FarmBoy

by Kayt Miller

  I’ll never forget the day I told him about Ivy and the baby. God, he was pissed at me. But that anger only lasted about thirty minutes. After that, he slapped me on the back and told me that my life was about to change and that it’d be for the best. That a real man steps up and loves and cares for his family no matter what. Sure, I was going to lose my chance to play ball in college, but I was always going to come back here and run the farm with Mom and Dad. Always. Andi just made it happen sooner than planned. Besides, I was never going to make the majors.

  “Go on in and eat your snack and change your clothes. I’ll meet you in the barn. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  I watch my kid’s eyes get huge and round. “Did she calf, Daddy? Did Martina calf?”

  I chuckle. I don’t know why I let her name all the animals around here, but I can’t help it. Her names make me laugh. “It’s why I was a little late.”

  “Okay. I’ll hurry. I’ll be out quick like a bunny.”

  I chuckle again. “Eat your snack. I can’t have you all hangry again.”

  “I will, Daddy. I’ll eat and be out.”

  I smile as I make my way toward the largest of our two barns. My kid is something else. I look up at the sky again. “You’d be proud of her too, Dad. She’s a Watson through and through.”

  6

  Isabelle

  “Well?”

  I’ve barely set my bag down on my desk when Nicole steps through my classroom door.

  “Well, what?” I know what. I’m just not ready to talk about it just yet.

  “Did you talk to Nash?”

  Nicole seems to be concerned, but I wonder how much of this is really about Andi reading and how much is about the rest of the stuff with Ivy.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And,” I sigh, “he pretty much told me to step away from his truck or he was going to run me down.” Okay, I’m embellishing, but it seemed like that at the time. I look over at Nicole, and I swear her face just went pale as a ghost. “I’m just kidding.” Not really. Not about the reading. “But I can tell you for sure he was definitely not interested in getting help for Andi.”

  “Shit,” Nicole mutters. She moves further into my room and plops down in one of my beanbag chairs. “We may have to get Bonnie involved.”

  “Nash’s mom? Why?” Bonnie Watson is a nice lady, but she’s been through a lot. When Nash’s dad, Conrad, died, Bonnie lost it. She went into hiding, lost a ton of weight, and stopped going to church or doing anything social. Isaac told me that Nash was beside himself with worry about her. So, when Bonnie suddenly decided to move off the farm into a small place in town, I think everyone was relieved, including Nash. It also meant that he was left to run the place on his own. He did it because of course he did. He did whatever made Bonnie happy––well, happier.

  Bonnie’s still not as social as she was before Conrad died, but it’s better. I heard she volunteers here at the school now and then, especially if Andi’s involved in some way. She’s a doting grandmother. I’ve seen that firsthand. Definitely more so than Ivy’s mom or dad who were never happy about the baby. According to the gossip, Ivy’s parents wanted her to terminate the pregnancy, but Ivy wouldn’t have it. Not then, anyway.

  Crud. I can’t believe I’m saying this. “Let me try again before we worry Bonnie about any of it.” Which means I’m going to have to talk to Nash again. Hurray.

  Yeah. That last bit was sarcasm.

  “Hi there, Andi.”

  She looks up at me from her spot on the grass with that wary expression—one that a first grader shouldn’t have mastered yet.

  “Hi, Miss Harmon.”

  I sit down next to her, not waiting for an invite. “Your dad running late again?”

  She shrugs. “He was up most of the night with a new calf. It ain’t doin’ so good.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Andi shrugs again. “It’s just part of life.”

  And there’s another thing a first grader shouldn’t do, rationalize about life and death, but it is part of farm life, I guess. “If anyone can help the calf, it’s your dad. He was always so good with the animals. He’s helped my dad and brother out a time or two.”

  “I know.” She releases a deep, sad sigh. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get used to losing a pet.”

  I want to giggle at her words, because there’s no such thing as a pet on a farm. They’re either there to work or earn you money. Heck, even cats are put to use killing mice in the barn and elsewhere. “It’s hard losing an animal, but I bet your dad will be able to sort it out.” Hopefully he called the vet if it’s as bad as Andi’s making it seem.

  We sit in silence for another twenty minutes or so before we hear the roar of Nash’s old truck engine pulling into the parking lot. I push myself to standing so he knows I’m there too. It works because the second he pulls up, he slams the car into gear, opens his door, and stomps over to me. Mere inches away, Nash plants his hands on his hips and growls, “Andi, get in the truck.”

  “Sure, Daddy.”

  Wow, he sure looks angry. His nostrils are flaring, and he’s breathing sort of heavy. “Nash…,” I start to say.

  He takes another step toward me, getting so close I can see all the varied greens that color his irises, discovering something I never knew—there’s flecks of gold mixed in too. “What do you need now, squirt?”

  Squirt. I’ve always hated that nickname. He’s called me “squirt” forever. At first, I thought it was cute, but as I got older, it began to grate on my nerves. A teen girl in love with a boy doesn’t want him to call her squirt. But I’m not in love anymore. “Nash, I—”

  “You what? You just want to help my kid?”

  Why does his question feel loaded? “Yes, Andi’s behind on her reading. I think it’d just take a little—”

  “Fuck.” He lifts his baseball cap off his head and runs his hands through his hair. When he places it back on his head, he flips it around until it’s backward. Wow. There’s just something about a guy with his hat on backward that gives me happy chills. Well, maybe it’s just Nash. “She doesn’t want to get pulled from class for special shit. She doesn’t want to miss her other class stuff.”

  I stop staring at him and his hat situation and focus. “What about recess?”

  “Nope. Not recess. Kids need a chance to breathe some fresh air during the day.”

  That’s true. I believe that too.

  “After school, then.” I place my hands on my waist.

  “I don’t have time for that.”

  “I could come out to the farm. I could drive her home.”

  He stares at me for a good long minute. It’s uncomfortable, his gaze on me.

  He leans in just enough for me to feel his breath on me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?” He leans back slightly and looks at me. All of me. His eyes move from my face down to my chest, then back up.

  I don’t like what he’s insinuating with that look. “It’s my job. Yes, that’s all I want.”

  Nash scoffs, then steps back from me. Turning, he steps off the curb toward his truck. At his door, he looks up at me. “I’ll think about it.”

  I smile for the first time since he pulled in the driveway. “Good.”

  Expecting him to jump in his pickup and leave, I start to turn, but I halt when I see him approach me again. With a low, husky voice, he adds, “But if you think you’re going to come on over and make yourself at home, weasel your way into my bed, you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t need a woman around, especially not you, squirt. Women better than you have tried and failed to help out ‘poor Nash.’”

  I feel the burn on my neck and face in seconds. I open my mouth to rebut his statement, but he’s back to his truck and pulling out of the lot before I can say a word. I’m shocked, honestly. What would make him think…? Women better than me? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not gonna lie. That hurt.

  7

  Nash
<
br />   Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Saying that crap was unnecessary. Well, it was necessary for me to say the words even though they were a pack of lies. Everything I said was a pile of bullshit, because Isabelle Harmon is my kryptonite. I’d hoped I’d never see her again. Sure, maybe in passing like when Isaac has a kid or something, but for brief bits of time. I prayed she’d never step foot in this town again after seeing her at Isaac’s wedding.

  When she went off to college, Isabelle was a plump eighteen-year-old. Pretty, sure. Isabelle has always been a pretty thing. But when she walked into the church for the wedding rehearsal a year ago with her skirt swirling around her legs, I nearly swallowed my tongue. It’d been a couple of years since I’d seen her last, and let me just say, the years have been very good to Isabelle Harmon. She is a bombshell––a drop-dead gorgeous woman. Probably the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in her heels and simple blue dress the same color as her eyes. Her chestnut-colored hair was down, curling around her face, and all I wanted to do was run my hands through it and tug on it, so her baby blues were on me. Only me. Oh, and let’s not forget those lips. I wanted those as close to me as possible. Fuck, her lips. Plump and pink. They were shiny that night. No need for Isabelle to wear lipstick. Gloss is all she needs.

  A lot of women think men like those stick thin things that strut around like they own the place, but one look at a woman like Isabelle and all that changes. She’s got everything. She’s built for sin, but in fact, she’s sweet as sugar and kind as a saint. She’d help a stranger even at her own peril. I know this about her. I’ve seen it. She’s compassionate to a fault. She loves her family and farm life. I can see she loves her job too from just the two times she’s tried to talk to me about Andi. I’m positive she’s only doing this for my kid. She has no ulterior motives. Not Isabelle.

  I wasn’t kidding though. If you knew how many of the single ladies in town thought they’d head on over to the Watson farm to “fix” Nash Watson, it’d make your head spin. The second my mom moved into town, they were on me like flies on cow dung, and not just because they wanted my cock. No, they were after the money too. We’ve got a big farm, almost the biggest and most profitable in the county, second only to the Harmon farm. But I put a stop to that pretty damn fast. My kid doesn’t need a mother; she’s got me and my mom.

  “What did Miss Harmon want, Daddy?”

  I’m pulled from my Isabelle thoughts by Andi’s question. “She wants to read with you.”

  “Hm” is all she says. Then, “She means well.”

  I chuckle because the shit she says. I swear my kid is an old soul. “Yeah, she means well.”

  “I think I’d like to read better.”

  I turn my head and quickly peek at my kid. “I thought you didn’t want to get pulled from class.”

  “And recess,” she adds. “But I heard her say she’d come to our place after school.”

  I reach out and pinch her cheek gently. “You snoop. You listening to our conversation?”

  She shrugs. “You were talking pretty loud. Couldn’t help it.”

  Ignoring her comment, I pull up to a stop sign and turn to face Andi. “You sure?” Fuck, I don’t want her in my house. I’m absolutely positive I’ll like the looks of her there. That I’ll want her to stay. She’s the first woman since Andi’s mom to even tempt me, and that scares the shit out of me.

  “I’m sure. Like she said, I’ll probably catch up quick. I’m smart.” She looks up at me with furrowed brows like she’s unsure. “Right, Daddy?”

  Touching the top of her head, I smile. “You’re smart as a whip, peanut.”

  She giggles. “That’s what Grandpa Connie used to call me.”

  He did. “He called you peanut the day he found out you were coming, and it stuck.” He only got to spend three years with her, but she was his world for that time. They adored each other, and knowing what I know now, I’m so glad they had that time together, even though it was so brief. She still remembers him fondly. The fact that I talk about him a lot helps. That’s something my mom hasn’t been able to do––talk about Dad. Or step foot in the house they lived in for twenty-eight years. When she comes over to see Andi, it’s only to pick her up and take her back to her place in town. I don’t make a fuss. It’s hard for her. Dad was the love of her life. She misses him, and I get that. I decided a while ago I’d give her the space she needs. If she can’t go back inside the house, we’ll work with that. And that’s what we’ve done because my mom is the best. She’s kind and caring, sweet to a fault. Like someone else I know.

  8

  Isabelle

  Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I hear my phone ring. Since we’re on a short break from the first round of kickboxing, I decide to see who it is. Digging through my workout bag, I find my phone and look at the screen. I don’t recognize the number. Still, it could be something important. “Hello?” I say, panting. I’m still winded from the first part of the workout.

  “Isabelle?”

  It’s a man’s voice. It’s deep and rich sounding, but I don’t know who it is, so I ask, hesitantly, “Yes?”

  “It’s Nash.”

  I pause because I’m shocked. How did he get my number?

  “Nash Watson.”

  I want to giggle at his need to add his last name. Like I know a lot of Nashs?

  “Yes?” I’m still breathing hard, but now it’s because I’ve got Nash Watson on my phone for the first time ever.

  “Why are you breathing hard?”

  “Just working out at the Y.”

  “The Y? In Emmetsville?”

  The closest YMCA is in the county seat and largest city nearby. In our case, that’s Emmetsville, population 15,999. It’s pretty big, especially compared to Honeywell, population 1,860. “Yes.”

  “What kind of workout?”

  What does he care? This is strange. “Kickboxing.” I hear the laughter on the other end of the line, and I’m not going to lie, it irks me. So, in an attempt to wrap this up, I snap, “What can I do for you, Nash?”

  “I want to talk to you about Andi.”

  I hear the music start up again and know it’s time for the second half of our workout to begin. “I’ll have to call you back. The class is starting up again. Is this your number?”

  “Yeah. Call me when you’re done.”

  “Okay. Bye.” Then I hang up. Sure, it was abrupt, but I don’t want to miss a minute of the workout. It’s not because I’m afraid of what I’d say to Nash given more time. Nope. Not at all.

  On the way home from Emmetsville, I use my car Bluetooth to return Nash’s call.

  “Hello?” His voice sounds hoarse.

  “Nash? It’s Isabelle.”

  “I know. I’ve got you programmed into my phone now.”

  Which reminds me. “How’d you get my number?”

  “Isaac.”

  Oh, right. Of course. “I see. So, what would you like to discuss?”

  Without wasting time, he jumps right in. “Andi wants to do it.”

  “She wants me to help her?”

  “Yeah, but not at school.”

  “Okay.” I pause, needing to ask this. “What about you? You were pretty adamant that you didn’t want me to help.”

  “Andi wants the help. I’m not going to deny my kid the help she needs if she wants it.”

  I see. “After school. She could come to my room—”

  “No. At the farm. You can bring her out or I can pick her up and you can follow us out. Either way.”

  “I’ll bring her out.”

  “Twice a week. She’s got chores to do, so two days a week will have to be it.” There’s hesitation, then he adds, “And I don’t want this to be a formal school thing. No paperwork. It’s just my best friend’s sister helping my kid out.”

  Just Isaac’s sister doing him a favor. “Sure. All right. How about Tuesday and Thursday?” I’ve got kickboxing classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. “Yo
u’ll need to let the school know I’m driving her home those days. You’ll have to do that.”

  “Fine. I’ll take care of it. Talk to you later.” Then he hangs up without waiting for a response.

  “I guess that’s it then.” We’re doing this thing.

  On the following Tuesday, I see Andi at our usual spot on the grass near the front steps at our agreed-upon pick up spot. As I approach her, I say as cheerily as possible, “You ready, Andi?”

  She shrugs. “Sure.”

  It makes me wonder if she really wants this or if Nash talked her into it. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Yep.”

  A first grader of very few words. Usually those little people chatter on incessantly about their day. I guess I’ll have to coax it out of her. “How’s the calf?”

  She turns her head slowly and replies, “She ain’t gonna be right, but she’ll live.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” I think. What does she mean “She ain’t gonna be right”? I’m afraid to ask, and that’s coming from a farm girl. I’ve seen a lot of things from my days working with my dad and brother, but that statement was ominous. I’ve got it! “I’d like to see her while I’m out there today.”