Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  As the sun warmed the eastern sky, Chet pulled into Vicky and Brad’s house to pick up the mower. It was time to cut hay. This was the day he’d been waiting for. The purple flowers had burst open, and if he cut now, he could have it sold within two weeks. The rushed schedule gave him just enough time for the check to clear his account for the July mortgage payment. Well aware that if he fell behind he’d never catch up, Chet worked as hard as anyone just to keep his head above water. As long as they didn’t get a freak summer storm, he could do this. In the predawn light, he felt the stirrings of possibilities burning in his gut.

  Chet had the latest Tom Clancy novel downloaded, his ear buds set in place, and a long day of anticipating his date with Mercedes. This was the kind of day that he looked forward to, and it reminded him why he enjoyed ranching. What other job allowed a man to listen to books while he worked?

  Andy burst out of the house at the sound of Chet’s John Deere and took position to the left of the mower, waving her hand to direct Chet as he backed up toward the hitch. Chet was so proud of her. How many six-year-olds could do that?

  They had it locked on in a matter of minutes.

  Brad stepped out on the porch and waved at Chet to come in. Chet cut the engine and climbed the front steps. The house smelled like blueberry pancakes. Chet followed the sound of children digging into breakfast and ended up in the kitchen.

  Vicky handed him a plate. “We just said grace. You’d better get some before they’re gone.”

  Chet leaned over Andy to snag a couple. They way these kids ate, Vicky had to triple the batch.

  Brad sat at the head of the table. “Did ya get hooked up?” He poured a glass of orange juice for himself and a half glass for Andy.

  Chet drizzled homemade syrup over his pancakes. “Good to go. I’ll have it back to you this afternoon.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  Chet studied his pancakes.

  “I’ll bet he wants to get done fast so he can visit with his new neighbor.” Rhett leaned back in his chair and shoved a half a pancake in his mouth.

  Chet chuckled. He shoved down another bite.

  “What gives?” Vicky pressed.

  “I, uh, I have a date.”

  “Nice.” Rhett offered him a fist bump. “You hooking up with Boston?”

  Vicky smacked the back of Rhett’s head.

  “It’s just dinner.” Chet worked to keep his face smooth. No sense letting Rhett know he’d ruffled a few feathers. He shoveled in the last few bites of pancakes and rinsed his plate in the sink.

  “I think it’s great.” Vicky set a fresh pitcher of orange juice on the table and Rhett snatched it up. She set her dishes in the sink. “I’ll follow you out.”

  “See ya,” Chet called over his shoulder.

  “Bye!” Andy yelled.

  Vicky threw her arm around Chet’s neck. Not an easy feat, considering she was six inches shorter than him and Chet had to lean over to accommodate her. “All right, little brother, normally I stay out of your business, but I feel like it’s time to pass on some words of wisdom.”

  The last time Vicky gave him some “words of wisdom” was when Chet was learning to drive. Chet ended up rebuilding Pastor John’s picket fence and replanting two flower beds. Even though it was her advice that had Chet plowing through the pastor’s yard, Vicky got out of it all by getting engaged to Brad and spending her time planning their wedding.

  Chet folded his arms and planted his feet. He wasn’t a dumb fifteen-year-old anymore. Whatever Vicky had to say, he’d take it with an ocean’s worth of salt.

  “I saw you two together the other night. Mercy is different from the girls around here. You’re going to have to work harder to impress her.”

  Chet relaxed his stance. He’d worried about the same thing.

  “Get done early and get that truck cleaned—inside and out. Wear your best jeans, but don’t put on church clothes; you’ll look like you’re trying too hard.”

  Chet nodded. His stomach started to ache. What if he screwed things up tonight … embarrassed himself beyond redemption?

  “And don’t bring up any of your Cliff Clavin factoids. Girls don’t care about Chinese burial practices or Mayan harvesting techniques. Talk about normal things.”

  Chet rubbed his gut. “Thanks, Vicky.” He climbed onto the tractor.

  “No trouble. Hey, if this works out, you can name your first daughter after me.”

  “It’s just one date!" Chet yelled as he started the engine.

  Vicky raised her hand to say goodbye instead of yelling over the noise.

  Chet did the same. He turned the wheel and headed toward his small hay field.

  Vicky was right. He should get done early and clean his truck out. It was best to put his best foot forward. He rubbed his gut again; Vicky’s pancakes were sitting awfully heavy. Who was he kidding? No way was the stomachache from the pancakes; it was Vicky’s advice to talk about things girls liked that weighed on him. How was he supposed to know what Mercedes was interested in besides power tools and painting?

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Chet put the tractor in neutral and jumped down to open the gate. Once the mower cleared the posts, he did the same thing once again, only this time he shut the gate behind him. He looked around and decided he was completely alone. Folding his arms, he offered up a prayer for guidance.

  “Dear Lord, I’m fit to be tied over going out with Mercedes tonight. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. If you could give me a little extra help, don’t let me screw it up, I’d be very thankful.” Chet paused, giving the Lord time to answer. When the tension in his stomach relaxed, he took a deep breath. It always left him humble to feel the Lord answer his prayers. Sometimes it was as simple as a sense of peace; other times he felt prompted to act or hold back.

  There was something else weighing on his mind, and he decided now was as good of a time as any to lay it at the Lord’s feet. He explained his financial situation, knowing full well that he wasn’t divulging any new information to the Lord, before presenting the dilemma he felt over the cell tower. After saying it all out loud, he realized the cell tower sounded like an easy answer to all his problems, which worried him all the more. In his experience, there were no easy answers. After a pause, he felt prompted to discuss it with his dad. Closing the prayer, he shook his head. It would be several days before he could get in touch with Dad. Until then, he had a field to mow, a truck to wash, and a date with the prettiest girl he’d ever met.

  Cat drove slowly because Mercedes’s head still hurt. She’d never made it to the kitchen for ibuprofen.

  “What do you want to do about your date?” asked Cat. “After the whole IFA thing …”

  Mercedes threw her arms in the air. “I can’t cancel. He’ll think I’m playing tug-of-war with his emotions. Do guys really have feelings like that, or is that just a girl thing?”

  Cat shook her head. “Yes, guys have feelings. I think they call it ‘pride’ though.”

  “Well, if I cancel now it will hurt Chet’s pride. That would be two strikes against me, and no amount of cookies would get him to ask me out again. I’ll be relegated to ‘friend’ status.”

  They reached the outskirts of civilization and Mercy slid down in her seat. No sense scaring the locals with her new look.

  “Look on the bright side,” said Cat as she pulled into the parking lot. “That big bump would scare off Sam once and for all—maybe we should stop at the feed store before we leave town.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

  Cat pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. “Come on, let’s go find out just how big of a freak you’re going to be.”

  Mercedes smirked and followed Cat through the front door. Even though she talked about backing out on her date, she didn’t really want to. “If I look like a monster, Chet may not want to be seen in public with me. Maybe we could invite him to dinner? I’ll cook.”

  “With me as a third wheel? Sorry, sis, that’
s as bad as canceling the date.”

  Cat checked her in and gathered the insurance and new patient forms from the receptionist. They went to the waiting area. When Mercedes turned to sit in a chair, the room spun. She gripped the edge of her seat. “Who am I kidding? I’ll be lucky to get dressed halfway decent before he picks me up.”

  “If the doctor clears you to go.”

  “A doctor’s note would be a good reason to cancel.”

  Cat patted her knee. “Let’s wait and see what he says.”

  “Mercedes,” called a nurse.

  “Coming.”

  After taking her vital signs, the nurse got the doctor. When he entered, Mercedes was surprised to find he was young. By the look of the aged building, she expected the doctor to be just as old.

  After a quick introduction, he asked, “Is this your first bee sting?”

  “No, I was stung a week ago. It did swell up, but not this bad.” She pointed to the place where Chet had removed the stinger.

  The doctor’s warm fingers probed both sides of her neck at the same time. “It’s still a little swollen. Did it get as big as the one on your forehead?”

  “No.”

  He huffed. “Your reactions are increasing in intensity. You may be developing an allergy.”

  “Developing? I thought you were either allergic or you weren’t,” said Cat.

  “That’s a common belief. However, it usually takes at least one exposure to a toxin for your body to develop the allergy. The next time you’re exposed, you experience an allergic reaction.” He wiggled the mouse and cleared away the screen saver on his computer. “I’m going to write you a prescription for Benadryl and an EpiPen. Take the medicine today and keep the pen with you. If you get stung again and have trouble breathing, use the pen and go to the emergency room.”

  Mercedes nodded. It didn’t sound too bad. “Will the medicine help the swelling go down?”

  “It might. The fluid may also drain and puddle elsewhere.”

  Mercy’s hands flew to her face. “Like where?”

  “Like around your eye. It should be reabsorbed into your body in five to seven days.” He started typing. “Your prescriptions are out front. Call me if you have any more trouble.” With a nod, he was out the door.

  Mercy flopped over on the exam table. “What a disaster.” Coming home from Chet’s last night, she was beyond thrilled at the way things had turned out. “Chet will think I’m some kind of monster—baiting him with cookies and then turning into the Girl from Misfit Island. I might as well grow hair on my back and howl at the moon.”

  Cat let out a howl that probably had the receptionist worried, and then burst into giggles.

  Mercedes chuckled. “You’re insane.”

  “Let’s go home and Google bangs. Maybe we can get yours to swoop over this half of your face.”

  “That’s fine.” Mercedes got up, and they wandered out to pick up her prescriptions. “But then we need to fix the sink and build the railing.”

  “Be careful with that antihistamine, hon,” said the receptionist. “It can make you drowsy.”

  “Thanks.”

  They stopped at the mom-and-pop drug store to fill the prescriptions and then went home. Mercy decided to hold off on taking the medicine so she could work with Cat.

  That afternoon, she took a long soak in warm water before realizing she hadn’t taken her pills yet. She read the bottle twice, took one pill, and then worked to get her bangs to lie across her face. By the time Chet knocked on the door, she was so nervous she wanted to throw up. If she could just get through the next ten minutes and explain the situation, she was sure the rest of the evening would go well.

  Chapter 14

  Chet wiped his palms down the front of his pants before knocking on the door. He glanced over his shoulder at his shiny and freshly vacuumed truck and smiled. He was ready. Vicky’s advice still rubbed at the back of his mind, but he hung on to the peace he’d found praying in the hay field for strength.

  The door swung open, and Mercedes stood before him. She wore a teal sun dress with a white, light-weight sweater. A dainty charm hung on a thin chain accentuating her long neck. Her hair was down and swooped across half her face … her eyes—or rather eye, as he could only see one, was puffy.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  She gaped. “Yeah, you look … clean!”

  Chet laughed and ran his hand through his still damp hair. “I guess a shower does a man some good, huh?”

  “I’ll say.” Mercedes blushed and ducked her head. “Now I feel like a total freak.”

  “Why?”

  She brushed her hair away from her face and lifted her chin to the light.

  Chet gasped. He didn’t mean to, and he probably shouldn’t have, but the whole left side of her face, from her forehead to her cheek was swollen. Her usually bright eye was swollen halfway shut. He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Is that from the bee?”

  She nodded. A look of vulnerability crossed her face.

  A feeling of deep responsibility rose up inside Chet. Mercedes was obviously worried about how she looked; but more importantly, she cared about his reaction to her predicament. Just a few careless words could truly hurt her, and he had a desire to protect her from any pain. He once more brushed her cheek with his fingers and said, “Mercedes, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, with or without a bee sting.”

  She sighed, and the worry lines on her face disappeared. “You don’t mind going out with Quasimodo’s sister?”

  Chet chuckled. “If she was as wonderful as you, I would jump at the chance, Mercedes.”

  “You can call me Mercy. Everyone else does.”

  “Yeah, but I love the name Mercedes,” he said as he offered her his arm. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  Mercedes ducked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t mind.”

  Mercedes called goodnight to Cat and shut the door behind them. Once in the truck, she relaxed against the seat, her eyes drooping shut.

  Chet put the keys in the ignition but didn’t start the car. “You’re not going to fall asleep already, are you? Vicky said not to bore you, but I thought we’d make it through dinner before you nodded off.”

  He kept his voice light, but under the teasing was the fear that Vicky was right. He’d never had a girlfriend for longer than a couple of months. Things tended to fizzle out when girls learned how much time he had to spend taking care of the ranch. It wasn’t that he didn’t prioritize his private life, but there were responsibilities he couldn’t ignore.

  “Sorry.” She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle a yawn. “It must be the Benadryl taking effect. The doctor said it could make me drowsy.”

  Chet dropped his hand away from the keys. “Do you want to cancel?”

  “No!” Mercedes bolted up, her eyes wide. “I’ve been looking forward to spending more time with you. I might just need a minute for this to work through my system.”

  “Okay,” Chet said, relieved.

  Granny’s Diner wasn’t close, but it was a place where they could talk without interruption. Big C’s would be full of teens, and Tina’s would be full of their parents. Since he didn’t want to spend the night introducing Mercedes to half of Snow Valley, Granny’s was the place to go.

  Chet asked about her art, and Mercedes described some of her favorite paintings.

  She stifled another yawn. “I’ve always wanted to have my own art show. It’s a lot of work to break into the right circles. Plus, you have to constantly produce new paintings, which is hard to do when you have a sixty-hour-a-week job.”

  “Have you painted lately?” Chet wondered if she’d started the painting of him, but he was too embarrassed to ask. He’d never had anyone want to paint him before. It was a strange concept ... but with Mercedes, it didn’t seem strange at all.

  Mercedes frowned. “No ...” She shook her head as if she needed to
clear it. “I’m sorry, what was I talking about?”

  Chet steered the truck onto the highway. “Painting.”

  “Oh, right. Well …”

  Chet tried to study Mercedes without her knowing he was studying her as she recounted the same information about wanting to have her own show with only a few variations. Did she really not remember telling him this already? She finished her narrative and giggled, pressing her fingers to her lips.

  “What’s funny?” he asked, hoping they were on firmer ground.

  “You clean up good.” She laughed.

  Chet tipped his head to the side. “Why is that funny?”

  “You know the phrase—he cleans up good?”

  Chet nodded.

  “I just noticed you don’t have any dirt under your fingernails, which means you did a good job cleaning up, but you’re also totally hot in your clean shirt and pants, plus, you smell nice—so you also clean up good.” She laughed so hard she fell against the door.

  Chet rubbed the back of his neck. Flattering as it may be to be called ‘hot’ by his date, he didn’t feel right keeping Mercedes out when she was having a reaction to her medication. “Maybe I should take you home to rest.”

  “Nooooooo.” She sat up and placed a hand on his arm, sending a jolt straight to his heart and warming his chest. “I promised Cat I would be nice to you so she could borrow your bucket and I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. Cat rushed me to the doctor first thing and then we worked all the way up until I got in the shower. I’m good. I just feel a little fuzzy. But that could be because I haven’t eated … aten … eaten!” Her eyes lit up when she found the right word.

  Chet shook his head. The bucket thing threw him off, but he was more worried about Mercedes’s mental health at the moment than her motives for being nice to him. “Let’s go eat, and if you’re still feeling fuzzy, we’ll take you home,” he said as he pulled into Granny’s parking lot.