Winter's End (20 page)

M
arc shifted his gaze to the large pond.

Three swans rippled the surface, the arc of their necks majestic. Pigeons roosted on the boathouse, enjoying an afternoon siesta. Ducks foraged, flapping their wings to gain advantage.

The outline of the new garden lay evident along the walk. He’d swept the curve of the garden up and away, keeping the line unstructured and free. He and Jess had purchased plants suitable for part sun, part shade. Some small bushes, some perennials, and a bunch of that grassy stuff.

At least, that’s what the nursery lady said. They’d grabbed breakfast at Hosler’s and drove the truck full of potted wonders home at gentle speeds. Now the pots stood under the tree to avoid the crush of summer sun. He’d ordered mulch to top dress the site, and slow-release fertilizer spikes for the evergreens.

A fool’s dream, he told himself as he set pots around. His big hands were cumbersome clutching the small, plastic vessels. The silly things kept tipping, messing with his visual.

Jess would have helped, but she was working at Nan’s, preparing for a regional show, late summer.

He refused to interrupt her focus. He’d noticed an equestrian coach from St. Lawrence University at their last contest. That had been a firm heads-up. The possibility of an equestrian career
for Jess wouldn’t surprise him. And scholarship money was never a bad thing. With her grades and proficiency, collegiate equestrian programs would vie for her.

He refused to think of how alone he’d be with her gone. The house had seemed quiet after Pete’s death. How much more would it be with Jess away?

The house doesn’t have to be quiet,
an inner voice chastised.
Just go call the girl. Write the letter you’ve been whining about. Do something!

He was doing something. He was working night and day, running both businesses, making significant improvements on the house, taking care of Jess the best way he knew how and sleeping here and there.

And he liked himself, finally. He liked the person he was becoming. The man who didn’t try to handle it alone, unafraid to lean. He felt richer, and the feeling had nothing to do with a bank account.

Call her. Go to her. You could fly there and back in a day, have your say and see what happens. Get a move on, Farmer Boy.

The crunch of wheels against stone sounded behind him.

Pensive, he didn’t look up. The feed store was staffed and he had a garden to plant.

He eyed the rich soil, assessing. Laying a flower garden was nothing like planting vegetables with their straight rows. This was…

Disordered. If he worked his way in, he’d kneel on baby plants. If he went the opposite way, he’d compact the soil. Sitting back, he surveyed the path of least destruction and frowned.

“Need help, Farmer Boy?”

His heart leaped. A smile stuck square in his throat. He swallowed hard. “It appears I do.”

Light footsteps sounded along the drive. She squatted next to him, her gaze forward, smelling of flowers and spice, of yesterday and tomorrow. He breathed deep, her scent spinning him back to a winter of growth, death and hope. He waved a hand and tried to hide the slight tremble of his fingers. “I’m kind of big to carry this off without crushing things.”

“I see that. Whereas I’m lighter.”

He swallowed again and nodded. “You are.”

“And my hands are smaller. See?”

Oh, he saw. Long, slim fingers tipped with bright pink polish. “You might chip a nail.”

“We’re in a new millennium, Farmer Boy. They’re replaceable. In fact there’s a great nail place in Malone, this side of the Market Barn.”

“Yeah?” He turned now.

She was so beautiful. So perfectly wonderful. Her eyes searched his, her head angled as she tried to read his face, his expression. He cleared his throat, searching for his voice. “How about if I offer to pay for damage incurred by my soil?”

She considered that, then nodded. “Deal.”

He eyed her outfit. “You’re not going to plant in that, are you?”

She stood and brushed off her knees. “Jess will have some overalls I can wear, right?”

“Right.”

He stood, as well, facing her. “You’re back.”

She nodded again.

He wanted to touch her. It was all he could do to hold himself back, keep his hands at his sides. “To visit?”

“To stay.”

His heart soared, but he couldn’t take credit for her decision. He hadn’t called, hadn’t written, hadn’t taken the slightest step forward. “Why?”

Marc wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but knew he had to ask.

Kayla eyed the improvements to the house. She noted the scaffolding alongside the barn. Mike stood atop the piped supports, busily working for more college money now that the house was complete. She shrugged. “I missed the North Country.”

“Yeah?” He stepped closer. He hoped his proximity was having the same effect on her that hers was having on him. “Just the North Country?”

She edged back. “And my friends.” She turned slightly. When she did, one strap of her tank top slipped, leaving her throat delightfully bare. She shoved it into place and looked beyond him. In an unusually perceptive moment, Marc realized she was nervous.

He put a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Come inside.”

She glanced up, then away, as if weighing choices, then let out a breath. “Okay.”

He took her hand once they crossed the new threshold and led her up the stairs. He drew her into the back bedroom that doubled as his office area. The computer’s blinking light winked green.

She turned, puzzled.

Marc leaned over the desk and drew up a Word document. “There.”

She leaned down. A smile curved her lips as she surveyed the long column of half-finished letters. She turned and met his eye, her gaze teasing. “Writing isn’t exactly your forte?”

“No. Which is why they’re still sitting in my computer.” He reached out a hand and drew her away from the humming PC. “I’m better in person.”

Those words made her draw a breath. Or maybe it was the look he gave her, the one that said he’d missed her. He loved her.

“I wanted the house to be right.”

She did the face crunch he remembered so well. “It’s beautiful, Marc. It always was. You guys filled it with love and that’s what’s important.”

He nodded and looped his hands around her back. “I agree. But a girl needs a place that welcomes her home. That reaches out to her. A place flooded with light.”

She blinked back tears. “You remembered.”

“Oh, yeah.” He dropped his mouth to hers and gave her a kiss, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. “How could I possibly forget?”

“Marc—”

“Will you marry me, Kayla?”

“What?”

He leaned back and brought her chin up with his thumb, stroking, caressing. “Will you marry me? Be my wife? Live on a crazy North Country farm? Break some nails? Have my babies? Grow old with me?”

She smiled. “You’re right. You’re way better with words in person.”

“Is that a yes?”

She tilted her chin, teasing, contemplating. “It is.”

“Really?”

She waved a hand toward the window. “You did get the garden ready.”

He nodded.

“And painted the house.”

He sighed. He couldn’t lie. “I hired it done.”

“But signed the check, so it’s the same thing,” she assured him. “And you put in a beautiful new door.”

“With sidelights. And a front porch light.”

“Well, then.” She stretched up and drew him down. “That seals the deal.”

“I love you, Kayla.”

The simple declaration overwhelmed her.

He sandwiched her hands between his and dropped to one knee. “I love you, Kayla,” he repeated. “Everything about you. Marry me. Please?”

She slid a soft hand across his cheek, his jaw, then tugged him upright. “I will always love you, Marc.”

His heart sang, but he gave her a little grin. “Then say yes and get to work. That garden’s waiting and we don’t have all day.”

She laughed and hugged him. He spun her gently, then set her back on the floor. She arched a brow in wonder. “We don’t? How come?”

“Because we need to go ring shopping.” He grazed his hand along the curve of her cheek, then cupped her chin. “And set a date. Call the pastor. So many things, Kayla.” He dropped his mouth to hers once more.

She answered his kiss with one of her own, then pressed her
cheek to his chest. “Then by all means, let’s plant. We both know how I love to shop.”

Marc groaned. “So true.” He gave her one last kiss before he turned. “But this will be the only time you get to shop for an engagement ring. Make it count.”

She preened and grinned. “Oh, I will. Now head downstairs so I can get changed. I’ve got a garden to tend.”

He laughed and moved toward the stairs, his step light, his heart full.

“Marc?”

“Yeah?” He turned, half expecting another teasing jab. The look on her face wasn’t teasing. He frowned and took a step back. “What, honey?”

“It’s my first garden.”

Four little words that said so much. His heart stretched further in his chest. “I know. But it won’t be your last.”

Her smile made him feel like the greatest man alive. A superhero. All because of a little plot of land, newly turned.

And a leap of faith.

He started fresh coffee and eyed the kitchen. He’d tell her about that later, let her shop and pick whatever she wanted to accomplish that upgrade. For right now he had every intention of getting a ring and a license, the sooner the better.

The midsummer sun angled through the right sidelight. The glass prismed the ray into a rainbow across the faded carpet.

A covenant. The promise of a new tomorrow.

Overhead, gentle thumps meant shoes were hitting the floor as Kayla changed outfits. They might need to add a closet or at least a shoe rack.

Maybe two.

He shrugged and stepped onto the porch. He’d build her a room for shoes, if necessary, but he’d rather design a nursery.

That thought pumped his chest. Kayla swung out the door behind him, her step light and hurried. “Okay, let’s get to it. Are you going to help or do you have chores you should be doing?”

He did, as a matter of fact. There was a list of things tacked to the barn wall to keep him and Jerry on their toes.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead and snaked a lazy arm around her shoulders. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Let’s plant some flowers. And grassy things.”

“Ornamental grasses,” she corrected him. “And I think they’d look best over here, don’t you?”

He grinned at the sight of her in the dirt, the first pot of grass gripped in her left hand. “Whatever you want, honey.”

She smiled up at him. Her face bore no shadows, no sadness, no reminders of the cold, dark nights of her childhood. She glanced around the farmyard, the maze of buildings, the gray-stoned drive. She tipped her chin to the side and blinked, long and slow. “I want you, Marc. I want you.”

Dear Reader,

Like many of you, I’m part of the sandwich generation, caught between aging parents and growing children. For most of us these worlds intersect like a Venn diagram, overlapping and overshadowing from time to time.

A long-term smoker, my Irish mother’s lung cancer wasn’t a huge surprise at age seventy-eight, but difficult nonetheless. Her ensuing home hospice allowed weeks of family hurting and healing, a time where nine children, countless grandchildren and great-grandchildren, old friends and family stopped by with food, hugs, sympathy and empathy. I hope the beauty of that experience is caught in this book, a story of bad choices and good decisions, of personal responsibility and human frailty. God allows choice and free will. Perfection isn’t part of the deal and accepting one another’s flaws and failings is just part of being a family.

It is what it is.

I welcome letters and e-mails sharing your thoughts and experiences. Come visit me at www.ruthloganherne.com, e-mail me at [email protected] or mail me c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001 New York, NY 10279.

Ruthy

1. A former hospital nurse, Kayla altered her professional life after meeting an indigent woman whose simple faith inspired Kayla’s change of heart. Are coincidences something that happen, or does God offer us opportunities when we least expect it?
   
2. Pete DeHollander’s choices aren’t all perfect. His cancer is probably evidence of that. Does God forgive our human weaknesses?
   
3. Marc is caught between old anger and new responsibilities thrust on him by circumstances beyond his control. While the man shoulders the burdens, the boy inside resents the bad choices surrounding him but has no clue how to handle his anger. Is it harder for strong, self-made adults to humble themselves and ask God’s help?
   
4. Marc’s animosity makes Kayla’s job harder initially, but she doesn’t give up or give in to the impulse to smack him like she might have a few years back. How does faith help us to be less impetuous and more understanding?
   
5. Kayla remembers feeling safe in a church as a young foster child. Do you think those early memories helped firm her later faith options?
   
6. Arianna recognizes she had choices all along and ignored them. It isn’t until she’s dying and alone that she identifies all she gave up. Why do we so often wait until we hit rock bottom to change our ways?
   
7. Jess’s simple faith is nurtured by her father’s constant presence on the farm and in church. Do you think this faith base helped her find closure after realizing Pete wasn’t her biological father?
   
8. Sarah and Kayla have a deep, abiding friendship. They recognize each other’s wounds and share a mutual “survivor” respect. Why do the bonds of friendship sometimes come harder to people who’ve suffered?
   
9. Jess’s strong faith shames her brother and gives him cause to second-guess his anger and antipathy toward their mother. Eventually Marc realizes that the only choices he’s responsible for are the ones he makes for himself. How does this realization help him to forgive his mother’s problems and desertion?
   
10. Kayla’s constant battle with cold underscores the emotional development of the story. Her need to conquer keeps her from seeking a warmer, more comfortable setting, as if doing penance will make her stronger. What helps her to realize that punishing herself was never necessary?
    
11. Marc is taken aback by Kayla’s state in the harness room. Her emotional instability reminds him of his mother, and yet he needs to find out what pushed her to that state of mind. When she reveals her story he believes there is no hope for a future with her. They have too many strikes against them. How does time and space help Marc to readjust his strategies?
    
12. Kayla’s departure leaves a void in Marc’s life that’s revealed in his physical, emotional and mental appearance. When Craig and Jess both point this out to him, Marc gets angry but realizes they’re right. He’s got nothing to lose by trying something new. A new church, a new chance. How does little McKenna’s presence affect his first visit to Craig and Sarah’s church?
    
13. Kayla thinks that the warmer climate of Virginia will help ease the chill in her soul, but it doesn’t happen. When she learns Marc has had a change in heart, she’s hurt that he
    hasn’t contacted her. Her conscience prods her to see things through his eyes. How does stepping into someone else’s shoes help us to do what Jesus would do, to see things more clearly?
    
14. Marc’s home makeover is analogical to his mental, spiritual, physical and emotional makeover. The physical attributes of his home reflect his overall personal improvements. Don’t most of us feel heartened when we make positive choices that thrust us forward?
    
15. Kayla’s return is scary for both Marc and Kayla. He fears she’ll reject him and she’s afraid she ran him off for good, yet both are willing to finally take that chance. How do faith and time lend us strength to meet life’s challenges and take chances?