by Sally John
“Great. Sorry to interrupt the first day of your first real getaway, but Creighton’s breathing down my neck about the Chula Vista project. There’s a board meeting tonight, and he wants his ducks in a row…”
Sam stood still to answer Randy’s questions and direct him to her files. Nothing had been pressing on the docket that week, which had made it ideal for her to leave. But the big boss lining up ducks redefined pressing. It was why she carried the phone.
“Thanks, Sammi. I promise not to call again.”
“It’s okay. I was getting bored.”
“Really?”
She chuckled. “No.”
“Did you find your grandmother yet?”
She had told him a little bit about her quest. It was her only plausible explanation for flying last minute to Illinois. “You mean in the ten hours since I arrived?”
“Probably not?”
After their goodbyes, Sam looked around. The air was crisp, the sky clear and almost as blue as Jasmyn’s definition of Keagan’s eyes. Wind rustled the cornstalks, a whispery, soothing sound. Now and then she heard a gurgle from the stream.
And then she felt them: the low, silent hum of the earth itself, the gentle touch of air itself. They were different from and yet the same as what she had always known in the desert. The seen expressed the unseen. Creation and Creator became one.
Her father had tried to explain it to her little girl mind when they hiked.
Perhaps she had, after all, found her grandmother. Hannah Carlson moved far from her homeland, but she took with her that understanding of the Creator and she fell in love with a kindred spirit, Sam’s grandfather. In their son, the understanding lived on.
Now at last, Samantha Yahzi Whitehorse began to grasp the deeper truth. Nature spoke to her as it had to her father and his parents before him. It announced a living God.
Sam found Jasmyn where the corn gave way to—of all things—a construction site.
It was incongruent and just plain ugly.
Jasmyn sat on the ground, her knees bent up, her chin on them.
Sam joined her. She had nothing to say. Apparently neither did her friend.
About a hundred yards away, like a kid’s erector play set, there were vertical and horizontal beams, crossing each other. People in hard hats scurried about. Noisy trucks churned around. A short distance beyond, tiny vehicles zipped along the interstate.
“What used to be here?”
“Soybeans or corn. Zeb planned for beans this year. I had to buy him out.”
“At least he had the other fields, right?”
Jasmyn nudged her with her elbow. “We’ll make a farmer of you yet.”
“This will be the strip mall?”
“Yes. Fast food, gas, and a midsized discount store.”
“For Valley Oaks, that could mean…”
“A big ouch. Or not. Townies, generally speaking, will probably still mainly shop in town. This will serve other outlying areas.” She frowned. “The people who now drive into Valley Oaks. This is Phase One. Phase Two, if the farmer across the road sells out, will be an outlet mall.”
“Those are popular. That could bring business to the specialty shops.” She had noted gift and antique shops in town.
“I hope so. Phase Three will be condos where the house and barns were. That, actually, could be positive.”
“Definitely. New people, larger tax base, more customers close to town. Wow, I had no idea how huge farms could be.”
“The landscape is shot to pieces.”
“True, but there are still some wide open spaces. It is beautiful here.”
“It’s nothing like it was, and after this is built up…” She shook her head. “I can’t quite get over the fact that I have money in the bank because of this mess.”
“Oh, Jasmyn. You have money in the bank because of a tornado. That’s not your fault.”
“But if I hadn’t sold—”
“Zeb would have soybeans, and you would have a studio apartment and an empty lot. From what I hear, you’re giving back to the community, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”
“I guess I know that.”
“You don’t sound convinced. Maybe we should call Liv and the girls. Get some more pep talk.”
Jasmyn smiled. “You did a good job, Sam.”
“Anytime. What’s for lunch?”
“If we sit here long enough, we could try that fast-food joint.”
“Not going to happen.” She stood. “Come on. Race you to the car.”
Instead of racing, they walked. Jasmyn told stories about growing up on the farm, about silly cows and mean goats, playing in the creek with Quinn, ice skating on it in the winter, driving the tractor as a kid, snow sparkling in moonshine. Sam laughed. But inside she felt a little bit sad. Neither she nor Jasmyn could ever go back to those snippets in time when home had seemed good.
They ate lunch in another diner, this one in the county seat of Oxford. It was a little bit like going to Liv’s for dinner. Sam’s dietary pickiness went by the wayside. Organic and fresh vegetables and whole grains seemed, oddly, to be missing from the heartland of agriculture.
But instead of whining about it, she dug into a luscious chicken potpie with the flakiest crust she’d ever tasted and smiled at Jasmyn across the booth table.
Jasmyn giggled. “You can run off the calories later.”
“Right after the nap.”
“This must be a major culture shock to you.”
“It’s nothing compared to my first day at UCLA after leaving Arizona. The hordes of people. The strange food. The crazy traffic. Sheesh.”
“It’s funny how none of that affected me when I was in San Diego.”
“I suppose you stayed there long enough for the culture shock to go away.”
“No, it was instantaneous. I never felt any culture shock. The minute I stepped outside the airport, I was at home. I wonder if it was the Portuguese fisherman’s DNA in me. The smell of the ocean triggered something that made everything absolutely okay.”
“That’s—well, I was going to say off-the-chart wacko. But this morning in the cornfield I sensed that my grandmother loved this land.”
Jasmyn’s smile creased her eyes into slits. “You get it.”
“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone.” Sam smiled. “Back to the culture shock. What’s it like now, going backward? Being here at home?”
“It’s amazing! I feel like the world is my lobster.”
“Oyster.”
“That too. I am so ready to start a new life. I want a new place to live, maybe a condo. I want to buy the Pig next year and make a go of it.”
As Jasmyn talked excitedly about her plans, Sam thought about their first conversation, the day they ran at the beach. At the time, the topic had been a bit heavy-duty for her, but Jasmyn being Jasmyn drew her out. Sam ended up confessing hurts she never spoke of. How that as a child, like Jasmyn, she had not felt safe unless she was alone. Family did not offer safety and nurturing. Neither did townspeople.
Although Jasmyn was at her sunniest and most confident—more so than Sam had ever seen her—something felt off. Maybe it was Jasmyn’s reaction at the farm site earlier. For whatever reason, Sam couldn’t buy into the rosy picture she painted.
It reminded her of how she had encouraged Jasmyn to reinvent herself. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. But who was she to tell Jasmyn how to start over?
In Seaside Village, Jasmyn had fit into life at the Casa de Vida in the same way she had described her arrival in San Diego. Her sense of being at home hit her almost instantaneously with Liv and Cottage Eleven and many of the Detainees.
While Sam always pooh-poohed the Casa camaraderie, Jasmyn had fallen into it as slickly as a seal skimming through the ocean. She called Sam her BFF, but in reality they were all her BFFs: Liv, Inez, Coco, and the others. BFFs or, more precisely, family.
And now it seemed that Jasmyn’s Valley Oaks home offered just one big fat challenge:
starting over by herself. Where was her cheering section? Aside from one lone BFF in Quinn, where was her safety net?
Sam should tell Liv. She would want to know.
Seventy
Liv cuddled Tobi on her lap in an armchair in the office, and listened to Samantha on the phone.
“Did I mention the courthouse was built in 1880?”
Yes, Samantha had mentioned it already, but Liv let her ramble on. It was such a wondrous thing to hear Samantha Whitley ramble.
“The workmanship is incredible. Why don’t we build like this anymore? I mean, besides the obvious—cost. The stone and marble, the colors, the artistic way it’s all put together—well, it’s too…it’s just too too.” She sighed.
“Use your words, Samantha.”
She chuckled. “Anyway, the records people were also incredible. They helped me find my great-grandparents’ marriage license and my grandmother’s birth certificate. My great-grandfather sold insurance, and his business was listed. They told me about local history books at the library that should have more information. I’ll check those out tomorrow.”
Liv heard the satisfaction in her voice, a deep contentment even. “You might want to talk to the old people. Your grandmother would only be in her eighties, right? Someone could remember her.”
“Great idea. How’s Beau? And, um, Chad and Coco and everyone?”
Liv almost laughed out loud. How was Beau and um? “We’re all about the same as we were forty-eight hours ago.” There was a light rap on the door and Beau opened it. “Speaking of Beau, he just came in. Beau, Samantha wants to know how you are.”
Samantha protested in her ear and Beau’s cheeks glowed.
“Tell her fit as a fiddle.” He backed out of the doorway. “I’ll catch you later, Miss Olivia.” And then he was gone.
Liv wondered what was up with him. He had not been himself that day. Either he was fighting an infection or he was perturbed about something. About Samantha’s absence?
“Liv, the main reason I called is Jasmyn.”
Liv listened as Samantha shared her concerns. Although awash in emotion regarding her grandmother and perhaps Beau as well, she was a pragmatic girl and Jasmyn’s plans did not set well with her. They were airy ideals that included, of all things, to remake who she was in Valley Oaks.
Lord, have mercy.
She promised Samantha she would pray that Jasmyn would have wisdom to make the best choices. Now was not the time to explain that sometimes not-so-good choices ended up being the best for growth as well as for blessings. That life was never perfect and that stumbling allowed one to seek grace like nothing else could.
Liv did not want to hear that stuff herself. She preferred to hear that God answered the prayers of a woman of faith, even if those prayers were purely selfish demands. Just bring her home to the Casa, Lord. Just bring her on back.
She stroked Tobi’s furry neck and listened to her sweet purr. “What are we going to do, Tobi? Prayer is a work in progress. Faith has no handles. We can only keep on keeping on.”
She sat in silence and listened to the whispers in her heart.
And she understood that keeping on keeping on was not a solo affair.
And that faith did have handles. They came in the form of friends, three women in particular.
Liv referred to them as her top people. Although separated through the years by situations or distance, they remained her touchstones when it came to the spiritual.
But what she loved most about them was that they prayed at the drop of a hat.
She set Tobi on the floor, went to her desk, and composed a quick email to her friends and sent it off. Technology and backup were also wondrous things.
Liv found Beau in Cottage Three, sitting on a tarp in the living room, staring at three opened cans of paint.
“Beau?”
He turned, his cheeks still tinged with pink. “Sorry to have bothered you while you were on the phone, Miss Olivia.” He gestured to the cans. “I can’t remember which color you wanted where.”
The man never forgot the slightest detail about what she asked him to do. They had discussed the colors on Friday for a long time. She had even gone with one of his suggestions. And by now in her presence, he would have politely risen to his feet.
She said, “I liked your suggestion about the pale yellow in the living room and the lemon yellow in the kitchen.”
His eyes glazed over.
“Beau, are you all right?”
“Hmm?”
“You seem to be somewhere else today.”
“Well now, Miss Olivia, I am sorry to say that your observation is true. I apologize for my subpar performance.”
“Can I help you?”
He looked somewhere over her shoulder and exhaled a big-man sort of exhausted breath. He got to his feet and removed his cap. “I’m afraid I need some time off. A week.” He shook his head. “Or so. I’ll get someone to cover for me. I have a trustworthy friend who can work here between his other jobs. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
Liv felt her hand moving toward her chest and lowered it. Her mind was already drafting a postscript to the email she had just sent. “I do worry. About you, though, not about the work.”
His shy smile flashed. “Miss Olivia, you could pass for my Granny Mibs.”
“Except for the small hands.”
A crimson red flushed his cheeks now.
She had hoped for a full-on grin. What was going on with Beau, the steady, unflappable guy?
He cleared his throat. “I do thank you for your concern, but there is no need for you to worry. We know rain is going to fall now and then in every life. I seem to be in the middle of a flood. I’ll just run up to Hollywood to see if I can’t rebuild the riverbanks before any more damage is done.”
River banks? Hollywood? She had no clue what he was talking about.
He reached into a back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “If you don’t mind, I’ll close up these paint cans and give my friend a call. Here’s his card.” He handed it to her. “Nice guy. Knowledgeable. Excellent.”
Liv touched his hand. “Beau, will you save the cottage for whenever you get back? Please.”
“Of course, Miss Olivia, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“It is. This is our project. I don’t want to move ahead without you.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded, as if he understood there was no practical reason for her request. She was asking him to come back because she simply could not lose another member of her home.
Seventy-One
Tuesday morning at the Pig, wrapped in Danno’s bear-sized arms, Jasmyn shut her eyes. She felt the soft flannel against her cheek, smelled the familiar barbecue scent, and wished more fiercely than ever that he was her dad and not that fly-by-night stranger who just happened to meet Jerri Albright on his way through the state.
“Welcome home, Jazzie.” Danno moved her to arm’s length, his eyes soft and his forehead creased. “That girl was honest-to-goodness for real?”
There was no need for him to explain which girl. “She was honest-to-goodness for real.”
“Well, I’ll be switched. You got family in California.”
“Sort of.”
He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and let go. “I bet the guy never knew you existed. Have a seat.”
She smiled to herself. Quinn had filled him in on the details of her meeting with Manda Smith. He was sweet to try to make the situation okay.
He yelled toward the kitchen, “Hey, Biscuit!” He winked at Jasmyn and said in a low tone, “I found a new way to annoy Quinn.”
As if on cue, there was a loud smack against the swinging door, and Quinn burst through it, frowning. “Seriously, Danno? You’re going to keep that up?”
Jasmyn laughed. “He will as long as you keep reacting like a wet hen.”
Danno led them through the dining room, vacant at this time of day. “Step into my office, ladies
.”
They sat near the French doors that led to the screened-in porch at a large round table, where Danno typically conducted business. If vendors came during business hours, he’d offer them a stool in the kitchen beside the stainless steel counter. His official office was a messy, closet-sized nook, where the only clear spot was the computer. Jasmyn did not know for sure if there was a desk underneath it.
Danno eyed them one at a time. “Ready?”
Jasmyn nodded and saw Quinn do the same.
The evening before, he had called to ask if they could meet before she returned to work on Wednesday. He wanted to discuss the possibility of her buying the restaurant, if she was still interested. She was, but she hadn’t imagined he would bring it up on her second day back in town. But then, she had absolutely no clue how to take over an established business. She had told him her idea about partnering with Quinn. He invited her to join them.
“Let me start by saying that you two are the best.” Danno’s expression seemed more sad than businesslike. “In my thirty years here, you two have been the absolute best. Separately and as a team. I know if anyone can keep the Pig flying, it’ll be you ladies.”
Jasmyn exchanged a glance with Quinn. Her brows inched upward too. The praise was overboard for Danno.
“You know I’m not full of hot air, so just accept what I said as true.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from a file folder and laid them out. “I want to show you exactly what you’d be signing up for.”
Jasmyn listened as he explained some of the financials. The numbers were not unfamiliar. He had brought her into the loop years ago, needing her to fill in for him now and then to order supplies or help with the payroll. She knew he made a decent living, but it was hard work.
“It’s more a labor of love than anything. I think you both get that. You gotta love people and make them feel special. You gotta make top-notch food and make the place comfortable. We’re getting a little dated, but that’s an easy fix. Fresh paint, new lights. Just takes time and creativity. You’ll want to put your own stamp on it. Maybe even change the name.”