“I know you could, but we’d miss you if you sent us away.”
Agnes’s jaw slackened. “I was fine living alone before you came. I managed by myself. I had my work and my animals to keep me company, but then you both came and I had people to talk to every day. Now I am not so good alone anymore. I am lonely when you both leave, but there are too many rules now. What I think is not enough anymore. I worry I will disappoint you or make her angry.” Her finger shot forward in Tayte’s direction. “I see the way you whisper around me as if I am a child. I do not like that.”
Noah cringed as Tayte responded to the accusations by folding her arms defensively across her chest. “We’re sorry,” he offered. “We’ll try not to do that anymore.”
Agnes pointed at Tayte again. “And she said I have no money. Where is it? I get Social Security money every month.”
Tayte finally spoke in her defense. “You have bills, Grandma.”
“I don’t see any bills. My house is paid for. I am not sick.”
“You still have expenses. Utilities are high in this old house. Nathaniel Briscoe pays your bills for you.”
“Nathaniel Briscoe,” she growled. “Just like his mother, nosing around in my business.”
“They didn’t do this, Grandma. Neither Nathaniel nor his mother have been here.”
Agnes’s face flushed red with anger. “You have no idea what she has done to me! It’s all her fault! You cannot come here and think you know my business! Allez! Allez! Get out!”
As Agnes’s voice reached a shriek, Noah motioned for Tayte to comply, and the two took refuge at the kitchen table. Tayte looked so defeated Noah feared she might pack up and leave.
“It’ll be all right. I can cover the bills when the plumbers return tomorrow.”
Tayte huffed and crossed her arms on the table, creating a nest where she flopped her head. “I can’t let you do that. Grandma can’t pay you for what you do here as it is.” She lifted her head and eyed him curiously. “By the way, how can you afford to work here for free?”
“Uncle John sent me here to relieve Sarah, so he pays my expenses.”
Tayte leaned toward Noah. “But I’m here now. You don’t need to relieve Sarah anymore.”
Noah sensed no ire or dismissal, but a note of want in her voice.
“I started some projects, and I want to see them through. Besides, I enjoy Agnes. She makes me feel . . . needed. And I care about her.”
More tension seemed to ease from Tayte. “Grandma told me about your uncle. I’m sorry he’s so sick. You must be needed there.”
“Things are complicated at the farm right now. Sarah does need me at times, but then there are times when she needs to be alone. Besides, her children will be arriving soon.”
“So you hang around like a knight in shining armor in case you’re summoned?”
Hearing his life described that way sounded pathetic, even to Noah.
The soft sound of footsteps in the hall preceded the opening of a drawer, the striking of a match, and a gentle whoosh. Moments later the footsteps retreated.
“What’s Grandma’s obsession over that candle?”
“It has to do with a promise she made.”
“Has she ever told you what that promise was?”
“Nope.”
“And what do you think that tirade about Nathaniel’s mother was all about?”
“I have no idea.”
“I ask her questions, but she skirts around them. It’s like she doesn’t want to let me in.”
“Maybe you just need to choose the right moment and way to ask.”
Tayte huffed and buried her head in her arms again. A moment later she raised it. “I’m out of my element. And I doubt you’re trained in geriatrics. You’re as poor as I am, Noah. Maybe poorer. You ought to look after yourself for a change.”
“Don’t worry about me. Money isn’t my problem. I’ve got some set aside.”
“You should make a life for yourself. What are you saving it for?”
“I’m not sure yet. In the meantime, let me help you.”
Tayte shook her head adamantly. “No. If Grandma and I can’t maintain this place on our own, we simply can’t live here. That just makes sense. It might not matter anyway. Grandma is scheduled to have those neurological tests tomorrow, and in her current state she won’t do well. The doctor might recommend another arrangement for her.”
Noah felt his heart stop. “She can recommend. That’s all. You don’t have to act on it.”
“Look around you, Noah. The place is falling apart. I may not have a choice.”
“What time is her appointment? I’d like to go along.”
“I can handle it.”
He felt his jaw tighten. “I’m not—” She made him crazy. He wanted to scream or kick the chair. His hand formed a fist which he raised to pound on the table, but he caught the shock in Tayte’s eyes and he flexed it instead. “Why do you turn every offer of help into a fight? I’m not saying you can’t handle things. I’m suggesting that I might be of some help. I’ve been around Agnes longer. She’s comfortable with me. That might be useful tomorrow.”
His outburst caused Tayte’s eyes to widen. She settled deeper into her chair and played with her hands as she appeared to get lost in her thoughts. “Grandmother’s appointment is at 11:30. I plan to head up to Hagerstown afterward to scope out the grotto. I figure Grandma would enjoy the ride. You’re welcome to come along to both if you like.”
“Thanks.” He blew out a rush of air and felt the awkward silence press in on him again. His hands fumbled for something to occupy them. He found a pen and began clicking it as he ruminated over the financial dilemma plaguing the women. Everything always seemed to come down to money—money to maintain the farm, more caregivers, round-the-clock care, a nice place when the time came. Click, click, click. An idea was formulating when he felt Tayte’s hand cover his.
“You’re making me crazy.”
He instantly dropped the pen and felt his face flush red. “Sorry. I’m a bit restless.”
“I’m a bit bossy.” She laughed with a snort, causing her to laugh again. “Look at us. And we’re supposed to be rescuing her.” She chuckled again.
Noah bit his lip, debating whether to offer the next idea. “What if the means to rescue Agnes were right here on the farm?”
“I doubt we can farm our way out of debt.” Her snarl evidenced her opinion of his ideas.
“I wasn’t suggesting that. Have you ever been up to the attic?”
Tayte straightened in her chair. “No. Have you?”
“Agnes sent me up there a few days ago. It’s filled with antiques and art.”
“Really? That door scared me to death when I was eight. Grandma treated it as if it were haunted.”
“Oh . . . there are ghosts up there. Sad memories, I suspect. The contents still haunt Agnes but maybe she’d agree to sell some of the items if we present the option in the right way.”
Tayte leaned forward. “You do it, Noah. She’s already furious with me.”
“Maybe we should wait a few days.”
“No. We can’t. The bills are coming, and we need to know what resources we have.”
Noah immediately regretted his suggestion. The last thing he wanted was for Agnes to see him as just another dragon in her life. He moved to Agnes’s pet-scented room with Tayte close behind. Agnes was back in her corner, so Noah sat cross-legged in front of her.
“We came to apologize, Agnes. We said things that frightened you, and we’re sorry.”
She eyed him angrily for more than a minute before replying, and when she did, it was with grave skepticism. “No more talk about taking me off my farm?”
“I promise you that more than anything, we want to find ways to keep you on this farm.”
“That is not what she said.” Agnes pointed at Tayte, who joined them on the floor.
“I panicked. I’m sorry, Grandma.”
Agnes seemed dubious, but sh
e was at least listening. “This is my home. I don’t have many years left, but I want to spend them here. This is where my memories are.” She surveyed the room. “My mother and father and Tony all died in this room.” She pointed to a rocking chair in the far corner. “I rocked my baby girl to sleep over there every night.” She rose to her knees and scrambled to the doorway. “You see these marks? They have been painted over but you can still feel the cuts in the wood where I recorded Angeline’s growth. Come. See!”
Excitement replaced her anger, and Noah felt as if his silent prayer had been answered.
Agnes sat again, as if chatting with them around a campfire. “This farm helped me heal after the war. I walked these fields and sat by that creek until I felt peace. And when life broke my heart again, it was the land and the vineyard that gave me hope. It gave me Tony.” She turned to face Tayte, “and Tony gave me Angeline.”
Noah felt Tayte hold her breath.
“And then God brought you and Noah to the farm. So you see, this farm is your history too. I can never leave it.”
Tayte pretended to wipe a strand of hair away, but Noah watched her finger swipe at the moistness in her eye. She leaned close to Noah. “Please make this work.”
Noah nodded. “Agnes, this house has serious problems. Fixing them will cost more money than you have. But you might have some things we can sell to get the money we need.”
The light of hope brightened Agnes’s eyes. “Okay. What do I have?”
“You sent me into the attic a few days ago. I saw the antiques and paintings up there.”
Agnes lurched and clutched the chain around her neck as she scrambled to her feet. “You must not sell those things! They are not mine. They belong to the dead. The dragons took them. No, no, no, no, no!” Agnes repeated in a manic cadence. “Do not talk about this anymore.” She opened the door to show them out, but Tayte refused to surrender the opportunity.
“If the owners of those things have passed away, they belong to you now. Sell them, and you may be able to stay on the farm.”
“Non!” Agnes shouted, placing her hands over her ears ending any further discussion. “I will live in a hovel before I will break my father’s promise.”
Noah watched the return of icy detachment between the two women. He took Tayte by the arm and led her to the door. “No more. Leave her alone.”
Once outside the door, Tayte’s frustration was unleashed. “She’s completely irrational. If I could get that darn key, I’d sell that stuff myself.” She paced in circles in the hall. “She made no sense, all that talk about dragons and promises and the dead. She sounded crazy.”
“She knows what she’s saying. We had a talk the other day. I think the dragons were the Nazis. During the Prussian War, horseback soldiers raided the villages. They were called dragoons. Dragoons, dragons. Get it? I bet Agnes’s grandmother called them ‘dragons.’”
Astonishment wrinkled Tayte’s face. “How do you know about the dragoons?”
The implication cut Noah deeply. “You don’t need a college degree to learn. Ever hear of a library?” He held up his smartphone. “Or the Internet?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“What do you know about Agnes?” he threw back at her. “Did you know she and her mother survived the Allied bombing of her home in Alsace? She was just a little girl.”
“No, I didn’t.” Tayte leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, where she sat for several seconds, tugging on her lip. “If she’s still being tormented by the past, why won’t she let me help her? Why does she fight everything I do to make her life better?”
Noah leaned against the other wall and snickered, waiting to see if she would remember his similar point made earlier. It took only a few seconds.
“All right, all right. I get it.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“I’m really worried about tomorrow’s tests.”
“Me too.”
“I really do love her. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I know.”
Tayte bit her lip. “I just hope she lets me in before it’s too late.”
* * *
It was seven thirty when Noah reached the hospital. The nurses told him Sarah had gone to the chapel, so he slipped into his uncle’s room and sat there, watching the monitors and the machines. One began to beep, and a nurse entered and changed a bag of solution.
“How is he?” Noah asked.
Her reply was curt. “About the same.” She turned back before she exited, as if realizing that the response she’d delivered a million times came at a life-altering moment for the young man who loved the patient in suite six. Her voice was warmer as she added, “The doctor changed Mr. Anderson’s medication. He was lucid most of the afternoon. Go ahead and talk to him. He might be able to hear you. I’ll leave you two alone now.”
Noah thanked her. He took hold of his uncle’s hand and studied the calluses and lines. He wanted so much to have another of their talks. He still had so many questions—questions about character and honor and becoming a good man. Noah longed to hear, one more time, that he already was one.
He leaned into the bed rail and brought the worn hand to his cheek. He didn’t know how long Sarah stood in the doorway, watching him, but when he felt her hand press on his shoulder he was not embarrassed.
She took a shuddering breath. “I wish . . . I just wish . . .” She sat in the other chair, unable to finish. The rhythm of the IV drip ticked several quiet minutes away. “He had been sick for much longer than he ever let on, Noah. There’s nothing to be done now but prepare to say good-bye. The doctors tried some new meds today. They’re going to send John home tomorrow if they can keep him comfortable. Linda and Susan are each taking red-eye flights. Jared and Sam will be here this weekend. Then we’ll just enjoy him as long as we can.”
The finality of it all hit Noah hard. His throat was tight as he said, “I’ll pack my things and move out so your family can have the space.”
“No,” Sarah replied. She leaned forward, placing her hand on Noah’s knee. “You’re part of this family, Noah. The kids and I are all agreed. We want you with us.”
Noah found it hard to swallow. “That means more to me than you could ever know. I’ll come by, but your family needs time alone. Your children deserve a chance to grieve privately.”
Sarah nodded. “Where will you go? Not far, I hope.”
“No. Not far.”
“I think I’ll stay here tonight. Would you take care of things at home for me?”
“Sure.”
Noah felt empty on the trip back to the farm. Gifts of food from neighbors were waiting on the porch. Noah put it all away. He had no appetite. Instead of eating, he sat at the table with a pad of paper and a pencil, determined to fulfill his uncle’s wish. He balled and tossed page after page of failed designs, unable to come up with a plan for the Eppley project. He studied the brochure of kits, stared at the photos of the property, and read the notes from his conversation with the family, but he could come up with nothing worthy of Ely. Nothing crippled little Jenna deserved. Nothing equal to Uncle John’s confidence in him. At least not within the prescribed budget.
Frustrated, he went to bed but sleep wouldn’t come. He sat up and typed “Eppley’s Edibles” into the search engine of his laptop, discovering the struggling company’s web site. Ely’s bio was tucked into a corner of the site, but the story it told was front-page newsworthy:
During the Gulf War, Ely had been a medic on board a truck ferrying medical supplies to NATO troops in Iraq when an RPG hit their convoy. Though he barely survived the initial attack, other soldiers credited their survival to his optimism and support. Forty minutes passed before a rescue chopper reached the men. During that time Ely kept their spirits high by encouraging them to talk to one another. One soldier wrote, “While that may seem like a small thing, it was the lifeline we clung to, knowing we weren’t alone, and believing we would all ge
t home.”
Noah read how new dreams replaced old ones after the loss of Ely’s left hand and leg. The Eppleys launched a cottage industry packaging the cheese ball and dessert mixes Margot had assembled and given as Christmas gifts for years. The couple started small, setting up folding tables at craft shows and Christmas bazaars, but as word spread, so did demand, until they became a licensed corporation in need of additional employees. Noah was awed by the reach of the Eppleys’ goodness. Most of their employees were wounded veterans and people with mental or physical disabilities. He was beginning to understand why taking this job was so important to his uncle, and that made his task even more critical.
Despite a restless sleep, he made it downstairs the next morning by eight a.m. with his bags packed. Two women sat in the kitchen with Sarah, but before he identified them as his cousins, Linda and Susan rushed to him, wrapping him up in their hugs.
“Oh, Noah. We drove straight from the airport to the hospital. Mother has told us how you’ve been her support these past few weeks. Thank you for all you’ve done. We’ll never forget this.”
“You’re stuck with us now. Our doors are always open to you.”
Sarah smiled at him from across the room. “They mean it, Noah. We all do.”
Chapter 17
Once things settled again, Noah made his exit from the Anderson women. He loaded his bags into the old green truck and headed for Agnes’s farm. Emotionally spent, he was grateful Tayte offered to drive today, and more grateful that Agnes offered no fight about the day’s plans. She was so focused on the promised trip to the park that she treated the doctor’s appointment as inconsequential. Noah hoped it would prove to be that uneventful.
Dr. Nurin posed questions to Agnes, but Noah knew that most of Agnes’s answers were inaccurate. He also knew Tayte was equally aware of that fact.
“Do you ever suffer from depression or anxiety, Agnes?”
“No. Never.”
“Do you ever lose track of time or forget the date?”
“No. I have a calendar and a watch.”
“Good. Do you ever trip or fall or lose your balance?”
A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET Page 17