Wildflowers from Winter (30 page)

The jet engine roared to life as one of the flight attendants stood up front and parroted a spiel about emergency procedures. Tapping her foot against the floor, Bethany peered out the circular window.

“Would you like a piece of gum?”

It took her a second before she realized the voice was speaking to her. She turned and found one half of the couple holding out a pack of Doublemint, sunlight glinting off the ends of each foiled wrapper. “My ears go crazy if I don’t chew something. I found out last week.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Bubbling over with excitement, the young woman pointed at the man sitting beside her. “This is our second time flying.”

Bethany liked the couple better with their foreheads glued together.

Miss Bubbly kept going. “I bet you’ve flown lots of times. You have that look about you.”

Bethany gave a polite smile and a brief nod. She leaned her head against the seat and faked a yawn.

“We’re coming back from our honeymoon. It was our first time flying and our first time seeing the ocean.”

It was probably their first time without adult supervision, too.

“We’re excited to get home, though. Now’s when real life starts, you know?”

Real life?
What did that even mean? Life was real by default.

“Don’t get me wrong. The wedding and the honeymoon were great. More than great, actually. We’re just excited to start our new life together.”

Bethany’s ears hummed. Of all the people on the plane, why did she get stuck next to Motormouth? She gave another brief, noncommittal nod and
pulled out the airline’s magazine tucked inside the back pocket of the seat in front of her.

“So where are you headed?”

Bethany crossed her leg and flipped one of the pages. “Home.”

The word stuck in her throat like a wad of chewed-up bubblegum. Home? Now where had that come from? Peaks was not home. She paged through the magazine with unfocused eyes, bouncing her crossed leg as pictures of Robin and her belly invaded the unoccupied spaces of her mind. More pictures shimmied their way to the surface—pictures of the ultrasound photos hanging on the stainless-steel refrigerator, pictures of the farm, the café, Evan. They gathered together, forming an unnamable collage that tugged at hidden places in her heart. She tried to sweep them up and shuffle them away, but they played through her mind like a reel of lucid vignettes.

Mr. Gurtson said she could expect to hear from them very soon. She’d been the last of their interviews. Bethany stopped fighting the collage. She surrendered to its beauty and allowed herself to pore over the images, knowing full well that in a few days the collage wouldn’t matter anymore. Her new home would be in Minnesota.

Evan mopped the sweat beading on his forehead with a black bandanna and returned it to his back pocket. He steered the hay mower inside the machine shed, bits of grass and dirt sticking to his skin. Peeling off his work gloves, he stepped down from the large machine and inhaled hay and humidity. The smell of home. He closed his eyes and pictured Dan’s farmland covered with houses instead of corn—an image that had nagged him ever since Bethany left for that interview.

Lord, what am I supposed to do? I can’t stick around and watch that happen
.

Bethany was in Minnesota, chasing her dream and, in the process, squashing his. Come October she’d sell the farm without looking back, and although he told her he would keep Dan’s house, he’d said it more as a threat, hoping his decision to hold on would make her decision to let go more difficult. But he’d underestimated Bethany. After spending time with her over the past several months, he’d learned she wasn’t the type of person to let a small obstacle like a farmhouse get in the way of her plans. Evan wiped his palms against his dirtied Wranglers. His last harvest crept closer with each passing day.

His back pocket vibrated. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed it against his ear. “Hello?”

“Evan. Hey, it’s your favorite uncle.”

Evan smiled despite his somber mood. Manny was his only uncle. He was also the man who introduced him to farming. And kindly kicked him off his farm when Evan grew destructive. “Hey, Manny, it’s been a while.”

“Sure has. So listen, I talked with your mom last night.”

Evan dug the heel of his boot into a clump of grass.

“She told me you’re in a bit of a pickle.”

More like a giant cucumber
.

“You’re not going to believe this, but just this morning I was talking to Bill. You remember Bill. His farm runs on the other side of the creek, right next to mine. Well, anyway, Bill’s looking to rent out the back four hundred acres of his property.”

Evan’s mind buzzed.

“He’s renting it out for dirt cheap. I’m talking bottom dollar. Not sure why because the land’s great, I can promise you that. He’s gotten some local interest, so if you’re interested, you should move fast.”

The buzzing grew louder. He was a farmer. He needed a farm. And here was his uncle Manny, paving a path so he could keep living his dream. “How long before I have to make a decision?”

“A couple days at the most.”

“It’s a hard offer to resist.”

“Sure is. And I have to say, I’d be delighted to have you as a neighbor.”

Bethany wedged her cell phone between her shoulder and ear. She stood in the tool-lined aisle at Lowe’s, blinking dumbly at the crowbars. “I don’t understand. Mr. Gurtson said my résumé was the strongest he’d seen in six months.” Her mind groped for a handhold, something to stop her from falling off the edge this woman had just pushed her toward.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Quinn. We really appreciate your time. But Mr. Gurtson decided to go with an architect who has more retail experience. He didn’t want to leave the other applicants hanging over the long weekend.”

A snarl built in Bethany’s throat. Why had Mr. Gurtson chosen to hire someone who designed retail when he’d raved over her portfolio? She never hid the fact that her experience was entrenched in renovation. She swallowed the snarl. “I see.”

“He was very impressed by your interview and wanted you to know that if another position opens up, he will keep your résumé on file.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Have a happy Memorial Day, Ms. Quinn. Best of luck to you in your job search.”

Bethany ground her teeth and hurled her phone inside her purse, wishing she could redo the past week. She’d wasted five hundred dollars on her flight to Minneapolis. Another five hundred on a hotel. And for what? She snatched up a crowbar and barreled past several aisles toward the front of the hardware store.

She wanted to get to the café, check on the kitchen, bring life to their carefully laid plans. In the wake of Mr. Gurtson’s rejection, ripping out
drywall sounded like a wonderful idea. But before she could immerse herself in any wall demolition, Bethany had to keep her promise to help Robin put the baby’s crib and dresser together. And tomorrow, Bethany would accompany Robin to the farm for a cookout. The Price family had one every year on Memorial Day weekend. Evan’s parents and Bryan and Amy had flown into town this morning.

The cool metal of the black steel tool rubbed against the pads of her thumbs. Although she hadn’t seen Evan since Tuesday, he’d disrupted her thoughts, even her dreams, every day since. The back of her neck tingled as she stepped in line, as if Evan’s hand materialized in the middle of the store and touched her in the same spot where he’d touched her several nights ago.

She had replayed that evening through her mind a million different times from a million different angles. Each time, the footage revealed the same thing. Before she fled the farmhouse, Evan wanted to kiss her. Of that she was sure. She just wasn’t sure what that meant. Or if she wanted to kiss him back.

Choosing not to examine the answer to that particular question, she paid the cashier and strode to her car. Why had he asked her if she’d ever consider staying in Peaks? Why, when she thought about staying, did the idea not tie her stomach into a knot of dread like it used to? And why, on the heels of losing the job of her dreams, was she more anxious about seeing Evan than she was about her architectural future?

THIRTY

E
van prodded the hot charcoal with the end of his metal tongs and stepped away from the heat and smoke rising from the pile. A familiar ache swelled in his throat. He pictured Dan sitting in a lawn chair, lip bulging with snuff, admiring the beginnings of cornstalks sprouting from the fields. He pictured Micah tossing a Frisbee to his Border collies. Three hundred and sixty-five days later, so much had changed.

The screen door let out a rusted groan and slammed shut, rattling away the bittersweet images. Bryan stepped beside him with a plate full of beef patties and hot dogs and started placing them on the grill. A slight breeze rustled over the countryside, and the smell of hay and mud swirled together with the smell of burning charcoal. Evan inhaled, hoping the summertime scent might loosen the tension in his jaw.

“We couldn’t ask for a better day,” Bryan said, plunking down the last of the meat.

Evan peered at the sky and grunted. The sun blazed naked and exposed against a cobalt blanket, not even the trace of a cloud offering it cover.

Bryan squeezed Evan’s shoulder and headed toward the picnic tables to join the rest of the family. Evan poked the meat sizzling on the grill, turning over hot dogs and flipping burgers until the sound of spitting gravel broke through his trance. Bethany’s car rumbled down the drive, followed by Gavin’s rusted-out Durango. His stomach dipped as the two mismatched
cars pulled to a stop. The last time he saw Bethany, he’d almost blurted that she should stay in Peaks. Not for Robin. Not for her baby. But for him. Maybe
with
him. He’d exposed his heart to a woman who didn’t want it, leaving it just as naked as the sun overhead.

Bethany’s car door opened, bringing into view her sandaled foot and shapely calf. His heart faltered, then sputtered to life in a series of jolts and stammers. He tightened his grip on the tongs and studied the meat with unmerited intensity.

Three car doors slammed, followed by the sound of Gavin greeting both Robin and Bethany. Evan peeked at the approaching threesome over the top of his sunglasses. His younger brother walked so close to Bethany that if he wanted he could have grazed his knuckles across her thigh. Evan grabbed the hot dogs with the tongs and plunked them onto a serving plate.

When the threesome reached him, Gavin threw his arm around Evan’s shoulder and noogied the top of his head. “What’s up, Number Two?”

Evan jerked out from Gavin’s grasp and shoved him a bit harder than necessary. He appreciated that his younger brother finally had his spark back, but he was in no mood to roughhouse now. Or listen to Gavin call him Number Two in front of Bethany. He gave Robin a quick hug, her burgeoning belly pressing against his own, and altogether avoided Bethany, whose blue-green top revealed freckled shoulders and slim arms.

Gavin picked up a hot dog and juggled it like a hot potato. “How’re the cows? They all dropped their calves yet?”

“I’m still waiting on one of the heifers.”

“It’s pretty late in the season, isn’t it?”

“Really late.” He flipped one of the burgers and frowned. Luna was younger than he liked. He didn’t normally breed his cattle until they were two. “I didn’t know she was pregnant until recently. Must’ve happened when one of the bulls got in the pasture last fall.”

“Got to keep a better watch on your boys, Ev.” Gavin took a bite out of his hot dog.

“I’ve been calving for five years. I don’t need advice from my little brother.”

Gavin bit another hunk out of his food and shrugged.

Robin patted Evan’s shoulder. “We’ll leave you two to talk cattle.”

As soon as the two ladies exited hearing range, Gavin jiggled his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Diane said I’d appreciate her.”

“She’s kind of old for you, isn’t she?”

Gavin’s eyebrows disappeared behind his shaggy hair. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Evan scraped at the grit sticking to the grill while Gavin clucked his tongue. “Romance 101. If you love a woman, you should tell her.”