Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  “I’ll chill some sparkling wine to go with the cobbler I made for dessert,” Doreen offers as she wipes a tear from her cheek.

  I love how these women support Elle in everything she attempts.

  “Really?” Elle asks with pride in her voice.

  “Of course. We have to celebrate. It’s not every day our niece gets published.”

  “Not published yet. Just submitted for publishing.”

  Doreen waves off the modesty. “Whatever. It’s a big deal, and we’re going to toast to you, my dear.”

  Elle turns back to me. “Do you think Sophie will read it?”

  I see the hope in her eyes, and I don’t want to crush her. She has developed a warped sort of hero worship for Jefferson’s long-lost daughter ever since Doreen explained over breakfast last week that Sophie would be coming in from New York. Elle has always been fascinated with Sophie and that city. We haven’t heard a word from the girl as long as we’ve lived here, but the aunts and Gram used to often tell stories of her as a child. Especially Gram. Elle was always enamored and had this fantasy in her head that Sophie would return and they would be fast friends and sisters.

  “Maybe. If you ask her.” I don’t even sound convincing to myself.

  “Of course she will,” Doreen pipes up.

  “I’m sure she’d love to read your article. Sophie knows her way around the subject, you know.”

  I can hear the pride in her voice as she talks about her niece.

  “She does?” Elle asks.

  “Oh, yes, she would help Gram plant and harvest the vegetable garden every year, and they grew their own herbs in flowerpots on the back porch. All organic. No pesticides. Sophie fed the chickens and the hogs every single day too. She’d gather eggs in the morning for breakfast, and Pop even taught her how to milk the dairy cows. She was quite the little farmer.”

  “Wow, really? She seems too sophisticated,” Elle responds.

  “Not at all. She’s a rancher’s child. It’s in her nature to know her way around the animals and the land. You two should chat later.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  I hate that they think the kid Sophie used to be is the same as the woman who looked at me like I was some type of disease when I picked her up from the airport. I don’t think any of that girl is left. I don’t say it though. They’ll eventually figure it out for themselves.

  Sophie

  “Sophie, can you help me with these?” Aunt Doreen calls to me from the back deck.

  I leave my sketchpad and pencil on the quilt and hurry to the door to relieve her of the basket she has in her hands.

  “Thank you, sweetie. It’s so lovely out that we thought we’d eat out here again this evening. We won’t get too many more opportunities before the bitter cold blows in,” she explains as she leads the way out to an extra-large picnic table under an old oak tree.

  The basket is filled with colorful plates and silverware and napkins. She takes a checkered tablecloth, shakes it out, and spreads it over the wooden table. I set the basket on a bench, and we start setting the places. Aunt Ria joins us and loads the table with trivets and serving utensils. She places mason jars with fresh-cut sunflowers and candles in the center.

  “Perfect,” she declares as she lights the candles.

  Braxton and Elle emerge next with covered pots. Braxton sets the chicken and dumplings on a trivet, and Elle follows with the creamed corn and peas. Madeline brings up the rear with pitchers of water and iced tea.

  “Excuse me. I’m going to go freshen up real quick,” I tell Aunt Doreen.

  I grab the quilt and my supplies as I make my way to the house. I pass Daddy as I enter the back door.

  “Sophie?” he questions as I race through the kitchen.

  I look back to him. “I’ll be out in a minute. Just putting my things away and washing up.”

  He looks relieved as he nods his head and continues out.

  Once I drop everything in my room and use the bathroom, I return to the backyard.

  “Sophie, flip the switch to the left of the door, please,” Madeline calls to me.

  I do as she asked, and the entire backyard illuminates with twinkling lights. They are strung all through the big oak trees. The sun is starting to set, and the sky is painted in gorgeous shades of pink and orange. The whole scene is magical, like stepping into a fairy garden.

  I join them at the table and sit in the space left for me between Pop and Madeline across from Elle and Braxton. Pop picks up a spoon and slaps a massive pile of dumplings on my plate. Then, he loads me down with corn and peas.

  My eyes widen as I look at all the food. “Um, I can’t eat all that, Pop.”

  He side-eyes me. “We have to plump you up, little’n. Gram would have had a fit if she saw how slight you are.”

  I grimace. “I’m not slight.”

  “You ain’t sturdy either,” he notes.

  “Sturdy?”

  I hear a snicker and look up to see Braxton trying to suppress a laugh.

  “Gram was always trying to fatten me up too. Like I was a calf they wanted to send to auction,” Elle chimes in, and I look to see her smiling at me.

  “Men like a woman with a little meat on her bones,” Pop informs me.

  “Oh, Dad, stop. Women don’t like being told they’re too skinny. You can’t force-feed them,” Aunt Ria interjects.

  “Back me up here, Brax. Men prefer a soft woman with curves. Am I right?”

  I bring my eyes back to Braxton, who is swallowing a big bite of dumplings.

  He picks his glass up and washes it down. Then, he speaks, “Yes, sir. Curves are definitely appreciated,” as he looks at Pop.

  Then, he brings his attention to me and grins as he takes another bite. His blue eyes are dancing with amusement. He’s teasing me. My stomach does a little flip as I realize I like it. Thank goodness the sun is going down and casting a pink haze across the yard, so no one notices the blush that I’m sure is tinting my face.

  “How long are you here for, Sophie?” The question comes from a man at the far end of the table, who looks to be about my age.

  I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Sorry, I’m Silas. I work here on the ranch. I live up the hill, near the county line, with my wife, Chloe. She’s at her parents’ house this week, waiting the birth of her sister’s baby, or she’d have joined us.”

  “And I’m Walker.” A deep voice booms from the guy to his left, startling me. He is large, and his brown coveralls barely fit, stretched across his massive chest. He has thick, dark hair that needs a trim and bushy eyebrows. He reminds me of a teddy bear.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” I reply.

  I look around the table, and everyone’s attention is now on me, so I continue, “I’m not sure how long I’ll be in Poplar Falls. I know I’m staying through the weekend for Gram’s service, and Aunt Doe asked me to stay for the reading of her will. I guess it depends on when all that’s happening.”

  “It’s great your job lets you travel with an uncertain schedule,” Silas adds.

  “It was easy to get approval since I’m my own boss.”

  “Really? That’s great. What do you do?”

  “She’s a jewelry designer,” Elle chimes in.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. I have a design studio and manufacturing site in the city.”

  “So, you make, like, necklaces and stuff?” Walker asks.

  “Yep. I design specific pieces for people, and my team creates it from my sketches.”

  “So, it’s special jewelry?”

  I consider his question for a moment. “You could say that. Sometimes, a client asks for a particular thing or a replica of something I have sold before, but mostly, they just want something unique to them. A piece that commemorates an event or a place, maybe a moment in time or even a person.”

  “You can do that with a hunk of metal and some beads?” Silas asks the question, but I can tell he is curious and not bei
ng an ass.

  “Absolutely. For instance, I made a hairpin for a client before I left. His wife had suddenly passed away last year, and his daughter is getting married in a few weeks. He wanted to have something special made for her, so it would feel like her mother was a part of it. His wife had loved hummingbirds, so I designed a lovely hummingbird hair comb made of silver and clear crystals. Then, I used a sapphire from one of her mother’s rings for the bird’s eye. That way, she has her something old, something new and something blue and a piece of her mother with her on her wedding day.”

  All eyes are on me as I finish my story.

  “That’s beautiful, Sophie.” Aunt Doreen beams at me, and I return her smile.

  Then, I hear a sniffle from across the table.

  “It really is,” Elle whispers. Probably thinking of her mother and her own wedding day.

  Braxton has finished eating, and he’s staring at me with an odd look.

  I’m uncomfortable, being the center of everyone’s attention.

  “Thank you. I do love it. It pays the bills, and luckily, I can sketch from anywhere, so here I am.”

  “We hope to keep her for a little while,” Aunt Ria says as she fills my glass with tea.

  “Not too long. I do need to get home before my mother goes crazy.”

  “Vivian has had you all to herself for long enough. Time to share you with the rest of us,” Pop says as he finds my hand under the table and squeezes.

  I look over to Daddy. He hasn’t said a word. He just keeps eating as Madeline adds seconds to his plate. When he notices me watching him, he looks up and purses his lips as if he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

  Maybe there is too much to say and too many years between us.

  I pick up my fork and start eating. A little moan escapes me as the gravy from the dumplings hits my tongue.

  Braxton snaps his eyes to mine, and I blush again.

  “This is so good, Aunt Doe and Aunt Ria,” I manage to choke out.

  “It is.”

  The table at large agrees.

  “Sophie helped,” Aunt Doreen acknowledges with pride.

  “Only a little, but I did enjoy it.”

  “You used to love helping Gram in the kitchen,” Daddy adds.

  “She loved every minute of it too,” Pop adds.

  “I remember,” I reply softly, and he squeezes my hand once more.

  After we all finish and dessert has been served, Emmett breaks out a bottle of wine.

  “None for me,” I say as I cover my glass.

  “We’re celebrating our Elle girl’s paper. You have to have at least a sip,” he says as he gives me a wink.

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of a lightweight with alcohol.”

  “One cup won’t kill you,” he murmurs conspiratorially and grins at me.

  “Okay, one,” I concede.

  They all lift their glasses as Aunt Ria gushes about the essay Elle wrote. She beams with pride. It must have been nice, growing up with a large, supportive family who toasted your every achievement. All I had was my mom, and she was more a fan of my extracurricular activities. She never showed much interest in my grades, much less a single paper.

  A tinge of jealousy rears its head, and I tamp it down. It’s not Elle’s fault my mother is so self-absorbed. It’s not any of these people’s fault. Mom is who she is.

  So, I tuck in my irrational crazy and raise my glass with them as we congratulate the lucky girl who is Jefferson Lancaster’s replacement daughter. Then, I excuse myself before I say anything to ruin the otherwise pleasant evening.

  Sophie

  I open my eyes as the door to my room cracks open, and light pours in from the hallway.

  “You alive in there?” I hear Dallas’s voice before my eyes can adjust, and I see her curls peek through the crack in the door.

  I reach over and grab my phone on the nightstand. I look at the time. Eight a.m.

  “Ugh, it’s still early,” I whine.

  I stayed up late, reading, last night because I was having a hard time falling asleep without the sounds of the city. It’s too quiet here.

  “Early? Girl, it’s practically the middle of the day. Get your lazy bones up and get dressed. We are going to town.”

  “For what?” I ask on a yawn.

  “Lunch.”

  “Come back in four hours.” I roll onto my stomach and cover my head with my pillow.

  She grabs it and yanks. Then, she parks her ass on the bed beside me. “I’ll starve to death by then. Now, get up. I want to introduce you to Beau.”

  “Fine, but only because you bribed me with the kid,” I groan and sit up in a huff.

  “You’re cranky in the morning.”

  “And you’re way too chipper. Now, go away, and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “All right, but you’d better not go back to sleep, or I’ll return with a bucket of ice water,” she says as she narrows her eyes and points her finger into my chest.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, I’d dare,” she threatens as she backs out of the door.

  I scowl at her as I toss the pillow in her direction. I hear her laugh as she makes her way downstairs.

  Twenty minutes later, I walk into the kitchen to find Dallas and Aunt Doreen chatting over a glass of orange juice.

  “Good morning, Sophie. How did you sleep?” Aunt Doreen leans over and kisses my cheek.

  “Good—once I was able to fall asleep. I don’t know how you guys do it without a symphony of music blaring, sirens screaming, and horns honking.”

  “What’s that?” Aunt Doreen asks.

  “I’m used to the sounds of Manhattan traffic lulling me to sleep at night. Tree frogs and crickets aren’t quite the same.”

  “Just leave the TV on an episode of Cops next time. That should do the trick,” Dallas suggests.

  “I’m sorry you missed breakfast. We didn’t want to disturb you. There is bacon left in the oven, and I can scramble you some eggs if you’d like.”

  “That’s okay. I’m stealing her for a while. We’re going to Faye’s,” Dallas answers for me.

  “How nice. Tell Faye I said hello.” She turns to look me over. “Do you want to borrow a coat?”

  I look down at the peacoat I’m wearing over my one-piece jumpsuit. “I have a coat on.”

  “It looks like snow today. You’re probably going to need something a bit warmer.”

  “Snow?” I squeak.

  Yesterday, it was warm and sunny. We ate dinner in the backyard, for goodness’ sake.

  “Welcome to October in Colorado. Sunshine one day and a blizzard the next,” Dallas muses from the table.

  I look outside at the overcast sky. “Should we be driving around in the snow?”

  “Sure. We do it all the time. I have four-wheel drive. Besides, it’s only calling for a light dusting this afternoon. We’ll be fine.”

  After Aunt Doreen raids Madeline’s closet to outfit me with a warmer coat and more appropriate footwear, I’m in the passenger’s seat of Dallas’s truck, and we’re headed into town.

  “Mom is meeting us at the diner with Beau. He was on the John Deere, helping Dad cut the grass when I left, and I couldn’t bribe him off that thing. I swear, it’s like it’s a ride at Disney World or something. I hope he’s as enthusiastic about the mower when he’s a teenager.”

  I remember riding in front of Daddy on our mower when I was little. It was one of my favorite things.

  “So, how did things go after I left yesterday?”

  I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “It’s just strange. I don’t know any of the new ranch hands or new family members. My aunts are trying really hard to make me feel welcome, but Jefferson doesn’t seem to want me here. He has said less than ten words to me, and all of them have been to let me know how rude he thinks I am.”

  “That’s just Jefferson being Jefferson. Can’t fault him for
his personality.”

  “That’s not how I remember him.”

  She glances at me as she turns into the parking lot of Faye’s Diner. “He changed after you left. Turned into an old Grumpy Gus.”

  She parks in a spot up front marked Employee of the Month.

  “You work here?”

  “Yep. Don’t be too impressed; there are only four of us. Faye, me, and Kim—the other waitress—and Andy, who cooks. So, I’m the Employee of the Month every third month.”

  We get out and head inside, and a little boy with blond hair, round-framed glasses, and a chocolate milk ring around his mouth shouts to us, “Over here, Mommy.”

  He’s standing up in a booth, waving a green crayon in the air, and Dallas rushes over. She scoops him in her arms and starts smattering his face with kisses as he squirms in protest through his peals of laughter.

  She sets him down, and he walks himself across the bench to make room.

  “Beau, this is Mommy’s friend, Miss Sophie.”

  He curiously eyes me as Mrs. Henderson slides over to make room for me next to her, across from Dallas and Beau.

  “Hi, Miss Sophie,” he greets me.

  “Hi, Mr. Beau. It’s sure nice to meet you.”

  He grins a snaggle-toothed grin at me and adjusts his glasses back into place. “I’m not a mister. I’m a little boy,” he corrects me.

  “Oh, pardon me. You look so grown up that I couldn’t tell.”

  That wins me a huge smile.

  We order food, and before it even arrives, Beau has wiggled his way under the booth and between me and Mrs. Henderson. He scoots up close to me, and we color together as he regales me with made-up stories about the pirates we are coloring on the diner’s paper placemat, designed to entertain kids for a few minutes while their parents eat.

  After we have finished eating, Mrs. Henderson wrangles him into his coat and mittens to take him to a birthday party.