She watched him walk away, not sure whether to follow him or not. She needed to get away from him and let her mind clear. On the other hand, she could hardly let him put away her mess while she bounced off inside. Grandma would roll over in her grave.
Let him go. Any reason she might come up with to go after him was nothing more than an excuse. She had escaped the argument. Why push her luck?
She stood rooted to the sandy patch of grass and watched the denim that fit perfectly against his backside as he opened the tool shed and propped the ax inside. He closed the door, tipped her a nod, then crossed the yard and disappeared through the gate and into the back field.
She let out the breath she’d trapped in her lungs. She ought to have more sense than to stand here and stare after him like a lovestruck teenager. She had enough problems already. Flirting with the old heartache would only cause more.
Why did I come back? Had her impulse to run home been as short-sighted as the decision to take an ax to the sign? Maybe.
Probably.
She grimaced and started towards her car. Mistake or not, she’d come too far to change her mind now. She would unload the luggage she had forgotten at the sight of those signs, take a cool shower, and figure out what to do next.
But she couldn’t resist one last look over her shoulder a few minutes later when he pulled through the gate and down the driveway. He tipped a hand at her as he passed and drove away.
Maren let out a sigh and closed the trunk. Fatigue had taken over, and she didn’t have the energy to haul everything inside right now. One bag would be enough to shower and change. She picked up her suitcase, its rollers useless in the thick sand that covered the lane, and trudged across to the side door. She had managed to slip in and out of town for years without coming across Jack. No surprise that, when her luck was at its worst, he would be the first person she met when she came back home.
To make matters worse, she had melted into a mindless puddle when he got too close. She vowed not to let it happen again. She needed to keep her distance. Of course, that wouldn’t be easy with him riding through the yard to check on the pears. She had a mind to go and pick every one of them to make sure he didn’t do it again.
Maren stuck her key in the lock and nudged the door open. He still hadn’t told her why he had been back there. Where was Hank? What was she missing?
She plunked her suitcase down on the floor and gazed around at a living room she hadn’t seen in years. Her heart sank. Without her grandparents to fill it, the room felt empty, musty and sad. She closed her eyes. At thirteen, coming here had solved all of her problems. Her grandparents had wrapped her in love and made her safe and secure. Not anymore. The sign in the yard, Jack, and the empty house made her feel lonelier than ever. Like the day of her grandfather’s funeral.
Maren willed away the tears that threatened. She looked down at the suitcase handle still gripped in her fingers.
Maybe I can change my mind.
She could be in Vicksburg before dark, and perhaps even to Little Rock before she had to stop for the night. She could leave the house, and Jack, in her rearview mirror. Just like she had done before.
Maren let go of the suitcase, crossed the room, and sank down on the couch, dropping her face into her hands. No. She couldn’t leave, and not just because she’d lose the farm for sure if she left now. She hadn’t wanted to come here—she’d had to. Her ex-fiancé had seen to that. For the second time in her life, this farm had been her only refuge.
She dropped her hands and straightened her shoulders. She had no choice. This was her home, and she would stay. She would fight.
And she wouldn’t let anyone get in her way.
# # #
Shepherdsville always rolled up the sidewalks on Friday afternoon. Maren had forgotten about that. After years in Seattle, she had gotten used to the constant hum of people, cars, and busy downtown streets.
Here, she’d be lucky to find so much as a janitor hanging around. Of course, the janitor would probably know more than anyone else. And he’d be a lot more willing to talk.
The old wooden door creaked when she pushed it open and stepped into a cavernous hallway as empty as the parking lot outside. Her footsteps echoed, and she glanced around a corridor that hadn’t changed in fifty years, possibly more. The brown and white tiles, dark wood trim, and clean white paint looked like she remembered from her trips to the courthouse with Grandpa as a child. That same smell, like musty old books, lingered in the air.
Bright sunshine filled the clerk’s office through an ancient window. A few metal desks lined the wall on the other side of the counter, some neat and some cluttered with paperwork, pictures, and craft show knick knacks. No one sat behind any of them. She turned and put her hand on the doorknob.
“Someone there?” a woman called from behind a partition on the far side of the room.
“Yes, ma’am,” Maren called back.
“Okay. Be with you in a sec.”
After a moment, a short, brunette emerged and approached the counter with a sunny smile. “Can I help you?” The woman stopped and her eyes widened. “Maren, right? Is that you?”
Maren blinked in surprise. “Yes.”
“You don’t recognize me.” The woman laughed. “Well, of course you wouldn’t. You knew me about a hundred pounds ago. I haven’t seen you in years! You look great, honey. Other than that haircut, you’ve hardly changed at all.”
“Not much.” Maren had cut twelve inches of hair off after she started law school nearly six years earlier. She had almost forgotten. This woman apparently knew her well enough to remember. Maren studied the other woman’s face but couldn’t quite place her.
“Honey, it’s me. Laura May.” She beamed back at Maren over the counter. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Laura May?” For the first time in weeks, Maren’s heart lightened. Their last names had been so close that she and Laura May sat near each other in almost every class for three years.
Wow. Laura May had been a happy, sweet girl that everyone loved. Maren had always thought Laura May was pretty, but now, she was stunning. “You look fabulous.”
“Thanks.” Laura May blushed and waved a dismissive hand. “It’s been, so long. What, seven years? Eight? What are you doing here?”
Oh, boy. Not a question Maren wanted to answer. “Taking a little time off.”
“Uh-huh.” Laura May’s voice was skeptical. “You staying at the old house?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m not buying that.”
The other woman fixed her with a frank stare. She might not know what had brought Maren here, but she obviously knew what had been waiting when Maren arrived. “I guess not.”
Laura May leaned her elbows on the counter. “I wondered if you were going to sell that farm.”
“No.” Maren shook her head. “I don’t plan on it. What’s going on, Laura May?”
Laura May’s eyes darkened. “I...” She glanced over Maren’s shoulder. “I don’t know how much Lance would want me to tell you.”
“Lance?”
Laura May nodded. “Lance Mayfield. He’s the Chairman, you know.”
Maren’s heart fell into her stomach. Brenda Mayfield’s brother was behind all this? She struggled to keep her face from showing her dismay. “Oh.”
Laura May’s gaze returned to Maren. “I’m sorry. I know you and Brenda didn’t get along in high school.”
That’s an understatement. Maren had never been close to the popular and gorgeous Brenda Mayfield, but when Jack had shown up at prom with Brenda only three weeks after their breakup, the two girls had quickly developed a dislike for each other. Lance, a devoted brother who hadn’t liked Maren in the first place, had sided with his sister.
“We’re all adults now,” Maren said. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
“Oh. Of course. I’m sure you’re right.” Laura May smiled, but her eyes darkened with doubt.
Crap.
; “Look,” Maren continued. “I’ve been gone a long time, and I just want to know what this is all about.”
Laura May glanced around, then leaned in closer. “You need to dig, honey.”
“Dig?”
She nodded. “I’d lose my job if I told you everything, but there’s stuff going on.” She planted her elbows on the counter. “They had this big to do at the last county meeting. It was public, so I can talk about that. They had a slide show with mock-ups of the new complex, colored boards with economic forecasts, handouts—folks ate it up.”
I bet they did. Things seldom changed in Shepherdsville, and a display like Laura May had described would have grabbed everyone’s attention. “Dazzled everyone, did they?”
The other woman nodded. “They said this will be the greatest thing this county had ever seen. Our county is the prime spot for the complex, and Lance said the land out that way….”
“My farm?”
“Yours. A few others.” Laura May gave her an oddly pointed look. What was she trying to say? “They told us they needed the Board to pass this development plan and the money would start flowing.”
“What kind of plan?” Maren asked.
“They needed that land.” Another frank stare. “They also wanted tax breaks and roads. In return, they promised jobs and money. Board said they would review it and vote at the next meeting.”
“Next week, I know.” Maren nodded. “I didn’t know anything about it. I found out when I got here earlier this morning. If the sign they put in my yard wasn’t plain enough, the notice in the mailbox would’ve done the trick.”
Laura May tilted her head. “So you didn’t know about the hearing? Why are you here then?”
Maren let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. “Long story. I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m here, and I have to do something about the farm.”
Laura May frowned back at her. She opened her mouth, then shook her head. “I wish I could tell you more. What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s Jack. I’ve been able to avoid him for ten years.” She scowled. “When I came home this time, he was at my house.”
Laura May dropped her gaze and shifted backwards. Maren ignored the other woman’s obvious discomfort. She was used to that by now. Practically everyone in the county knew she and Jack were an item in high school. The sideways glances had started as soon as he had showed up at the prom with Brenda. “Maren…”
Maren shook her head. “It’s fine. Jack is ancient history, and Brenda can’t possibly still have it in for me. Lance will be reasonable. I can handle this.”
Maybe. Laura May had tried to send her a message, but Maren hadn’t received it. Dig. That land. What did Lance have to hide? Why was her farm so important? She needed to put on her lawyer brain now, but exhaustion and emotional fatigue wouldn’t let her.
No more. She’d had more than she could handle for one day. Rest now. Puzzles later.
She gave Laura May a tight smile. “Thanks for your help. I’m going to go home and start a fire.”
Laura May arched her eyebrows. “Honey, it’s a hundred degrees outside. Why would you want to do that?”
Maren’s smile widened. “Therapy.”
Chapter Two
Maren turned off the bathroom faucet and glanced out the window. A steady hum from outside replaced the sound of water from the tap.
Hank?
She frowned, brushed aside the curtain, and looked out into the yard. Bright sunshine, blue skies and green grass stared back at her, the striking colors in stark contrast to the misty grey she had grown accustomed to in the Pacific Northwest. Other than the gentle swaying of the oak leaves in the breeze, nothing moved.
Still, she couldn’t mistake the steady putter of Grandpa’s lawnmower. Hank must have come by to cut the grass. Hank Davis, her grandfather’s longtime friend and farm hand, had promised to keep an eye on the farm when Grandpa died. She hadn’t wanted to agree, but Hank had needed extra space for his cows. She would have let him use the pasture anyway, but he would have been too proud to agree if she hadn’t let him feel like he had done something to earn the right.
What would he think about the pile of charred remains in the back yard? She smiled. He had known her grandfather well. Hank would understand.
She pulled her hair back into a pony tail and bent to retrieve a pair of navy blue shorts and a sleeveless pink top from her suitcase on the floor. Hank would need a glass of ice water, especially in this heat.
The ice tinkled in the glass when she shoved open the front door, and she smiled again. That sound captured every summer day she had ever spent on the farm. No matter how hot the weather, Grandpa always had some chore he needed to do. He planted rows of corn, or harvested buckets of peas. He cut grass with the lawn mower or knocked it down with the bush hog. In his younger years, Grandpa fed and herded cows. And there had always been cold drinks from Grandma, which he would drink under a shady tree while he watched the cars go down the road. Why had she never noticed that sound in Seattle?
She stepped down the stairs and shaded her eyes against the bright morning sun. When she spied the mower on the far end of the vast front yard, she stopped so fast that water splashed over the side of the glass. Instead of an elderly man in blue overalls and battered ball cap, a much younger man with thick, dark hair sat on the back of the mower.
Not Hank. Jack.
Seriously?
Maren’s teeth clicked together. Her eyes dropped to the broad shoulders and tanned, muscular chest that stared back at her from above the hem of his worn blue jeans.
Couldn’t he at least put on a shirt? Her stomach twisted and her eyes fastened on the expanse of glistening bronze skin. He wore a ridiculous straw hat, but he made it look good.
Who am I kidding? He would look good in a barrel.
She, on the other hand, had thrown herself together. With no makeup and her hastily formed pony tail, he would think she had just rolled out of bed while he’d been hard at work on her yard. She fought back a sudden urge to run back into the house.
Hold on. Jack didn’t care what she looked like. Even if he did, she didn’t care what he thought. Right?
Right. Instead of worrying about her appearance, she would focus on the problem at hand. She dropped a hand on her hip. What is he doing? Where’s Hank? Nothing made sense. She felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
No more. Her life had danced outside of her control long enough. She wanted answers. And she wouldn’t let him leave until she got them.
His eyes settled on her, then returned to the ground in front of him. Other than that single flicker of acknowledgement, she might as well have been invisible. He continued down the row and cut a neat line around a group of her grandmother’s hydrangeas.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other while he ambled around the bushes. Don’t fidget. He meant to send a message with his slow, deliberate progress. But what? She belonged here. He didn’t. Yet somehow, he still made her feel like a teenager who had come home after curfew. She clenched her fingers tighter and did her best not to let her impatience show.
Jack finished the loop around the bushes and turned in her direction. She could have put the mower in reverse and still crossed the yard faster. Maren shoved aside an urge to stalk over to him and demand his attention.
By the time he pulled to a stop in front of her, her pulse beat a steady rhythm in her temple. She forced herself to relax. She couldn’t quite manage a smile, but she hoped her expression passed for serene.
He powered down the mower and turned his gaze to hers, eyebrows raised.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Mowing the yard.” He shoved the hat back on his head and swiped his brow with the back of his hand.
She glared back at him. “I can see that. Where’s Hank?”
His eyes flashed. “Hank is at home doing his best to avoid a heat stroke. He’s seventy years old,
Maren.”
Guilt licked at her stomach. When had Hank gotten that old? “I know. But he wanted to look after the house.”
“Of course he did. He loved your grandparents. You didn’t have to take advantage of that.”
So that’s what’s bothering him. Hank hadn’t told him about the cows. She wouldn’t, either. Her arrangement with Hank was none of his business. She glared back at him. “I didn’t. He has field hands. I assumed he would have someone else do the work.”
“And that’s what he did.”
What? She blinked. Jack worked for Hank? That didn’t sound right. Everyone knew Jack would take over his father’s furniture shop. Why would he suddenly take up farming? “You?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t take over the furniture store?”
His brows furrowed. “No.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She folded her arms. That expression had been the source of more disagreements than she could remember. He had spent most of their high school years working at the family shop, and for reasons she could never understand, he had always been sensitive about it. She had adored John Mason. Jack had always seemed a little ashamed of him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your dad’s a good man. I think he would have liked to have you working with him.”
“He would have.”
He didn’t elaborate. She stopped herself short of rolling her eyes. Some things never change. At least they weren’t arguing about it. Yet.
Maren shook her head. She didn’t understand why Hank had sent Jack here, but if she wanted an answer to that question, she’d be better off asking Hank. Hank wouldn’t be as secretive. Or sensitive. Or grumpy.
So why am I talking to Jack in the first place?
“I’ll let you get back to work.” She turned toward the house without waiting for a reply. She doubted he planned to give her one. Once the subject of his father’s store came up, Jack always shut down. The furniture store would have been a better job than doing yard work for Hank in the middle of a hot Alabama summer, but he would never admit that.
Whatever. Jack wouldn’t want to talk to her even if the subject wasn’t his father. Her eyes misted with tears. She scowled and blinked them away. Not fair. She and Jack hadn’t been able to have a comfortable conversation in a long time. Even after all this time, the same lump formed in her throat when he rejected her. She should be over that by now.
Home Again (The Shepherdsville Series Book 2) Page 2