Wildflowers from Winter (31 page)

“Give me a break, Gav.”

“Come on. Just admit it. You’ve got the hots for Bethany.”

Evan glanced over his shoulder. “Will you shut up? What are you—twelve? I don’t have the hots for anyone.”

Gavin slugged him in the arm. “Yeah, okay. So you’re telling me that if I asked her out, it wouldn’t bother you?”

The muscles across Evan’s jaw pulled tight. He ground his teeth and scowled at the charcoal. There was no reason for him to be territorial of Bethany. She didn’t belong to him. He didn’t even want her to. He scooped up the burgers and slid them next to the hot dogs. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure she would say no, but be my guest.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe whatever you want.”

“I’m going to call your bluff.”

“Go for it.” Evan scraped away more grit. “Are we done with this topic?”

“Why? You have something better to discuss?”

“We’re doing some demolition next week at the café. We have to tear out a wall. Can you help?”

“Count me in.” Gavin slapped Evan’s shoulder, then walked away with his usual carefree swagger, flip-flops smacking against his heels. Bryan and
Amy’s youngest son raced forward and catapulted his wiry body into Gavin’s arms. Gavin tossed Brody high into the air amid a delighted round of shrieks and giggles, then set the small boy down, sat on the edge of the picnic table, and whispered something in Bethany’s ear.

Heat skittered through Evan’s veins. Over the past couple of months, Gavin had slowly started to come back to his old self. Evan should be happy to see him interested in life again. So what if that involved flirting with Bethany? He could call Evan’s bluff all he wanted. There was no way Bethany would go on a date with Gavin.

Evan hung the tongs on the side of the grill, brought the plate toppling with meat to the rest of the group, and set it on the table. Ignoring the enthusiastic banter issuing from his family members, he filled his plate with chips, coleslaw, potato salad, and a burger. He took a seat and forced himself not to glower.

Brody parked himself on Gavin’s left, and Marshall—Bryan and Amy’s oldest—sidled up on Gavin’s right, squeezing himself into the small space between Gavin and Bethany. Evan couldn’t help smiling at the kid. Dad picked up baby Lilly from the blanket on the grass and offered to bless the meal. Bethany speared a piece of cantaloupe and jammed it into her mouth as his family bowed their heads and prayed.

“So.” Gavin reached across the table for the ketchup. “What do you do for fun, Bethany?”

Evan snorted.

Gavin looked at him. “What? Was that a weird question?”

“Bethany doesn’t like fun.” Evan didn’t realize he’d spoken the words out loud until all seven adult heads turned in his direction.

His mother branded him with a look of disapproval. He could see the admonishment in her eyes.
“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Why was it he always had the hardest time with that rule?

“Wow. That’s pretty harsh, Ev.” Gavin gave Evan a peculiar look while spreading a large dollop of mayonnaise on his bun. “So, Bethany, Robin tells us you went to Minneapolis for an interview. How’d it go?”

Bethany dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “They hired somebody else.”

Evan coughed.
She didn’t get the job?

“That’s a bummer. But who knows. Maybe something around here will open up.”

“Bethany doesn’t want to stay around here.” Everybody looked at Evan again, but he was looking at Bethany. Maybe more like glaring. “When are you leaving, anyway?”

“Jeez, Evan. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

Evan ignored his brother and waited for Bethany’s eyes to freeze over, like usual. Instead, they melted into a puddle of confusion and uncertainty. The look punched him in the gut. What was the matter with him? Bethany had never hidden the fact that she didn’t want to stay in Peaks. He had no right to take his frustrations out on her.

“Are you having a grumpy day, Uncle Evan?” Marshall asked.

Evan grimaced. “Yeah, I am, buddy.” He tried to form an apology, but none came, so instead, he pushed away from the table. “Excuse me.”

As he marched to the house, he unclenched his fists and stretched out his fingers. He’d turned Bethany into his scapegoat, when it was God he was frustrated with.

What am I supposed to do? Go to Missouri? Is that where You want me?

Did he really want to pack up his bags, his inheritance from Dan, and move six hours from Gavin and Robin and his future niece or nephew? Sure, he wanted to farm—needed to farm—but was this the only way he could do it? He flung open the screen door, its hinges protesting, and let it slam shut behind him. And what about Bethany? How had such a
stubborn, impossible-to-read woman worked her way past the mortar of his heart? Why had he let her?

I need to know what to do, Lord. A burning bush would be nice
.

Evan leaned over the counter and quieted his soul, waiting for something—anything. A whisper. A nudge. A hint at the right direction. He wasn’t going to move until he had his answer. But the screen door opened and in walked the woman he couldn’t get out of his head. She clutched a trash bag, her face a shade of crimson he’d never seen before.

“I was just coming to get a cutting knife for Robin’s pie.”

Avoiding her eyes, he slid a knife from the block near the toaster.

“Evan, I …” She let out a long sigh and pushed away a few wisps of hair lying across her forehead. “When I left the other day, I didn’t mean—”

“Look, Bethany, you don’t need to explain anything to me. You were right. I was asking too much.” He took the bag from her hand. “You never hid your intentions about the future.” He was just delusional enough to hope they’d changed.

She opened her mouth.

But he cut her off before she could get anything out. “Why don’t you bring this out to the others?” He handed her the knife. “Robin makes a killer peach pie.”

THIRTY-ONE

W
hen are you leaving, anyway?”

The sharp lines on Evan’s face when he’d asked that question stuck in her mind. How could he go so quickly from asking her to stay to asking her to leave? Yesterday, she’d gone to the cookout hoping to figure out how Evan felt about her and in turn how she felt about him. He couldn’t have made his feelings any clearer if he’d doused them in a bottle of Windex. What could have caused such a dramatic shift in his attitude in so short a time?

Did he think she didn’t care about Robin or the baby? Did he think she would get the job and leave, abandon the café, abandon his sister-in-law? Her insides squirmed. She supposed he had cause to think that way, seeing as she’d done it ten years ago. And again after Robin took her husband off life support.

“I think you’re horrible because of the way you left.”

He’d spoken those words before. Did he feel the same way now?

When Bethany awoke the next morning after a nearly sleepless night, Evan’s words still fresh in her mind, she decided to drive over and explain herself. She needed to set him straight. She needed him to know she cared about Robin. Maybe she could even explain why living in Peaks was so hard for her. But as she stood outside his front door, late-morning heat pressing against her neck, fingertips tingling with nerves, she didn’t know why any
of it mattered. Why did she care what Evan thought? Especially after his blowoff yesterday.

She stood on his front porch, her insides writhing with conflicting desires. Explain herself to Evan and win back his favor. Or escape Peaks with her pride intact. She took a step back. She didn’t need to do this. Evan could think what he wanted. His opinion of her shouldn’t—
didn’t
—matter. She’d learned a long time ago that people will think what they want to think. People will judge who they want to judge. None of it mattered.

She ran her hand through her hair. Who was she kidding? As much as she didn’t want to admit it, as much as she didn’t want it to be true, Evan’s opinion mattered. She rested her forehead against the door. How in the world had she let this happen? Evan was the last person she needed to care about. Especially considering her plans for the farm. She moved her fingers to her lips and blinked at the spot she’d stood several nights ago—on the eve of Evan’s birthday.

A flush crept up her neck. She stepped off the front porch and walked to her car. But she didn’t get in. Instead, she brought her elbows up on top of the warm roof and rested her chin on her hands. Late-morning sunlight shone through the thin space between the barn and silo, and the rise-and-fall chorus of cicadas filled the humid air. She’d forgotten how loud they could get. As a kid, her mother would have to put a box fan in her bedroom window every summer to drown out their sound so Bethany could fall asleep at night.

A breeze rustled tall grass, bringing with it a familiar scent. Bethany inhaled—fresh-cut alfalfa and a tinge of sweetness. Another breeze fluttered her hair, and like a bee attracted to nectar, she walked around the side of the farmhouse, where the backyard disappeared into cow pasture and cornfields. And farther off, around the side of the barn—wildflowers.

Before Bethany could take them in, Evan flew up to the barn on his four-wheeler, so focused on whatever it was he was doing that he didn’t
notice her at all. He hopped off before it stopped all the way, and he ran into the barn. Curious, Bethany picked up her pace. She half walked, half trotted down the rest of the hill and ran into him as he came barreling out the door.

He reached out to steady her with his free hand. A chain slipped down his shoulder and sudsy water slopped over the sides of a large bucket in his other hand. “Bethany?”

She took him in—his panting chest, his knotted forehead, dried blood on his hands and arms. Confusion and alarm swarmed inside her chest. “Is everything okay?”

“Thank God you’re here.” He hitched the chains over his shoulder. “I tried to pull the calf out, but it’s not working.”

Pull the calf out?
What was Evan talking about?

“I found Luna, one of my heifers, an hour ago, out in the pasture. I don’t know how long she’s been in labor.” He grabbed her forearm and pulled her toward the four-wheeler. “The calf is stuck.”

Bethany’s heart lurched. She’d watched a cow and its calf die in labor once. When she was a kid. Dan had called the vet, but the doctor arrived too late. She hadn’t been able to do anything then. She didn’t see how she could do anything now.

But Evan hopped on the four-wheeler and hung the bucket over the handlebar, the knot in his forehead tightening, looking at her like she might be able to help. Without thinking, she climbed on behind him and grabbed on tight, hoping he couldn’t feel the crashing of her heart against his back.

Evan sped off, past the paddock, out into the pasture. “The vet guessed wrong on her gestation. We thought she had more time. At least another few weeks. But now she’s in labor, and I let my neighbor borrow the calf puller.”

Bethany’s heart crashed harder as the air whipped through her hair. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. She just swallowed the
dryness in her throat and tried not to think about the fact that she was wrapped around Evan, driving out to save a birthing cow.

He stopped as soon as they came upon the beast.

Bethany didn’t have to be a farmer to know something was wrong. The large animal lay on her side in the middle of the field, her giant body straining like she’d never seen an animal strain. The cow released a groan and stilled, as if the pain had retracted its claws.

Evan jumped off the four-wheeler and bent down on his knees beside her. “She’s been in labor way too long. If we don’t get that calf out, they’re both going to die.”

Bethany gulped a mouthful of heavy air. Sweat beaded between her shoulder blades and trickled down her spine. What did Evan expect her to do? She was an architect, not an Angus midwife.

He moved to the back end of the heifer and waved for her to join him. “I’m going to wrap these chains around the calf’s legs, and every time she has a contraction, we’re going to pull.”

The loud
whoosh
ing in her ears blocked another groan from the animal. And perhaps Evan’s words too. Did he just say what she thought he said? Pull on the calf’s feet? Was he nuts? “Evan, I can’t deliver a calf. I’m not—”

“Bethany, you can do this. I’ll be right here beside you.” His came to her side—his sleeveless shirt covered in sweat and dirt and pieces of grass—wrapped his strong hand around her elbow and pulled her toward the distressed cow. She dug her heels in the ground, but Evan either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

No, I can’t do this
.

He yanked her forward, ignoring the frantic shake of her head, and brought her down, level with the cow’s backside. That’s when Bethany saw them. Two tiny hooves sticking out from the cow’s back end. Something caught in her chest. Something large and heavy and important. Everything
else faded away. Everything except those two pathetic hooves. She could design skyscrapers and bridges. Why couldn’t she help deliver a calf?

Evan wrapped the chains around the viscous ankles, twice around each leg, and handed her one of the chains. “When I say so, you pull with me as hard as you can. Down and slightly toward her belly.”

Bethany blinked at the hooves. She didn’t think about where her hands were. She didn’t think about the intense heat emanating from the animal. She held on to that chain as if her life depended on it and prepared to pull like she’d never pulled before.

Evan looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?”

She nodded.

And as if on cue, the cow strained.

“Okay, Bethany … pull!”

Bethany screwed up her face. And she pulled. As hard as she could. She clenched the muscles in her neck, her back, her shoulders. She clenched her toes inside her shoes. She clenched her fingers around that chain. She focused every fiber of her being on those two bony legs and getting that animal out alive. As if everything hinged upon the life of that calf. She tugged and tugged, and didn’t stop until she felt something shift.