by Ellie Hall
“This has to be penance for everything horrible I’ve ever done.”
Before I could decide if punching the wall or slumping down to the ground to cry like a baby would be more cathartic, my phone rang.
I pulled it out, knowing who it was before I even answered. “Clint, this isn’t—”
“Hold up. I know what you’re going to say,” Clint interrupted. “You’re already having the time of your life.”
My frustration came out in a laugh. “That is the polar opposite of what I was going to say.”
“Come on, man. This has to be better than crashing on my couch.”
Rolling my eyes hard enough I was in danger of damaging my optic nerve, I ran a hand down the whiskers of my unshaven face. “I see. You conned me into this so you could have your apartment back.”
“No. I told you that you’d be doing my parents a huge favor.”
“If this is such a huge favor, then why aren’t you here, house sitting for them like a dutiful son?”
Clint scoffed. I was getting under his skin, and even though I knew it was a jerk thing to take my frustrations out on him, he was an easy target. “You know I would have done it, but I have a job that doesn’t give me three months off.”
“I know.” I moved over to the couch and flopped down, making the springs squeak in protest. “I guess one benefit of being unemployed is I have all the vacation time I could ever want.”
“Look, I didn’t mean that—”
“I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I guess I’m still a little bitter about being let go.”
“What about losing your apartment and Brittney breaking off your engagement?”
The dull pulsing throb at my temples threatened an oncoming headache. “Thank you for reminding me how sucky things have been going lately.”
“Isn’t there a saying that bad things happen in threes?” Clint asked. “There’s the silver lining to your situation.”
“Now that you mention it, I feel the warmth of the sun on my face after the stormy clouds of this year already. Thank you. Truly.”
“Look,” Clint laughed at my sarcasm, and if we were talking in person, I would have slugged him in the arm, the way brothers roughed each other up, “I know this isn’t ideal for you, but seriously, my parents are so appreciative. They haven’t been on vacation since I don’t know when. It’s not easy for them to get away from their farm and I know Dad’s been wanting to take Mom on a world tour since they got married. They kind of deserve it at this point in their lives.”
“Maybe they should have spent the money they used for traveling on a home renovation instead,” I mumbled.
“Hey! Don’t knock the farmhouse. It might not look like much, but that’s where I grew up.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to living in a matchbox that’s older than I am. It’s very quaint, though. I love the styling upstairs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen green-striped carpet before.”
“My parents have become comfortable with their choice of home decor, but there are some definite positives to living in the country.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you enjoy squawking chickens as your alarm clock or that the air is perfumed with the faint aroma of diesel and manure better?”
“There’s hardly any traffic—”
“Except for trucks and tractors,” I pointed out.
“—you can’t beat the sunrises…Plus, I hear the neighbor is cute.”
“You haven’t met her?”
“I knew her when I was younger, but I haven’t seen her in something like a decade when I flew the coop for college. My mom’s the one who mentioned her. Besides, I’m in a happily committed relationship. If I went around looking at other women, my girlfriend would gouge my eyes out with hot pokers.”
“Your mom? Is the neighbor a twelve-year old girl who wears her hair in pigtails?”
“She was a kid when I left. Besides, I think pigtails on a grown woman are cute.”
“Maybe for a country bumpkin. I prefer a little more sophistication.” A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. “Hang on.”
Trying to tiptoe to the window so I could push back the gossamer curtains, the floor groaned and creaked under each step. There would definitely not be any pretending I wasn’t home.
Leaning close, I looked through a crack in the curtains to the porch. A pretty woman with dark blonde hair swept into a ponytail, wearing a cotton sundress and holding what looked like a basket of eggs fresh from the henhouse stood outside. She knocked again and rocked back onto her feet, fidgeting with the basket in her hands.
I stood up, grinning to myself, and whispered into the phone. “Clint? I’m going to have to call you back.”
“What? Why? Did the cows get out again? My dad swore up and down that he’d fixed the fence so an elephant couldn’t escape.”
“Relax. I don’t see any wandering cows, but that cute neighbor you mentioned? I think she’s on the welcoming committee.”
I ignored the firestorm of questions Clint fired off and said goodbye as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. Running a hand through my hair, it flopped listlessly onto my forehead. I was long overdue for a haircut, but money had been tight and it wasn’t like I needed to be clean-shaven for a corporate job. Checking my breath, I cringed. I could use a mint, but I shrugged it off. It wasn’t like I was going in for a kiss. All I was there to do was graciously accept her gift and thank her for welcoming me for the summer.
Maybe country living wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Smoothing my hands down the front of my button-up shirt, I swung open the door with a smile. The woman met me with wide brown eyes and her lower lip caught between her teeth. A gust of wind blew her ponytail across her cheek and as she brushed it away, something clicked in my brain. I’d seen her before, but even though time had changed her, there was a distinct familiarity to her. She’d grown several feet, the tight curls that used to make her hair look wild and untamed had relaxed, but her eyes were the same. I knew that natural good humor that sparkled behind every glance.
“Maren?” I might have tipped over in disbelief if I hadn’t been holding the doorknob.
“Yes?”
I tapped my hand to my chest in a sort of Me Tarzan, You Jane gesture. “It’s Nick.”
“Nick?” Her mouth dropped open as recognition settled in. “As in Nick Parker? No way!”
“Way.”
It took all my self-control not to smack my face. Way?
Combing a hand through my hair, wishing I’d done a little more to make myself presentable, I let go of the door and stepped out onto the porch. “I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you in what, nine years?”
“Twelve. My parents moved us out here to help with my grandparents’ farm in middle school.”
I was at a total loss for what to say. Maren had been my best friend through elementary school, ever since she told off a kid in kindergarten for making fun of me when I cried the first day at drop off. We were inseparable until it wasn’t cool for me to be associated with a girl. With that unspoken awkwardness driving a wedge between us, we were reduced to acknowledging each other in the hallways in middle school by subtle head nods until one day, she’d disappeared.
Until now.
“Wow. Who would have thought we would have crossed paths again here of all places?” My gaze dropped to the basket of eggs she was holding. “Are those a welcome to the country gift?”
Maren held her eggs protectively against her chest and frowned at me in a way that made me regret my question. “No. Your legs look like they work just fine.”
“They do. Why…?”
“Then you can walk out back and get your own. You have a chicken coop full of hens behind the house. These are my farmer’s market eggs and I’ll get five dollars a dozen since they’re organic, free-range, and rare colors.”
“Right.” I would have given anything to rewind the last five minutes so I could stroll out onto the porch, confident, suave, and wit
ty. “Sorry for the assumption. I figured you were being neighborly.”
“I would have brought something if I'd known you were already here.”
My lips cracked into a grin, but I didn’t want to smile like I was overly flattered, even though I was. “You knew I was coming?”
“The Granges told me someone was coming to watch their place, but I didn’t realize it would be so soon. They just left this morning. I definitely didn’t know it was going to be you.”
“Yeah, they wanted to show me around before they left.”
“Ah. Makes sense.”
We stared at each other for a moment. I had no idea what was running through her brain, but that didn’t keep me from trying to figure it out. Seeing Maren again was a reminder what an idiot I’d been to give up her friendship in the first place.
“Wow. This is all kind of a surprise. Do you want to sit for a minute? I’d love to catch up.” I pointed to the porch swing that was swaying in the breeze. “I always kind of wondered what had happened to you.”
Maren’s eyes turned mischievous and she grinned in a way that gave me the very distinctive feel of being a cornered mouse. “You wondered about me, huh?”
A strangled laugh crept out from my throat. “Well, sure. You disappeared one day. There were rumors that you’d been abducted by aliens.”
“Ah, middle school.” She let out a peal of laughter. “If there’s one thing I don’t miss, it’s the rampant speculation and incessant gossip.”
Maren hadn’t moved, so I strolled to the swing and took a seat. Patting the spot next to me, I invited her with my arm draped across the back. I was unabashedly flirting for the first time since Brittney had ruined me, but if I was going to be stuck in the middle of nowhere for the next three months, I might as well have fun. “Come tell me what you’ve been up to.”
As her eyes flicked to the seat and her lips curved upward, making my blood pump harder, the swing groaned and dropped an inch. We both looked up right as the left chain pulled free and the swing came crashing down. I had no idea how I managed to tumble all the way down into the daylilies skirting the edge of the porch, but when I opened my eyes, all that registered was pain and feeling something overwhelmingly smelly and moist.
No. It couldn’t be. I was not laying in manure.
Except, not that deep down, I knew I was.
Inspecting the situation, I realized my fall had been cushioned by a fresh cowpie that had splattered upon impact. I should have scrambled to my feet, but instead, I closed my eyes, pretended I was on some tropical beach with a cold, fruity drink in my hand, and let the rest of my disgust out in a groan.
Maybe the universe was telling me I’d flirted too hard for my own good.
“Oh, my goodness. Nick?”
Maren was at my side in an instant, hovering over me to brush my mop of hair off my forehead. It might have been an intimate gesture, especially if I could have thought of anything to say other than, “Ow.”
“Are you okay? That looks like it hurt.” She held out a hand to help me up.
“I’m fine.” I hesitated before accepting, not wanting to get her as dirty, but she didn’t withdraw even when her eyes flicked over to the cowpie I’d smashed. Her hand easily fit into mine, but her grip was strong enough I had to fight a wince. “Everything except my pride, of course.”
“That’s the most painful.” She leaned over to inspect my back and frowned. “You probably don’t want to hear that your shirt is stained.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear that my hundred dollar shirt is stained with another creature’s excrement.”
Maren scrunched her nose. “First rule of living on a farm is that you shouldn’t wear anything that you aren’t okay with being ruined.”
“You’re one to talk.” I tried to keep my focus glued to her face, but my eyes had a mind of their own and ran quickly down her length, partly to prove a point, but mostly in appreciation of her figure. “You’re wearing a dress while collecting eggs. A white one.”
“That’s because all my work jeans are drying on the clothesline and for your information, I’ve had this dress for six years and I’m ninety-percent positive I got it off the WalMart clearance rack. But thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Please do.” I stood rigidly, not really sure what the first step would be to try and clean up. I guess I’d go around back and hose off with my clothes on. Glancing down at the cowpie that had cushioned my fall, I took a step away, not that it mattered. “I realize I’m no expert, but that looks rather fresh.”
“About that. I didn’t stop by to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Maren made an apologetic face and tilted her head to something behind me. Craning my neck, a herd of beefy, black cows traipsed through the landscaping. “I suppose this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but the Grange’s cows are out.”
2
I bumped the knife drawer shut with my hip and turned to slice the head of romaine lettuce I’d brought in from the garden. I knew I shouldn’t, but try as I might to keep focused on the salad, my thoughts drifted to Nick. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that I’d run into my former best friend and first crush across the street at the Grange’s farm. He’d always been a city slicker and he’d reaffirmed it once I told him the cows were out. I watched with curiosity and pinched lips, trying to hold back a tidal wave of laughter as he attempted to round up the escapees. He’d tried to bribe the cows back into their paddock with promises of back massages for the entire herd and all the straw they could eat. When Nick was ready to tear out his hair at their perceived stubbornness, I laughed outright. I shouldn’t have snickered at his ignorance, but it was better he learned that cows preferred to stuff their faces with green grass or grain, and most were wary enough of people that they wouldn’t let him touch them, so back massages were out. Getting a bucket of sweet feed from the Grange’s barn, I showed Nick how to get cows to follow by shaking the grain and making kissy noises. Every last cow was back where they belonged in thirty-nine seconds flat, a record even for me.
It’d been a week since then, but Nick had found a reason to run across the road to where I lived with my Granny to ask a favor every single day. I was beginning to find myself watching for him and enjoying how my heart skipped a beat or two when I saw him jogging my way.
I’d missed him. Our childhood friendship had been a casualty to growing up, when girls realized boys were gross and boys succumbed to peer pressure and were collectively too cool for girls. That didn’t mean I hadn’t kept an eye on him. I’d developed a major crush on him, which scared me, and I suspected Nick had felt at least an inkling of the same for me. Now a man, with the kind of shoulders that would have made a lumberjack jealous, and a strong, chiseled jawline that belonged on a razor commercial, I wasn’t surprised when my stomach filled with scattering butterflies every time he was anywhere in my proximity.
Tossing my chopped lettuce into a bowl, I laughed softly. Nick was going to have one heckuva summer on the Grange’s farm, and I was going to have a front row seat.
I mentally high fived my good luck.
“What’s got you giggling?” Granny asked as she strode into the kitchen and got out two table settings.
Crud. Granny must have realized there was something off about me and like a bloodhound on a scent, I knew she wasn’t going to leave it alone.
I shrugged and opened up a bag of dried cranberries, throwing a handful on top of the lettuce. “Nothing.”
Granny planted a fist on her hip. “What, do you think I was born yesterday? I’ve seen that look before on a thousand other people. You’re not fooling me.”
I raised my eyebrows and pinched my lips to keep anything incriminating from falling out, careful not to look at Granny directly. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do. You’re trying to hide what you’re thinking and you of all people should know you can’t keep a secret from me.”
“Fin
e.” I sighed, stopping what I was doing and risked a glance at Granny. “If you’re so intuitive, tell me, what was I giggling about?”
Granny took two steps closer, her eyes squinting as she burned a hole right through my charade of indifference.
“You’re dreaming about that new neighbor of ours. Nate. No. Noah. Mike? Mick?”
Dang, Granny was good. I could try digging in my heels by denying it, but I might as well have tried to say the sky wasn’t blue.
My lips loosened enough to eke out, “His name is Nick.”
“Ah ha! See, I was right. Ever since you came home, knee deep in mud after you helped him get the Grange’s cows back in, you’ve been walking around with a goofy grin.”
“I have not.” I threw a pan of slivered almonds in the oven and brushed off my hands, feeling my traitorous lips pull into the very grin Granny had claimed Nick caused.
“Yes, you have.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You’re full-on twitterpated. Like someone smacked you over the head with a two by four. And not that I’m complaining. A pretty young thing like you should be out having fun, not wasting away the best years of your life with old ladies.”
“I thought I wasn't supposed to call you old. I believe the adjective you last used to describe yourself was spry.”
Granny yanked the towel off the oven door and swatted at my rear end, but I jumped out of the way. “You are a stinker. Of course I meant me. I'm the little old lady. Look at me. I have more wrinkles than a bag of raisins and my hair is basically a poofy white cotton ball attached to my head.”
“Well, I love your poofy white hair. Even with it, you’re still spry.” Granny cracked the towel again and it snapped within inches of my backside. “Hey, watch it! That would have given me a welt.”
“You would have deserved it. Don’t ever call me spry again. I hate that word. It’s a way young people patronize the elderly.”
“You’re the one calling yourself a little old lady.” I laughed scornfully as Granny wound her towel again, but she was stopped short by the chime of the doorbell. We stared at each other. “Are you expecting someone?”