Berry on Top (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 6)

by Valerie Comer

  “Here, Daddy. You put it somewhere safe, okay?” Avery glanced at Christopher.

  That was a kid who had no patience for doing anything sitting at a table. The kindergarten teacher despaired of him. Mason had been much the same. He hadn’t gotten along particularly well with formal education all the way through school.

  Mason rolled the drawing and stuck the tube in his coat sleeve while Mom sent the twins to wash up. He swung open the door at the sound of Dad’s boots clomping up the walkway outside. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey yourself, son.”

  “Need any help with the chores before I head home?”

  Dad shot him a sharp glance. “You’re staying for supper, aren’t you? Your mother was counting on it.”

  “Yes, but Christopher and I could help you after if you like.”

  Dad shrugged. “I’ve got it.”

  Mason turned back to the kitchen. If his father only welcomed the little boy outside on days like this, Christopher wouldn’t get so stir crazy. But Dad had done the same to Mason, not letting him help until he was physically able to do a man’s job. By then, it had been too late to build a relationship between them. Not that Mason could claim to be perfect in the parenting department.

  “We’re ready to eat when you’ve washed up, Gary.” Mom set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.

  “Smells good, Emma. Be right with you.” Dad marched off down the hallway and came back in a minute.

  Mason helped his kids dish up potatoes, gravy, and slices of roast beef. And — oh, great — broccoli. Christopher’s nose was already curling. Mason scooped several limp pieces onto his son’s plate. At least Claire didn’t cook the stuff to death.

  Christopher stabbed both elbows on the table and scowled. “I don’t like broccoli.”

  “It’s good for you,” Mom said. “And there’s cheese sauce.”

  Mason didn’t like it so well himself. He took a larger scoop than he’d given his son before adding some to Avery’s plate. Being a dad — a role model — gave him responsibilities. He lifted a smaller bowl and looked at Christopher. “Want cheese sauce?”

  Christopher heaved a mighty sigh. “I guess.”

  “Yes, please, Daddy.” Avery made a face at Christopher.

  Mason ladled some on the broccoli on all three plates then passed it to his father.

  “How was work today?” asked Dad.

  “All right. I spend too much time inside this time of year.”

  “You could’ve been a farmer. Office hours are minimal.”

  Mason forced a grin. “The ideal would be somewhere in between.” He half-suspected that his father spent more time than necessary in the barn, just to stay out of Mom’s space.

  Dad cut up his roast beef. “The new transmission running well?”

  “The car has never run better.”

  “Good, good.”

  Christopher stirred gravy all over his plate, mixing it with cheese sauce until everything took a blended, rather disgusting hue.

  “Eat up,” Mason said quietly.

  The boy sighed and put a small bite in his mouth. Potatoes only. What a surprise.

  Mom swirled a piece of broccoli in cheese sauce and made a show of popping it in her mouth and smiling at Christopher.

  Like that was going to make a difference.

  “Mason says he hasn’t heard from Erin in a while,” she said to Dad.

  Did she really have to bring this topic up again, especially in front of the twins?

  Dad grunted. “It’s not normal for a woman to abandon her children.”

  “But Erin was never—”

  “Can we not talk about this right here, right now?” Mason gave each parent a pointed look.

  “Little pitchers have big ears,” Dad commented, buttering a slice of bread.

  “What’s that mean?” Christopher glanced around the table.

  Mason sighed. “Eat your supper, buddy.”

  “Funny way to say that,” mumbled his son, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork.

  “I see Liz Nemesek is back in town,” Mom said. “Have you run into her?”

  Mason’s dinner turned to sawdust. Nothing was casual with Mom. “She’s staying out at the farm, so I’ve seen her a couple of times. Avery, do you need me to cut up your meat?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide. “Miss Liz is very pretty.”

  Mason turned to the other side. “How about you, Christopher?” If he could even find the beef under all that cheese and gravy.

  “No thanks, Dad.”

  “Okay, well, eat up then. We need to get going pretty quickly here.” Mason gave his mother another pointed look. Whatever she thought she remembered from years back was best forgotten, and whatever she thought about the situation today was best not mentioned in front of the twins. Thankfully she was working at the feed store for the rest of the week, and the kids would go next door to the farm.

  The questions there would be easier to handle.

  * * *

  Liz headed over to the straw bale house mid-morning. After a few days of overcast skies and snow, the sun blazed from intensely blue skies with only a few puffy white clouds. Sunlight glittered on the gentle curves of the unmarred snow. She took a deep breath and released it, a puff of condensation floating briefly in front of her face.

  Yes, she’d missed winter. Maybe one of the women would like to go for a walk. Liz eyed the snow banks. Maybe snowshoeing up the mountain road. Now that would be a treat.

  She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the interior of the house, dim even with wide windows welcoming the brightness in through crystal clear panels. “It’s gorgeous out there,” she announced, unwinding the scarf from around her collar. “How I’ve missed winter!”

  From behind the kitchen peninsula came Claire’s chuckle. “If a few days of snow puts this much sparkle on your cheeks, how did you ever survive ten years in Thailand?”

  “Necessity.” Liz hung her coat and lined her boots up on the drip tray. “But I know one thing. That company had better find me a position in the northern half of the USA. California or Florida is not going to cut it.”

  Allison appeared beside Claire. “Looking for food? I can fix you something if you like. And coffee’s on.”

  Liz padded over to the kitchen on sock feet. “I’ll just make a couple of pieces of toast, if that’s okay. And yes to the coffee.”

  Allison chuckled as Avery ran in from the great room. “Miss Liz! You look pretty today.”

  It wasn’t the child’s fault she had Mason for a father, and she looked a bit less like him than her brother did. Liz smiled at her. “Thank you, Avery.”

  “The boys are playing outside,” the girl informed her. “Aunt Allison said maybe we’d bake Christmas cookies today. Do you like cookies?”

  Aromas of molasses and cinnamon wafted through Liz’s memories. Mom had wrapped her in an oversized apron, and she’d helped mix, roll, cut, and decorate gingerbread men. “I love cookies.”

  “Goody. Maybe you can help us. Let’s have a cookie-making party.” Avery looked from one adult to another, eyes bright. “Can we?”

  Allison reached over and smoothed Avery’s short thick hair. “I think we can do that. We’re going caroling tomorrow evening, and it would be fun to give people a plate of treats.” She looked up at Liz with a smile. “I hope you can come, too.”

  “Maybe.” She hadn’t specified if Mason would be going. “But either way, I’m happy to bake.”

  “Sounds good.” Claire slid a mug of coffee across the peninsula to Liz. “It’s not like we haven’t made any yet, but these starving children inhale them as fast as we allow it.”

  Allison chuckled. “Sure, blame the children. I’ve seen the guys’ hands in the cookie jar more often. Brent insists he’s eaten only half a dozen. At a time, that is.”

  Liz peered into the toaster. “How does this thing keep up with so many people? It only makes four slices.”

  “Well, for starters, we don�
�t serve a lot of toast. We already go through a couple of loaves of bread a day without making it central.”

  Liz’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if it was okay. I can buy my own bread.” In fact, she should’ve already been doing that.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. You asked, and I’m answering. When we make toast for the crew, we broil it by the sheet. We thought about getting one of those big rotating toasters like institutional kitchens have, but decided against it.”

  “I can’t imagine how much of everything you must go through.” Liz smeared butter on the hot toast and then a drizzle of honey.

  Claire pointed at the pantry door. The entire surface was a dry erase board with charts. “We didn’t start out cooking for a dozen or more. At first it was just Jo, Sierra, and me. As the crew grew, we adapted. There have been all kinds of tipping points.”

  “Tell me about Jo.”

  “She’ll be over in a bit. Why not ask her?”

  Because it still felt so weird to think of having a sister-in-law? To realize her brother was a dad? And not only Zach. She caught a glimpse of Avery’s bright eyes across the counter, and her gut soured. Mason, too. All these people thought marriage and kids were normal.

  Liz was dying of curiosity at what happened to Erin. Had Erin been smart enough to dump Mason before he made her the laughing stock of their social scene? But still, they’d had children together. They must have had some good years in there. Hopefully.

  No way was she going to ask. And, even if it was part of what Mason wanted to tell her, that didn’t mean she was ready to hear about it from him. If he was ready to apologize for past wrongs, she’d make him grovel... and then she’d tell him no. She wouldn’t help him clear his conscience.

  Some vague memory of a Bible verse from when she was a kid surfaced. Something about forgiving someone seventy times seven. It wasn’t like she was on speaking terms with God, though, so she didn’t need to listen. A bit of Bible would do Mason a world of good. Her? She didn’t need it.

  Chapter 7

  Mason was a sucker for, “Please, Daddy!” It didn’t matter which child. He was pretty sure his parents had said no to him a whole lot more often than he could bring himself to with the twins.

  Which is how he found himself at Green Acres Thursday evening. He’d been trying to stay away and give Liz some space. Probably didn’t count when his kids spent all day there while he was at work.

  He couldn’t convince himself that the caroling evening was going to be a good time to talk to Liz. He’d have to catch her one-on-one sometime, away from the team and definitely very far away from his inquisitive children. And with their history, he couldn’t exactly blame Liz for making sure they were never alone, even for a minute.

  Even now, as the group wound up an early supper of thick, rich, stew and bundled into parkas, she stuck to Jo or Zach like glue. She’d chosen wisely. Mason had no intention of delving into the past with anyone else present but, next to Steve and Rosemary, Liz’s brother and his wife were the last people he’d pick as bystanders. Zach was one concerned-looking big brother.

  “I want to ride with Maddie.” Avery crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Mason.

  “You can’t. Kids have to ride in their own seats. It’s a law in Idaho.” Okay, his daughter couldn’t push him over in every circumstance. Good to know.

  “But you can put my seat in Mr. Zach’s truck.”

  “Sorry, princess. Miss Liz is their guest. I think she’s going to ride with them.”

  “Or Miss Liz could ride with us. Then it would be okay not to ride with Maddie.”

  Mason stared down the pint-sized girl. “Nope. Not happening.”

  Her lower lip jutted.

  “Can you stick it out further?” Allison patted Avery’s shoulder as she walked by. “There’s almost enough room for a bird to land.”

  Avery scowled.

  Mason nudged her. “Finish getting ready, princess. You’ll have lots of time with Maddie. You can stand beside her and sing.”

  Man, he’d never gone caroling in his life. He could carry a tune okay, but didn’t sing out in church. The things he did for his kids.

  And to see Liz.

  * * *

  The families piled out of their vehicles in front of a detached home in an older neighborhood. Liz didn’t bother asking whose house it was. Galena Landing had doubled in size since she’d left, so odds were she wouldn’t know the inhabitants, anyway.

  She joined as the troupe made their way up the drive, covered with a few inches of fresh snow. More was falling, flakes glittering in the glow from the street lamps. Liz inhaled deeply, the brisk air filling her, cleansing her.

  Noel began singing Silent Night, and everyone joined in by the second word. As they built in volume, a drapery at the front window twitched as someone peered out. Before the group launched into O Little Town of Bethlehem, an elderly couple stood in the doorway, framed in the light behind them.

  When they paused at the end of the fourth carol, the man beckoned. “Come in. Come in! You must be freezing. Let us fix you some cocoa.”

  “No, thanks.” Jo laughed as she pressed a tin into the woman’s hands. “We’ve just begun. We wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

  Behind her, Liz heard a scraping sound. She turned to see all four guys moving snow with big shovels.

  “But—” The man stepped out onto the cement landing and holding out his hand as though to stop them.

  “No buts, Ed.”

  Liz peered closer. Ed Graysen? Wow, he’d aged since her high school days. He looked old. Bent over. Decrepit.

  “Well, thank you.” Ed looked out at the group. “You children did a fine job singing.” Then his gaze settled on her. “Liz? Is that you? I heard a rumor you were home.”

  Home. What a strange word. Home... and yet not, at all. “Hi, Mr. Graysen. Yes, it’s me.”

  He held out both arms. “Well, come here, and let us give you a hug.”

  Oh man. She hated being pushed into the limelight, but Jo and Claire made room, and it would be rude not to. She mounted the few steps and found herself enveloped in the old man’s arms and, a moment later, Mrs. Graysen’s as well.

  “We’ve been praying for you, Lizzie,” the woman whispered. “Every single day. It’s so good to see you home.”

  Tears stung Liz’s eyes, and she blinked them back. “Thank you.” Even though it didn’t seem likely that God was in the business of answering anyone’s prayers, it didn’t hurt for this old couple to believe they’d had a part in her return. They didn’t know she blamed it on Sanun. Or had it just been time?

  Mrs. Graysen patted Liz’s arm. “Do come visit us sometime. Bring your mother, maybe. We’d like to hear all about Thailand. We’ve never gone anywhere like that.”

  Liz managed a smile as she disengaged. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here but, if I get a chance, I’ll come by.”

  “Please do.”

  Behind her, Liz heard the muffled clang of shovels landing in the back of Zach’s pickup. “I need to go. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Liz.” Mr. Graysen’s large hand rested on her shoulder. “Remember the reason for the season.”

  Liz turned for the vehicles, where parents already helped kids buckle in. The reason for the season. That had always sounded like such a cliché. Maybe it was to some people, but she was pretty sure Ed Graysen hadn’t meant it that way.

  A dozen old people’s houses and nearly as many shoveled driveways later, the group assembled in the lounge of the Galena Hills Care Facility. Avery and Maddie, clutching each other’s hands, stood in front of a bent-over elderly woman, who stroked Maddie’s brown curls and murmured nonsense to them.

  Jo leaned closer to Liz. “This is where your grandmother lived out her final years.”

  Unexpected tears prickled Liz’s eyes. “Did you know her?”

  “I did. I worked here as nutritionist. She was very sweet.”

&n
bsp; Memories of sitting on a stool in the trailer kitchen, short legs swinging, surrounded Liz. Grandma Humbert had always been good for homemade cookies and a listening ear but, round about puberty, Liz stopped going next door. She and her friends had been too busy trying to catch the eye of the boys to hang out with old women in polyester pants and permed hair.

  Lousy choice. One of many.

  She would not glance at Mason Waterman to confirm the stupidity and pain behind her teen fantasies.

  “I don’t know if anyone told you, but your grandmother gave Zach her wedding rings for me.” Jo lifted her left hand. “Told him to ask me to marry him when we were still busy being antagonistic to each other.”

  Liz raised her eyebrows. “It wasn’t love at first sight?”

  “It rarely is, from what I hear.” Jo looked around the group.

  Liz’s glance took in the Green Acres adults as they chatted with the old people. Even Mason crouched beside some old man’s wheelchair while the senior mumbled something to Christopher and Finnley.

  If she didn’t know Mason as well as she did, she could be attracted to a man like him. He seemed so nice. So normal. She choked back a derisive snort.

  “You and Mason knew each other in high school? Zach says you were in the same class.”

  “I knew him.” Liz kept her voice low and steady. This was hardly the place for this conversation. “He was a jerk.”

  Jo’s hand — the one with antique rings on it — rested on Liz’s arm. “He’s changed. Grown up, if you will.”

  Oh, he’d grown up, all right. Devastatingly so.

  “Most important, he’s put his faith in Jesus and become a new creature. He said that though his parents dragged him to church as a child, he never really understood or cared at the time.”

  Show no emotion. “Sounds about right.”

  “I’m probably meddling.” Jo’s voice was just above a whisper. “But I’ve seen him watching you. After watching the entire gang at Green Acres fall in love, I’m pretty sure I recognize the signs, and yet you—”