Seeds of Summer (4 page)

J
ARED STRETCHED HIS NECK AND SHOULDERS, TENSE FROM AN AFTERNOON
of preparing his second sermon. Nearly a week had passed since he'd first met Dillon and his sister on the Cottonwood River, and still, he remembered the color of her eyes—the color of a Kansas summer sky. He shook the image from his mind, and another thought struck him. He still had the boy's stringer.

That evening after work, Jared climbed into his Toyota Tercel and drove to the bend in the river where he'd fished on Sunday. A mile and a half further, he came upon a small house. An old black man in overalls sat on the front steps with a book in his hands. Soon after, Jared spotted a larger property with a one-and-a-half-story home and a wrap-around porch flanked by several sheds and a substantial limestone barn.

He noted the name on the mailbox and turned into the lane of the Double-A-Ranch. As he pulled up to the house, a border collie barked at the car and sniffed the tires. A young teen stepped out and called to the dog.

“Good afternoon. I'm looking for a boy named Dillon.” Jared crawled from his car, banging his knee on the steering wheel.

The girl bounded down the porch steps with bare feet, her
blonde hair floating in the breeze. He tried to determine whether she was related to the woman he'd met on Sunday, but their features were too dissimilar.

“This is Dillon's home. Who are you?”

“Forgive me.” Jared reached out his hand and introduced himself. “I met Dillon fishing the other day. He gave me his catch, and I wanted to return his stringer.”

She shrugged. “He should be back in a bit if you want to wait on him.”

Jared surveyed the property for signs of Dillon or his other sister. “Are your parents home?”

Already on her way back to the house, she glanced over her shoulder with an odd look and frowned. “They're dead. My dad died two weeks ago.”

Jared balked at this information, caught even more off guard by the callousness in her voice. “I'm sorry…I didn't know. Do you need anything? Any help or assistance?”

“A crystal ball would be good,” the girl called out, then disappeared inside the house.

Having no clue what she meant, Jared followed her to the porch and waited outside the open door. The teen stood at the kitchen stove, scraping scorched potatoes from the bottom of a cast iron skillet. Dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and a pink tank top, the girl swayed to a song on the radio while she cooked.

Jared studied the broken hinge on the screen door. Instead of slamming shut, the door creaked back and forth with the shifting breeze. “What would you do with a crystal ball?”

She sent him a scornful look. “Tell the future, duh.”

“Yes, well…” He noted the pile of dirty laundry near the entryway and the muddy footprints on the linoleum. “Do you have other brothers and sisters? Someone to take care of you?”

“My older sister's in charge.” She shut the burner off and shoved
the skillet to the back of the stove. “It's just the three of us—unless you count Tom—when you can find him.”

“Who's Tom?”

“What's with the questions?” Her voice grated.

Jared braced one hand on the door frame. “I only wondered how you were getting along without your…” He pressed his lips together and shook his head at his lack of sensitivity. “I'm sorry. It's none of my business.”

“That's right, it's not,” a crisp voice said from behind.

Jared turned to see the sister he'd met before, this time with a ball cap on her head, her black hair pulled into a ponytail that swished over her shoulder. Light blue eyes glared at him, ever cynical. He countered with a smile and offered his hand. “We meet again…from the other day…at the river. Jared Logan.”

She shook his hand, her grip firm and warm. “I remember—big city boy from the East.” Shoving the rickety screen door out of her way, the woman stepped through the kitchen maze to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

Jared splayed his fingers, ignoring the tingling sensation there. “Actually, I'm not a city boy at all. I grew up in the small town of Concordia, Kansas. My father served as a pastor there.”

“The son of a preacher man, huh?” She took a long drink, then wiped her mouth with the back of her fingers. “The preacher kids I knew in school got away with murder, right under their parents' noses.”

Jared offered an unsettled grin, having known a few kids like that as well. “I didn't catch your name?”

The woman's thin brows arched higher.

“She's Natalie Adams, and I'm Chelsey.” The girl at the stove answered for her. “Want to stay for supper?”

Natalie's gaze snapped to her sister, unable to believe Chelsey would ask such a thing. “I'm sure Mr. Logan has more important plans this evening than to share a meal with strangers.”

The man loosened his tie and leaned against the door frame. “Actually, I'm free this evening. Nowhere to go, no one to see. I was a stranger and you invited me in.”

She caught the glint of amusement in his eyes. Hers drifted to his dimpled grin and the dark shadow of a new beard against his pale skin. He looked to be some sort of businessman, dressed in navy pants and a short-sleeved dress shirt.

“No wife to go home to?” Her attention settled on his left hand, which boasted the absence of a ring, though that didn't necessarily mean anything these days.

He shook his head. “The only thing waiting for me at home is an empty refrigerator.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, no sense standing there letting in flies.” She pulled out a chair and motioned for him to sit. “Where's Dillon?” she asked Chelsey as she placed another plate on the table.

“I thought he was doing chores with you.”

Natalie groaned. How many times this past week had Dillon snuck out on his own, not telling anyone where he was going, his chores abandoned? She headed for the porch and called his name, tired of the responsibility.

“If you'd like, I'll look for him while you finish up in here.” The man stepped out of the way, his elbow brushing against hers.

She glanced down and caught the contrast of his fair skin next to her tanned arm. Who was this man, and why was he here? She tilted her head to study his face and a trace of musky aftershave stirred her senses. “I have a better idea. You can help me look, and while we look, you can tell me why you're so interested in our family.”

Without another word, Natalie took off toward the barnyard and heard the rapid footfall of his steps behind her.

“I wanted to thank you for your generosity the other day,” he said as he caught up to her. “Since I'm new in Diamond Falls, I thought it might be nice for us to visit and get to know one another.”

Now even more on guard, Natalie hollered for Dillon as she
peeked into the tool shed. “A neighborly visit, huh?” As a former rodeo queen, she'd had more than her share of men who wanted to be neighborly—most of their motives suspect.

“Well, yes, and to return the stringer I borrowed.”

“And that's why you're staying for supper?”

Two red splotches colored his cheeks. “I have to confess—your sister's cooking smelled delicious, much better than anything I could stir up at home.”

Natalie smirked at the man's sincerity. Judging from his tall but slight build, he probably didn't get home cooked meals too often. Unable to think of a clever response, she headed for the next outbuilding.

“Chelsey told me about your dad.” He trailed behind. “I'm sorry for your loss. Perhaps I might be able to help?”

Natalie stared at the ground, growing accustomed to such condolences, though the harsh reality of her dad's death still left her cold and numb. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but quite honestly, I don't see how that's possible.”

“Oh, but that's the easy part.” He grinned, his eyes trained on something in the distance. “I'll start by helping you find your brother.”

J
ARED LED
N
ATALIE TO THE ENTRANCE OF THE LIMESTONE BARN WHERE
he'd seen Dillon sneak past. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the cool darkness, but he soon distinguished the thick rock walls of the structure built more than a century ago. A movement behind a wooden cattle stanchion caught his attention, and he quietly motioned Natalie to follow.

Together they watched unnoticed while the freckled-nosed boy pinned a wiry kitten to his chest. The scene caused Jared's chest to squeeze, reminded of his own youth and fondness for little creatures. He smiled at Natalie, but recognized the exasperation on her face.

“We've been looking all over for you, Dillon, and here you are playing with a cat. Have you even started your chores?” She shook her head and cursed.

Jared inwardly cringed, perplexed by Natalie's attitude. Dillon was just a kid, after all.

The boy dropped the kitten and stood before his sister, his eyes downcast. “I'll do them now. Go ahead and eat without me.” He peeked up at Jared, his mouth a straight line. The sadness there made Jared want to take the kid fishing, play catch, anything but stand here and witness his dejection.

“Maybe I could help with those chores.” Jared eased into the conversation. “Then we could have dinner together.”

Dillon's brown eyes filled with guarded curiosity. “You're gonna eat with us?”

“That's right. Maybe afterward, you could share a few of your fishing secrets. Those flathead you caught made for some mighty fine eating.” Jared knew this suggestion overstepped his boundaries but deemed the risk worth taking. He'd fend off big sister later. In fact, he felt her gaze blazing a hole through him this very second.

N
ATALIE PICKED UP AN OVERTURNED BUCKET AND HANDED IT TO
D
ILLON
. The man had a lot of nerve intruding on their life this way. “Let's get through supper, shall we, before we go sharing any secrets.” She shot a warning glance at Mr. Logan and then her brother.

Dillon's smile faded, his disappointment designating her as the bad guy, always the bad guy.

Despite her annoyance, she watched as Jared and her brother headed out of the barn with buckets of grain to feed the horses and goats. Plagued by guilt, she peered up at the wooden rafters and breathed in the scent of aged cedar. A tear trickled down her cheek as she thought of days long past, when she'd skipped beside her father as he carried buckets of grain too heavy for her to manage. She could almost hear his hearty laughter as he lifted her onto his shoulders to pet the horses on the other side of the pen. Those moments became particularly special after her mother passed away, their bond growing even stronger.

Would Dillon look back with such remembrances of their father? She could only hope. But what about now? How was she to manage getting the kids through this ordeal?

“Oh, Dad, why did you have to go?” she whispered, the ache so fierce in her chest it threatened to steal her breath. Biting back fresh tears, she spun on her boot heels to return to the house. This was
not the time to wimp out—not with Chelsey needing help with supper, and a stranger joining them at their table.

N
ATALIE PURPOSELY SAT ACROSS FROM
J
ARED
L
OGAN, WANTING TO KEEP
an eye on him throughout the meal. Despite his helpful sentiments, she didn't trust the man. Strangers weren't that thoughtful and caring—and if they were, it was normally because they wanted something.

She passed Dillon the bowl of fried potatoes, then stabbed a pork chop with her fork. “What brings you to Diamond Falls, Mr. Logan? I mean, let's face it, unless you own land or have family here, it's not the most happening place to live.”

Dillon passed him the bowl of potatoes, and Jared scooped out a meager portion. “It's where God wanted me to be.”

Natalie sipped her iced tea and studied the clean-cut man, having already determined he didn't hold a blue-collar job or one in ranching. “What makes you so sure?”

“I'm here, aren't I?” He grinned and accepted the next dish handed to him.

“If I were you, I think I'd ask for a transfer.” She allowed her lips to curve upward, so as not to appear inhospitable.

“I don't know why you'd say that.” His eyes, the color of dark coffee, seemed to look directly through her, as though he could see her inmost thoughts. “Here you are, living on this beautiful ranch, rich with cattle, grass, and I'm sure a treasure of memories. Most of the people I've talked to consider themselves fortunate to live in the Flint Hills. Why not you?”

Natalie broke eye contact as she cut into the golden-crusted meat on her plate. “We weren't talking about me, Mr. Logan. Do you own land?”

“No, but that doesn't keep me from enjoying it.” He winked at Chelsey, who in turn giggled.

“Okay, you enjoy fishing.” She tried a different approach. “What else? Hunting? Horseback riding?”

“Some of my best memories include fishing on my granddad's farm. I spent my summers there, helping him in the fields and driving a tractor.”

“Is that why you're here, then? To relive your childhood?”

“No, those days are over.” The gleam in Jared's eyes dimmed. “I put away childish ways long ago.”

Natalie considered his strange words throughout the rest of dinner, and afterward peered out the window at Jared and Dillon sifting through her brother's tackle box on the front porch. Jared's enthusiasm matched that of the boy's as her brother gave a detailed explanation for each of the lures and its use.

Did God truly look after people? She lifted the curtain to study the man on the porch. If so, why had God allowed such doom to fall on her family? It made no sense. She'd always believed that if you went after something with enough determination you would succeed. Her life testified to this. She'd succeeded at everything she pursued, whether it was barrel racing, a college scholarship, or being crowned Miss Rodeo Kansas.

Her theory stumbled in Las Vegas when her hard work failed to pay off…and that downward spiral continued to this day. What was the answer? Who was in charge of her future? God…or herself?

Jared glanced up at the window then, his hand batting at the night insects that drifted from the porch light. She let the curtain fall and stepped away, hoping he hadn't seen her. To her dismay, the man rose from his position and moved to the front door.

Rather than be caught peeping, Natalie fell into a nearby chair and grabbed the closest book. When Jared and her brother entered the room, she realized she held a telephone directory.

“I wondered if we might talk before I go?” Jared aimed his question at Natalie.

She slid the volume to a wooden stand. “Dillon, isn't it your bedtime?”

Her brother's happy disposition plummeted. “But it's early.”

“Yes, and it's a school night too.” She waited for him to explode into a tantrum as he'd done every night this week since returning to school. Perhaps it had been a mistake to send him back after their father's funeral.

“You'd better do as your sister says,” Jared interceded. “We'll have lots of time this summer to talk about fishing—with your sister's permission, of course.”

To Natalie's surprise, Dillon said good night and bounded up the flight of stairs without another word of argument.

“I wish he minded me that well.” Natalie rose from her chair, feeling foolish for not having better control of the situation.

Jared went to the door and held it open. “It's a beautiful evening. Walk with me to my car?”

Natalie wondered what he had in mind. She'd handled all sorts of situations as Miss Rodeo Kansas, she could surely handle Jared Logan.

“Okay, you have my undivided attention,” she said once they were on the front steps. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He held her elbow as she went down the concrete steps, his fingers cool against her skin. “Thank you for allowing me to stay for dinner—for opening your home when you made it quite clear you didn't want me here.”

She hugged her arms to her chest, moving away from his touch. “You have a way with kids, or at least with Dillon. He really likes you.”

“He's a sharp boy, which is one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you. I have experience with grief counseling. Have you considered that for your family?”

Natalie swallowed the automatic refusal on her tongue. “I appreciate your concern, but we're fine, or at least we will be. It's only
been a couple of weeks. We're surely allowed some time to come to terms with…his death.” Her throat tightened at having to say the word aloud.

He stopped at his car and leaned against the dusty frame. “All I meant was it's an option, should you find yourselves unable to cope. From what I can tell, Dillon and Chelsey seem to be doing well.”

Yes, but if you only knew
…She wrestled down the anxious reply. He didn't know about Chelsey's reckless behavior, or Dillon's silent retreats from the family. Or how difficult it was to be an older sister—a confidant—and then suddenly be the one who makes all the rules, in charge of everything and everyone, and not having the slightest clue what her future held.

“What about you?” he asked. “Dillon told me you came home from college to take care of him and Chelsey. That's quite a sacrifice.”

Natalie's eyes filled with tears. She spun away to swipe the dampness from her cheeks, but it was useless. One concerned comment from a complete stranger had caused the floodgate to burst. Tears gushed from her like a fountain. Then a gentle grip on her forearm urged her to turn and be comforted.