Seeds of Summer (21 page)

T
HE STORM RAGED ON THE REST OF THE NIGHT, BUT BY NOON THE NEXT
day, the sun finally peeked through the clouds. As the day wore on, Jared prepared his last minute sermon notes and visited two elderly members in their homes. He also fielded a phone call from his mother.

“I know you're busy with your new congregation, but your father and I wondered if you'd care to drive up tomorrow afternoon and have supper with us?”

Jared flipped through his planner. He normally kept his Sunday afternoons free from obligation. “Thanks, Mom, I'd like that. How's your garden this summer? Getting lots of produce?”

“Oh my yes,” she said, and Jared grinned, savoring the trill of her laughter as it came through the receiver. “I've already canned several batches of sweet pickles, and your dad picked corn this morning.”

“Does that mean we'll be eating corn-on-the-cob tomorrow?”

“Of course. And feel free to bring a friend if you want—to keep you company on the long drive. A lady friend, even, if you have one you'd like us to meet.”

Jared cringed at the hopefulness in her voice. “You ask me that every time we talk. I assure you I'll be arriving alone tomorrow.”
The timing of this visit actually worked out well, as Jared had a few things he wanted to speak to his dad about regarding church and female relationships. But no way was he going to admit that to his mother.

“You can't blame me for asking. You know I only want what's best for you,” she said, and he envisioned the smile that accompanied those words.

“I know, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow.” He closed the connection, looking forward to an afternoon with his folks.

Toward evening, he took his time shaving and slapped on an extra douse of cologne, unable to deny his excitement at spending an evening in Natalie's company. He considered her sorrow from the night before when she'd spoken of her father and knew, without a doubt, he'd feel the same if he had to face life without his parents. He sent up a prayer that he'd be able to ease her grief this evening and that his actions would be pleasing to God.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled in to the Double-A-Ranch. Dillon and Willard were poking logs in a fire pit dug into the ground. They both waved and greeted him as he crawled from his car.

Natalie came out the back door with an armload of food, and Jared met her at the steps. “Need some help?”

She handed him two packages of wieners. “You made it. No last minute voter meetings or emergencies to deal with?”

“Nope, my life's been pretty boring lately.” He grinned, admiring her in a pair of cut-off shorts and a sleeveless button up shirt, her long hair tied back with a wide red ribbon.

“I'm glad.” She went to give Dillon the roasting sticks and set the package of buns on the picnic table. While they worked to pierce the hot dogs, Chelsey and Libby strolled out of the house all dressed up and wearing makeup.

“You ladies look nice.” Natalie shooed Jessie away from the table. “Kind of fancy for a cookout though.”

Chelsey peered at her sister with a guilty expression Jared had
witnessed before. “Mom and I have been invited to a barbecue in town. We're going to watch the fireworks from there.”

“Didn't Chelsey tell you, Nat? We've been planning this for days,” Libby said.

Jared sensed Natalie's agitation and wondered how things were going with the kids and Libby. There seemed to be a lot of tension in the air.

Natalie's lips pulled into a frown. “I guess it must have slipped her mind.”

“Or maybe you were too busy to hear,” Chelsey quipped.

“But this is a tradition, Chels.” Natalie poked another hot dog on a stick. “It won't be the same without you.”

“Dad's gone. What good are traditions without him?” The young girl stared down at her flip-flops.

“There's nothing wrong with traditions, Nat. Just not this year.” Libby made her way to her car and waited expectantly for Chelsey. “Ready to go?”

Chelsey cast a look from her sister to her mom as though torn. She then chose the yellow Impala.

Natalie returned to the roasting pit after they'd driven away and glanced about. “Where's Dillon? I suppose he's decided not to take part in this tradition too?” She bit her bottom lip, appearing to be on the verge of tears.

Willard sat in a lawn chair turning his stick. “He probably went to the house for something.”

A trail of smoke issued from the fire, the scent of burning wood and sizzling hot dogs filled the air. In an effort to console her, Jared squeezed Natalie's arm. “I'm sure Willard's right. If you want, I'll go look for him.” At her silent nod, he went in search of her brother and found him in the machine shed.

“Hey Dillon, what are you doing in here? Don't you want to help Willard cook the hot dogs?”

The boy didn't say anything. He sat on an overturned bucket, drawing circles in the dirt with a stick. “I'm not hungry.”

“You seemed hungry a few minutes ago. Is this because of Chelsey?”

Dillon tapped the stick on the ground. “How come Chelsey and Nat fight so much? And how come Mom and Chelsey never do stuff with me? They always go off on their own. I don't think Libby likes me very much.”

“Why do you think that?” Jared noted the boy's indecision on what to call his mom.

“She's more interested in Chelsey. The two of them are always working on barrels or going shopping or giggling about girl stuff.”

Jared pulled up a bucket and sat beside Dillon. “I'm not an expert on women, but I think your mom is trying to get to know you kids in whatever way she can. She does things with you too. You've done chores together, and you both went fishing at the pond.”

“Yeah, but she hated it.”

“But she tried. She probably feels more comfortable doing girl things. I'm sure it'll work out if you give her some time.”

Dillon stared at the drawing on the ground. “It won't be the same without them tonight.”

“Look at it this way, tonight the females are the minority. You should be happy.”

It took a few moments for this to sink in, but then Dillon's face expanded into a smile. “If you want, we can have a seed spitting contest. Natalie's pretty good, but I think I'll beat her this year.”

Jared chuckled and followed the boy back to the fire, unable to erase the image of Natalie spitting watermelon seeds on the ground. The four of them sat under the stars that night, stuffing themselves with hot dogs and watermelon. Jared sipped his coffee and watched as a burst of colorful sparks exploded on a distant hill.

“Awesome, did you see that one!” Dillon pointed in the opposite direction spotting yet another display of lights.

Natalie squatted next to the fire rotating her stick until her marshmallows were crispy and charred on the edges. She waved her creation in front of Jared. “Want one?”

“No more.” He'd already eaten four.

She giggled, and her eyes danced by the firelight. “Come on, one more, you can do it.”

He shook his head, not giving in to her persuasion.

“Dillon, what about you?”

“No, Nat. I've had enough. Feed it to Jessie. She'll eat it.” He tried to get the dog to come to the fire, but even she didn't want any more.

“Fine, I'll eat it myself.” Natalie pulled off the gooey marshmal-low and popped it in her mouth. She licked her sticky fingers and sat beside Jared. “Mmm, I love toasted marshmallows.”

“I can tell. I've never seen a girl eat so many.” He'd never seen a girl spit watermelon seeds as far as she could either, having beaten her brother by at least a foot. He wondered how many more surprises this woman hid behind her back and studied her in the glow of the campfire, wrapped in a jacket to keep the night chill from her arms.

The bright eruptions in the sky appeared further and further apart until finally Willard stood from his lawn chair. “Dillon, how about a game of checkers before I head home for the night?”

“But what about the fireworks?” Dillon protested.

The man winked at Jared and Natalie. “I think they're done for the night and so am I. Do you want to play checkers with me, or shall I go home?”

Dillon tossed his foam cup in the fire, and it shriveled to nothing. “I'll play, and I'll beat you this time too.”

Jared and Natalie watched as the two disappeared into the house. Natalie smiled at Jared and offered her hand. “Want to take a walk?”

Jared's heart rocketed against his chest like one of Dillon's fireworks. He'd entered this family's life through reaching out to Dillon
and had grown to value and cherish their friendship. But the kiss he and Natalie shared at the windmill had catapulted that friendship to another level. One he wasn't sure how to proceed with. Casting a silent prayer for direction, he took her hand within his own.

They strolled from the yard light, her fingers entwined within his own, strong and firm. “I'm glad you joined us tonight.”

He walked with her to the corral, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “It's been fun.” He rested his boot against the bottom rung and the silence between them grew.

“May I ask you something?” Her lips glistened under the starlight.

“If I can do the same.”

“Okay, you first.”

He hoped his next comment wouldn't ruin the peaceful mood. “I noticed things seemed a bit strained between you and Chelsey tonight. How are you two getting along?”

Natalie released a heavy sigh. “I thought things were better. But this past week, she and Libby have gotten really tight—secretive almost.”

“Like their outing tonight?”

She nodded. “I don't recall Chelsey mentioning one word about going into town to watch fireworks. It's nothing for the two of them to take off in Libby's car and be gone for hours.”

Perhaps Jared had been wrong to persuade Natalie to give her stepmom another chance. Maybe Willard's instincts had been correct. He hoped not. “Is Libby still drinking?”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“It's only natural for Chelsey to want to bond with her mom. Maybe that's all this is?”

“I hope so.” She gazed off as another boom discharged in the darkness, spewing silver into the sky.

Jared wasn't sure when it had happened. Somewhere between fishing with Dillon and dragging calves to Natalie's branding fire
he'd fallen in love with this family—and he was pretty sure he'd fallen in love with Natalie. He grazed her chin with his finger. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Her eyes came back to his. “I wondered if you'd been praying about us?”

N
ATALIE BIT HER BOTTOM LIP IN ANTICIPATION OF HIS ANSWER, WANTING
to know—believing it somehow mattered.

“Yes, I've been praying.” His hand stroked her cheek, and she melted into his touch.

“Have you received any answers yet?” her voice whispered back.

Jared's hand crept to the back of her neck, and he slipped the ribbon from her hair. “Not exactly.”

“No?”

“I've concluded that you're one of two things.” He combed his fingers through her hair, causing tingles to course through her body.

Natalie closed her eyes. “And what is that?”

“You're either an incredible blessing I need to pursue, or you're a temptation I should run from.”

She couldn't contain her smile. “And which do you think I am?”

His hand pressed her closer, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, smell the musky scent of his cologne. “I think you're a temptation and a blessing. And…I think I'm falling in love with you.”

Natalie's breath caught in her throat, and as her eyes opened, Jared's mouth closed down on her lips, soft and gentle. She kissed
him back, her heart pounding within her chest. Her mind whirled, unable to remember ever feeling this way before—not even with Ryan. His lips ventured to her chin, her cheek, her nose, his skin smooth as silk against hers.

Then somewhere from within, reality surfaced. Jared was a pastor and a man of God. He'd already told her that he didn't enter into relationships lightly, which meant only one thing. Loving and being with Jared might eventually lead to marriage—which would make her a
pastor's wife.
Was that what she wanted? And what about the kids and the ranch? Was it even possible for a pastor to be a rancher?

She eased from his embrace and smoothed the back of her hand against her mouth. Though she had feelings for Jared and those feelings ran deep, was she ready for such commitment? “Maybe we should slow down a bit.”

Jared stepped away and a chasm separated them. “I'm so sorry.” He lifted his face to the dark sky, his breath uneven. “I got carried away. I should have known better.”

Hating to see him tortured, she pressed her palm against his chest, felt his heart thunder beneath his shirt. “It's okay,” she said. “But let's think about this for awhile. Decide if this is what we really want. I mean, there are a lot of questions that need to be considered.”

His eyes penetrated hers. “Walk instead of run.”

Natalie's attention drifted to a far-off hill where one final blast erupted into the sky, flickering out and flashing like a multicolored kaleidoscope. With each massive detonation, Natalie held her breath in expectant hope, almost the same as when she'd heard the organ music hover from the pipes in the sanctuary—the day her soul soared to meet God.

“And while we're walking,” she said, “we can do some more praying too.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
N
ATALIE WENT TO CHURCH WITH
D
ILLON WHILE
Chelsey and Libby stayed in bed, insisting they were too tired from their late night of fireworks. She spoke briefly with Jared after the service but then drove Dillon home, needing to sort through some more of her dad's financial paperwork.

When they arrived back at the ranch, the house was quiet. Figuring Chelsey and Libby were still asleep, Natalie opened the office door and found her stepmom still in her pajamas and rifling through the books on her father's shelf.

Startled, Libby's head shot up, and the book in her hand clambered to the floor. “What are you doing back, already? I thought you and Dillon went to church?”

“We just got home.” Natalie continued across the room as her stepmom retrieved the book that had dropped. The desk Natalie had tidied the day before now sat in complete disarray with papers strewn from one side to the other. “Have you been going through my things?”

“Of course not.” Libby rose from her stooped position. “I know better than to mess with your stuff. Your dad had so many books, I came down thinking I'd find one to read.”

Natalie's gaze traveled to her father's book collection, never giving it much notice until now. She inspected it closer and noticed titles such as Shakespeare, Longfellow, Wordsworth, and Poe. She shook her head, wondering how her dad's love for poetry had gone unnoticed by everyone in her family, especially her. Had she really not known him any better than that?

She turned to Libby, her attention caught by a yellow paper in her stepmom's hand. “What's that you're holding?”

Libby waved the envelope in the air, an envelope the same size and color as the one Natalie had found in her father's tack room. “What this? It's just something that fell out of a book.” She tried to tuck it into her robe pocket, though it was too big to shove inside.

“May I see it?” Natalie asked.

Libby's nostrils flared and a crimson blush seeped onto her flustered
face. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” She withdrew the crisp envelope and handed it to Natalie.

The seal had already been broken. Natalie inspected the item further and opened the flap to reveal a stack of hundred dollar bills.

“Well, what do you know?” Libby eyed the money. “Why do you suppose that was in the book?”

Natalie tried to discern whether the woman was truly surprised or was lying through her teeth. She was inclined to believe the latter. “Dillon told you about the money we found in the tack room. Apparently, Dad hid some in here too.” And more than likely, Libby had intended on walking away with every dollar.

“I wonder where else the old coot might have stashed his money.” Libby's gaze traveled around the room, dollar signs cha-chinging in her pupils.

“As the executor of Dad's estate, I'm supposed to inventory all the money we find on the ranch.”

The woman chuckled. “It's cash, Nat. Who's going to know?”

The same thoughts had crossed Natalie's mind many times. “I'll know.”

“You're kidding? You'd rather pay taxes on it than buy yourself something useful—needful even?”

“I'll do what I have to do. You haven't found any more of Dad's money have you, in his bedroom or around the house?” Natalie's suspicions grew by the second.

“You don't think I'm stealing from you?”

Natalie regarded her stepmom with cold speculation. “You and Chelsey have been doing a lot of shopping lately, and you don't have a job.”

“I can't believe you're accusing me of this,” Libby stammered.

“You're the one who made an offer on a horse. Where does all your money come from?”

Libby sniffed in denial. “You've been putting off a lot of angry
vibes toward me lately. I've tried to get along, but maybe I've worn out my welcome. Maybe it's time for me to look for a place in town.”

Natalie returned to the mess on her father's desk, convinced Libby had rifled through the papers. “I think that might be a good idea.”