Picture Perfect Wedding (26 page)

His eyes, now as hard as flint, seared her and his body sparked with anger. “And how’s this life working out for you? You work two jobs just to meet the high city overheads so one day you can get that incredibly expensive studio that will continue to drain your resources? Working so hard you don’t have a social life?”

She wanted to put her hands over her ears to block out his voice.

He wasn’t finished. “You can’t stand here and tell me you haven’t had fun this summer, that being involved in the Whitetail wedding business hasn’t earned you almost as much money as you earned last year from photography. What about the fact you’ve come to love the farm and enjoy being a part of my family? All of that has to be better than what you had before.”

His ruthless deconstruction of her life, reducing it to a series of disconnected parts, torched her temper. “I came here to work and earn money, is all. I didn’t ask for the rest. I didn’t want to be part of your family and I surely didn’t need your mother pushing me at you as if the two of us had no say in the matter.”

“My mother has nothing to do with this.” Exasperation ricocheted around them. “I’m my own man and I agreed to the supper invitation because I wanted you to be there.”

She didn’t want to hear any of it. “My life’s in Minneapolis, Luke, not on this farm.”

She threw up her arms as ridiculous tears—ones she didn’t want to shed—stung the backs of her eyes. “We had a deal, Luke. Sex and fun for the summer and now you’ve gone and broken it.” She hated the way her voice quavered and she blew out a breath. “I don’t love you and I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry
anyone.
”

His entire body jerked as if her words were shrapnel straight to the chest. “Fine.” He bit off the word with a snap. “You go on believing all of that, but you know what? I totally get not taking stupid risks but not taking any at all? That turns safe into catatonic. A life worth living involves taking some chances so go be safe and enjoy watching your life from the sidelines.”

He crossed the room, wrenched open the slider and stepped out onto the deck into the night. She heard the click-clack of dogs’ paws on the wood.

“Mac, come. Maggie-May, stay,” Luke’s curt voice instructed.

As Mac and Luke walked away, she heard disappointment in the high-pitched whine of her dog. She steeled her heart but part of it tore anyway. She’d just hurt a really good man and there was no way to feel good or proud about that. Scooping up Maggie-May, who’d trotted into the room seeking solace, she buried her face in her dog’s short, white fur and let the tears flow.

Damn it
,
Luke.
You of all people were not supposed to fall in love.

* * *

Martha sat on the rustic hickory glider, which their Amish neighbors had gifted them three years ago, and sighed. The farm had never looked prettier but apart from the animals and the crops, nothing and no one was particularly happy—not her, not Vernon and especially not Luke. It had been two weeks since the infamous wedding that had changed so many things.

Things she couldn’t change or fix and her heart ached in many different ways. She sighed again and picked up the book she’d let fall into her lap. She’d only read a couple of pages when she heard footsteps. She glanced up to see Vern rocking back and forth, balancing his weight on the top porch step.

The constant movement was a sure sign he had something on his mind and he held a bunch of freshly picked cornflowers in his hand. The brilliant blue color came close to matching his eyes.

“I thought you might enjoy these.” He extended the flowers toward her.

She recognized his olive branch or at least a request to talk in peace. Since she’d stated her ultimatum of returning to Arizona with or without Vern, things had been tense between them and their conversations hadn’t drifted far from the time supper was being served and other general scheduling. Now she wanted the distance to close and the nights of lying stiffly side by side without touching to stop.

Patting the seat next to her she said, “How’s Luke?”

Vern sighed and sat next to her. “Working like there’s no tomorrow. Right now he’s settling the new Jersey cows he bought at the dairy sale into the barn. At least he’s got the new business set up to keep him busy.”

Martha stared out across the garden toward the barns and a pang cramped her heart. “You know, I really liked Erin, but to do this to our boy...”

“There’s no crime in not returning love, Mart.” The chair moved back and forth, soothing in its rhythm, and then Vern rested the flowers in her lap. “There is, though, in hiding the truth.”

Her head whipped around at this unexpectedly deep maxim. It wasn’t that Vern wasn’t capable of deep, emotional thought, it was just he didn’t often voice it. A reply rose to her lips but she cut it off, experience having taught her not to break his train of thought.

The lines around his eyes were tight. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

A flicker of unease stopped her breath. “About what?”

“I’m not happy.”

Nausea clogged her throat and a flash of panic pooled sweat on her top lip. She was no naive bride and she knew marriages could falter at any time. She’d thought their shared thirty-six years, weathering the ups and downs, had soldered them together so they could enjoy their “third age.”

Don’t you dare do this to me now.
Fear sparked anger and her fingers started shredding the bright blue flowers. “Since when has one argument been the basis of wanting a divorce?”

Confusion haunted his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Her heart pounded. “You not being happy.”

“What’s that got to do with a divorce?” He sounded utterly bewildered.

“I don’t know.” Petals scattered. “You tell me.”

Vern removed the flowers from her lap and set them aside in safety before picking up her hand. Tracing her wedding band he said, “I don’t want a divorce, Mart. I’ve loved you from the moment you threw yourself onto me on the state fair roller coaster.”

She tried to sound huffy. “I did not throw myself at you. That ride was scary and I just—”

“Either way...” he smiled—the special smile he reserved for her, “...that kiss made me yours for life.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

Despite the familiarity of his mouth on hers and all those years together, he could still spark a tingle at the apex of her thighs and she sighed. Leaning her head against his shoulder she said, “So what’s making you unhappy?”

“I don’t want to play golf three times a week.”

She relaxed and wondered why she’d let a week of toxic thoughts unsettle her so much. “So don’t. You can take up bocce—that looks like fun.”

A long sigh shuddered out of him. “I don’t want to play bocce but most importantly, I don’t want to retire. I want to move back to the farm.”

Her head shot off his shoulder so fast that the glider chair lurched unsteadily. “No.”

“Hear me out, Martha,” he said firmly. “I know the last two years we spent here you were tired, sick of the long, cold winters and dreaming of any place warm. Luke was champing at the bit to take over and I wanted both of you to be happy.” His eyes clouded. “I’ve tried retirement, but I’ve missed this place like an amputee misses a limb.”

His heartfelt words slid through her like the ache of an old wound. “But you never said?”

He shrugged. “You were so happy and I know that over the years there were times you missed out some because the farm always came first. I owed you Arizona.”

“Oh, Vern.” She heard his love for her and his pain. She hated the fact that neither one of them could be as happy as the other in the same place. “Do you truly hate Arizona?”

“No.” He hooked her gaze. “Do you truly hate the farm?”

She thought about the past few weeks spent with her children and grandchildren and despite the friction over the future of the farm, she’d loved spending time with them all together in the same place. “This summer has been mostly enjoyable.”

“Good.” He gave her a wry smile. “So does that mean the truck isn’t driving off without me in forty-eight hours?”

She gave him a shrewd look, knowing he was calling her on her threat. “Maybe, but it also doesn’t mean I want to move back here permanently.”

“I know that and I’m not asking you to do it.”

He’d surprised her again. “So, I’m gathering you’ve come up with a plan?”

“I have.” He winked at her. “Long, lonely nights make a man think.”

She raised her brows. “And here I was thinking you were mostly spending them snoring.”

He tilted his head so it touched hers. “Summer in Arizona is way too hot.”

“Winter in Wisconsin is way too cold.”

“Exactly. Winter here will be Luke’s quiet time and we’ll spend it in Arizona playing golf. We’ll spend summer and fall here. He can’t make this ice creamery work without help and I’ll go crazy not working at all. That said, I don’t expect you to get back into the harness when you’re here. Heck, you can do even less than you did this summer if you want.”

“Actually, I quite enjoyed helping Wade with the B and B, playing with the grandkids and feeding everyone,” she admitted without reluctance. “I just don’t want to do it three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.”

He patted her hand. “Noted.”

Under the warmth of his love and consideration for her, the logistics started to firm up in her head. “How does this affect the family trust?”

“Luke wants the farm so the transfer goes ahead as planned. He’s insisting on paying me extra when I’m physically working here but I’m thinking we can afford to invest it back into the farm, at least at the start to help him out some.” He put his arm around her waist. “So is it official? Are we semi-retired?”

She looked up into his eyes where weeks of strain had drained away and the twinkle she loved so much was back. “Almost. I want to hammer in some start and end dates. Come November first we are most definitely in Arizona.”

“That late?” He grinned. “I’m two weeks ahead of you there.”

She thought about the harvest calendar. “What about the soybeans?”

“They’ll be in and if it’s an unexpectedly long season, Luke can manage the last crop. Besides, if I’m only playing golf during the winter, I have to keep my average up.”

She laughed and laid her head back on his shoulder. “Then I guess we’re semi-retired.”

“I guess we are.” He kissed her again. “This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

She recognized the look in his eye and smiled.

“Ooh, what are we celebrating?” Keri’s voice sounded behind them.

She heard the run of the children’s feet and the heavier tread of the men and realized the entire family had arrived back for supper. “There are fewer interruptions in Arizona,” she said quietly to Vern, trying not to laugh at the resigned disappointment on his face.

Luke saw his parents exchange a knowing look—one of many he’d witnessed over the years. He’d often wondered about the secret code they seemed to share and now he got it. He’d had it with Erin, or at least he thought he’d had it with her.

These past two weeks had been beyond tough. With his emotions swinging like an erratic pendulum, he had moments where his anger at Erin for not giving them a chance consumed him. The anger would then vanish as fast as it arrived and all he’d feel was an emptiness that pervaded him like the chill of a Wisconsin winter. He missed her like—God, there was no analogy. He just missed her. Desperately. He didn’t know what he hated more—the fact she didn’t love him enough to try for a future together or, despite the crushing reality that she didn’t love him, he still missed her so very much.

Don’t look at me like that.
He scratched Mac behind the ears as the dog gave him a doleful stare. The border collie had been fretting since Erin and Maggie-May had left.

If she can’t love us then she’s not worth missing.

The mantra he’d taken up chanting under his breath since Erin had left called up the whoosh of hot anger. He welcomed it because it was easier to feel the heat of fury in his veins than deal with the cold, desolate and empty space in his soul.

Vern stood up. “We’re celebrating the fact we milk cows, make ice cream and maple syrup, that we’re part of local tourism and the Whitetail wedding business.”

Wade grimaced. “We didn’t do so well with our first wedding.”

“Nonsense,” Vern said with paternal pride. “We did just fine. The farm looked beautiful and you and your mother created delicious food. It isn’t our fault the bride was a nut job. But back to Keri’s question, we’re celebrating the diversity and changing needs of the family farm. Long may she be prosperous.”

Keri wrinkled her nose. “Dad, everything you’ve listed only involves Luke and Wade.”

“You’re a shareholder, Keri,” Luke reiterated calmly what he’d said to her more than once just recently. “More importantly you’re part of the family. Ideally, I hope you take your farm dividends, no matter how large or small, and invest them into the kids’ college fund. But, if you do want to sell your share—” he visualized his financial spreadsheet, “—I can’t buy you out immediately but by the time Grace and Ethan are in high school I should be able to make you an offer.”

Keri glanced at Phil who nodded encouragingly at her. “Thanks, Luke, I appreciate the thought behind the offer but Phil and I have been talking about it and we want to be able to bring the kids up here and have them feel like they belong on the farm.”

Wade gave Luke a jubilant grin as if to say
I
told you so.
His hosting of the family in one of his vacation cabins had paid off.

Keri caught the grin and gave a wry smile. “I mean why should Grace and Ethan miss out on the character-building opportunity of getting up at 4:00 a.m. in their vacation time to milk cows?”

Vern snorted. “I think your memory’s a bit faulty on that score. Can anyone remember Keri doing that?”

Wade laughed. “I remember the bitching, whining and moaning.”

Keri moved fast, wrapping her older brother in a headlock.

The children cheered on their mother and uncle while Phil rolled his eyes and turned to his mother-in-law. “So, Martha, is there anything I can do to help with supper?”