Treasured in Tennessee

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “Alec, come on out here, kiddo. We’ve got to talk.” Brodie had a to-do list a mile long and wanted to get back to the barn, since his horses were being delivered the next day, but more than that, he wanted Emily back to her happy, bubbling self.

  “Yeah?” The ten-year-old wandered out of his bedroom, a portable game in his hands.

  “Shut that off for a sec, will you?” Brodie looked around the apartment. There were clothes scattered around, paper plates on the floor, an empty bucket of chicken on the kitchen counter, and dirty dishes in the sink. Alec looked up at him with a nervous expression, looking nothing like the boy he’d roughhoused with in the woods the day before, and Brodie’s heart squeezed. He liked this kid so much, and that was another thing he didn’t want to screw up.

  “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, trying to ease Alec’s tension. “I was just thinking. It’s time we started dividing up some chores around here. Too much is falling on Emily, and I think it’s starting to get to her.”

  “I heard you guys out on the porch,” Alec admitted worriedly. “She sounded pretty mad. Are you guys fighting? Does she not want to be married anymore?”

  Ouch. That was a thought that hit Brodie right in the gut. “No, don’t start worrying,” Brodie said. “It’s nothing like that. But I think it’ll help if we men start taking some of the work off her plate.”

  Alec nodded. “I can do that.”

  “No,” Brodie corrected with a smile. “We can do that.”

  Emily’s day was not getting better. It wasn’t even noon, and she’d been chased around the living room by a wolf spider, broken the only intact fingernail she had left, and scratched her arm on a rusty nail sticking out of a doorframe. Her designer denim capris now sported a grease stain down one side of the leg from who knew what, and her very last clean T-shirt was filthy and smelled like B.O. The final insult came when she was trying to prop open one of the windows to let some fresh air, and it slid free from her grasp, smashing her thumb. At her howl, Brodie came running.

  “Aw, hon, what have you done to yourself?” Brodie exclaimed sympathetically, hurrying to get the window open so she could get her hand out.

  “What have I done?” Emily yelled at him, tears of pain and frustration running down her cheeks as she cradled her throbbing thumb. She was getting cramps now and just wanted to run the opposite direction, all the way back to New York. “I haven’t done anything! You’re the one who had the bright idea to buy a house online without even seeing it in person. You’re the one who decided we were moving here without any input from me. You’re the one who thinks horses are more important than people and can’t even help me out just a little even though we have to move in here in two flipping days so we can house someone you invited to live with us without even asking me! What ever happened to ‘we’ll handle everything together, Emily’?”

  “Come here,” Brodie said quietly. Her words had hurt, but he hated to see her so upset. He held out his arms.

  “No,” she said, sniffling mutinously. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow your truck and take myself to the closest Starbucks, and then to a doctor, if I can find either of those things out here in the middle of nowhere. And with my luck, I won’t find either of those things even though I probably broke this stupid thumb, and I need a decent mocha like I need my next breath. This never would have happened back home.” She held up her hand accusingly, and sure enough, her thumb had already swollen and turned an angry shade of purplish-red.

  This was it. His worst fear. The wife he was falling for was regretting that he’d ever pulled her away from her life in the big city. “Are you sure I can’t drive you?” Brodie asked miserably.

  She shook her head, and he pulled the truck keys out of his pocket, handing them to her cautiously.

  Emily disappeared down the hallway, leaving Brodie wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake.

  Alec, sitting in an old rocking chair in the attic with Bandit curled up in a warm heap of fur on his lap, heard the entire argument. It was just like when his mom and her boyfriends would fight. He’d just get to the point where he liked one of them, and next thing you knew, they’d be arguing over a burned dinner or a bill that got paid late, and everything would change again. He and his mom would move, or his mom’s boyfriend would leave, and once, his stepdad had divorced his mom. He knew that having so much fun on the picnic yesterday had been a mistake. He was starting to like Aunt Emily and Brodie too much.

  Emily started up the truck, sniffing back tears. She had to concentrate. She’d only driven occasionally in New York, since everyone there took public transit, and by her best estimate, it had been five years since she’d been behind the wheel of a vehicle. Luckily, the truck was an automatic.

  Driving slowly and carefully, she made it out of the driveway and turned right. She couldn’t even ask Google where to go; the cellphone signal was spotty down by the road. The farther away from the farm she got, the worse she started to feel. Picturing Brodie’s confused face as she’d yelled at him . . . she didn’t mean anything she’d said. Not really, anyway.

  Rain was coming down heavily, and her wipers were on full blast when she pulled over near the French Broad River to see if her cell had service. She almost started crying again when she saw that the closest Starbucks was nearly forty minutes away. It was stupid, the way she was ignoring her finger and dead-set on fancy coffee, but she was craving chocolate and the taste of something familiar from the big city she’d called home. At least there was an emergency room close to the coffee shop.

  The mountains were shrouded in mist, her head hurt from crying, and her thumb ached fiercely. The last thing she wanted was to drive all that way by herself. Emily wanted to turn the truck around, go back, apologize to Brodie, and beg him to go with her. A country wife would be tough, though, and understanding that her husband’s work on the farm came first. Besides, it was her fault she was in this situation in the first place, so she set the GPS and pulled back out on to the highway.

  Brodie made mac and cheese and hotdogs for dinner. It was quiet in the apartment—now clean—and he tried not to pace a rut in the linoleum floor worrying about Emily. For all he knew, she was headed back to New York, but Brodie didn’t want to upset Alec by dwelling on that idea. The boy had obviously picked up on some of what was going on because he had his face buried in a book and hadn’t said a word for the last hour. And instead of inhaling it, he’d merely picked at his dinner.

  When gravel crunched in the driveway, they both jumped up and bolted for the window.

  “She’s back.” Brodie let out a breath as the truck’s headlights cut through the evening fog.

  “Yeah,” Alec said, turning a glare on him, gray eyes baleful. “Now try not to do anything dumb and make her leave again.” He headed for his room and slammed the door while Brodie looked on, kind of impressed at the small tantrum. The kid had been downright rude. That was new—and normal—behavior. Privately, he’d been worried at the kid’s self-possession. Boys his age were supposed to talk back and act up occasionally, and it was encouraging.

  He met Emily at the door, ready to apologize. It didn’t matter who started the fight or what it was all about. He was ready to promise her anything, just so it didn’t happen again. He was so grateful to see her small curvy frame coming up the stairs. One hand was bandaged, and in the other, she held a white and green cup.

  “It’s cold,” she said sheepishly, handing it to him when she got to the top of the stairs. “You might have to microwave it, since it traveled about three hundred miles to get here." Brodie took the cup and held the door open for her. Raindrops glistened on her hair in the overhead light. He set the cup on the counter, and then turned back to pull her into his arms.

  Tears had been near the surface all afternoon—Emily always cried at the drop of a hat when her time of the month was near—and when Brodie’s strong arms closed around her, they overflowed. "I’m so sorry about the way I acted today,” she cried into his shirt.
“I never should have said any of that to you. I could blame it on PMS, but I was also just straight-up grumpy this morning.”

  His deep chuckle vibrated his chest where her cheek rested against it. “I was about to apologize to you. I gotta say, I never had sisters. I didn’t know how scary PMS could be. Where did you end up going?”

  “Greeneville,” she muttered.

  “But, that’s almost an hour away! Newport would have been closer.”

  She leaned back and gave him a watery smile. “No Starbucks. I had priorities. Where’s Alec?”

  “In his room.” He lifted a finger to his lips and lowered his voice. “He’s grumpy, too, which is nice to see for a change. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving. You cooked?” She lifted the lid on the stove and laughed. “Hot dogs in macaroni and cheese? And is that barbecue sauce?”

  “It is. Cowboy mac n’ cheese.”

  “How could I resist, then. I do love cowboys.” She looked at him from under her lashes.

  Brodie’s breath caught in his throat. The way she was looking at him. And did she mean . . . ? He wanted to ask her but Alec’s door opened, and the boy slunk out. “I just wanted to make sure your hand was okay,” he said awkwardly as Brodie dished up a plate for Emily.

  “It’s just swollen and bruised a bit.” Emily waggled her bandaged hand at him. “And I’m sorry about my behavior this morning.”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.” He said the words offhandedly, but from the way his shoulders were hunched up around his ears, Brodie figured it was an honest concern.

  “I’m sorry.” Emily hurried over to put her arms around him. He stood stiffly, and she dropped a kiss on his messy auburn hair before she let him go. “I won’t ever leave you.”

  “Sure,” he muttered. “I’m going to bed.”

  After his bedroom door closed again, Emily gave Brodie a stricken look. “I didn’t mean to scare him like that. I didn’t even think about how Alec might react when I took off that way.” They settled in their usual spots on the carpeted floor of the living room, Emily with her plate of food and Brodie with a soda.

  He wanted to tell her that Alec’s feelings were totally normal, and it was encouraging that he was starting to engage with them, but he wanted more to get to the bottom of why she was really upset that morning. “He’ll be okay,” Brodie said. “So, tell me. Aside from . . . uh, your thing that you already mentioned . . . is anything else wrong?” Please don’t say you’re regretting marrying me, he thought.

  Emily sighed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Like I said, the house—it’s hard work. I know you have other things to do, and the house is my domain. We can’t have horses bunking up here with us. I’m just worried I won’t have it habitable by the time William gets here.”

  “Can I see if I can find some help for you?” Brodie asked. “You really shouldn’t be doing all of that yourself, and I’ve got to start on the outside of the house tomorrow, fixing the porch and getting some windows replaced.”

  She brightened for a moment at the idea of having someone to share the work, but her face fell almost as fast. “We don’t know anyone around here. And I don’t want you to think that I’m not capable.”

  “I don’t think that at all. You’ve done an amazing job so far. I’ll call the minister from the church we went to yesterday. He gave me his card. Maybe he’ll know of someone.”

  *****Alec sat on his air mattress, thinking. He wanted to believe Aunt Emily when she promised she’d never leave, but his mom had always tried to reassure him things would be fine, too, and they never turned out that way. Brodie and Emily were talking now, too quietly for him to hear what they were saying, but he now knew they could start fighting again anytime. He’d have to find some way to keep their attention off each other . . . and on him.

  Seven

  The next morning, the rain was gone, and the temperatures were promising to get hot and muggy fast. Emily didn’t care, though. Brodie had come through for her, and Pastor Tom was sending someone over this morning who he promised would be a big help and could use the extra money. She still felt guilty that she wouldn’t be able to finish everything herself, but Brodie didn’t seem to mind.

  When an old Buick with a rattling muffler came up the drive, Emily was dressed and ready. Her thumb hurt less today, and she was eager to get back to work and make up for lost time. William had called and said he’d be delayed by two days, so, with help, she thought maybe they could pull it off.

  The driver’s side door opened, and Emily laughed. It was the shy girl who had sat next to them at church. “Hi, Becca!” She waved and got a tentative smile in response. The passenger side door opened, too, and a boy about Alec’s age got out.

  “I hope you don’t mind I brought my brother, Jacob,” Becca said. “I thought maybe your son would like someone to play with.”

  “Play with?” The boy grinned. “We’re not five, Becca.” He brushed his blonde hair back with a definite swagger.

  Becca blushed. “‘Kick it’ with, then?”

  Jacob nodded approvingly.

  “I see you’ve got the tween lingo down,” Emily said, winking at Becca. “I’m still working on it myself. Jacob, if you go up those stairs there, you’ll find Alec in his room, probably reading. You can go on in. There’s lemonade in the refrigerator.” He headed off, tripping through the long grass as clumsily as a puppy.

  “He’s a cute kid. Thank you for bringing him. Alec will probably be excited to talk to someone his own age for a change.”

  “It was no problem. He begged to come along. This place is so beautiful,” Becca told her, looking up at the house, her hands in the pockets of her well-worn overalls that Emily eyed as enviously as she would have eyed a pair of Prada heels a couple of months before. Overalls definitely made the statement: capable farm wife. “Back when the Fergusons lived here, it was one of the nicest homes for miles. They just got too old to take care of it after their kids were all grown and gone. I’m so glad you all are restoring it.”

  “I’m just glad for your help,” Emily said. “You ready to get started?”

  “Sure. Just let me get a few things.” Becca started pulling things out of the back of her car. A picnic hamper, mops, buckets, and more, started piling up on the ground next to the car.

  “You look like you’re a pro at this." Emily grabbed as much as she could carry with one bum hand. "Some of this cleaning stuff I don’t even have."

  “I do this for a living,” Becca admitted, looking embarrassed.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Emily replied cheerfully. “I’m in dire need of professional help.”

  Alec tried to ignore Jacob, but the guy made it impossible. Alec told him flat out that he wasn’t looking to make friends, figuring the blunter he was, the quicker the other boy would get it, but Jacob was like Aunt Emily. Talkative and persuasive, he didn’t give up pestering Alec the first day he was there until Alec finally agreed to show him around the farm. He didn’t figure Jacob would come back, but sure enough, he was there again the next day. Finally, Alec gave in and the two headed off into the woods with some sandwiches and a thermos of lemonade.

  They found a good climbing tree, and over lunch, Jacob told him all about what it was like growing up in Tennessee. He then, of course, wanted to know what Alec’s life had been like. Jacob even managed to tease out details that Alec hadn’t shared with anybody.

  “So, I’m thinking to keep Aunt Emily and Brodie from fighting again, I should distract them.”

  Jacob cocked his head and took another big bite of his PB&J. “What were you thinking of doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Alec admitted. “First, I decided to just be such a jerk, they had no choice but to deal with me instead of each other. But I’m not really good at that kind of stuff.”

  “I could totally be a jerk.” Jacob laughed. “But I don’t think you’re the type. What about if you do the opposite?”


  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, instead of trying to make them mad at you, maybe try and make them like each other more. Do they kiss and stuff? My oldest sister got married last year, and her and her husband kiss all the time. It’s super gross. And my mom and dad are super old, and they even kiss.”

  Alec was silent for a long moment, swinging his leg and thinking. “No, they don’t really kiss. I mean, I only saw them do that once. Are they supposed to?”

  Jacob nodded wisely. “Yep. You gotta get them to kiss.”

  “They look at each other a lot.”

  “Looks don’t count.” Jacob puckered his lips and made smacking sounds. “Parents are supposed to do that.”

  “They’re not my parents,” Alec denied automatically. “And how am I supposed to get them to, you know.” Alec waved his hand vaguely, hoping his face wasn’t red.

  “We’ll figure something out.” Jacob rolled up a piece of his crust and tossed it at Alec. “Trust me.”

  Having someone to help made all the difference in the world. Emily couldn’t believe how fast the time went. Once Becca opened up a little, she was smart and sweet and had a wicked sense of humor. They cranked up the radio, talked constantly over the music, and in a matter of two days, had the upstairs ready for habitation and developed a fast friendship.

  “We’ll still be sleeping on air mattresses for a while,” Emily said, admiring the way the wood floor in the master bedroom gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. “But at least we won’t be sharing our house with any bugs.”

  “Well, not after the window glass is replaced,” Becca pointed out with a dimpling smile. “We should probably cover these with plastic in the meantime.”

  Emma went to the window and stuck her head out where the glass should have been. Below, Brodie was working on the front porch. He’d demolished the rickety original structure the day before and now, sweaty and stripped to the waist, Brodie was framing the new porch. Emily tried not to notice the way his muscles in his back and shoulders rippled when he swung a hammer, but it was hard not to.