***
“Rachel, I want us to be together,” Sebastian said, his chin resting on the top of my head. I was so comfortable that this kind of serious talk was almost an intrusion. I would’ve liked to just wear him as a blanket and take a nap.
“Sebastian, that’s pretty complicated,” I told him, sighing heavily.
“What? Why? What do you think is so complicated about it?”
“Well, Dad doesn’t like you, for one,” I said, smiling as he laughed drily. “And I don’t know…I don’t know what you want.”
“What do you mean? I want you. That’s what I just told you. I want to be together. No more of this ignoring phone calls and text messages. There’s nothing complicated about it. We would just be together. We would go on dates. We would have sex in normal places…”
“Normal places are overrated.”
“We would have sex wherever on this green earth you wanted to have sex,” Sebastian said, laughing. “We’d be good together, don’t you see?”
I bit my lip. Was this really what I wanted? Would it be easier just to say yes, that I’d be his girlfriend? Was this how it was supposed to work?
“I don’t know,” I said finally. It was the most honest response I could come up with, because I really didn’t know. I had no idea what he was doing here, why I’d let him back into my heart like that, what we should do to make things right.
“What is the biggest thing that’s keeping you from saying yes outright?” he asked me.
“That I just don’t know what your intentions are,” I answered, turning around in his arms to look at him. “That I don’t know if you really have feelings for me, or if you just want something that you think I can help you get.”
“Rachel…”
“I love you, for better or worse,” I said, lowering my eyes. It made me shy to admit it, but there it was: the truth. “That doesn’t make this any easier. I have genuine feelings for you. I just don’t know how genuine you are.”
“Why won’t you believe that I’m a good person?” he asked, the words so plaintive that they made my heart squeeze.
“Because I know what you’re capable of,” I told him. “Because you’ve betrayed my trust before. Because if Dad knew where I was, what I was doing right now, who I was with, it would destroy him.”
Sebastian sighed. “I know this isn’t going to go over really well right now, but would you reconsider?”
My mouth dropped open. “You better not be asking what I think you’re asking. Reconsider what?”
“If I bought the farm, it would be a good thing for everyone,” he said, dogged as I shouted a nasty curse in disbelief. “Rachel, listen to me. I can’t tell you everything. I can’t reveal every detail. But this business would be good for everyone. I’m serious.”
“You are a real piece of shit,” I said, laughing because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. It was better than weeping, anyway. “And I’m serious, too. I don’t know why I let myself get fooled by you again, but shame on me. It won’t happen a third time. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
“I’m not trying to fool you,” he said. “If I could give you all the details, I would. If you knew everything, you’d understand why I’m making the offer. I’m just not in a position where I can tell you everything. I wish I could.”
“You’re just crooked,” I told him, pulling my clothes back on, disgusted with myself now more than ever. It was way past time to leave. I wouldn’t be able to concoct a good enough story for Dad when I got back. I’d be too damn upset to lie to him, anyhow. It just seemed like the last few months of my life had been one mistake after another. I was tired of screwing up, and I felt like I’d been screwing up ever since Sebastian had crunched into me on the highway.
“Rachel, listen to me. Maybe you can put two and two together on this.”
“I don’t need math to see why you’re wrong for me,” I snapped at him. “Stop trying to explain yourself. I get it. You want the damn farm. You can’t have it. If I haven’t made that clear to you, then I’m sure my father did when you met with him.”
“It’s your father who told me I couldn’t tell you the details about why I wanted to buy the farm!” Sebastian shouted at me, his voice loud in the cab of the truck, clearly exasperated with my attempt to shut him down and be rid of him.
I looked at him, wide-eyed and unsure of what to say to that. What did Dad have to do with any of this? If he’d told Sebastian “no” on selling the farm, then that should’ve been the end of it. It was enough for me. What was Sebastian trying to play at now, bringing Dad into it?
“I wish I could tell you why it would be a good idea for me to buy the farm, but your father won’t let me tell you why,” Sebastian said, enunciating each syllable as clearly as possible. He looked at me, his brown eyes burning and serious, willing me to understand the message he was trying to get across.
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me,” I said. “If Dad says he doesn’t want to sell the farm to you, I don’t have to know the details.”
“It’s obvious that you don’t understand, but think about it,” Sebastian urged me. “Have you noticed anything strange going on at the farm right now? Anything that shouldn’t be the way it’s supposed to be? Anything that isn’t going according to plan?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know what he was getting at, and I didn’t want to think about it any more than I had to right now—and only because I was in close proximity to the person demanding it of me.
“The farm is just fine,” I said slowly. “Dad loves that farm, and I love it because he loves it. How often do you get to see that passion, Sebastian? How often do you get to see someone doing what they were put on this earth to do?”
“Almost never,” he said, grabbing my hand and holding it. His grip was tight, and he squeezed even more, thrilled that I had apparently picked up one of his breadcrumbs he’d been dropping for me. I still didn’t understand what he wanted me to see, though. “Rachel, your father is so passionate about his farm. He’s doing exactly the thing he should be doing—farming. He understands the land and the seeds and the produce. You share that passion with him. Your family farm is an amazing thing.”
I blinked, surprised, and wrinkled my nose. “Wait. You really think that I have Dad’s same passion about the farm?”
“Yes, I do,” Sebastian said, his voice strong and confident.
“How do you know?” It was a question I’d been asking myself for the last ten years of my life. How was I supposed to recognize my passion in my heart? How could I be sure of where I belonged? How could I be sure…like Dad was sure, or like my mother had been so sure that she’d left her family behind for it? How did Sebastian think he knew? He couldn’t see what was inside my heart. He didn’t know me that well. He couldn’t.
“It was when you were taking me on the tour of the farm,” Sebastian explained. “You probably hadn’t wanted to—probably wished you could’ve been anywhere else at the time—but you did what your father asked you to do. We stopped by the cornfield, and you explained to me the reason why your produce was special, better than all of the produce your competitors put out. It was because you knew that being good was better than being first. That leaving something on the vine for just the right amount of time would mean that it would taste better. That you didn’t care what would bring in the money or anything else. You weren’t distracted from your true purpose—growing healthy food in a way that felt right for you.”
I remembered that instant, that moment in time. I hadn’t wanted to take Sebastian around the farm because he’d surprised me by being there in the first place. I hadn’t seen him since I’d stormed into his office and attacked him with kisses instead of the mean words I’d planned haphazardly. And he’d been a jerk, insulting the size and location and productivity of my farm. I’d leapt at the chance to defend our operation because it really was something I believed in. So many of the larger farms around the state and nation—a
nd even the globe—failed to take into consideration the effect that large-operation farming had on the environment, especially if farms weren’t responsibly managed. Humans were a part of this world, just the same as all the other plants and animals, and we had to treat it with respect. We couldn’t plant the same crop time and time again, depleting the soil of its important nutrients, just because it netted the most money when its harvest sold. We shouldn’t kill the good bugs with harmful pesticides just to get rid of the pests. The good bugs helped us, too, by pollinating our plants and getting rid of some of the insects that harmed the crop. We had to be mindful. It was the curriculum direction I’d taken at college, the thing that had interested me the most about farming—how to make it matter to the environment, how to inspire people to make healthier choices, how to be the best stewards possible of the land we’d been given.
Was that my passion?
“I still don’t understand what you’re trying to get me to see,” I told Sebastian. I was sure I’d been silent for a full five minutes, just sitting here, thinking about the farm and my place in it.
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you any more than I already have,” he said. “It would be a betrayal to your father, and I shouldn’t have even mentioned anything about him not wanting you to know the details.”
“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” I said. “I just don’t understand. I’m a farmer’s daughter, not a detective. I don’t know why you might want to buy the farm, but I know Dad doesn’t want to sell it. For me, it’s as simple as that.”
“Can’t you trust me?” he pleaded. “Can’t you plant the seed in your father’s head that this wouldn’t have to be a negative thing? The only thing that would change hands would be the paperwork. Everything else would stay with him—and you.”
It pissed me off that I’d already said “no” so many times to his begging and he still couldn’t accept my answer. I was flummoxed that he wanted the farm so badly in the first place. Passion be damned—Sebastian had said, on that very same farm visit, that our operation was nowhere near as effective as other farmers’ operations in the nearby area. I couldn’t understand why he wanted it so badly. For the right price, he could buy up a bunch of organic farms around us and have a super farm. Maybe that was what his aim was…he wanted all of the property in the area so he could work the land himself, with his own company, and monopolize the market, maximizing his profits. Maybe our farm was the only holdout. Good. He didn’t need any more money than he already had.
“You have my answer, Sebastian,” I said. “Now get out of my truck. You are unbelievable, but the biggest thing I can’t believe is how I keep thinking I love you. How could I love a person like you? You're awful. You’re lower than low. You’re the kind of garbage that preys on good people, and Dad and I are good people.”
“I know you’re good people,” Sebastian tried, but I could see that I’d wounded him. I was glad he was feeling my barbs. At least he could maybe understand how badly my own heart was hurting right now. “What I’m trying to do is a good thing for you. And I want to be with you. This is a part of that. You’ll understand, but only if you can convince your father to sell the farm to me. It will make sense. You’ll thank me for it.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” I snapped, impatient to be rid of him. “You’re out of your mind, but I’m even worse. I can see you for what you are, and yet I still keep coming back.”
“Rachel, please.”
“No, we’re done here.” I finished dressing as awkward as it was with him still sitting there, his cock out of his pants, his shirt undone. “And when I say done, I really mean done. Don’t contact me again. I won’t tolerate it. I will publish every stupid text you sent me online, and I will report you to the police for stalking and harassment. I have entertained you long enough. Find something else to do with your life.”
“I wish I could tell you everything,” Sebastian said, regret tugging at his eyes. “But doing so would mean your father would never trust me.”
“I don’t see a single reason why he should trust you,” I said. “I certainly don’t. Now get out of my truck. I’ve given you enough of my time—too much of it. Go.”
He at least zipped and buttoned his pants before sliding out, giving me a last mournful look before I slammed the door. He just stood there, perhaps weighing what he should say next, until I turned my truck on and revved the engine.
“Move your fucking car!” I screamed at him, only vaguely aware that tears were streaming down my face.
He finally obliged.
Chapter 11
I got home confused and angry, with both Sebastian and myself. What was he doing to me? How did I keep finding myself with him? I knew that we were too different from each other to ever work well together. Our backgrounds were different, our motivations were different, and yet, we were yanked helplessly together, time and time again. It had to stop this time. It was soul crushing.
The only thing Sebastian wanted was the farm. He didn’t want me; he wanted a piece of property that meant everything to Dad. That meant it was important to me, too. Dad deserved his happiness. He deserved this farm. Sebastian had to have everything he ever wanted. He was a billionaire, for crying out loud. Why did he have to have the farm, too? It just didn’t make sense to me. It made me suspect that Sebastian was just an entitled brat, snapping up properties because he thought he could and should.
I opened the front door to the house and flicked the light on. “Dad? Are you home?”
I was late again from a delivery, late because of Sebastian, yet again, but Dad wasn’t here to grill me on my whereabouts. He always tended to worry when I deviated from the schedules and timetables that he’d devised for me, so I was expecting an interrogation.
“Dad?” I frowned at the clean kitchen. He should’ve been cooking tonight. He’d insisted that he wanted to cook. I got my first bothersome doubt, one that wiggled into my heart. Was he okay? Was everything okay?
The light was on in the dining room, though the door was closed. The office was kind of Dad’s sanctum, so I avoided bothering him when he was in there, but his apparent absence made me pierce it.
“Dad?” I wrinkled my nose. The office was cluttered enough to make me want to haul a garbage bag in there and get to work tidying up, but I had to trust that Dad had a system.
I couldn’t help but glance at the spread of papers on the desk as I looked around. Lots of them were covered with red and capital letters.
The one that stopped my heart all but shouted, “FORECLOSURE WARNING” on the page.
“What in the hell?” I muttered, looking over the rest of the papers. Many of them said the same thing over and over again, that payments were behind, foreclosure was imminent, and savings were tanking. What was all of this? Many of them were dated recently, but others were much older. How long had Dad been sitting on the news that our farm was going under? And when was he going to tell me that my childhood home and our livelihood were being threatened?
I pored over everything, sitting down at the desk and trying to understand what was going wrong. There was paperwork dating back years—while I was still in college—that warned of the inevitability of all the other warnings. These notices were peppered with bank statements. My mouth dropped open slowly. Where was the money? Where was the money from our deliveries? I knew that we hadn’t been turning a significant profit, but I thought we’d been making enough to pay the bills. These piles of paper showed that I was wrong. Accounts had been consistently overdrawn, creditors had been in contact with Dad for longer than I cared to consider, and there was a sheaf of credit card statements and loans. What was going on? How had I never known anything about this? How could Dad have hidden this from me for so long?
“Rachel…?”
I whirled around from the desk to see Dad standing in the doorway to the office. His face looked ashen. He knew exactly what I’d found.
Not caring if there was a system to this madness anymore, I grabbed a handful o
f bills and brandished them in his face.
“What is this?” I demanded. “What is going on here? Are we losing the farm? Are we in trouble here, Dad? Because I can read. All of this shit says we’re in trouble.”
“I didn’t want you to worry about it as much as I was worrying about it,” he tried to explain, but I was having none of it.
“I am not a child anymore. I am in this business with you, right at your side. You have to let me help you. You have to be honest with me about what’s happening.”
“How could you help this?” Dad asked, sweeping his arm across all of the notices and warnings. “All you would’ve been able to do is worry about it. I want you to be happy.”
“I’d be happy if I knew that everything was okay, but it’s not.” I showed him one of the papers. “What possessed you to take out a short-term loan to pay off a credit card? Where were you going to get the money to repay the loan shark?”
“I don’t need a lecture from you,” he told me. “I did what I had to do, in the moment.”
“Dad, this kind of thing just isn’t sustainable,” I said. I was still angry, but now I felt like crying. Couldn’t he see? We might’ve been able to deal with the costs of maintaining the farm, paying our bills and our workers and everything else, but with the loans and the credit cards, things were looking very grim.
“I did what I had to do, Rachel,” he said, adamant, and suddenly it all made sense.
The statements that had dated back to when I was in college. The debt that had been growing ever since. All of our profits drowning in the black hole of interest rates and late fees.
“This is my fault,” I said.
Dad shook his head. “No, it isn’t. This isn’t your problem.”
“This is my problem because I’m the cause of it,” I said. “You told me to pick whatever college I wanted. To go where I wanted to go. But there wasn’t enough money to go to my school, was there?”
I’d gone out of state at his urging—not that he particularly wanted me to leave the state for college, but he’d seen how excited I was after I got back from a campus visit. And I had grown immensely during college in both knowledge and wisdom. It was one of the best times of my life.
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