Domino, sound asleep on his blanket, let out a snuffle.
Zach had chosen something that didn’t include Border collies. Or fruit trees in bloom.
Jo drifted past him toward Sierra. “Need a hand?”
“Sure, if you’d like to get the biscuits out, that’d be great.” Sierra lifted the cast iron Dutch oven and carried it to a trivet on the table.
Zach’s stomach grumbled. Whatever Sierra had put in there — even if it turned out to be tofu — would be mighty tasty.
Jo popped open the oven and rescued a baking pan then deftly transferred them to a platter while Sierra dished up bowls of the stew.
The tantalizing aroma wafted closer. “Wow, you’re spoiling me. You went all out here.”
Sierra frowned at him. “All out? This is pretty basic. Even I can barely mess up stew.” She passed a bowl to him.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance. All the right mixes of meat and vegetables and seasoning. Even Claire, no matter her reputation, could hardly improve on this. Or maybe it had been too long since Zach had spent hours working up an appetite in the sunshine.
A little clink and the aroma of baking powder biscuits joined the stew.
“Would you like to ask the blessing?”
Zach’s eyes flew open and he focused on Sierra, who’d spoken. “Um. Sure.” He closed his eyes again. Where to begin? How long had it been since he’d thanked God for anything? Couldn’t announce that in front of these women, though. “Dear Lord, thank you for this good food and the hands that have prepared it. Please bless it in Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen,” the women agreed.
When he looked up again, Jo passed him the biscuit platter and he helped himself to three. A dish of butter followed. Zach tucked into his meal, as tasty as it smelled. For a few minutes the only sound to be heard was the scraping of spoons in bowls.
Sierra turned to him. “Was your grandmother a quilter?”
What brought that on?
At his puzzled look, Sierra added, “Oh, I wondered if she was the one responsible for the quilt on your mom’s swing. And the one airing on her clothesline.”
Ah, those. “She did some, but mostly out of old clothes. My mom is really into it, though. She loves all the colors and designs and stuff.”
Sierra beamed. “I’ve always wanted to take it up. Maybe now that we’re living out in the country I’ll have time. Think she’d be willing to teach me?”
A slight movement from Jo caught Zach’s attention but, when he looked, her focus was on her food. He turned back to Sierra. “I don’t see why not. She’s part of a club that makes quilts for orphanages in Romania. You’ve met Gabe, at Nature’s Pantry?”
Sierra nodded.
“His parents retired early and went over there as missionaries.”
She leaned forward. “Oh, that is so cool! That would be even better than making them for myself or my family.”
Claire laughed. “At least we wouldn’t have to look at your early attempts.”
Sierra scrunched up her face at her friend.
Zach leaned back, grinning. Who would have thought he’d enjoy talking about quilts around a meal with these women?
Jo pushed her half-eaten stew away.
Domino whimpered in his sleep. A light scratching sound on metal followed, and a wee thump.
Zach glanced up, trying to place it. No one else must have heard it, because they all seemed focused on their food.
Sierra set her glass of water down with unnecessary force.
Claire turned to him. “So, tell us about your job. I hear you’re a veterinarian?”
“Yes, that’s right. Just got my license to practice a few months ago.”
The scratching turned into a scuffle. Domino cocked his head.
Zach frowned. “What’s that sound?”
The pup whimpered, his gaze trained on the garbage can beside the stove.
The girls exchanged glances. “Sounds like we caught another mouse,” Jo said at last.
He hadn’t heard a snap. And dead mice didn’t scratch.
“We got a live trap.” She took a deep breath. “We weren’t catching enough of them with the kind you brought over.”
Enough of them? What on earth did that mean? “How many have you caught?”
She poked her spoon around her bowl. “We’ve…um…kind of lost track. Too many.”
Claire snorted. “And yet not enough.”
“Are they reproducing in here, or are more coming in from the fields?”
Jo spread her hands. “How would we know? We haven’t found any more nests.”
A good start, anyway. “Have you located their entry point, then?”
She looked at him blankly. “Um. Like where?”
“Around water pipes, maybe. Places like that.”
She shook her head. “We haven’t found any big gaps.”
“It doesn’t take much. They can squeeze through nearly anything.” Surely the girls had done a thorough inspection.
“Claire stuffed some insulation around the pipes under the sink.” Sierra poked a thumb in the direction of the counter.
“That won’t stop them. They’ll push right past fiberglass.”
“Then what?” Jo leaned her elbows on the table. “We can’t seem to get ahead of them.”
“Steel wool works. Of course there’s no insulating value to it, but they won’t chew through the metal wires or push against it.”
Claire raised her eyebrows. “Even if we block more from coming in, there are still a gazillion in here somewhere.”
“You need a cat.” Zach grinned. “Grandma had a fat old tom named George. He certainly kept pests under control.”
Sierra poked her chin across the table. “Jo says she’s allergic.”
“Well, I am!”
Zach had another bite of stew. Nearly gone, to his regret. “A lot of people who think they’re allergic can adapt to one they live with. How severe are your reactions?”
“I get stuffed up and sneezy.” Jo narrowed her gaze at him.
Oops, looked like he’d touched a sensitive spot. “You could have tests done. If you wanted.”
“We don’t want a cat anyway.” Claire shifted in her seat. “They get on the counters and stuff. I don’t want cat hair in my food any more than I want mice around.”
So much for Mom’s idea of foisting off some of Mindy’s kittens. He pushed his bowl away slightly. “That was a great supper. Thanks.”
“Oh, there’s more if you’re still hungry.” Sierra reached for the ladle. “And then there’s dessert.”
How could he resist?
**
She’d hate Sierra if they weren’t best friends. Quilting indeed. Jo had two left thumbs—she couldn’t vie with that if she tried. Her color sense was limited to whether plants looked a healthy green.
No point in dreaming about Zach, anyway. A cute guy competent on the farm and respectful to his mother only went so far. He’d be headed back to the city soon enough, and Jo’s life would go on the way she’d expected. Alone. Might as well keep it in mind.
When the meal ended and Claire began to clear off the table, Jo excused herself, grabbed her hoodie, and accompanied Domino outside. He ran circles around her while she made her way to the tire hanging from a branch of the elm across the yard.
Had Zach played on this swing as a child? Jo pushed off slightly with her feet, allowing the rope to twist the tire slowly.
In the distance, the sun sank toward the horizon and the waxing moon brightened overhead. The scent of freshly turned earth filled her nose as shadows stretched. An owl hooted up the hill, and another answered from down the valley. Domino zigzagged the ground, sniffing. She leaned over to scratch his silky ears when he came near.
Dear Lord, why? She’d thought she had come to terms with staying single. She didn’t need a man, a husband to make her happy. She had God, her girlfriends, and a chunk of land to grow food and demonstrate living gentl
y on the earth. The community house they’d soon start wasn’t the end-all. Each of them had plans for a cozy home of their own to build nearby. They’d help each other and keep living in community. Someday they’d have guests and students, people who’d want to emulate their lifestyle. Folks they could teach. None of that required getting married. She simply hadn’t planned on finding someone at this stage.
Besides, if Jo had to fall in love, why couldn’t she be logical about her choice? God knew if she picked a mate, he’d need to feel as she did about His green earth. Someone who shared her values, her faith, her passions. She didn’t have these things in common with Zachary Nemesek. There was little evidence of strong faith. Zach longed to return to the city. And as for passions…
He was falling for Sierra, like every other male on the planet. Jo was twenty-five years old and never been kissed by a guy who meant it. Unless she counted her grandfather.
The door to the trailer creaked open, revealing Zach silhouetted against the rectangle of light. Jo heard low voices and the door closed. He whistled for Domino and by some sort of instinct, Jo’s hand tightened on the pup’s collar. Domino whimpered.
Why had she held him? Juvenile move. She released him with a pat, and he shot off across the yard, only his white parts showing.
Jo twisted the tire swing, not wanting to strain her eyes as Zach and the pup walked down the driveway. Too dark to really see. Too pathetic to try. Tears burned in the back of her eyes. Stupid, stupid Josephine.
A warm, moist tongue licked her hand. She startled, clutching at the rope to prevent falling off the tire.
“Ah, that’s where you are.” Zach’s voice was surprisingly close. “I figured Domino would lead me to you.”
If he only knew. Jo hesitated, unsure of her voice, before rotating the tire back around. “Hey there.”
Zach climbed on the picnic table and sat with his boots on the plank seat, elbows on his knees. “Beautiful night.” His face glowed slightly in the moonlight and his hair gleamed. It looked soft, like Domino’s ears.
A flush crept up Jo’s neck and onto her cheeks. Good thing the shadow of the elm protected her from his gaze. “Yes,” she managed to say. “I love spring.”
He tilted his head, but his eyes remained in shadow. Was he looking at her? She couldn’t tell. “What about it appeals to you?”
“It’s like a promise. Seeds planted. Anything can grow.” Jo could have kicked herself. Nothing like playing with innuendo.
He sighed and tilted his head downward. In the outline of his posture Jo saw discouragement, not hope.
In a snap decision she stopped the tire swing and slid off. She climbed onto the picnic table, leaving plenty of space between them. “Spring doesn’t offer promises to you?”
He shrugged. “It’s been a rough few months. I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”
His family had been through so much with his father’s illness. “How so?” For a long moment, Jo didn’t think he’d answer.
“I thought I had a permanent position lined up for after my graduation. It, um, fell through.” He shifted on the table. “I’m headed into Coeur d’Alene later this week to follow up on some job leads with the hope my dad gets better soon.”
Right. And it wasn’t nice of her to pray to the contrary, but she could hardly help herself.
“That Guillain-Barré is a kicker.” His voice was so low she barely made out the words.
Had he received more news, worse news? “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”
“Depends what you mean by okay. The immunoglobulins halted the progress of the disease, but he’s not recovering quickly. It may be partly due to his age.” Zach shook his head. “He’ll be in physical therapy for a while. It may be months before he’s well again. If ever.”
A light breeze riffled through Jo’s hair, causing her to shiver even in her hoodie. “Then it’s a good thing for your folks that you were free to come home and help. God worked it out for them.”
Zach snorted. “That was nice of Him.”
He didn’t sound convinced, and she could understand why. She only half-believed it herself. Wasn’t it better to make a plan and pursue it to the finish line rather than wonder what secret meaning God had behind things?
“Sorry. I have trouble thanking God for messing up my dad’s health and making me lose my job, so I could help Mom. Sounds like backward assistance.”
Dear Lord, give me the words. “We often don’t see the whole picture. God has reasons we can’t understand.” At least that’s what everyone told her when things slid out of her clutching grasp.
Zach lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose. I was raised in the church. I’ve heard the lingo.” He paused for a moment, scratching Domino, who had his front paws on the bench between their feet. “How about you? Are you a Christian from way back?”
Her? He wanted to know about her? “I went to Sunday School when I was a kid living with my grandparents. My mom and I moved to California when I was ten and she married Brad.” Jo grimaced. “He wasn’t much interested in church.” Or anything that didn’t look like tremendous short-term profit. Forgetting Brad would make her happy. “Meeting Sierra in college helped me find my way back to God.” Nice one, Josephine Lynn. He hadn’t been talking about Sierra. Good of you to bring her up.
“How’d you wind up buying a farm here in the north panhandle? It’s not what I’d expect out of a group of beautiful young women.”
It’d been awhile since anyone called her beautiful. Not when Sierra was around. “We believe God wants Christians to demonstrate living in respect for the Earth He created for us. Everyone’s so interested in money and power.” Like her mom and Brad. “The planet can’t sustain all this commercialism for much longer. So few people know how to grow their own food and live simply on the land. We want to prove it can be done.”
He chuckled, and her blood rose. How dare he.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Jo. Trust me. Look at my folks. Their house is practically falling apart around their heads. They’ve been farming forever and getting nowhere. Dad had to take a job off the farm to make ends meet. I never want to be as poor as them.”
“We’re not afraid of hard work, Zach. We know what we’re up against. My grandparents farmed over the border in Canada. They taught me things worth having are worth fighting for.” Jo slid off the picnic table and stood there, hugging herself, missing her grandparents. If only they’d still been there to go back to, but they’d died not long after her mom had hauled her away.
“Hey, no offense. I was just showing you the other side of the coin.” He hopped off the table.
Conversation over.
Too bad he didn’t share her values. He persisted in believing they—all three of them—were children that had no idea what they were in for. Well, he might be right and he might be wrong, but it didn’t change things. They were staying anyway.
An owl hooted from straight up the elm, startling Jo. Domino went into a barking frenzy and she tried to step out of his way, only to trip over him. Strong hands held her up and didn’t let go. She looked straight at the buttons on Zach’s suede jacket as the warmth from his hands seeped through her sleeves. She trembled, and not from cold.
“Hey, you okay?” The moon cast a gentle glow on his face.
“Yeah, fine, thanks.” If only she wasn’t such a klutz around him. Jo pulled away, but he didn’t let go. She looked up.
“Jo?” His gaze captured hers.
Her breath deserted her for an instant.
He gave her arms a little squeeze then released her. “Good night.”
Jo stumbled backward a step, but regained her balance before he needed to rescue her yet again. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his deep brown ones. “Good night, Zach.” Jo turned and hurried for the trailer door, trying already to remember how her words had sounded. Harsh…or desperate?
Chapter 7
The Hammond Pet Clinic waiting room was full of people and anim
als of all sizes, shapes, and species. Sure looked to Zach like Jeff could use another veterinarian, but the only emotion Zach could summon was relief it wasn’t him. He picked his way between pet carriers and approached the reception desk.
Yvette peered up at him through artificially long eyelashes and swung her expensive platinum curls over her shoulder. “Daddy’s busy.”
He’d expected to feel more emotion—a sense of loss, maybe—at seeing her again. So not there. He kept his voice even. “I just need to see him for a minute. I’ll wait and catch him between patients.” He forced himself to keep holding her gaze.
“He doesn’t want to talk to you. He gave you your pink slip. Remember? That means he’s done.”
The paper had legally terminated his employment at the Hammond Pet Clinic. Filled in by Yvette’s hand, but signed by her father. Like Zach could forget. “I need a letter of reference from him.” He’d done good work here for his temp position. Jeff Hammond had no reason to deny him a referral.
Yvette’s gaze narrowed.
Except for personal reasons, of course. But other vets at other clinics wanted to know why Hammond had signed on a different vet after Zach had been there for nearly three months. He didn’t want to drag Yvette’s name into it and risk getting sued. Besides, it would only prove how poor his own taste in women had been. Sure, she was beautiful. Enough money could make any girl gorgeous. He studied her now, and tried to remember what had once increased his heart rate.
He could walk around the desk, down the corridor, and find Jeff on his own. He’d worked here long enough to know his way around. Yvette had no muscles to speak of—she couldn’t stop him. But a white-coated man came out of the hallway just as Zach gathered himself to follow through. A guy from Zach’s class at the veterinary college. “Draper?”
“Hey, Nemesek. Fancy meeting you here.” Garth Draper entered the reception area as Yvette stood to meet him. He pecked Yvette’s cheek and squeezed her shoulder. “This guy giving you some trouble, sweetie?”
A Farm Fresh Romance Series 1-3 (A Farm Fresh Romance Box Set) Page 6
