A Farm Fresh Romance Series 1-3 (A Farm Fresh Romance Box Set)

by Valerie Comer

  Zach expected to feel jealousy, but it didn’t rise. Instead, relief grew into something near palpable. If he had a job, he could be thankful it wasn’t here. Zach glanced at the waiting room behind him and lowered his voice. “Hey, Draper. Sorry to see she got you suckered in.”

  Yvette wrinkled her nose at him.

  Draper chuckled. “Nice try, Nemesek.” His fingers massaged Yvette’s neck as he scanned the waiting room. “Who’s next?”

  Nothing remained for Zach at Hammond Pet Clinic. Jeff never went against his darling daughter, so there was no reason to think he’d have charitable thoughts for Zach now. Time to leave. He swiveled on his heel and strode toward the door. Yvette’s chuckle came to his ears just before the door swooshed shut behind him.

  Good thing he’d parked around the corner, out of sight of the clinic’s windows. He rested his forehead on the Mustang’s steering wheel for a long moment. How could he have been so stupid as to tangle his love life with his job? Why couldn’t he have seen her for what she really was before he’d gotten in so deep?

  She’d wanted him to sleep with her, but he’d meant the oath he’d sworn in high school. Some vestige of the honor he’d been brought up with gave him the courage to hold the line. Oh, he’d desired her all right, and believed she felt the same about him. Until the evening Zach remembered he’d left his cell phone at her apartment and discovered a man’s jacket and boots in her entry. Bad enough, but the bedroom door had been closed and Yvette’s breathless voice had told Zach to get lost.

  That still stung.

  Josephine’s elfish face drifted into his mind and settled beside Yvette’s. No comparison. There was nothing fake or manipulating about Jo. She was who she was. Refreshing, if a little blunt.

  But he still needed a job, and sitting in Jeff Hammond’s parking lot wasn’t getting him one.

  **

  Jo read the email from her mother with growing dismay. Mom intended to visit, dragging Brad in her wake. Jo looked around the dingy trailer. It took no imagination to see the dilapidated, foul-smelling place through her mother’s eyes. The whole structure was smaller than the suite Jo had in Brad’s house as a teen. No way did she want Mom seeing this. Ever.

  She couldn’t possibly mean it, anyway. The only feasible reason she’d come would be to criticize. Jo had never done anything good enough for her mother and her current living conditions weren’t likely to change Mom’s opinion. As for Brad, he’d given Jo everything but the time of day. There wasn’t a chance he’d started caring now.

  Jo hit ‘reply.’ It was great to hear from you. A lie she hoped God would forgive. Things are crazy hectic here this spring and we’re not really settled in. Probably best if you wait until next year to come all the way out here, once our community house is up. Not that Mom would expect to stay at the trailer. Even Brad’s friends stayed in posh hotels when they visited California, though it was hard to imagine anyone with more room for guests. Keep in touch. Love, Jo.

  The message seemed rather terse but she couldn’t summon up the politeness to change a word of it. Send.

  Hectic was an understatement, but today she found herself with a couple of hours alone on the farm. Planting the garden was out of the question as it had rained heavily during the night. Her chicken-fried rice wouldn’t take long to fix once the girls were home.

  What to do with her bonus day? Restless, Jo prowled over to the window and peered out. The sun bored a hole through the thick cloud cover. Jo needed some fresh air, a place to sit and read her Bible. A place to pray.

  In minutes she trudged through the wet woods, wishing she had Domino at her side. The pup’s only speed was hyper-bounce, but Jo enjoyed his company. He needed someone with more energy than Rosemary. Jo couldn’t afford to buy him even if he was for sale, though. Pushing the thought of the pup and Zachary right out of her mind, she angled deeper into the trees along the creek. Jo hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to explore along the hillside property line.

  Numerous golden willows nestled in a hollow, thin branches littering the ground beneath them. A knotted rope dangling from above collided with Jo’s head. It disappeared through a square hole in a wooden platform. Her pulse quickened. A tree house. She rolled a stump closer and managed a good grip on the rope, then hoisted herself up to the first solid branch.

  Zach’s childhood tree house. It had to be. She hesitated only an instant, then climbed the rest of the way up and through the hole.

  Jo was in a space more than eight feet square with the willow’s trunk taking up a fair bit of the middle. A rickety railing surrounded it and another knotted rope dangled from above. She grinned, delighted, and took the challenge, clambering to the next level a dizzying height above the ground. Not that she could see the forest floor through all the drooping branches. This platform was a little smaller. She sat down, her back to the trunk, and closed her eyes.

  The sweetness of willow sap mingled with the aroma of wet decaying leaves. Dampness saturated the air, and Jo shivered slightly. She tugged her Bible and notebook out of her jacket pocket and opened both, staring blankly while chewing on her pen cap.

  The Earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it. Here in the woods, far from any manmade sounds, Jo could easily believe in His control. People had a way of ruining nearly everything they touched. She knew she was doing what God wanted, raising awareness of the needs of the planet itself. And yet her mind would not stay on the passage she’d meant to read.

  Zachary Nemesek interfered with her capacity to think. If only he were content to live a quiet life in the countryside. But no, he longed for the bright lights and the fast pace of the city. Galena Landing and its valley full of farms did not beckon him.

  Jo’s university years had provided enough sirens, car exhaust, and flashing neon lights for an entire lifetime. She couldn’t go back. Not even for the love of a man. She took a deep breath. She was deluding herself anyway. He’d looked like he might kiss her—yeah, right—but gave her a friendly hug. Nothing romantic. Just the mark of a simple friendship that would soon be merely a memory.

  There was no reason to think he was falling for her, but maybe he wasn’t enchanted by Sierra either. That thought put everything on new ground.

  No, it didn’t. He was leaving as soon as he could get a new job and his dad was back on his feet. There was no new ground. Jo’s own deepening roots into this farm provided the only reality. God had given her and her friends a mandate, and they intended to complete it.

  That left no room for a city slicker like Zachary Nemesek.

  Jo opened her eyes, and her gaze fell upon a rusty coffee can tucked into a crook of the willow. Curious, she reached out and tugged it free, then peeled off the plastic lid. A little spiral notebook and stubby pencil lay inside.

  Telling herself it was none of her business did nothing to slow her reach for the notebook. She turned its pages and saw a boyish hand state a desire to alleviate suffering in this world. God made the animals, and they needed doctors, too. She thought of Domino, and Zach’s obviously strong bond with the pup.

  She flipped through the pages. Words in a more mature hand stated, As God is my witness, I, Zachary John Nemesek, do hereby vow to reserve my body for my future spouse.

  Jo snapped the notebook shut. The images those words produced were way too personal. Had Zach kept that vow through the intervening years? If only his dream of doctoring animals could be fulfilled here.

  She leaned back against the willow trunk and closed her eyes. In her dream, Zach worked beside her building a house, harvesting a garden, working the land. Kissing Jo.

  Only a fantasy.

  **

  Zach poked his head around the open door in the rehabilitation unit. Four beds lined the ward. His father lay in a semi-reclining position next to the window, sagged back against his pillows. “Hey, Dad.”

  His mom glanced up from her seat beside the bed, and Dad’s eyes opened at the sound of Zach’s voice. “Hello yourself.”

 
Mom gathered up her hand quilting and set it on the foot of the bed. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to get a cup of tea. Either of you want one?”

  “Sure.” Zach glanced at his dad, who nodded.

  She leaned over the bed and kissed her husband. Zach winced as his dad’s arms barely cleared the bed’s surface in an attempt to return her embrace. This was the man he’d thought could cut his own hay in a couple months? Not likely.

  Zach sank into the vacated chair. Outside the window, dreary gloom had settled over the city. Depressing view, but he didn’t want to look at his father, either. Still, that’s what he was here for. “How are you doing, Dad?”

  “Been better.”

  “Yeah. Looks like. You get started on therapy today?”

  Frustration welled in his dad’s brown eyes. “Such as it was.”

  Zach leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That good?”

  “I don’t know if I have it in me to combat this.” Dad’s gaze flicked to the door, then back to Zach. “Don’t tell your mother I said that.”

  “You’re a fighter. You can do it. There’s a lot to live for.”

  Dad shook his head, his thinning hair rustling against the pillow. “I don’t know. I can’t do anything. They have to help me sit up and lie down. If you’re here at mealtime, get ready to laugh. Getting a spoon to my mouth is hit or miss.” He sighed. “Mostly miss.”

  Zach’s gut clenched. “It’ll get better. You just have to practice.”

  Dad’s eyes closed. “It hurts.”

  It wasn’t like his father to be a whiner. This was the man who’d told Zach to keep his chin up, that he could do anything he strove to do. Pain and discouragement had dragged a strong man down.

  “Do they need to up your meds? I can talk to them.”

  “I don’t know.” Sadness lined his dad’s face. “I’m glad you’re there for your mother. I worry about her.”

  “She’s doing fine. Keeping busy.”

  “You’re a big help. Thanks.”

  Zach shrugged. “I found myself with time on my hands. No problem.” Not how he really felt, but so be it. None of this was his dad’s fault. Sometimes life just dealt a bad hand and a guy had to make the best of it.

  “I keep telling myself God allowed all this for a reason.” Dad took a deep breath. “I’m hanging onto that. The hospital chaplain has been in a few times to pray with me.”

  Zach said nothing. Easier not to incriminate himself that way.

  “We’re praying for you, son. I know you’re in a difficult situation, but I’m so grateful for you. Thanks for tilling the gardens.”

  Zach nodded.

  “Your mother said you were going by Jeff Hammond’s clinic. How did that go?”

  Like his dad didn’t have enough to worry about without taking on Zach’s future. But it was easier to talk about his sordid issues than Dad’s. “I didn’t get a chance to see him. It’s a dead end.”

  “There are other clinics.”

  “And they ask for a referral from my previous employment, which Hammond won’t give. Or so Yvette tells me. I screwed up big time, Dad.” Felt good to get that off his chest.

  “You should talk to Doc Taubin, maybe. Heard a rumor that he was looking for a temp so he could get his hip replacement surgery done. Not too many willing to come to a small town like Galena Landing.”

  And who could blame them? Zach thought of the vets he’d graduated with, an entire class full of young people high on city living and the big money rich patrons offered to keep their purebred pets content. Something tinged in his gut. Had it really come to this? “Yeah, I guess I could talk to him. Looks like you’re not going to be back to full speed for a bit here.”

  His dad grimaced. “Not right away. No.”

  Mom came around the corner carrying a cardboard tray of Styrofoam cups. Zach sprang up to take it from her. She smiled at him wanly. “Thanks, son.”

  They did need him. He’d have written the story a different way, for sure. But he couldn’t walk away from his folks in this difficult time. Did God really have a reason for all this?

  Chapter 8

  “Hey, Rubachuk.” Zach let the door of Nature’s Pantry jingle shut behind him, then looked around the little shop. He couldn’t see his buddy, though.

  “Nemesek? Give me a hand, man.” Gabe’s voice came from the back corner. “Got a degree in engineering?”

  Zach followed the voice between rows of tall shelving loaded with vitamins. He found Gabe squatting on the weathered plank floor with an array of bolts, nuts, screws and boards around him.

  “Um, not in engineering, no. Why? Can’t you follow simple directions?”

  Gabe raked a hand through light brown hair, which looked messy enough this might not be the first time he’d pulled that move. Frustration lined his set jaw. “If these directions are simple, I’ll eat my hat.”

  “Game on.” Zach grinned and reached for the paper. “I hope you like the taste of canvas seasoned with sweat.” He scanned the first page then glanced at the assortment of parts.

  Gabe raised his eyebrows and sank onto the floor. “Oh, wise one, explain it all to me. Do I need to go get my hat?”

  Okay, a page in Spanish, one in French, one in…something Asian. Chinese? Finally, back page, English. Zach held it up in triumph.

  Gabe rolled his eyes. “Seriously. You think I didn’t find the readable section?” He picked up the Allen wrench and a short plank. “I’m thinking these go on here, like this.” He demonstrated, holding two boards together at right angles. “But there aren’t the right number of bolts if that’s true.”

  Zach knelt and examined the hardware. His buddy had made piles of like items. Zach chewed his lip and picked up the instructions, then flipped the page over. Blank.

  “I take it my hat is safe?” A sardonic grin creased Gabe’s face.

  “Perhaps. What exactly are you trying to build here?”

  “A rack for organic garden seeds. Isn’t it obvious?”

  Zach let out a laugh. “Not very, no. But I’m sure we can figure it out. How many long boards are there?” He set the instructions aside and laid out the parts in a way that made sense to him.

  Gabe nodded. “So far so good. It’s the hardware that’s messing me up.”

  Zach test-fitted a piece. “Since when are you in the seed business?”

  “Jo and Sierra talked me into giving it a try. They said all they could find at the feed store and the hardware store were big commercial brands, all full of herbicides and such.”

  “Huh? Who knew seeds came organic or not?” Dumb words. Jo would know.

  Gabe shrugged and reached for a bolt. “Makes sense, when you think about it. I never had. I don’t know how much clout those girls have in the community, being new and all, but they wanted to have access to organic seeds and said they’d make sure everyone knew I was carrying them. They even found me a few companies online and helped me to decide who to go with.”

  Zach rocked back on his heels. “Really now.”

  “What?” Gabe glanced over at him. “I’m putting an ad in the paper and a big sign in the window. Should be decent business. With some of the church folk supporting that local harvest dinner of Jo’s, more people I know are planning to garden this year than ever before. Why shouldn’t I jump on the band wagon?”

  That crazy girl. She sure stuck her neck out in support of her cause. Didn’t let her size bother her. Just like a yappy little dog with as much bite as bark, despite her small stature. Zach shook his head, trying not to grin.

  “What? You think I’m crazy?”

  Zach stared at Gabe. “Huh?”

  “For going into seeds.” Gabe frowned and waved his hand over the partially assembled rack on the floor. “For taking their advice.”

  “Oh. No, not at all. Just admiring their spunk.” Not that putting the girls in plural would fool Gabe for a minute.

  It didn’t. Gabe guffawed as he sat back on his heels. “You’re speaking of J
osephine, of course. The word spunk in the dictionary should have her picture beside it.”

  Distract him. “What of Sierra? What word is her picture for?”

  Gabe looked at him funny. “What’s that got to do with anything? You don’t have the hots for her, unless I’m way out of practice reading you. It’s the little gal that has your attention.”

  The store was too brightly lit to hide the flush Zach felt creeping up his neck. He shrugged. Time to sidetrack Gabe, if it wasn’t too late already. “She’s interesting, but I’m not sticking around. Remember?”

  “Ha! Not sure what God has to say about that, Nemesek. I’m thinking He’s got other ideas. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to orchestrate your life. You listening?”

  Zach stared at Gabe. “It’s just how things are right now, but it’ll change.”

  “Right.” Gabe fitted another bolt and tightened a shelf into the developing rack. “How’s your dad doing? You were in Coeur d’Alene yesterday, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Zach leaned back on his heels. “He’ll be in there for a long haul. They’ve started him on physical therapy, but he can’t even get out of bed by himself.”

  Gabe whistled. “It’s been, what, a couple weeks since he got sick?”

  “Over a month now.” Zach sucked in a deep breath. “I’m really worried about him. I don’t see how he’ll ever farm again, but Mom won’t listen to me when I suggest they sell out. They’re living in denial.”

  “Is that a family trait or something?”

  “Hey now!” Zach lifted the electric drill and buzzed it in Gabe’s direction.

  His friend laughed. “Seriously. There’s Doc Taubin needing a hand right here in Galena Landing and you’re off trying to get a job elsewhere. Have you even stopped by?”

  Zach swallowed hard. “That’s what I came to tell you, actually. Talked to him this morning.”

  Gabe set the Allen wrench down and gave Zach his full attention. “And?”