by T. S. Joyce
“No. But it’s an added bonus.” Pulling back, he ran the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks until they were dry. “Friends do this, right?”
Laughing thickly, she stepped back. “Sure.”
“Good. So how was your date with Ben?”
With a heavenward roll of her eyes, she trudged toward the cardboard boxes of bear cuts to help load the truck. “I’ll tell you on the way.”
****
Watching Aanon with his neighbors battered her defensive walls until they were nothing but ash and ruin beneath her heart. Courteous, he introduced her right away. There were four stops and four families, including Billy’s, and every single one was so obviously grateful, it welled up a confidence in her that there were good people in the world, and Aanon Falk was one of them.
“If you help out your neighbors when you can, they’ll help you out, too, when they’re able,” he said as they made their way back to the homestead. “Every one of them got my dad out of jams over the years. They’re good people.”
“Is that why you never left?”
“What do you mean never left? All I do is leave this place.”
“You know what I mean. Why didn’t you move away like you wanted to in high school?”
He shot her a questioning look and dragged his gaze back to the slushy road. “How did you know I wanted to leave?”
“It was obvious. You were always looking at pamphlets for out-of-town colleges, some even out of state. And when Mrs. Brig asked you where you wanted to go after you graduated, you said ‘anywhere but here.’ And why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s just—none of my friends ever figured it out. Or if they did, they didn’t take it seriously. I lived in California for one year. One year was all I needed to realize it wasn’t for me. And then my dad got pneumonia. I came back to take care of the place while he was recovering, and I just never went back. Dad got better, and I stayed here. Got an apartment in town and started working odd construction jobs. Moved my way up to manage a crew, and now I travel for it. I left, but it just didn’t stick.”
Trees and brush and woods passed by the window. She could see why he had come back. She hadn’t grown up in a secret garden like him, and even she was drawn back by the magic of this wild place.
“Are you going to see Erin this trip?” she asked.
The sound of the scratch of his jaw filled the cab as he rubbed a hand over the short whiskers on his face. “I mean to. She’s been putting me off lately, saying she’s too busy and all that. But I made us reservations last time I was in town, and she said she’d be there.”
“Why doesn’t she make the time? You guys don’t have a chance to see each other that often.”
“It’s complicated between us, Farrah. We’ve got a history that goes way back, and we’re working on some stuff right now. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“That’s what friends do,” she sang. “They talk about significant others.”
“Well, it’s weird talking about her to you.”
“Why?”
The Chevy’s headlights landed on the big house as he pulled the wheel. “Because it’s just weird. I don’t know why.”
“I told you about my hot date with Ben.”
He snorted. “Yeah, your hot, snore-inducing date with Ben. It was quite an intriguing tale. Sorry, Fennel. I have way more dirt to dish than you and am at a severe disadvantage.”
“It’s going to be a long, boring winter if you shut down every interesting conversation,” she said over the hood of the truck. After untying the dogs from their miniature doggie log mansion, she scratched Luna behind her floppy ear, then followed Aanon into the big house.
The house was one story with a small loft up above. Reachable only by a hand carved ladder. It seemed to be where Aanon slept, though there was a bedroom downstairs where his father had likely lived in. The kitchen and living room were connected and open, and an old chandelier hung over a small dining table. Two couches sat invitingly in the living space, and a shelf of old records sat under a waiting record player. The place smelled divine. Whoever had given Aanon the recipe for the beef and vegetable stew that was simmering over coals in the fireplace deserved a trophy.
In the half hour it took him to make Yorkshire pudding, she’d boiled a fresh pitcher of tea and set the table.
“Why did you decide to settle out here after your dad passed,” Farrah asked, blowing on a spoonful of broth.
Aanon took a swig of tea and forked a potato. “Because its home. This homestead has been in the Falk family for over a hundred years. Every generation has had a son to carry out the tradition, and I’m an only child, so it went to me. I used to hate it, and I told my dad I’d never run it. I’d go off and travel or take a job somewhere warmer, but I think he knew I’d always end up here. It’s part of me. Part of my heritage, and I’m proud of this place.”
“A son every generation, huh? So you’re a legacy. What happens when you shack up with a wife who gives you all daughters?”
He jerked his head up, and gave her the strangest look.
“Surely the homestead could go to a daughter, too.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
She eventually stood for a second helping and then rinsed their dishes before turning in for the night. Aanon stood outside on the porch until she closed the cattleman’s cabin door behind her. She’d peek out the window, but the poster board prevented her from seeing anything.
A bone deep ache echoed through her as she leaned her head against the door, thinking of another three days without him. Sure, he wasn’t hers in any way other than a sometimes friend, but without him around, this place was lonely.
She tossed a few logs onto the burning embers of the wood stove and grimaced at the flames. Tomorrow, he’d be on a fancy date with Erin, and Farrah would be here, ticking away the hours as she worked around the homestead.
The futon creaked as she slumped onto the mattress. As she stared at the ceiling, she fanned her fingers over her fluttering stomach. “I know, little bean. I’m going to miss him, too.”
Chapter Eight
Farrah fingered the dog-eared corner of a teenybopper magazine and flipped to a quiz on whether or not someone has met their soul mate. Yack.
“Bailey?” The nurse who aided Dr. Jansen called into the waiting room.
The only other woman in the room stood and smiled timidly at her as she passed, and Farrah went back to flipping pages.
She’d had her blood drawn this morning and picked up new prenatal vitamins from the tiny pharmacy in town while she awaited results. Drumming her heel against the plush carpet, she stretched her neck in an attempt to see Dr. Jansen through the checkin window.
How strange it was to know who her adoptive parents would’ve been. And also kind of awkward. It was like this huge elephant in the room now. Was she not supposed to know? Or did he even mind?
“Farrah Fennel,” the nurse called.
Nerves caused her to miss the table and drop the magazine on the floor. She bent to retrieve it. Clutching her jacket and purse against her stomach, she sidled the woman holding a pink clipboard and sat down in the chair in room three as directed.
The check-up room was almost exactly as she remembered it as a kid. The theme was pandas, and bamboo wallpaper snaked the walls. A net topped the corner and held three of the black-and-white stuffed animals with a sign that read careful, we bite in script letters.
Mom hadn’t exactly been routine with check-ups at the doctor when she was younger, as there hadn’t been money for such niceties, but when Farrah was bleeding heavily from gashes or nearly comatose from a flu bug, she would bring her in to see a professional.
“Hi again, Farrah,” Dr. Jansen said with an easy smile. He was a tall man, lanky with thick glasses and a lab coat that brushed his knees. Big, bushy eyebrows gave away every emotion he had, and deep set brown eyes likely invited even the most wary to confide in him.
Flipping throu
gh three sheets of paper on his clipboard, it was those eyebrows that gave away the good news. “Looks like your numbers are all perfectly normal now. Are you feeling better than you were the last time you were in?”
“I’m not as sick to my stomach, but now I’m just exhausted all the time.”
“Well,” he said, taking a seat on a round, rolling chair. “That’s to be expected. You’re out of the first trimester, and the farther along you get, the more that little baby is going to need from you.”
“I know,” she blurted.
As he set the clipboard in his lap, he asked, “You know what?”
A long, shaky breath left her. “I know you were supposed to adopt me when I was a baby.”
“Oh.” He was quiet for several moments. “Your mom talked to you about it?”
“I hope it’s all right. I asked her. I wanted to know why she didn’t give me to someone who could take better care of me. I wanted to know to help me make my own decision. You know, about my baby.”
His eyebrows fell, nearly touching his eyelashes in an expression she could only interpret as pain. “Yes, my wife and I were supposed to be your adoptive parents, but after you were born, your mother couldn’t do it. She couldn’t part with you.”
“Was it strange seeing me around town?”
“Not strange. It was a bit heartbreaking, though. Anyone with eyes could see you struggling, and my wife and I had such plans to give you a good life and take care of you. And there was nothing we or anyone could do. Your mom wasn’t doing enough wrong for you to be taken by the state.”
“That you knew of.”
A slow nod. “That we knew of.”
“Why did you tell Aanon my test results, Dr. Jansen?”
“It was wrong of me, I know. They were meant for you first, and you could do whatever you wanted with the information. But as the man who was almost your adoptive father, I knew Aanon would take care of you like you needed. He’s a good man. If he knew you were lacking something, he’d make sure you and the baby got it.”
She cracked a smile. “He went hunting for a bear when he got off the phone with you.”
“And?”
“And he got one.” She swallowed hard. “The pamphlets you gave me the other day…about adoption? What is the next step if I wanted to learn more?”
He rolled his chair next to the counter and propped his temple on the palm of his hand. “The closest agency is probably in Anchorage. If you call one of them you think feels right, then they will send you a folder of potential parents.”
“And I just pick one of them out? Like out of a catalogue?”
“If that is the direction you want to go, then yes. Sort of like that. The agency will be more equipped to answer those questions for you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Hesitation clung to the shape of his mouth. “Okay.”
“What do you think I should do?”
His chest rose with the long inhalation. “As your doctor, I’d say you need to really think about your future. Weigh the pros and cons, and decide not what’s best for you, but what is best for the child.”
Her heart sank.
“But,” he said, dropping his chin. “As your almost adoptive father, I’d remind you that you aren’t your mother. She made her decisions for reasons that aren’t easy to understand, but they were her decisions to make. This one is yours, and your mother shouldn’t be allowed to taint it either way. I’ve seen the way you protect your stomach with your hands. You’re doing it right now, and I know you’re struggling with this decision because you are so concerned with giving your baby the best life you can give it. You also have a good head on your shoulders. You have a job and a place to stay. If you decide to keep it, that’s okay, too.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back. “What do I really have to offer a child? I work at a bar and rent a cattleman’s cabin. I don’t even have a father to give my baby.”
“No family looks the same, Farrah,” he said quietly. “Even if it were just you to raise your baby, that wouldn’t be any different than hundreds of thousands of other families.”
She couldn’t speak. So choked up was she, her throat constricted until it hurt. Instead she nodded.
She left the office even more confused than when she’d entered. The advice Dr. Jansen gave was priceless. No father figure had ever been there to offer a different perspective, so this was a first, and a nice one at that. But just as she’d been leaning toward the notion that she was strong enough to let go of her baby if it meant it could have a better future, now she thought maybe she was also strong enough to love that baby just as much as adoptive parents would.
Damn Miles. He’d ruined everything. She wasn’t supposed to be making these gut-wrenching decisions! She was supposed to be marrying him and planning their family together. Building cribs and shopping strollers. And instead, he’d lied for years and left her no choice but to figure out a future alone. And like every time she thought of him, of his smile and the way he held her after they’d slept together, she was washed in guilt. Guilt over corrupting a marriage. Over unintentionally hurting his wife. Miles had been the only man she’d been in love with, made love with, and he’d tainted every intimate moment with his lies and deceit.
How was she supposed to be trusted with such a colossal decision? She couldn’t even choose a decent man.
Hastily, she wiped streaming tears with the back of her gloved hand and crawled onto the four-wheeler. Ben waved from a small café across the street, but she turned the key and blasted down the road toward the homestead. The last thing she wanted was to bawl her eyes out in front of him. She was just now getting used to the nickname, The Dweeb. Emotional Nut Job was just too harsh to handle at the moment.
Maybe it was better that Aanon had left that morning. The alone time would give her much needed space to sort out what she was going to do. She could lose herself in the chores that had become routine in her life and not worry about anyone watching her. And as nice as it was to be able to tell Aanon about her day when he was there, she couldn’t depend on him. He wasn’t hers and never would be. He belonged to another, and she needed to learn to turn to herself in times like this.
She parked the smallest ATV next to the bigger one in the barn, hopped off, and then pulled her tresses into a ponytail.
One of the cattle, a burly black heifer with the ear tag 417, was a mean little cuss, and she couldn’t afford to lose sight of her as she spread feed out for the small herd. Twice, she’d had to scoot out of the way of a surly headbutt, and though the animal wasn’t horned, cows had some thick sculls that could inflict some serious damage.
The snow had all melted, but it was late October and quite chilly. The sun hid behind a thin veil of fast-moving clouds, and every once in a while, the faint scent of frost whipped around on the breeze. Winter would be here soon, and the drifts of debilitating snow with it.
Exhausted after feeding and watering the animals, a nap sounded like the closest thing this side of heaven, and she stumbled into her house. The wood had burned to embers in the stove, so she piled on three larger pieces from the pile near the front door.
Chilly, she stripped out of her coat and dove under the thick covers of the bed. There was a bite to the air now, but in no time, the stove would have the small space warmed up. The blackout curtains Aanon had installed were fantastic for keeping out even the barest trace of daylight, but just as she was about to fall asleep with her hand resting across her fluttering stomach, a great banging resonated against the front door.
Startled, she waited for her heart to stop trying to escape through her rib cage and padded to the door. Luna, still tied to the doghouse with Bruno after her earlier round of errands, barked in constant rhythm, and when the pounding didn’t stop, Farrah threw open the door.
A woman stood on the other side with a small boy peeking out from behind her legs. Tall, with fashionable leggings and fur-lined boots, she looked down at Farr
ah with a humorless set to her perfectly glossed lips. Her make-up was impeccable, right down to her false lashes. Her blond hair was streaked with neatly kept highlights, and was pulled high into a ponytail that curled at the tip. One sandy brown eyebrow arched, and her deep, coffee-colored eyes narrowed.
“Um, can I help you?” Farrah asked.
“Where’s Aanon?”
“He left this morning on a business trip. He won’t be back for a few days.”
No answer as the woman stretched her neck and studied the small cabin over Farrah’s shoulder with a judgmental pucker to her lips.
“Do you want me to leave him a message?”
The woman scoffed and pushed her way inside, dragging the toddler behind her. “You must think you’re pretty clever.”
“No,” Farrah said slowly. “I actually find myself very un-clever. I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Erin.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding at the mix-up. “Aanon said he has a reservation for you guys to meet up in the city. He’s there right now to meet you. I’m sorry if the communication got crossed or—”
“Would you shut up? No communication got screwed up. I just didn’t want to meet him is all. This is Dodge.” She pointed to the little boy who sat quietly on her unmade bed.
Opening her mouth, then closing it again, she frowned and said, “Hi, Dodge.” Okay, she was missing something big, but Erin was kind of crazy and not talking in a straight line.
“Does he look familiar?” Erin asked, crossing her arms like a towering drill sergeant.
The boy was about three years old. He had big beseeching blue eyes that beheld her seriously and tufts of platinum blond hair that peeked out from his little snowball-topped toboggan. He might have literally been the cutest little boy she’d ever seen in her life.
He also looked like a miniature spitting image of Aanon.
A deep sinking feeling traveled from her throat to her stomach, then out to her limbs as they grew so heavy, she didn’t want to move. “He looks like Aanon.”
“Good girl. You aren’t as stupid as these red-necked townies thought after all. So this is how this is going to go. What I say goes because if Aanon steps out of line for even a minute, he doesn’t see his son. Am I clear?”