by Robyn Carr
Also, there were several trucks.
“How much of this does your brother-in-law farm?” she asked.
“Everything you can see. That house to the north—that’s the Jaspers and they don’t farm anymore. Richard leases their fields. That house to the west, that’s Nicholls and they only have a small plot, mostly for their own personal use. There are a few other neighbors here and there but this is the biggest farm in the area.”
“All the trucks?” she asked.
“Richard has hands. Day workers. Seasonal. He only keeps two year-round and usually has another four from planting to harvest.”
“Look how vast,” she said in an almost reverent breath. “What must it have been like to grow up here?”
He laughed and said, “I thought I was cursed. Lotta chores on a farm.”
He parked and met a bunch of barking dogs in the yard. At first Krista stiffened nervously and counted—four. One blond, one black and white, one solid black and one chocolate brown. Jake good-naturedly talked to them all. One of them, the golden one, sat in front of her, waiting.
“That’s Lucy,” he said. “She’ll sit there patiently until you pet her. The others all run around in excitement because they have company.”
“They don’t run away?”
“This is where their food is,” Jake said. “Twice a day, morning and night. They have work to do—keep the wildlife away from the chickens and any unfriendlies away from the house. And if they ran off, I don’t know who’d go looking for them.”
Close to the house was a vegetable garden with tomatoes that were huge, melons nearly ripe, zucchini and yellow hook-neck squash. There was a row of lettuce and a large plot of cucumbers. “Zoe likes to can pickles,” he explained. There were a couple of apple trees and Jake pulled two off, rubbed off the dust on his jeans until they shone deep red. He handed her one.
There was a swing set with two swings, a slide and hanging rings. Beside it, a sandbox. “The grandchildren,” he said.
He showed her the chickens, kept in a modern coop that was heated in winter, their three horses in the pen and two miniature mules. There were two cows and an old bull in the pasture. “They’re more of a hobby than anything. If Richard gets a calf, he usually just sells it. Once he had a Clydesdale—someone was mistreating the horse so Richard took him in until he could find a permanent home. It took him five years.”
“Five years!”
“I suspect he was dragging his feet. It’s an expensive horse to feed and take care of and Richard’s Clydesdale didn’t make beer commercials. But his kids were young then and loved that horse.”
He walked her through the cornfield to a pond right on the property.
“Oh, my God, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Did you swim in it as a kid?”
“We did not,” he said. “It’s a swampy thing. The water’s okay, but not as pleasant as the lake. We skated on it in winter.”
She saw a virtual army of big green farm machines, learned that three generations had lived in that farmhouse, his sister was a nurse who worked for a doctor in Willet, their two kids were grown and they had two grandchildren. She met a little pack of new kittens in the barn, got chased by a rooster and Lucy followed her devotedly, leaning against her regularly for a pat.
“I don’t know if I can leave this dog,” she told him.
“She’s a lover, isn’t she? Lucy was my dad’s dog. He passed six years ago.”
“Do you ever wish you were still involved with the farm?”
“Nah, I’m not a farmer. I like to come out here on a nice day, though. There’s nothing harder than running a farm but to a visitor like me it seems so peaceful and healthy. I don’t have to think about an early freeze, a bad storm, a long winter, a flood...” He picked a few daisies from a border along the side of the house, handing them to her.
“I bet you had adventures here,” she said.
He took her hand and led her through the yard toward the barn. “Adventures in weather,” he said with a laugh. “Blizzards in winter, tornadoes in summer, floods in spring. There are two types of kids raised in rural Minnesota. The ones who can’t be happy in the city—it’s too loud, messy, crowded, dangerous. And the ones who can’t wait to get off the farm. I was the latter.”
“I bet there were fun times,” she said.
“Like you and your cousins had,” he said. “Fun times, hard times. Growing up isn’t easy. Let’s go in the hayloft. I want to talk about something.”
“We’ve been talking the last couple of hours,” she said. “All the way here, out to the pond, through the veggies...”
He pulled on her hand. “You like those veggies, don’t you?”
“You have no idea what a luxury they are. Charley goes to the farmers’ stands all the time.” She looked around, saw the ladder to the loft. “I bet you got into a lot of trouble up there.”
“Not me so much as the other kids. Up you go,” he said.
“But what about Lucy?” she asked.
“I’m sure she’ll be waiting for you.”
“Why are we going up there?”
“Because after we’re done talking, we’ll want to be alone.”
“Oh,” she said. “I guess I get it now.” She smiled over her shoulder. “More kissing, I assume.”
“If you don’t mind.”
She stepped up onto the loft. There were a couple of hay bales, an old horse blanket and a pile of loose hay in the corner. There was also a big hatch, a window, that Jake opened to let in the breeze. He sat down on a bale and pulled her down beside him.
“Tell me how the summer usually ends for you and your cousins.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“When do you close up the house and leave?”
“When we were kids we left in time to get home and ready for school. We had to get our school things—new shoes, clothes, notebooks and things. We usually left right before Labor Day weekend.”
“And this year?”
“I don’t know. So much depends on Meg. We might be able to stay through the holiday weekend but we can’t stay after the temperatures drop. We’ve all avoided talking about it.”
“It’s August, Krista. We have to talk about it, you and me. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Go back to Saint Paul. Maybe to my mother’s? Or maybe I’ll rent a room, get a waitress job.”
“What if I said I don’t want you to go?” he asked.
“Careful, Jake,” she said. “You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he said. “I don’t want to scare you but I think I love you. I know you mean a lot to me, like nobody has. And I know I haven’t felt this way in a long, long time. Together, we just hit all the right notes. I don’t want you to go.”
“Well, I might not have a choice,” she said.
“If that lake house has to be closed up, I can find you a place.”
“Winter will come,” she said. “I don’t have a car. I have appointments I have to keep.”
“I’ll make a commitment to get you around,” he said. “Did you ever drive? Have a license?”
She shook her head. She had driven, many years ago, but never got her license. “I don’t want to be dependent on anyone,” she said.
“You’re dependent on Charley,” he pointed out.
“You know how different that is,” she said. “I’ve known you for two months!”
“Let’s think about where to go from here,” he said. “Just suppose we find you a place nearby for after your cousins leave. Something decent and affordable, close to the lodge so you can work. Just let me know when you need transportation—I’ll be glad to help with that. There will be cold
, snowy days when you can’t walk. There will be your appointments and I suppose you’ll want to visit your mother. Let’s try it, Krista, because if you leave...” He shook his head. “I’d hate that. I love having you here. I love being here with you.”
“Just what are you suggesting?” she said.
“I don’t know. I want to be a couple. I don’t mean to rush you, I don’t want to pressure you, but I want you to know what I’m willing to do and I wanted to talk about it before summer is over. Before I wake up one morning and you’ve gone and we haven’t thought about what we could have been together.”
“A couple?”
“I don’t care what kind of couple as long as it boils down to me and you. Will you think about it? Talk to your cousins if you want to. Talk to you mother, maybe. I can’t promise you’ll be happy every day but I can promise I’ll give you my best and anything you need. If I can deliver it, I will. Krista, I just want to be with you. That’s all.”
She touched his cheek. “I think you’re a little crazy,” she said. “Sweet, but a little crazy. I’m not sure I can agree to anything right now. I’m new at this.”
“Then let’s just stay like we are,” he said. “We’ll give it time, let it grow, see where we go. If there’s a day you think it’s not right, not good for you, you’ll call your mom, you’ll tell me you need a ride. But the wild card is, you have to be here if we’re going to test it out. Take a chance on me, Krista.”
“I want to think about this,” she said.
“That’s all I ask.” He pulled her closer. “Now kiss me like the wild woman you are.” He pulled her arms around his neck.
She met his lips willingly. “That’s it. You’re getting a little wild stuff, aren’t you? I’m not wild anymore, Reverend McAllister. I want to be good.”
He laughed. “You are and I love you just the way you are, you sassy little broad.” He smothered her with a kiss that was hot and steamy. It never failed to melt her to the bone. She held on to him so tightly it was a wonder he could breathe.
He wants to be a couple. She wasn’t even sure what that meant. For right now it meant kissing her senseless, leaning back against the hay with him, holding each other and letting their tongues tangle. She could hear his heartbeat; she could taste his desire; she could feel arousal in both of them. Maybe this would be the day.
“What does it mean to be a couple?” she asked him.
“That you’re my girl and I’m your guy,” he said. “It can mean anything you want it to mean. You want me to keep walking you home? Do you want to live together? Do you want to be engaged? Whatever it is that doesn’t make you feel you’re at risk. You can count on me, I promise.”
There was a lot more kissing, leaving her feeling a little crazy and mushy inside. She had a wild urge to undress him. Instead, she broke away a little bit. “What if I only want you to walk me home sometimes? For the next year?” she asked him.
“As long as we’re in the same town so we can do that—you get to call the shots. That’s why I want you to think about staying here. I’ll help make that possible any way I can.”
“I shouldn’t trust so fast,” she said. “I’m inexperienced.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “You’ve had more experience than you can stand. I just want to be with you. But only if you want it, too.”
“I’m not ready,” she said.
“Just think about staying,” he said. “Everything else—let it mellow till you’re ready.”
“It should be at least a year before I make any decisions that could affect me permanently. I have to adjust to this life. This life of being a regular citizen.”
“Then stay a year,” he said. “There are places to rent here just like the city.”
“Aw, shit, let’s just make out,” she said.
“I’m down with that,” he said.
“And don’t try to be cool!”
* * *
Krista and Jake kissed themselves blind for about an hour. A little touching was added, a great deal of pushing and moving against each other, and she could sense the promise of how loving and satisfying making love with him could be. But not today, not in his sister’s hayloft. They reluctantly let go of each other, mostly because Krista needed a bathroom.
“You can use the house bathroom. The door is never locked.”
“Really? Is that wise?”
“No problems so far. The dogs bark when there’s company, remember.”
“And here’s dear Lucy,” she said. “She waited!”
“Told you.” He slid an arm around her waist and led her to the house. He opened the back door for her and she immediately jumped back.
“Hello?” Zoe said, turning from the sink.
“Hey, Zo,” he said, smiling at his sister. “I didn’t know you were home!” Then he went to her, kissing her cheek. She was almost as tall as him. She wore nurse’s scrubs and white tennis shoes.
“I came home a little early. What are you doing here?”
“Just knocking around the farm. This is Krista, my girlfriend.”
Zoe grinned and dried her hands on a dish towel. She stretched out a hand toward Krista, who had suddenly turned shy way down to her toes. “Girlfriend, is it?” she said with a chuckle. “How do you do!”
Krista muttered a greeting.
“We just came in to borrow the bathroom before heading back to Waseka,” he said. “It’s right around the corner,” he told Krista, giving her a little shove in that direction. “Ladies first.”
Krista didn’t really have a chance to look around, so stunned was she at running right into Jake’s sister. She hadn’t even had a chance to prepare herself! And then to be called a girlfriend? It was all a little much.
It was an attractive little bathroom, decorated to look like a Victorian powder room. So pretty. And like new. From the outside it looked like a very old house. She’d barely glanced at the kitchen and it appeared new. Jake’s sister must have remodeled.
She could hear them talking and laughing out there. Krista looked in the mirror. Her lips were ruby from kissing, her cheeks flushed. She had a six-inch stalk of hay in her hair. Dear God! She pulled it out and tossed it in the trash can. Then she plucked it out of the trash and tucked it into her pocket, hiding the evidence. Maybe Zoe hadn’t seen it.
Back in the kitchen she found that Zoe had a large basket of vegetables she was washing in her big sink, setting them out to dry on a dish towel on the counter. Gloriously bright colored tomatoes, squash, green beans, cucumbers, scallions, peppers and a colander full of leafy greens.
“My turn,” Jake said, leaving Krista in the kitchen.
“Your vegetable garden is beautiful,” Krista said.
“Thank you. I cheat a little bit—Richard or one of the guys tends it more than I do. I’m pretty busy with work and the grandkids.”
“I think you have everything growing out there. A real farmer’s garden.”
“I hope you’ll stay for dinner. Most of it’s coming out of the garden. I put a pork loin in the slow cooker with a couple of potatoes and onions. Richard needs his meat!”
“I’m sorry, I told my cousins I’d be back by dinner.”
Jake was back so quickly it was like he’d never gone. “Krista’s cousin has been battling cancer,” he said. He dropped an arm over Krista’s shoulders. “Is it okay to say that?” he asked a bit after the fact.
“Yes. Yes, sure. It’s not a secret. Breast cancer,” she said. “She’s been fighting a long time—four years now. She’s so happy to be at the lake house for the summer. She’s looking a little better.”
“You must be filled with hope,” she said. “We’ll add her to our prayers.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Since you can’t stay, will you at least raid the garden
? It’s all such good, tasty stuff. And here it is August! We only have another month or six weeks left before fall.”
“I love the fall,” Krista said. “I don’t want summer to end but I can’t wait to see the leaves change color.”
“Where are you from, Krista?”
“Originally, Saint Paul. But I’ve spent the last twenty-three years in California.”
“Well, fall in the Sierras is glorious but our falls are pretty amazing, too, if you remember. Jake, you have to take her to Stillwater! The changing leaves along the Saint Croix River beat everything.” She pulled a grocery bag out of a drawer and handed it to her. “Let’s go pick, should we?”
“That’s very generous of you,” she said.
“I’m happy to thin the garden a little. And tell your cousin it’s all organic—no pesticides or fertilizer. We make our own mulch.” She grabbed a big knife out of her drawer. “Come on—I think I saw a great big broccoli flower just begging to be cut.”
Krista followed her, listening while she chattered away happily. She was a very attractive woman in her fifties, her close-cropped light brown hair streaked with blond. She had those same blue McAllister eyes and they danced happily; her slim arched brows were so expressive. Her smile was infectious.
“Here we go,” she said, lopping off a couple of broccoli stalks. She handed Krista the knife and pulled a pair of scissors out of the pocket of her scrubs. “Bandage scissors will do—I don’t want to go back inside and find a proper pair.” She cut about three inches off the top of leaf lettuce and romaine. “You need beans and tomatoes and scallions to finish a salad. And how about some of the yellow hook-neck squash? It’s still young and so delicious. Jake? Get me another bag! You’re not leaving here without at least two big zucchinis. Every day I see another one as big as a horse’s leg. Steam it with a great big onion.” She dug around and pulled one out of the ground. “Throw in some mushrooms and garlic—but you’re on your own for that. I don’t grow either. Would you like some flowers for your table?”
“That would be so nice...”
