money. If it were …” She blinked back the tears that threatened when she thought too much about the medical bills and her mother’s final days.

  “You have your own bills.” He completed her response. “No, the problem is, the way my grandparents wrote their will, I can only inherit the farm if I’m married.”

  She lowered the water bottle before it reached her lips. Her fingers curled tight around the plastic.

  “Within eleven days.”

  What? She listened to her heart skip a beat, like a kettle of water the instant before a boil. “Who?” Mona gazed down at her hand clenching her drink. “Who is this girl you’re going to marry?”

  I’ll leave as soon as we get back to Eau Claire. She made scrambled mental plans to ask for a ride to the bus depot. She had enough money for a ticket to put distance between her and a man less than two weeks away from his wedding.

  “You, I hope. Will you marry me, Mona?”

  She stared at him while her breathing suspended. Then, with an exhale and a blink, the scene spread before her as if she stood on the roof of the shed, observing. His hand reached out and gently enclosed hers. The warmth of his touch prompted another little hesitation in her heart. Will I ever breathe normally again?

  “It needs to be a legal marriage. Which means the decision needs to be soon—Wisconsin has a waiting period. It doesn’t have to be … ah … real.”

  She managed to lift her gaze from the tarp to meet his face. Words wobbled inside her throat and she licked her lips to gain time. “A marriage of convenience?”

>   “Yes.” His Adam’s apple bounced around like an elevator with all the buttons pushed at once. “A public marriage. In private … no sex required.”

  Mona’s neck heated until she felt certain it glowed like a toaster element. “Why? Why me?”

  “We get along.” He circled a thumb on the back of her hand. “At least it seems like we could.”

  She glanced down at their hands, checking for scorch marks. “How long have you known? About the deadline.”

  “Since the will was read.” He tipped his head back as if the right words would be written in the sky. “Conditions require I be legally married one year from the date of Grandmother’s death to take possession. Otherwise …”

  “And you waited until now?” She jerked her hand away and tucked it behind her.

  He shook his head. “I was engaged before Granny died. When things settled after the funeral and harvest and everything, Tami agreed to Valentine’s Day.”

  Tami?

  He turned his arm and ran his index finger down the length of the prominent scar. “Parting gift. Three weeks before the wedding. Everything exploded in an argument on her way out the door to California with a software engineer.”

  She swallowed hard, remembered his pale face and arms up in surrender. “Explains your reaction to the knife yesterday.”

  “We could be friends. I feel that much deep down. Will you marry me?”

  Mona settled the water bottle next to the cooler. Since she was a little girl sitting on her mother’s lap listening to Cinderella she’d fantasized marriage proposals. Not one of those hundreds resembled the last few minutes. They’d never been on a date. Nor seen a movie together. Nor discussed New England versus Manhattan clam chowder.

  “I’ll ask Jackson, my lawyer brother, to draw up a pre-nup if you want.”

  If I want. She didn’t know what she wanted. At the moment she doubted she could answer a simple question. Don’t even think about a decision that would affect the rest of her life. If she had even a sliver of confidence in her body she’d stand and run away—follow the road to Crystal Springs, find Daryl Frieberg, and beg for—for what? “I’ll think on it.”

  “How long?”

  How long will I think? She saw desperation on his face and compassion flooded her chest. All her preconceived notions of relationships and marriage collided with his pleading, gray eyes. “Can you spare forty-eight hours?”

  Chapter Seven

  Mona dropped the needle-nose pliers into a bin with several other small tools.

  “Any of them look familiar?” Linc set a thick notebook with laminated pages back on the shelf.

  “Tools? Most of these I’ve used at one time or another. It comes in handy to be able to fix carts, shelves, and my own bicycle.” She sent him a smile in the shaded tool shed. “Now this …” She drew a long pry bar from the shelf and held it by the curved portion. “I’ve never used one this large. A short person like me could use it as a cane.” She took a pair of small steps. “After adding a rubber tip. What do you use it for?”

  “Moving rocks. And other heavy things.” Linc took a gulp of water and skimmed his arm across his chin. “Van’s loaded except for us. Let’s go beat the storm.”

  She set the pry bar on a stack of folded tarps and walked outside. Thick clouds, turning from moderate to dangerous gray, rose like yeast dough from the northern horizon. At least, she thought it was north. It could be halfway to west considering the number of turns to her internal compass today. She glanced over in time to watch Linc snap a padlock on the shed latch and spin the combination to a random number. “I’ll get the gate.”

  “Thanks.”

  A few moments later Mona held her breath as they bumped through the monster pothole near the end of the driveway.

  “Remind me to fix this before deep frost.” He flashed a grin as he pulled onto the road.

  Not if I leave tomorrow. Since lunch she’d been having an internal debate while her stomach went up and down the array of blender speeds. For the moment it had settled at stir, the next to lowest on the scale. In ten minutes, three miles, she’d have another human face to look at, someone to change the topic. “Who’s Kathy?”

  “Uh … Daryl’s sweetheart.” He jabbed a finger toward an approaching vehicle. “Is that—? By God, it is. I’ve only seen one before, at an auto show.”

  Mona stared with her mouth open at the red El Camino as it approached, rolled on toward the farm, and crested the hill behind them. No. How?

  “Hey. You okay? You look pale as my shirt.”

  “That …” She collected a mouthful of air and forced it down to her lungs before putting her hands to her cheeks. “Basil. His flashy … El Camino. He … must have traced your van from the airport. Can we stop and get my things at your apartment before I vanish?”

  “Wait a minute. Basil, the same criminal you’re hiding from, is here?”

  “Unless … unless there’s two of those cars, or trucks, or crossover things in red running around.” She shrank tiny in the seat.

  “Not likely.” He checked his mirrors. “He didn’t turn around. You could hide in plain sight. Among friends.”

  I don’t have enough friends to waste any. “You still intend to stop for supper with Daryl?”

  “Still need to eat. Anyway, it’s time for a pit stop.” He braked at the intersection of Front and Elm.

  “I’d feel better with more than three miles between me and Basil.”

  Linc parked the van but made no move to get out. “The way I look at it, he’s less likely to attempt anything if you’re in a group.”

  “Short term.” She could see Linc’s reasoning. Maybe for the next few hours it would work. But sooner or later Basil would get desperate enough and put both her and any companions at risk. “I’ll take the first bus in the morning.”

  Five minutes later, face and hands washed, Mona left the tiny restroom and joined Linc at a corner table. She held her breath as a stranger entered before she selected a chair against the wall. At the first hint of Basil she’d—what? Dash to the ladies’ room? Hide behind Linc? Or would she be brave enough to make a scene, expose him as a bully? One thing for certain: she would not go with him willingly..

  “I’m going up to the bar to order. What do you want to drink?”

  “Beer, if we’re eating pizza. Any variety on tap.” She forced her lips into a cheerful shape as she scanned the patrons at tables along the windows and sitting at the bar. A man with his back to them leaned over the pool table and the brunette with him laughed. “Surprise me.”

  “Back in a minute.”

  She busied her hands with the salt and pepper shakers and kept her gaze on Linc striding across the room. A girl could get used to looking at a man like that. He demonstrated the sort of strength that came from daily physical work, not set exercises in a gym.

  “Here we go. Four Leinenkugel Red. Your pizza just went in the oven.” A server unloaded her tray as Linc and Daryl and Kathy, who’d been playing pool, crossed the room.

  “Mona, meet Kathy. And you remember Daryl from earlier?”

  “I’m unforgettable.” Daryl moved a chair beside Mona and set his back three-quarters to the pine paneling.

  Kathy extended her hand. “Pardon his manners. Too many years in law enforcement make it impossible for him to sit in public without his back against the wall. Literally.”

  Mona cooperated with the handshake and filed it in memory as confident. She glanced at Daryl and wondered how she’d missed it at the orchard. The dress shirt and black dress pants fit him like a uniform and he’d managed to turn any personal question aside with a few words and a hint of a lopsided smile.

  “And you, of course, have no irritating habits.” Daryl sipped beer while staring into Kathy’s face.

  “I’ll confess to workaholic. Unless you count keeping company with you.” A light manner and trace of a smile implied this was an exchange replayed often.

  “She only has two jobs.” Linc addresse
d Mona. “To clarify, you’re dining with a nurse administrator and mayor. Plus Daryl and me.”

  Tension drained out through Mona’s toes. The nurses, as opposed to a majority of the doctors, had treated her and Matt with respect and genuine concern during the worst twelve days of her life.

  “You’re early. Didn’t expect you for another fifteen minutes or so.” Daryl didn’t let the silence stretch.

  “That storm you mentioned is building. I didn’t care to get wet.” A gust of wind strong enough to rattle the window behind Linc and a rumble of thunder underlined his words.

  “Hazard of living in the valley. Not much sky to forecast from.”

  “Mayor?” Mona traced her finger down the length of her glass and recalled her only other encounter with a mayor. One year she’d worked as part of a catering crew and the mayor of Minneapolis attended as the featured speaker at a holiday banquet. What did one say? “I shopped at Harter’s this morning. Nice place.”

  “Yes, it is. We’ve got a good mix of businesses in town.” Kathy displayed her fingers. “Beauty shop added a part-time manicurist last year. Bookstore across the street opened a few months ago. Our newest addition.”

  Mona stared in amazement.

  “We’re a small place.” Kathy turned her smile into a light laugh. “You’ll find that everyone knows their neighbor’s business. Or thinks they do.”

  The server returned carrying a large, fragrant pizza with mozzarella still bubbling. “More to drink?”

  “Not yet.” Daryl saluted her with his almost-full glass.

  Mona teased a wedge of pizza onto a small plate.

  Linc asked a question of local interest and soon everyone except Mona was discussing the recent Memorial Day ceremonies.

  She followed the conversation the best she could without being able to attach faces to any of the names. Each time the door opened she sent her gaze over Kathy’s shoulder. Dread yielded to relief when each customer failed to be Basil.

  “No more beer for me. I’d have to let Mona drive us home.” Linc shook his head when the server returned.