by Tara Sivec
Ember is here almost every day as well for a few hours to work around the farm, which has been just as wonderful. She finally took me on a tour the day after our night at the Maple Inn, both of us wearing dark sunglasses and cursing at every loud noise as we both held one of Mia’s hands between us and walked around the place.
When we were younger, all the pumpkins for sale were placed in neat rows right in front of the big red horse barn, along with a wooden crate of gourds in every color and bundles of corn stalks leaning all along the barn that customers could purchase. There was just a small wooden stand off to the side where a calculator and a money box was kept. One of my favorite memories was being able to help out at the stand with Ember. Mrs. Hastings would have a bunch of strands of those big white bulbs hanging from the trees above the stand, and Old Man Hastings would set up a small fire pit to keep us warm at night. Ember and I were in charge of handing out candy to all of the kids that came with their parents to shop for pumpkins and other fall decorations, while Mrs. Hastings handled the money. The only candy they ever had were these things called Sixlets. If you aren’t familiar with them, they’re like the poor man’s version of M&M’s, but just as delicious. They’re little balls of candy-coated chocolate, and they come in a small, clear tube of plastic wrapping, with ten Sixlets in a single file.
Now, that little pumpkin stand has its own huge wooden building. All the pumpkins and gourds and corn stalks are still outside for people to peruse, but there are easily ten times as many of everything. They also let people go out into one of the fields closest to the building and pick their own pumpkins if they don’t see something they like that’s already been picked. Inside the building, you’ll find everything you can possibly imagine that’s made with pumpkin. Pumpkin pies, pumpkin jelly, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin butter, pumpkin-scented candles, ceramic and wooden pumpkin decorations for your home, and a million other things I’m sure I’m forgetting. Ember is in charge of the store. She makes a lot of the items herself, and orders the things she doesn’t.
Where Hastings Farm used to only cater to the fall decoration needs of the locals, they now ship their pumpkins and gourds and corn stalks to stores all over the united states. People also come from all over Montana to shop here, whether they drive here by car, or come in a huge bus. Additionally, the farm books tours for elementary schools from all the surrounding cities, so classes can come out and learn about farm life.
It’s seriously amazing how this little family farm that only catered to the people of White Timber, has turned into a huge business, and according to Ember, it’s all because of Clint. Once he took over the business from his dad, he worked his ass off making sure it would be sustainable for a long time to come.
I don’t remember much from my night out with Ember two weeks ago, aside from a really weird memory of watching a guy pee in the bathroom, and Ember yelling something about dicks. The only thing I do remember with perfect clarity was the fact that Ember’s husband and Clint had to come rescue us. Sheila will no longer be getting one half of a broken heart, BFF necklace from me now that I know she’s the one who called Clint and told him he needed to come get us. It’s just my luck that he continues to see me at my absolute worst. I’m also pretty sure I said something really stupid to him during the ride back to my dad’s house. Something honest and pathetic that vodka and bourbon made me do, which had something to do with me whining about why he never got in touch with me after my graduation party. It’s a good thing I can’t remember what he said back to me, because I’m sure it was insulting, and probably included a good laugh at my expense.
If I were a bigger person, I’d seek him out and ask him about it, but I’m not. I’m small and pitiful and much happier not really remembering how that conversation went. Besides, it’s not like I’ve really had the opportunity to chat with him since I’m busy being a nanny, and he’s busy running a farm. I’ve caught plenty of glimpses of him here and there in the last two weeks when I’m outside with Mia, and every day at lunch, he’ll come inside to grab something to eat or say hello to the girls. He only pauses long enough to insult me, never once bringing up that night in his truck, before racing back outside so quickly you would have thought there was a bomb in the room seconds from exploding.
In his defense, there was. It’s me. I am the fucking bomb, and I’m about ready to explode all over his ass if he keeps pretending like I didn’t say something so mortifyingly honest. This isn’t like him at all. He enjoys making fun of me and pointing out my faults. He should be having a field day, listing all of the poor choices I made at the Maple Inn. He has the upper hand here and he’s not even using it to his advantage. What a chump.
“What’s a chump?” Mia asks.
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
She’s lying on her stomach on the end of her bed, brushing a Barbie doll’s hair, while I’m leaning with my back against the headboard, a pile of notecards strewn all around me, and a bucket of markers in between my legs. Luckily, I got my first paycheck last week, and the first stop I made on my way home from the farm was the general store in town. I bought three pairs of jeans, which I cut off into ratty jean shorts, and a pair of awesome red cowboy boots. Trying to be frugal with my money, I asked Ember if I could have a few Hastings Farm T-shirts when she took me on the tour, and I’m wearing the fitted, pale blue one right now. Mia decided to take a break from Barbie a half hour ago, and proceeded to draw smiley faces on my jean shorts.
Have at it, kid. This entire outfit only cost me ten dollars.
“A chump is Brooklyn.”
Mia and I both turn our heads to find Grace standing in the doorway of Mia’s room, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence.”
I snort at my own joke, and Grace just rolls her eyes at me.
“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious.”
This is the most amount of words she’s said to me in two weeks. I should probably keep my mouth closed and not spook her, since she’s like a crazed animal in the wild who will attack at any moment, but that’s never been my style. In all of my nanny research on how to deal with a difficult child, every article said you should make sure to establish who’s in charge, and not let the child walk all over you. Grace has not only been walking all over me; she’s been kicking the shit out of me, and it’s getting a little old. Clearly scolding her and telling her she’s being a jerk isn’t going to work. She’ll just be more of a jerk then, because she knows it annoys me. It also said you should try putting the child in timeout if they’re being insolent, but Grace has pretty much been timing herself out for two entire weeks, and it hasn’t seemed to make a difference in her attitude toward me.
Time for plan B.
“I’m almost done, Mia. Are you ready to have some fun?” I ask her, coloring in the picture I just drew on the notecard and setting it down with the others.
“I’m so ready! This is the best day ever!” she chirps excitedly, pushing up to her knees and bouncing up and down on the bed. “I’m gonna be so fast, and I’m gonna win, and I’m gonna get a prize! Is the prize a unicorn with sparkles? I want a unicorn with sparkles for a prize!”
I laugh and shake my head at her, setting the bucket of markers on her nightstand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grace slowly move into the room and closer to the bed. I don’t look up at her; I just busy myself stacking the notecards into a neat pile and making sure they’re in the right order.
“What are you guys doing?” Grace asks quietly.
“Brooklyn made a scavenger hunt for me! I get to read clues, and go find the next clue, and the next clue, and the next clue, and then when I get to the end, I get a prize and it’s gonna be a unicorn!” Mia screams, almost falling off the bed with her bouncing excitement.
“You can’t read,” Grace informs her.
My eyes widen in mock surprise, and I press one of my hands against my chest, criss-crossing my legs and leaning f
orward closer to Mia.
“Shoot! I think I might have made this scavenger hunt too hard. Now what are we going to do?”
“Grace can read! Grace can read real good! She reads me stories all the time! Can Grace come with us? Grace! You have to come with us! I’ll share my prize with you when I win!” Mia begs, folding her little hands together under her chin and batting her eyelashes at Grace.
Damn, this kid is good.
“Oh, I’m sure Grace has better things to do and wouldn’t want to participate in a silly little scavenger hunt that has the best prize ever at the end of it,” I tell Mia, grabbing my sheet of notebook paper that lists the order of the cards and where I should put them, double-checking everything, and not looking up to see if Grace is even close to falling for this.
“Please, Grace! Please, please, please! I’ll do all your chores for the next week!” Mia promises.
Grace lets out a huge sigh right next to me, and I finally take a peek at her out the corner of my eye without lifting my head.
She’s still glaring at me, but the corner of her mouth is twitching, and if I’m not mistaken, I do believe she’s trying really hard not to smile.
“Uggghhh, fine! I’ll help you with this stupid scavenger hunt. But you have to do my chores for two weeks,” she tells Mia.
Mia screams so loudly that Grace and I both wince as we watch her jump off the bed and start running in circles around the room.
“I really hope the prize isn’t a box of things made with sugar,” Grace mutters to me as Mia goes racing out of the room, and the two of us walk side by side, following her out.
“Shit. Yeah, I didn’t really think this through all the way,” I reply.
Grace laughs as we go down the stairs, and I try not to pass out from the sound that isn’t at all condescending and just filled with pure joy. Sure, it’s kind of at my expense considering I’ll be the one that has to deal with Mia’s sugar high when she finds the box at the end of the scavenger hunt that’s pretty much filled with giant handfuls of every kind of penny candy I found at the general store yesterday, but whatever.
Yep, I’m officially a chump. But this is what I like to call a win, ladies and gentleman. Now, when’s that monument going to be ready for the town square?
Chapter 11
Jerk Life
“Should we move her? That can’t be comfortable.”
Grace and I stand next to the coffee table in the living room with our hands on our hips, staring down at a sleeping Mia. She’s sprawled across the top of the table on her stomach, her arms and legs spread-eagle, with her cheek resting on a pile of pink and white candy corn, and a half-eaten pink Laffy Taffy clutched in one of her fists. Various other pieces of pink candy—since pink is her favorite—and empty wrappers litter the table all around her body. If we could lift her up without disturbing anything, the top of the table would look like a pink chalk outline of a body at a crime scene. Death by too much candy.
“Do you really want her to wake up right now?” Grace asks.
“I won. Caaandy,” Mia mumbles in her sleep without opening her eyes, shoving the Laffy Taffy in her mouth and sucking on it like a pacifier.
Wrapping my hand around Grace’s arm, I start slowly backing away from the table, pulling her along with me. We move backward on our toes, careful not to make a sound until we get to the doorway, letting out the breaths we were holding. I take one last look at Mia to make sure she’s still sound asleep, and we turn and head across the hall into the kitchen.
Grace takes a seat at the table and I move to the pantry, sliding open one of the doors and pulling out a small gift bag I put in there earlier while the girls watched TV for a little bit to give me time to set up the scavenger hunt around the farm. Walking back to the table, I sit down next to Grace, putting the bag on top of the table and pushing it over in front of her.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your prize from the scavenger hunt,” I tell her.
“But Mia won. And she already got her prize.”
“Oh, please. You and I both know Mia didn’t really win. The only reason she found that box of candy in the tractor wheel was because you did all the work. She just kept running up to every tree screaming, ‘Unicorn! Where are you, unicorn?’ She’s not the smartest tool in the shed, is she?”
Good God. I’ve been in this town less than a month and already using one of my dad’s famous quotes.
Grace smiles and starts to reach for the bag, pausing with her hand hovering over it, and her smile quickly disappears.
“Let me guess. A bunch of girly, pink candy, and stupid plastic jewelry,” she mutters, dropping her hand back to the table.
Not only did I fill the scavenger hunt prize box with every pink piece of candy I could find at the general store, I also filled it with enough plastic, sparkly bangle bracelets and necklaces that added at least five pounds to Mia’s tiny body.
“Guess you won’t know until you look inside.” I shrug.
With a sigh, Grace grabs the bag and pulls it down onto her lap. I smile when her eyes grow wide as soon as she looks inside, her hand diving into the gift bag and quickly pulling everything out one-by-one, setting the items on the table in front of her.
Four packs of MLB trading cards, a bag of chocolates wrapped in foil that look like little baseballs, a pen shaped like a baseball bat with a matching baseball notepad, two packets of grape Big League Chew gum, and a New York Yankees baseball cap I got years ago when I went to a game and never wore it again.
Today might be the first day I’ve spent any time with Grace, but I’ve been pretty observant during the handful of seconds before she would slam her bedroom door in my face. Where Mia’s room is all pink and sparkly and filled with Barbie dolls, stuffed animals, dresses, play jewelry, makeup, and every other typical little girl thing you can think of, Grace’s room is the exact opposite. In the brief flashes I’d get of Grace’s room, I saw New York Yankees posters all over her walls, a couple baseball bats leaning against the wall by her window, and a shelf filled with a bunch of MLB baseball hats, where I was pretty certain I never saw one for the Yankees.
“Holy crap!” Grace exclaims.
“You probably shouldn’t say that.”
“Oh my crap!” she amends with a cheeky smile.
“Sure. Much better. You don’t already have a Yankees hat, do you?”
She shakes her head, picking up the hat and putting it on, looking over at me for approval. Without giving it a second thought, I reach over with both my hands and tuck her hair behind her ears to get it out of her face.
“Now it’s perfect. I can see your pretty face.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but when she quickly ducks her head to grab a pack of the gum and tear it open, I can see the corner of her mouth tip up into a smile.
“Did your dad ever tell you the story about the day we met?” I ask as Grace shoves a handful of the stringy gum into her mouth, holding the open packet out to me and offering me some.
She shakes her head as I dip my hand inside and pinch some of it between my fingers, tipping my head back and dropping it into my mouth. I chew it for a few seconds before continuing.
“I was in kindergarten, and he was in second grade. I came over to play with your aunt Ember, and your dad had a bunch of friends over. They were playing baseball in the front yard, and I asked if I could play with them. He told me no, because I was a girl.”
“Really? What did you do? Did you cry? Did you tell on him and get him in trouble?” Grace asks.
“Hell no! I did the mature thing. I kicked him in the nuts, told him he was a jerk, and that he just didn’t want me to play because he knew I’d mop the field with him.”
Grace smacks her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“I think it’s kind of cool he grew out of that nonsense and doesn’t think girls can’t play baseball anymore. I’m sure you guys must have some awesome games out here at the farm.”
; Her laughter fades away and her hand drops from her mouth. She busies herself taking the cap off the baseball pen, flipping open the notebook, and doodling on one of the pages.
“We used to. He’s too busy now for stuff like that.” She shrugs, keeping her head down and focusing really hard on her doodles.
I can actually feel my heart breaking in half when I hear the sadness in her voice. I want to say something to make her feel better, but I have no clue what that would be. I see both sides here. This is a huge farm and it takes a lot of work to keep it running smoothly, and all of that responsibility falls on Clint’s shoulders. But at the same time, he’s missing out on so much by working so hard.
“My mom always got annoyed whenever we’d go out and play baseball,” Grace says quietly.
My ears perk up and I lean forward, trying not to make it too obvious that I’m hanging on her every word.
The mysterious mother. Finally.
“She thought it was dumb that I liked baseball more than girl stuff, like Mia. She was always arguing with my dad about how he shouldn’t encourage me to do boy stuff. They fought all the time. Maybe if I didn’t like boy stuff so much, she wouldn’t have left and never come back.”
Nope. Never mind. Now my heart is officially breaking.
Now I understand why my dad said Clint and I might have something in common, and why everyone in this town said he’s been through a lot. He didn’t lose his mother, but he lost the mother of his kids, and I can only imagine how hard that’s been on him, having to raise these girls all by himself.
“Oh, sweetie,” I whisper, reaching over and placing my hand on top of hers to get her to stop scribbling in the notebook.
