Promises Under the Peach Tree

by Joanne Rock

  Had he ever deserved her?

  “Ally is a shoe-in for this.” The voice at his ear was as familiar as it was unexpected.

  “Mom?” Seeing her there, his tall, imposing mother prematurely aged by strong and sometimes experimental medications, reminded him of how much she’d been through.

  He hurried to take her arm. “You should find a good spot to sit where you’ll be more comfortable.”

  “No. I want to be able to see when my grandbaby gets that crown of husks on her head.” She leaned her cheek against Mack’s arm. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought she’d win. She’s worked as hard as any young person for this festival.”

  Mack’s eyes went to Nina again—they were glued to her tonight, it seemed—and noticed she’d taken a seat to the side of the stage next to Ally, Ethan and Rachel, who had gotten out of the hospital that day with a cast and crutches. Rachel held Ally’s hand on one side and Ethan’s hand on the other. While Mack watched, she joined their hands together as the interim mayor finally made his way to the stage.

  “I’ll make this short and sweet, my friends and fellow residents,” Zach Chance said into the microphone. “I know you want to dance the night away more than you want to hear me carry on.”

  The guy held up a hand and a spotlight followed his gesture. Right toward Mack and his mother, then Scott and Bethany.

  “First, I’d like to thank the Finley family for their continued contribution to this event, and the Harvest Festival planning committee who works tirelessly to ensure each year is a bigger success than the last.”

  The crowd applauded and a few people near Mack clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him. He’d always imagined that Scott would run for mayor next year and take over announcements like this. But now? He wished he knew a way to help his brother back to steady ground.

  As the mayor continued to recognize people, Mack lowered his voice to speak to his mother.

  “I’m worried about Scott.” He was used to looking to his brother for help dealing with their mother, not the other way around. But this was the most clear-eyed that Mack had seen his mom in a long time.

  “So am I,” she admitted, turning toward him more and whispering so they wouldn’t be overheard. “But we talked, and he has promised me he’s going to try harder to win his wife back, and I believe him. I’ll get to work on helping him next. But right now, Mack Finley, you should pay attention to your own future.”

  “What are you talking about?” He tensed, prepared to defend himself. He was clearheaded, right? The family issues hadn’t caught up to him yet.

  “Nina. Spencer.” His mother peered over her glasses, a deft master of the “mother knows best” glare. “She loves you and she understands you. You love her to distraction. Why the two of you can’t get out of your own way to—”

  “Mom.” He closed his eyes and hoped redirecting her would work. Even with his eyes closed he could still see Nina, though. Remembered the hurt he’d glimpsed earlier in her expression. “Sounds like Zach is finally winding up the thank yous and moving on to the announcement. Let’s listen.”

  The mayor was cueing up the spotlight again. The lights roamed the crowd in a dizzying pattern.

  “Now for our favorite part of the night when we name your Harvest king and queen.” The mayor held up his hand with a flourish while the crowd clapped. A soft drumroll began behind him and the spotlight slowed. “I give you...Ethan Brady and Ally Finley!”

  The bright lights found them. Mack’s eyes went to the group seated by Nina. Ethan jumped to his feet with a crowd-pleasing fist pump while Ally hugged Rachel, Nina and then, when she was standing...Ethan. Mack clapped hard and so did his mother. Ally walked to the stage—composed and smiling, but teary-eyed, too. He could see the sheen in her eyes from here. Mack was so proud of her he wondered how her mom and dad must feel. Turning, he spotted Bethany beside Scott, clapping and united, for the moment at least.

  The king and queen’s dance was just for the two of them—at least for the first few spins around the dance floor. So as soon as the corn-husk crowns were on their heads, the band began again while Scott and Bethany snapped pictures on their phones. Harlan Brady was there, too, cheering for his grandson beside a couple that must be Ethan’s parents.

  Even Nina and Rachel were busy taking photos of the couple. Mack remembered a handful of pictures from his turn on the same dance floor with Nina, the disco ball pumpkin spinning overhead.

  “Mack.” His mother tugged on his sleeve again, no longer whispering. “I’m heading home. But I want you to understand something first. Your beautiful and talented niece is smart, driven and restless because she’s an ambitious soul. The fact that she’s also challenged by some emotional issues will not define her. They are only a fraction of who she is.”

  “I know that, Mom.” He recognized that Ally was a truly exceptional kid.

  “Well, then, don’t be so close-minded about what the future holds for my other grandchildren.” She handed him her long cardigan and presented him with her back, his cue to help her put the thing on. “If I’d had half the good treatments that are available to young people today, I would be running this town—and quite possibly the whole state of Tennessee—by now.”

  He slid the cardigan into place on her shoulders, trying to decide if she was kidding. She reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek, a gesture she hadn’t made in a long time.

  “Good luck, son.”

  “G’night, Mom.” He hardly got the words out there because he was too busy shaking the cobwebs of his old views of his mother from his head. “Thanks.”

  She held up a thin hand in acknowledgement while gesturing for Erin to bring her home. Mack’s sister was by her side immediately, holding an arm to be sure their mother didn’t fall with her less-than-stable feet.

  Damn. Mack had known his mother was looking more clear-eyed. He hadn’t known she was so feisty. Or that the assortment of medicines she’d taken in the past had sapped her energy and forceful personality so much. But she’d had enough good days that he recognized the strong character she was presenting now. How sad to think she felt she’d been robbed of opportunities in her life because of less awareness and less options for treating her disease.

  Still, he’d sure as hell been given the full effect of his mother’s clarity tonight. She was right about Ally’s strengths. And about his own fears of taking a chance on kids based on old, outdated understandings of what it meant to battle bipolar disorders. What if his mother was correct and new medications, therapies—hell, more acceptance of the illness from the people around her—could help her maintain the kind of focus and level emotions he’d noticed in her recently?

  He’d been so stuck in the past, he’d been blinded to the present and unable to see what the future could hold.

  His eyes found Nina again. This time, there was no looking away. No wishing for a different outcome. He owed the woman he loved a hell of a lot better than what he’d been giving her. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to convince her that he could change.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE HARVEST DANCE was almost over, the end of the festival weekend imminent.

  Nina double-checked the clock on the wall in the fairgrounds’ kitchen while she input some contact information into her phone. During the dance tonight, she had made an appointment with her realtor to look at some other possibilities for properties to develop a farm-to-table establishment that really stressed locally sourced foods.

  All the while, she’d been trying to distract herself from the inevitable goodbye to Mack. Their last dance. If only she knew when he planned to return. The waiting was killing her, each ticking second making her wonder if she could find a livable compromise, because the thought of losing him was tearing her up inside.

  Strangely, her one nice moment this evening had been encourag
ement from Mack’s mother, who’d sought her out to apologize for “any unmeasured words” she might have used in their last conversation. The embarrassment in Mrs. Finley’s eyes had been enough to tear at Nina’s heart and make her empathize with all she’d been through. And Nina herself had wanted to apologize. They’d parted, if not quite friends, at least as friendly acquaintances.

  “Can I steal you away for a few minutes?” Mack’s voice called from the door.

  She hadn’t expected him to find her for another half hour when the dance was scheduled to end.

  “Certainly.” Tucking her phone into her purse which was hanging on a nearby hook, she gave Mack her full attention. “Although I think it’s a little early for our dance.”

  She wanted to say more—something about how special the weekend had been for her—but the words stuck in her throat. They sounded too much like the goodbye she’d been putting off.

  Mack looked so handsome in his gray pants and a dark blazer. He must have found somewhere to change before the dance since he’d worn jeans most of the day. A white dress shirt with no tie was casual enough for an event that was a glorified barn dance, but reminded her that he was an accomplished businessman with a successful track record. A man who couldn’t wait to get back to his business, in fact.

  “I know.” He stepped closer, the kitchen empty now that the dance was almost over. “I hoped you had time for a walk down the fairway first. We were both so busy, there wasn’t much chance to enjoy all the work we’ve put into the event.”

  “I’d like that.” Nina grabbed her sweater, which Mack plucked from her fingers. Wordlessly, he held it for her so she could slip her arms in more easily. A gentleman. “I didn’t even get to try Frisbee tic-tac-toe, and I’m sure I would have aced it.”

  His palms lingered on her shoulders for a moment as he slid the red wool cardigan into place. Even with the barrier of her sweater, she still savored the stroke of his touch. She had to close her eyes to will away the urge to turn and press a kiss to one of his hands.

  “With your killer competitive instincts? I’m sure you would have, too.” He held the back door of the kitchen open for her.

  She hugged her arms around herself as they stepped outside into the night air. It was cooler than she’d guessed—probably below sixty. But she’d been hot indoors after spending much of the day in the steamy kitchen, so the chill in the air was welcome. They strode past a huge rack full of carved jack-o’-lanterns lit with battery-operated candles. Fierce faces stared down at them while the yellow-orange glow reminded her of the lights inside the dance.

  “I was happy to hear a lot of the farmers sold healthy amounts of produce from their booths.” Nina had gotten a thorough report from Harlan Brady, who was never far from her grandmother lately. “I think next year we should really gear the food to showcase the harvest crops. Maybe challenge the local restaurants to compete for most original squash dishes or invite some brewers in to taste test fall beer flavors.”

  Her mind had been racing with ideas for foods and food-related businesses all day, but that was partly in response to the fact that she was trying so hard not to think about Mack. How could she be so certain and excited about a new path for her life when that path was also destined to bring her such heartbreak?

  “Those are great ideas.” Mack seemed distracted as they rounded the ring toss. He tugged her closer to the jack-o’-lantern display and toward a bench just behind the metal rack of pumpkins. “Nina, I do want to hear your thoughts on next year’s festival, but I asked you out here because I...I want to talk about us. Now.”

  Her stomach summersaulted. This was it. His ultimatum that would lead to a break. And how could she condemn him for it when she’d drawn lines in the sand, as well?

  He drew her down to the cast-iron bench beside him and kept her hand folded in his. A few people still milled around out on the fairway, taking a breather from the dance. Music from inside the venue spilled out onto the fairway, the muted strains of steel guitars drifting past her ears. But back here, hidden behind an eight-foot wall of pumpkins, they were alone. Private. She swallowed hard, unprepared for this, even though she’d known this was coming. She wanted her dance, damn it. She wanted one last wonderful memory with him.

  “Mack, I get it. I understand.” She’d recognized that a future together—unless she ruled out children and moved to Nashville—was an impossibility. “There can’t be an ‘us.’ But can’t we at least—”

  “No.” He shook his head. Firm. Resolute. “That’s not true.”

  He readjusted his grip on her fingers and gazed at their joined hands. The moonlight shone down, joining with a street lamp to cast a halo around them. She stared at the back of his neck, at that vulnerable patch of skin showing a thin tan line from where he’d gotten a fresh haircut. Why was it that something so inconsequential as a haircut tugged at her? Was it the thought of him putting on his best face for this event for his family in spite of the fact he had a business and a life elsewhere?

  Her fingers itched to sketch that thin, paler line of skin, to have the right to be a part of his everyday routine. And in that simple moment she got it. She realized what had been eluding her all along.

  Just because Mack had moved didn’t mean he loved his family any less. He was finding a way to be a part of his family while still living his dream. Nashville wasn’t that far. He’d done a far better job at staying connected to his family than she had, in fact.

  She could learn a thing or two from him about making compromises while still holding on to your dream.

  And suddenly all the possibilities she’d been spinning in her mind this past week gelled together into a beautiful future. A future built with Mack.

  “I’ve been thinking about your concerns,” she began, “and I’m sorry for not being more sympathetic before. And I’ve been wondering...” She swallowed hard, not from reservations, but with nerves and hope. “I’m wondering if you’re open to adoption.

  “It would work for me,” she continued. “I love kids so much that I’d take a house-full and be happy. But I would be just as happy with one or two, as long as you were their father. And am I wrong in thinking that might work for you, too? Because I’m sure I would love our adopted kids as much as any we would make. But I can’t just close the mental door on one day being a mom—”

  “Nina.” He gathered up her other hand now and held that one also, the rasp of his calluses against her skin reminding her of his bridled strength. “Wait. Please. First of all, I can’t believe you’ve thought this through for me.” He shook his head. “But you don’t need to shut any doors on my account.”

  Panic fluttered in her stomach. She tried to quell the rush of fear, to recalibrate her thoughts to what he was saying rather than rush to the wrong conclusion. And the more she considered his words, the more she realized this could actually be a solution. They could find a way to be together and have the whole dream.

  “What do you mean?” She counseled herself to be cautious. To wait. And yet a rush of hope surged up anyhow, so strong she had to force herself not to scoot closer to him.

  The music from the dance kicked into “Cotton-Eyed Joe” and the squeals and clapping got louder.

  “I mean I’ve been holding tight to an old, wrong-headed idea that I came up with as a teenager.” He let go of her hands now and stood to pace in front of her, the show of restless energy unusual from a man she was used to seeing so composed. “I think I held on to it so damn tight because I made that decision at an emotional point in my life, after a particularly hellish day for me, for my family. And most of all, for my mother.” He paused in front of her. “Does that make sense?”

  “Go on,” she urged, not quite sure what else to say. He seemed to need to get it out in his own way, and a communicative Mack was a man she didn’t see too often.

  She’d love to see this side of
him more. All sides of him, in fact. Brooding, silent Mack. Romantic Mack. And yes, this tense, restless yet determined Mack who seemed to hold the power to make or break her whole future.

  “I hated what Mom’s illness did to her. And as a kid, the drug treatments were almost worse than the rest of it. She’d be out of it for days. Tired. Miserable. Not herself.” He thrust a hand through his newly shorn hair. “It was as if she...disappeared for long periods of time and I hated it for her as much as anyone, you know?”

  “Of course you did.” Sympathetic tears sprang to her eyes for the confused boy he must have been. The one he’d never let her see, even when they’d been everything to each other. The boy who didn’t understand that there were two sides to bipolar disease, the depressive side as well as the manic. And so he’d blamed his mom, the doctors, even himself. Nina rose to her feet and took his hand, even tighter than he’d held hers before. “That must have been scary for you.”

  “Right.” He gave a brusque nod, as though fear wasn’t really an emotion he wanted to get well acquainted with. “But later, I got angry. At her doctors, my father, and yes—at her. I decided no one should have to go through what she went through. And if that meant not putting myself in the gene pool...” He gave a helpless shrug. “Somehow, once the idea took hold, I never revisited it. I just kind of locked it away as a core part of who I was and how I was going to move forward.”

  Nina put a hand on his shoulder, stroking gently over the textured finish of the lapel. The tension that braced his shoulders even now told her what an emotional place his old ideas had come from. Her own encounter with therapy had taught her how tough it was to break old patterns of thinking. Old ways of feeling.

  “Knowing that, Mack, I don’t want to put you in a position where you are going against something so important to you—”