by Tasha Black
“But this farm means everything to me,” she continued. “And I only have this one chance to hold on to it. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to hold on and I can’t have distractions. Do you understand?”
A thousand arguments filled his head, like a flock of birds, crying out to be heard.
But Burton was too heartbroken to give them voice.
“I want you to be happy, Tansy,” he told her. “Please tell me how I can help you.”
“Let me go,” she said.
“Look into my eyes,” he said.
She bit her lip.
“Please, if you mean that, look into my eyes to say it,” he said.
She raised her beautiful eyes to his. The tears made them sparkle like the rings of the planet Alterrax.
“Let me go,” she said softly. “Please.”
Pain slammed into his chest as if he had been hit with an ax.
But he nodded and took a step backward.
He had promised to do what was best for her, to put her happiness before his own.
As he watched her turn and dash down the meadow and back toward the berry fields, he wondered if his fragile human form could sustain the agony he felt.
17
Tansy
Tansy somehow made it through the berry fields and back to the house.
Sage was still in town so Tansy decided to prepare lunch for the household. Cooking wasn’t exactly her forte, but she could whip up grilled cheese and tomato soup.
She snagged Grandma Helen’s apron from the hook on the wall and put it on.
She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand, but it was impossible not to envision that look on Burton’s face as she rummaged around for ingredients and pans.
She hadn’t wanted to cause him pain, but he would never be happy sharing a life with her if he wanted to sleep late in fancy hotels with women wearing puffy dresses. Tansy might be able to survive that lifestyle for a year or two. She could picture getting the farm up and running again with a great crew and then paying her dues to the governments of Earth and Aerie for the shortest respectable time possible. But long-term… there was just no way.
“I like wearing your overalls,” she muttered to Grandma Helen under her breath. “You looked beautiful in them, and so do I.”
And although Tansy didn’t believe in ghosts, she could’ve sworn she caught the twinkle of Grandma Helen’s eye in the wink of the copper soup pan in the sunlight from the window over the sink.
Tansy grabbed the slab of cheddar from the fridge and put it on the butcher block to slice.
She had cut her thumb the last time she was on lunch duty. Burton had been with her that time and he had taken over slicing the strawberries they were preparing.
It was hard not to smile thinking about how many strawberries he had eaten while doing the slicing. Burton worked very hard on the farm, often seeming to do the work of two farmhands all by himself, but at mealtimes he could be a bottomless pit, eating as much as any three people Tansy knew. And he really liked the strawberries. He had said they tasted like starlight, the highest compliment she could imagine, given his past life.
She wondered what he would think of the peaches.
The thought gave her a double pang of sadness.
Without pollination there would be no peaches this year.
And Burton was the best person she knew to help her find the bees.
He had been so determined to help, even when it meant risking blowing his cover to trespass on the Petersons’ farm. And he’d saved her in the corn field, carrying her safely home without even getting winded when she was in over her head.
How could a man like that want to live in fancy hotels?
She wiped her hands on her apron and looked out the window as the sandwiches sizzled on the griddle and the soup simmered in the pan.
The north meadow stretched upward into the distance. She could just make out the tiny shapes of the horses up there and the silhouette of a man.
She’d been so upset earlier that she hadn’t been able to fully take in the beauty of his half naked form, tanned and glistening with the sweat of an honest morning’s labor.
A wave of lust swept over her just as she locked down on the thought.
Don’t think about it, she instructed herself.
But she wasn’t sure she could stop. Last night was the most fulfilling sensual experience she had ever had. And it wasn’t just about the mind-blowing climax. It was about the feeling of oneness, the utter lack of embarrassment at baring herself, heart and soul to Burton.
She wasn’t sure if she would ever feel that way again.
The smell of burning bread alerted her to the fact that she was predictably ruining lunch.
She dashed back to the stove, snatched the griddle off, burning her hand slightly, and turned off the burner under the soup.
As she held her smarting hand under cold water from the sink, she begged herself not to waste any more time mooning over Burton. She needed to let him go, just as she had asked him to do for her.
He had agreed readily enough.
This is how it is meant to be, she told her aching heart. This is best.
If only her heart would believe her.
18
Tansy
Tansy was setting out the lunch on the picnic table just as Sage arrived home from town.
“You made lunch,” Sage said in a pleased way as she jogged up to join her.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Tansy warned her. “It’s just grilled cheese.”
“Hey, are you okay?” Sage asked, stopping in her tracks.
“I’m fine,” Tansy said. “Just a little tired.”
“I know the bee thing has you down,” Sage said. “I went to the police this morning. They promised they would look into it.”
“That’s where you went?” Tansy asked, feeling grateful.
“Yeah,” Sage said. “But you know what’s weird? The Petersons never reported their bees stolen.”
“Probably because they knew the police wouldn’t do anything,” Tansy said. “Honestly, it’s awful that you have to go there in person to get them to help.”
“With all the crowd control they’re doing with the news crews it’s understandable, I guess,” Sage offered.
Tansy shrugged.
“I’ll call Arden and the boys,” Sage said.
“I’ve got a headache,” Tansy said. “I think I’m going to go in and rest a little.”
“Oh no,” Sage said. “I could tell something was off. Do you want a cold pack or anything?”
“I’m good,” Tansy said, shaking her head and feeling a little guilty for lying to her sister.
She dashed into the house before Sage could ask any follow-up questions.
Tansy was instantly comforted by the cool, dim interior of the farmhouse, which felt much more suited to her introspective mood than the midday sun out at the picnic table.
Instead of going to her room, she went up the narrow staircase.
Grandma Helen and Grandpa Max’s rooms were at the top of the house, where a dormer gave them a view over the north meadow and the trees beyond that wrapped west to form the border between their land and Dolly Strickland’s.
The bedroom was still just as Grandma Helen had left it. Tansy and Sage had donated most of their grandparents’ clothing, but the bed was still made, and Grandpa’s rocker was still beside the window.
Tansy slipped through the bedroom and into the small adjoining space that Grandma Helen called her sewing room.
Real knotty pine paneling and the sloped ceiling that followed the roofline made the space feel cozy. It was lined with secret and not-so-secret built-ins. Each drawer and nook was filled with memories that struck Tansy with their unexpected sweetness. Mason jars of buttons, shoe boxes filled with old Christmas cards, plastic baggies of photos with names and dates on the back in Grandma Helen’s loopy handwriting.
Tansy wondered if she would ever be able to catal
ogue the contents of the room. While the goal was to give away anything they couldn’t use in the rest of the house, Tansy had always planned to leave this little room just as it was, so she could visit it when she missed her grandmother the most.
Exploring the room still brought as much pain as pleasure, but given how Tansy was feeling already, she wasn’t worried about having a good cry over the happy days gone by.
She hadn’t yet searched the drawers and the shelves of the old roll top desk, so she sat on Grandma Helen’s wooden chair and turned the key in the lock.
The roll top slid open easily. A framed photo of Grandma Helen and Grandpa Max smiled up at Tansy.
They were young and their smiles were wildly happy. Everyone always said Sage looked like young Grandma Helen, but for some reason she reminded Tansy of herself in this picture, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.
Tansy smiled back at them, wishing she could have known them then.
The little shelves Tansy remembered were filled with envelopes. Knowing Grandma Helen, it was probably all personal correspondence. The bills and farm papers were in the downstairs room her grandmother used as an office. And Helen Martin was always a believer in handwritten letters.
Don’t let letters be a lost art, Tansy, she would say. Taking the time to write to a friend in your own hand shows you care.
On the surface of the desk was a half-written letter in Grandma Helen’s loopy writing. It was made out to Noreen, Grandma Helen’s friend from college.
Dear Noreen,
Thank you ever so much for your lovely letter. And that book! I giggled at the bare-chested man on the cover, and I enjoyed the story thoroughly. As you say, there is nothing in the world like true love. You and I are so lucky to have experienced it firsthand. Wherever Max and Luther are, I like to think they’re together, waiting for us.
Tansy smiled. They had found a stash of romance novels in Grandma Helen’s hope chest. Most of them had notes from Noreen in them.
Thanks also for expressing your concern about the weather this year and the farm. That’s certainly the downside to farming. I’ve had a good run on this land, and if not for my sweet granddaughter I would have sold the place when Max passed. I love it here, don’t get me wrong. It was a wonderful home for Max and me and our boys, and the granddaughters too. But I’d be happy in an apartment over the diner in town. I could volunteer at the library. Of course I’d miss the chickens and ponies, and the gorgeous sunsets, but none of that would matter much, so long as I had a big enough apartment that the family could still come to visit! I know you feel the same about your girls.
The letter went on, but Tansy had stopped reading.
She looked into the eyes of the young couple in the photograph in front of her and realized suddenly why she had seen herself in Grandma Helen’s happy smile.
In the picture, her grandmother was in love.
And so was Tansy.
And that had nothing to do with the farm or the house or the peaches or even the chickens or the ponies.
Like Grandma Helen, Tansy’s real happiness had always come from the people. Grandma Helen and Grandpa Max were gone, but she still had family around.
And she had Burton.
Or at least she did, before she told him otherwise just a few hours ago.
She’d been frightened at the idea of losing the farm.
But she knew she would love him here on the farm or in a fancy hotel, on a stupid talk show or even back on Aerie, if that was what he had to do.
At least she would if he would forgive her for what she had said to him today.
“I made a mistake, Grandma, but I’m going to fix it if I can,” she told the woman in the photo. “Thank you for not finishing your letter.”
Helen Martin smiled back at her merrily, the timeless twinkle in her eyes urging Tansy to hurry, before she lost what really mattered.
19
Burton
Burton was working in the berry field, trying to exhaust his body to distract his broken heart.
He bent to pluck a particularly low hanging fruit, and caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
It was Cleo, Tansy’s feline shadow, stalking past him down the row of berries in a most purposeful manner.
Burton didn’t like to think of Cleo as lazy, but the beautiful little cat was seldom hurried. Her pace today reminded him of last night, when she had been in a rush to keep an eye on her mistress.
He put down his basket and followed her.
If Cleo was worried about Tansy, he was too.
Oddly though, Cleo was leading him up the hill, toward the trees that formed the western border of the farm.
He wasn’t sure what Tansy would be doing there. Though he wondered if it might have something to do with the missing bees. If Tansy was still hunting for clues then it might have occurred to her to search the woods.
Although Tansy did not seem afraid of the trees, bad things were always happening to women in the woods, at least in the movies Burton had seen. He was glad he had noticed Cleo so that he could stay close to Tansy and defend her from harm.
Just ahead of him, Cleo stepped into the thicket, instantly blending into the dappled shadows of the trees.
Burton jogged to catch up, not wanting to lose her.
As he stepped into the forest the world grew still and dark around him.
This wasn’t like the peach orchard, where the trees stood in orderly rows, spread evenly to allow green sunlight to penetrate the canopy. These were the woods of a dark fairy tale, where a hush lay like a blanket over dark foliage and rich soil.
Burton moved as silently as he could, trying to blend in with this strange new environment.
A light patter in the undergrowth ahead told him that Cleo wasn’t far ahead.
He followed her by sound, hardly noticing the branches scraping his skin.
He could hear the tiny sounds of the cat, the shiver of the leaves in the breeze.
But he did not hear the less subtle sounds of another person.
If Tansy was in these woods, she had a pretty big head start on him.
Soft light began to pervade the gloom. Then the sound of Cleo’s steps disappeared altogether.
Burton began to jog again. After a few minutes he found himself at the edge of a clearing. The sun shone down on the lush green grass.
There was no sign of Cleo.
Close to despair, Burton did what he had to do.
He crouched behind a massive fallen tree, closed his eyes and flung his consciousness out in all directions, hoping to find the little cat.
For a frozen moment there was nothing.
Then he felt the flavor of Cleo’s thoughts and sank himself into her mind gratefully.
She was emerging from the trees on the other side of the clearing, in front of an attractive white house with black shutters.
Though it was surrounded by working fields, the house had a grandness to it that made it seem out of place. It had been freshly painted, the contrast between the white siding and the black shutters felt severe. And the plantings near the porch were restrained in a brick border. Flowers didn’t crawl up the columns here like they did at Martin’s Bounty.
Cleo padded past all that Burton noticed. She was concerned with none of it. What she wanted was up on the porch.
She trotted up the steps.
The next thing Burton saw was Tansy’s ankles as Cleo head butted them and stretched luxuriously at her feet.
“Came to offer moral support, didn’t you?” Tansy murmured fondly.
Just then the door creaked open.
“Tansy Martin,” a familiar voice said.
Burton tried to place it but couldn’t. And Cleo had eyes only for Tansy.
“Hi Miss Strickland,” Tansy said politely.
Ah.
“It’s Dolly, dear,” the voice replied. “Please come in.”
“Oh, no thank you,” Tansy said. “I can’t stay. I just wanted to ask you about wha
t you offered when you came to see us. Would you really want to buy Grandma Helen’s farm?”
Burton nearly stopped breathing.
“If you wanted to sell it, I would be grateful for the opportunity,” Dolly said carefully. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Tansy sighed.
“The bees were a heavy blow, weren’t they?” Dolly asked.
“It’s not just the bees,” Tansy said. “Even if we had the bees and the peaches came in time, it just… it isn’t going to work.”
“Farming is a lot of work and a lot of luck,” Dolly said sympathetically. “You and Sage are young to take on a farm that size.”
“And Sage isn’t really interested,” Tansy said quietly. “I don’t want to burden her with it. Besides, I have other reasons too.”
“Is one of them that good-looking boy you have working for you?” Dolly guessed.
Tansy didn’t answer, but Dolly chuckled.
Burton wished Cleo would look up at Tansy’s face so he could see what was written there.
But she had whipped around to greet another cat, this one black with yellow eyes.
“Jett,” Dolly exclaimed. “You missed your breakfast.”
Jett ignored Dolly and headed right for Cleo, rubbing his neck to hers.
“Young love,” Dolly said ruefully. “You probably see him more than I do.”
“He does come calling pretty often,” Tansy admitted.
“Well, I’ve got to get him fed, and I know you have chores to do,” Dolly said. “My offer stands, so sleep on it, then let me know what you and your sister decide.”
“No need,” Tansy said, her voice tight. “We’ve made up our minds. We’d love to have a couple of days to pack up, but if you want to come by in the morning with the papers, we’ll sign whatever you need to get the sale underway.”
“I’ll bring a batch of my honey muffins, dear,” Dolly said. “We’ll celebrate your new beginning.”
Burton heard the tattoo of Tansy’s footsteps as she jogged off the porch.
