by Kim Law
“You’re not really going to continue pouting once we get up to the house, are you?”
He fired a glare at her. “I am not pouting.”
“Snarling?”
His jaws clenched. “I’m furious.”
“Ah.” She gave a nod, her mood seeming only to elevate the further his went downhill. “Furious isn’t a verb, though,” she mused. “And that’s what I was going for. Maybe the correct word would be—”
“There is no issue with me and my dad.”
“Denial.” She nodded her head. “There’s an excellent word. Though it’s not a verb, either.”
“Arsula.”
She shot him an accommodating smile as she continued the trek up the driveway. “Yes, Jaden?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree here, and you need to stop. If there were a problem between my dad and me, don’t you think I’d be aware of it?”
“You mean, because you’ve gone to school for recognizing such things?”
“I mean, because I saw a counselor of my own for years. My father and I are fine.”
“Yet your denial is great.”
Her calm reply sent his mind into a tailspin, taking it back several years to the time when he had met with someone regularly. When they’d talked about everything under the sun, and “how it had made him feel.” And for the life of him, he couldn’t recall a specific conversation where they’d traversed the depths of his and his father’s relationship.
He was positive they had, though. Everyone in their family had been affected by his mother’s behavior. Yet . . .
It didn’t matter. He understood himself better than anyone.
“There is no issue,” he repeated, this time at a more acceptable range, and then he forced himself to take in the glimpses of the lake the path provided instead of looking at her.
“Then will you prove it to me?”
He gritted his teeth. She never let up.
“Why should I have to?”
“Because I asked you to? Because I worry about you?”
Because she was convinced she could help?
He mulishly kept his gaze focused straight ahead. It wasn’t that he was resistant to considering approaches other than those he practiced for solving personal struggles. He was a progressive guy. There was always more than one way to approach a problem. He just didn’t happen to buy into her actually being able to “help” people. Just like she couldn’t really “read” dreams.
She’d likely studied about dreams, sure. And therefore could pass for someone who had some knowledge on the subject. Because yeah . . . the subconscious worked on issues during sleep. He knew that. He didn’t dispute that. He just didn’t base his work off it.
His was more a humanistic approach than psychodynamic.
“Will you just humor me?” she asked now. She stopped the car a hundred feet before they got to the house, and she turned in her seat. She faced him, same as she’d done when they’d pulled off the road earlier, and something in her tone made him consider it.
It made him wonder—briefly—if she could be onto something.
He refused to accept that as a possibility, though, but he also refused to stay on the subject any longer. So he steered the conversation back to where he wanted it. “If I prove you wrong, you have to agree to kiss me again.”
Her shoulders went stiff. “What? No. That has nothing to do with this.”
“Yet that’s the deal on the table.” He eyed her, silently praying she’d say yes. All he’d thought about since she’d run away from his room the other morning was kissing her again.
And maybe doing more.
“But I don’t want to kiss . . .” She trailed off as her eyes lowered to his mouth, and he expected the windows to begin to fog over any minute.
“I think you do.” He might not believe in intuition, but he could read desire in a woman’s eyes. “And possibly you want it as badly as I do.”
“Jaden.”
He dipped his head and looked over the rim of his glasses at her. “Arsula.”
She let out a frustrated groan. “You just broke up with Megan. Have you forgotten that? More kissing at this point seems like it would be a very bad idea.”
“More kissing would never be a bad idea,” he corrected. “Ever. But okay, I can concede your point. So then tell me, what would be an acceptable time frame to wait before I do kiss you again?”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, then she turned away from him and stared in the direction of the lake. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “A month, maybe?”
He laughed at that. A full-on, throaty chuckle at the absurdity that he could sit around for the next month and not try to kiss her. “Guess again, Lula-bell.”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “I’m just trying to be sensible, Jaden. I’m not sure it would be wise for either one of us. I don’t want you to confuse your feelings for Megan—”
“Past feelings.”
“—with me.”
He reached over and put a finger under her chin when she once again turned away from him, and he brought her face around to his. Her eyes stared back, wide and with more than a hint of fear, and her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. “I am not confused,” he assured her. “You can take that to the bank. I’m okay with the breakup. And I can decipher what I’m feeling for you from what I felt for her.”
The statement was factual. He could decipher the difference. He just wasn’t yet sure what it was that he felt for her. Attraction, for sure.
Like? He mentally nodded. He definitely liked her.
He also had no doubt that he wanted to better explore whatever this was between them.
“Then maybe I’m just not ready yet,” she admitted, and with no hesitation, he accepted her answer.
“Then I’ll give you some time.”
It went left unsaid how much time or when either of them might know when she was ready, and she put the car back into gear. The full expanse of the lake came into view as she rounded the last curve—as well as his dad and Gloria, waiting on the back deck—and Jaden made eye contact with Arsula. “They knew we were coming?”
“Of course. It would be rude not to call first.”
“Of course,” he muttered.
“Gloria is also feeding us lunch. She insisted, although I assured her Nate has plans for you two to grab something after your appointment with Dr. Wangler.”
“I suppose I’ll just have to play nice and eat lunch twice, then.” And he was surprised to learn that she and Nate had apparently been talking. Was he in on this trip, too?
He didn’t say anything else as they pulled to a stop, but he also didn’t let it go that Arsula had “forced” him out here. Nor was he fully ready to forgive her yet.
At the same time, he also found himself no longer quite as upset about it.
“Welcome,” his dad called out as they opened their doors.
“What a pleasure to have company,” Gloria added. She hurried down the steps as he unwedged himself from Arsula’s car. “And Jaden”—she held out her hands, as if waiting for him to take them—“it’s so good to see you out and about. Your dad is thrilled, too. Aren’t you, Max?” She looked back at his dad, who hadn’t followed her down the steps.
“Absolutely. Come on up. The both of you.”
Jaden had the thought that if his dad was so thrilled to see him, then he could have stopped by over the past two and a half weeks and seen him all he wanted. After all, there had been plenty of chances. Gloria had come by with food no fewer than four times.
They made it to the deck, and Jaden indicated for Arsula to precede him up before he began the battle of cast versus stairs. But instead of immediately following her, he cast a look toward the lake. The view from here was gorgeous. It always took his breath away, no matter how recent or how distant his last visit had been.
He’d been fortunate to have been able to grow up here, he knew. And he was fortunate to have a stake in the busines
s. He understood that, too. And he loved coming back to help during the harvest every year. It was one of the few family traditions they’d had before Nick and Dani had begun family dinners and game night a couple of years before. Yet all that being said, he was also the one who’d been most willing to sell when they’d found themselves without a sibling willing to run the orchard. It hadn’t been that big a deal to him.
As he stood there taking it all in, though, he understood that to be untrue. Selling off their reason to live in this town would hurt. He fully believed that. So then, why the easy acceptance when it had first come up?
And why had he so adamantly refused to recuperate here when he’d gotten injured?
His brother’s prodding on that very subject came to mind. What was different now?
Other than a broken ankle, he still had no clear answer to that.
Bringing his attention back to the group, he found three pairs of eyes watching him. His father stood at the railing where he’d been since Jaden had first caught sight of him, Arsula waited at the top of the five steps, seemingly ready to come back down if he needed her, and Gloria remained at his side, a hesitantly expectant smile on her face.
“Would you mind holding these?” he asked, holding his crutches out to Gloria. He hadn’t attacked more than a small step up since the accident, but with handrails, the job was handled by hoisting himself up.
They moved into the house, and the feeling of being home washed over him. This was the home he’d grown up in, and though it held plenty of bad memories, it also held good ones. And the only reason he hadn’t wanted to stay here was because he hadn’t wanted to be a bother. Period.
His brother was wrong. Arsula was wrong. There was nothing different this time other than his being hurt.
“How are the trees doing, Max?” Arsula asked as Gloria led them across the room. “Are they going to make it, do you think?”
Jaden looked from Arsula to his dad. What was she talking about?
“If this weather holds, we’ll find out soon,” his dad replied. The temperatures had hit midsixties the day before and looked to remain there for a while. “Everything will start waking up, probably this week, and then we’ll know.”
“Why are you worried about the trees?” Jaden asked. They reached the table, and Gloria murmured for them to sit as she continued to the stove. “Isn’t it rare that we lose more than a few every year?”
“I’m only worried about the new ones,” his dad explained. “The pick-your-own lot.”
Gloria cleared her throat as she placed a bowl of potato soup and a sandwich in front of Jaden, and she patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t let your dad kid you. He’s worried about every tree. I wake up alone most mornings these days because your dad is out there before dawn, checking on things.”
“What’s to check on right now?” Before the trees came out of dormancy, daily inspections would accomplish nothing. “And why go out before daylight at all?”
“Can’t be lax, son,” his dad chastised. “Got a business to run.”
Jaden didn’t appreciate the scorn. In fact, the implication that he didn’t know how to be responsible flat out pissed him off. He was twenty-five years old. Too old for his father to suddenly want to play father of the year.
He realized that Arsula had grown completely still as he’d sat there and stewed over his father’s condescension, and he caught her watching him now. In a way that made him feel she could see things that no one else could. He stared at his bowl of soup, not wanting to even guess at what she might think she saw.
The subject of trees was dropped, and Arsula shifted her attention from him back to his father, while Jaden hung back from the conversation. He wasn’t willing to be called on the carpet again, so he took the moments while the other three talked to refamiliarize himself with the changes that had taken place since he’d been a kid. Until Gloria had moved in, the place had remained a shrine to his mother. Carol Wilde had died, Dani had come home from college, and everyone had carried on for years as if the woman herself were still alive and kicking. It had been more than unhealthy as a family unit, but they couldn’t go back in time and reverse things.
Thankfully, the error of their ways had finally come to light.
The cane Dani had mentioned caught his eye, propped by the fireplace just as she’d said. As if merely there for décor. He studied it, noting the clear path from it to his dad’s favorite chair, and the worry that he’d refused to acknowledge tried to take hold.
“Max! Let me—” The crash of a dish interrupted Gloria’s words, and Jaden found his dad now out of his seat, one hand grasping the countertop and his empty soup bowl shattered into pieces around his feet. Gloria hurried to his side.
“I’m sorry,” his dad said under his breath. “I was just trying to help.” Embarrassment seemed to envelop him, making the once strong man seem feeble beyond his years, and his hand shook as he reached down for one of the larger pieces of the bowl.
“Honey.” Gloria pulled his dad back upright and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You know I appreciate the help, but you sit. I’ve got this.” She didn’t wait for agreement, just helped him back to his seat, while Arsula grabbed a handful of paper towels to sweep up the shards.
Jaden just sat there.
His gaze bounced between his dad and Gloria as she and Arsula worked to clean up the mess. And what he saw was his dad, face drawn and looking far too much like a man needing to be put to bed for a rest, while Gloria tossed more than one worried glance his way. And the worry in those glances wasn’t something to sneeze at.
Dani had been right. Something was going on with their dad.
But what? And why wouldn’t he just tell them about it?
“Are you okay, Dad?”
Arsula and Gloria looked at him.
His dad did not. He swiped at a drop of soup he’d discovered on his sleeve. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
He did sound normal, at least.
“No reason, I suppose.” Jaden glanced at the cane once again. It wasn’t meant for décor, he was certain. “Just a feeling I had.”
The statement earned him a quick smile from Gloria, though he felt the move to be as forced as his dad’s intentional avoidance. “I see time spent with Arsula is wearing off on you,” she teased. “Here you are, listening to your gut.”
“No.” He eyed Arsula. “I still listen to facts.”
He just wasn’t sure what the facts were at the moment.
He also wasn’t sure what Arsula seemed to be keying in on as she quietly studied his father. Nor if he wanted to ask her later and find out.
“It’s my gut that’s talking to me about the trees,” his dad added as if they were still on the subject of the orchard, and Jaden decided that whatever had just happened—or not happened, he could totally be blowing it out of proportion—nothing good would come from beating it over the head during lunch.
He dug back into his soup. “Yeah, well the only thing my gut tells me is when it’s hungry.”
They finished the meal in relative calm and easy conversation, and he and Arsula had barely gotten the doors closed on her car when Jaden turned to her. “Are you happy now? Just as I told you, we’re as normal as anyone else. There are no issues between me and my dad, and now you’ve seen it for yourself.”
He puckered his lips on the hope she’d take him up on the kiss. And that she wouldn’t bring up any concerns about his dad in particular.
She started the engine instead. “Are you sure about that?”
His expression dropped. The woman could certainly dig in her heels. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m positive. What could you possibly have seen in there to think I’m wrong?”
“I don’t know. It was a feeling mostly.”
He groaned in disgust.
She didn’t put the car into gear, nor seem to care that they remained within eyesight of his dad. And that was fine with him. He didn’t care, either. He wanted to get his point made before she had
time to come up with yet another argument to contradict him.
Reaching over, he took her hand in his. “Arsula. Honey. You’re sweet and well meaning. You are. But I don’t believe in ‘gifts,’ okay? And you’re not going to convince me otherwise.”
“Honey?” She’d ripped her hand from his the second the word passed his lips.
Clearly, it had hit the mark.
“Then I guess you also wouldn’t like hearing that I dreamed about your dad last night?” she spat out. “Or that I’m now certain there’s something wrong with him.”
He rolled his eyes at her announcement, an action he typically detested. And he didn’t bother asking what the dream might have been about. “Would you just stop already? It was just a dream. We all have them. I brought my dad up in conversation the other morning, so he was on your mind. Thus . . . your dream.”
“True, he was on my mind. And that also likely played into why he showed up. But whether you believe in me or not, I do. And though there is nothing yet concrete enough to point at, it’s not uncommon for me to wake from dreams involving those I care about. And those dreams are often warnings of problems to come.”
“So now you’re a fortune-teller?” He laughed, and he knew the sound came out as cruel—he’d meant for it to—but he felt bad when Arsula jerked back as if struck.
“Something is going on with your dad, Jaden. And you feel it, too. I saw that in there.”
“But I don’t have to dream it to feel it.”
“But it’s not wrong if I do.”
They stared at each other, both in a stalemate, and the thing was, he didn’t even know why he was arguing. She was right. He’d felt it. He’d even said he felt it. And that made no sense to him, because he didn’t “feel” things. Not like this. Present him with an honest-to-God fact, and he’d be the biggest supporter or defender in the world. But intuition?
Not hardly.
“Back off your refusal to see me as legit for a minute, will you? And hear what I’m about to say.” Arsula cocked her head and waited until he nodded in agreement, and then she continued. “I need you to stop, Jaden. With all of it. Today. And I’m not kidding in the least. I don’t run around telling you you’re wrong all the time. Laughing in your face. I give your opinions credence and consideration. Always. Even when I also think you’re full of crap.”
