Every muscle in Tayte’s body twitched at the perceived accusation. “Well, I’m the one who’s responsible for her now. I wanted to introduce myself and see if we could work together, but clearly, that’s impossible, so your services will no longer be needed.” She turned and started back for the house then stopped, turned, and added, “And by the way, you might want to get a tetanus shot for that cut,” then under her breath she added, “or maybe a distemper shot.”
Noah hollered at her back from his roof perch. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“You’re fired and now you’re trespassing.”
“My aunt hired me and only she can fire me. She and Agnes both want me here.”
Tayte turned back again. “Then I’ll call Sarah and tell her you’re dismissed.”
Noah tossed his supplies down, then placed his hands on his hips and huffed. “Don’t bother my aunt. She’s got enough on her plate. You want me gone? Fine, I’ll go, but make sure you really want to add sending away the person Agnes has come to trust to the problems you’ve already created with her.”
Agnes burst through the door and stormed over to Tayte. “Why are you fighting with Noah?” She placed her hand across her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun, and called up to the roof. “Noah, what is happening?”
His hands curled into fists and then unclenched as his voice mellowed to a feigned calm. “Everything’s fine, Agnes. I’m just going home a bit early so you and your granddaughter can have some time together.”
Tayte had prepared to counter the expected attack, but while Noah’s kindness completely disarmed her, it did not diffuse Agnes’s fury. She spun around and shook her finger Tayte’s way. “I heard you dismissing Noah. He stays! But I want you to go. I want you to go now!”
From the corner of her eye, Tayte saw Noah drop to the ground, coming her way. She stepped close to her grandmother, placed her hands on Agnes’s arms, and quietly pled with her. “I’m here now Grandma. We’re family. We don’t need him. I want to take care of you.”
Agile as a cat, Agnes threw her arms up, breaking Tayte’s grasp. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she spat, “least of all someone who deceives me, and lies to me, and steals my things. Get off my property, Dragon! Go! Now!”
The sharpness of Agnes’s rejection pierced Tayte more deeply than she could have imagined. She drew back, trying to find some words to bridge the abyss separating her from her grandmother, but finding none, she reached a timid hand Agnes’s way. “I—I’m sorry, Grandmother. I’m just trying to help. I’m so sorry.”
Noah’s expression confused her as she hurried past him and into the house to get her purse. Navigating through stinging eyes, she found it difficult to read his face, but she was certain of the words he spoke as she ran back out, purse in hand, to her car.
“I’ll speak to her. Where can we reach you?”
Refusing his charity, Tayte rushed past him and through the gate. He kept calling to her, but she closed the car door, shutting herself off from Noah, Agnes, and everything else on the farm. As quickly as possible, she threw the car into gear and drove away from Alsace Farm, unsure if she’d ever return.
Chapter 14
Moments later, the phone in Noah’s pocket buzzed. He almost ignored it so he could calm Agnes, but then he worried the call might be Aunt Sarah. Sure enough, it was.
“They’re going to keep John in the hospital for a few days to run some tests and get his pain under control. I’ll be home later tonight.”
When the call ended, Noah felt the numbness press in again. The flatness of her voice diluted any hope. It reminded him of the despair that hollowed Tayte’s face as she left. Agnes’s fury altered the octogenarian’s expression as well. Beneath the anger lay fear and isolation. Noah realized the three of them were not so very different. He also realized he was in a position to either capitalize on Tayte’s exit or mend the rift between her and her grandmother. He laid his hand on Agnes’s shoulder. “Let’s go fishing.”
The invitation instantly changed her demeanor. “I will pack us a lunch, non? You get the gear. It is on the back porch.”
Noah observed that her shock seemed to lessen with each entrance into the house. She stalled at the door, surveyed the room, spat into the air three times, and then crossed to the kitchen where she began pulling bread and cheese from the fridge.
Not only were the rods and tackle box on the back porch, but Noah also found all of Agnes’s missing things packed into a corner. His opinion of Tayte softened a little more.
Agnes came out on the porch with a loaf of sandwiches stuffed into the bread bag. Oblivious to her old belongings, she descended the steps and headed down the hill to the creek, calling for Noah to hurry. As soon as their lines were in the water, Agnes offered Noah a thick cheese sandwich, and then the pair sat back enjoying the serenity of the moment while Noah gathered his thoughts. He began to chuckle. “Agnes, why did you spit three times back at the house?”
She laughed and shrugged. “To ward off evil. My grandmother taught me.” She set her sandwich aside and stared out over the water. “My mother’s mother secretly taught me the customs of her people. It was a very dangerous time to be a Jew.”
So many things began to make sense to Noah. “Family is very important to you.”
“Family is everything.” She nodded and took another bite of her sandwich.
Noah saw a chance to mend the family rift. “Is that why you put up with Angeline’s unkindness to you?”
She swallowed and stared at the water. “A mother never closes the door to her children.”
“Does she close doors to her grandchildren?”
Agnes’s face became a shifting sea of emotions as she considered the question.
“Tayte is your granddaughter, Agnes. She didn’t mean to upset you. She brought the sunshine into the house, and the things she bought look lovely with your paintings.”
Agnes offered no response.
“Set your anger aside for a minute and think about the sitting area. It is nice, isn’t it?”
Her head shot to the left, challenging him. “My house was nice before, was it not?”
“Yes,” he offered cautiously, “but is what Tayte did so unforgivable? Couldn’t you give her another chance?”
Agnes’s jaw set like stone, and her arms crossed as if she were settling in for a siege. Slowly, her face became more fluid, changing from anger, to embarrassment to impertinence, demonstrating a childlike temper bounded by the endless love of a mother. “I was angry.”
“I understand that, but she meant no harm.”
“She fired you.”
Noah shrugged and smiled. “I’m still here. I don’t listen very well.”
Agnes laughed loudly. “We are both in trouble, non?”
“Partners in crime.” He extended his hand to her, and she shook it, adding a laugh.
Noah grew more serious. “There’s no denying she’s your granddaughter. She looks a great deal like the portrait of you hanging in your room.”
“I was beautiful once.”
“You’re still beautiful, Agnes.”
Her face brightened. “Thank you. Even an old woman enjoys a kind word now and then.”
“Tayte has your smile, you know.”
“Now you are flattering me.” She grew sober. “I see Tony in her face. She reminds me of Angeline.”
“You should tell her that. Do you know how to reach Tayte? We need to find her.”
“Ask Sharlz’s son.”
“Charles? What is Charles’s full name?”
“Sharlz Briscoe.”
“So his son is Nathaniel Briscoe, Uncle John’s attorney. Let’s give him a call.”
Two hours later, after feeding the baby goats and giving Agnes time to “put herself together,” they were in the truck heading for town. Noah was relieved to see Tayte’s car in the lot of the extended-stay hotel. They parked and searched for suite thirty-one. Before knocking, he looked down
at Agnes. “Be nice, okay?”
His request was answered with a scowl. “I am nice . . . most of the time . . . except when people steal my—”
“Shhh . . . Nice. Remember?” He knocked. “By the way, you look very pretty today.”
Agnes cast a final scowl and then smiled, giving her mail-order, polyester auburn wig a final tug to straighten it before the door opened.
Tayte cracked the door revealing a jutted chin and red-rimmed eyes. There were marks on her face that matched the raised pattern on her sweater’s sleeve indicating that she had likely fallen asleep with her head resting there. She still looked exhausted, but she didn’t seem surprised to see them. Noah assumed she checked them out through the peephole, in which case opening the door at all was a positive sign.
Noah offered a preemptive smile to break the silent standoff. “How about a truce? Agnes has something to say to you, don’t you Agnes?”
The old woman rolled her eyes at him before looking at Tayte, but this time she really looked at her, and it was apparent that Tayte noticed that difference as well.
Agnes laid her hands along Tayte’s cheeks. “You look like my Angeline. I miss her.”
Tears brimmed in Tayte’s eyes, but no one moved to close the distance between them.
Noah extended his hand to Tayte. “I’m not sure we’ve been properly introduced. Noah Carter. Carpenter and craftsman. Nice to meet you.”
Her own hand slowly reached forward. “Tayte Donnelly. Artist extraordinaire.” Seconds later a smile tugged at her lips.
“Yes. I’ve seen your work. May I introduce you to my friend? Tayte Donnelly, this lovely lady is your grandmother, Agnes Devereaux Keller. She has something to say to you.”
Their attention moved to Agnes, whose eyes glistened. “Perhaps we could try again, oui?”
“Yes. I’d like that, Grandmother. I’d like that very much.”
* * *
They made short work of moving Tayte out of her suite. With the emotional crisis settled for the time being, hunger became the next hurdle. Noah and Agnes led the way to an all-you-can-eat buffet with Tayte following behind in her Honda. He braced for a fight when he offered to pay for everyone. Instead, Tayte smiled, saying, “Thank you. I’m a little short right now.” He knew the previous night’s decorating extravaganza was the cause.
Agnes’s eyes lit up like two Hollywood floodlights as she strolled past yards of buffet options, dragging Noah to see this item and then this on the dessert bar.
“I hope she’s not diabetic,” said Tayte as Agnes made her third run for dessert.
Noah laughed as he speared a piece of undercooked steak. “Isn’t her laugh great? Wouldn’t you give anything to hear it every day?”
“Is that a polite way of asking me not to repeat my mistake?”
He measured her words and her tone, and found them innocent enough. “The sad truth is, regardless of what you do or don’t do, something else will set her off.”
“Set her off angry or set her off sad?”
“Either. Both. The trick is to figure out what it is and help resolve it as quickly as you can. Most of her panic begins with something simple, like . . . she can’t find her brush or she doesn’t understand a piece of mail. Then she obsesses over that problem until she has an anxiety attack, and that muddles her thinking even further. When that happens, the next simple glitch overwhelms her, and the cycle escalates until she shuts down.”
“Like this morning.”
He offered her a half smile. “Yeah. That was the worst attack I’ve ever seen her have.”
Tayte set her fork down and hung her head. “Great. Thanks.”
Noah surprised himself by reacting to the impulse to reach across the table and comfort her by touching her hand. Her eyes darted to the spot and he immediately withdrew. “S-S-Sorry. I’ve watched Agnes. I think I understand her coping mechanisms. Mornings are the hardest, but really, any interruption to her day—a nap, a crisis—is like a restart for her. She’s like a captain trying to navigate a ship, and certain familiar things are like her buoys.”
“Her buoys?”
“Watch her as she enters a room or exits the house. She sets her eyes on certain objects that settle her, anchor her in a way. Once she recognizes them, she feels safe and calm, and then she functions pretty well.”
“So what you’re saying is her dirty old mixer and her nasty, greasy, iron skillet make her feel safe?”
Noah relaxed his shoulders and sighed. “Exactly.”
Tayte leaned forward. “Does that also go for the filthy, rodent-chewed, wooden dough bowl I dumped mouse dung out of? She used it to mix her biscuits last night. Is that also sacred?”
Noah groaned in renewed frustration, and Tayte dropped her head to the table. When she lifted it, she shook her head in surrender. “I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . you can’t understand how hard this is for me. My childhood was pretty chaotic. I only spent a few months with my grandmother, when I was eight, but back then, everything about her and her farm was lovely and safe and stable. The time with her became the example for a life I wanted someday. I can’t help wanting to get that back. You must think I’m terribly selfish, but it’s the truth.”
The personal revelations caught Noah off guard. He could have said the same things about Uncle John’s farm, and again he realized how similar his needs and Tayte’s were. He began toying with the saltshaker as he listened, and when she finished speaking, his eyes remained fixed on the table. “I don’t think you’re selfish. You’re just being honest.”
“Here’s honesty for you. You’re good with her. I don’t know if I can do what you do.”
He glanced up and read defeat in her face. “Having a clean house is obviously important to you. You can keep that up now, but include Agnes. She doesn’t like people ‘doing’ for her, but if you need something from her, she’ll knock herself out to please you. And the new things . . . Though they look phenomenal, it was too much too soon. Clean up a few of her old things that you can also live with, and give them back to her.”
“You mean give Grandma her buoys back?”
Noah nodded, and Tayte gathered up her purse and keys. “Can you keep her busy a little while longer?”
“We’ve got to feed the baby goats again soon.”
“Can you give me an hour?”
“I’ll do my best.”
* * *
It had been several days since Agnes had been off the farm, and weeks since she’d been anywhere but the feed store or grocery, so she was more than willing to help Noah attend to a necessary errand, and in fact, she proved surprisingly helpful.
When the pair pulled up to the farm gate, Tayte’s car was already in the yard. When they entered the house, Agnes stood at the doorway and groused again. Noah saw Tayte standing in the alcove near the hallway, holding her breath. He tensed as Agnes entered, froze, and studied the room. She slowly moved to the table where her stained but freshly laundered, embroidered tablecloth once again graced her mahogany table. Her eyes softened as she touched the stitching, and her voice mellowed.
“My mother did this needlework. It was on the table when I grew up.”
Tayte didn’t respond, so Noah obliged. “That’s a priceless memory, Agnes.”
Agnes scowled at the new things as she moved toward the stove where her scrubbed and oiled cast-iron skillet sat. “Cast-iron skillets make the best eggs you know.”
“So I’ve heard,” agreed Noah.
“This one came from Germany to France and then to America. You can’t get skillets like this anymore.”
She saw her old dough bowl sitting on the counter, filled with fresh fruit and bags of nuts. “Why is this here? It belongs on that shelf. And where are all my other things?”
Noah’s jaw tightened as the situation began to spiral into another crisis, but Tayte rushed over to Agnes and said, “Tell me the story behind this bowl, Grandma. I bet it’s a great one.”
She took Agnes by the hand an
d led her to the old red sofa, vacuumed clean and without the new slipcover. Agnes noted its return to normalcy with an approving nod, agreeing to sit and chat about the bowl.
Noah could feel the change. The moment had become intimate. It was a family moment, but he wasn’t threatened by the women’s connection as he withdrew to tend to the baby goats now residing in Agnes’s room. He actually took great delight in the return of Agnes’s throaty laughter, which floated down the hall like a contralto breeze. Tayte’s voice likewise grew more jovial and confident each time it reached his ears, and he took some pride in that, accepting that he’d played a part in this reconciliation. He had no idea how Tayte’s return would impact his relationship with Agnes. He hoped she would be more tolerant of him, but he knew he might have just as surely sealed his own fate. Whatever happened, bringing the women together was a good thing. It was the right thing. It was what his Uncle John would do.
He wondered how his aunt and uncle were faring this night. When he finished the feeding, he would head to the hospital to say good-night to them. Perhaps he could talk Aunt Sarah into a late supper as well. He knew she loved their talks. Needed them really. He now felt confident in saying that he knew she loved him as well.
He cringed when he thought about the day’s beginning, how reckless and thoughtless he’d been, that in a moment of lost control, he risked destroying himself in an effort to lash out at the world. He had little experience with religion or God, but he felt certain someone had intervened this morning. His heart was bursting with gratitude. In the end, the worst day had become one of the best. What if he hadn’t held on a few more hours to see what the day would offer?
He snuggled the warm baby goat close to his face, burying his eyes in its soft, tender neck, and whispered thank you to the God in whom he was beginning to believe.
Chapter 15
Uncle John had been moved to the CICU that afternoon, and Aunt Sarah told the staff Noah was immediate family, which cleared him to sit by Uncle John’s side. The sight of his uncle, bound with wires and tubes, unnerved him. Worse yet, Uncle John’s two requests became matching anvils on his shoulders.
A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET Page 15