Seeds of Trust

by Cynthia Reese

  “I’d have kept the truck warm for you, but I wasn’t much to write home about.”

  “Oh, I think you were.”

  At her words, Ryan pulled her to him over the bench seat. “Well, I can always use more practice.” He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her.

  He could kiss her for hours—well, maybe not hours, but longer than he’d ever wanted to kiss any other woman.

  Ryan finally pulled back, broke the kiss.

  “Wow.” Becca’s breath came fast and shallow. “I didn’t… This wasn’t what I intended. I really did just…”

  She slid back to lean against the passenger door. “That’s your side of the truck. This—” she proscribed a circle with her arm “—is my side.”

  “I’ll try to be good.”

  “I’m so disappointed to hear that.”

  “I said try. I might fail.”

  “Be still, my heart.” Becca’s face took on a more serious look. “I really did need to talk with you. It’s hard, what I need to say, what I need to talk to you about, around Mee-Maw.”

  The switch in topics got Ryan’s attention. “What could be hard to say around Mee-Maw?”

  “I needed to talk with you about…J.T. And…your grandfather.”

  A wash of acid drenched his gut. “J.T.?”

  “Yeah. Your grandfather’s hired hand.”

  “Not just a hired hand.” Ryan looked away from her, staring out through the windshield.

  The cotton field stretched on for a country mile. He’d planted that cotton. It had been backbreaking work, long hours on a tractor from sunup to sundown and sometimes working past dark.

  “Okay, so he was what? The farm’s operations manager?”

  Now Ryan longed for Mee-Maw—or something—to come along and interrupt them. But nothing that convenient intervened and he was forced to answer.

  “You could say that. It’s a fancy way of saying he was Gramps’s right arm.”

  “Yeah. That’s kind of what I thought. And J.T. just left. Just took off?”

  “Why do you need to know about J.T.? He was gone long before that dodder vine ever sprouted.”

  “Was he?”

  “Sure. Yeah. Didn’t you know? He left the day after Gramps’s funeral.”

  “What reason did he give—”

  “Look, I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him, okay? He just…was there one night and gone the next morning. He didn’t even bother to leave a note.”

  “Hey, Ryan. Easy. Don’t get so worked up.”

  He struggled to get his agitation under control. “Sorry. I just—” Ryan cast about for some plausible explanation as to why the subject rattled him. “He cut out at the worst possible time. He left Mee-Maw without any help, okay?”

  “Did you ever think maybe he did have something to do with this? Those dodder vines had to be transported into Georgia some way. And according to Charlotte, J.T. was from the part of Texas where they were having the most trouble with the dodder vine.”

  “I tell you—he was long gone. I planted that cotton. By myself, thanks to J.T. cutting out when he did.”

  “Charlotte said he had a criminal record. Grand theft auto.”

  “Charlotte talks too much.”

  “Why are you so angry?”

  “I’m not angry. I just don’t like to talk about him.” Even to Ryan, it sounded lame.

  “Look, nobody except Charlotte—not you, not Mee-Maw, not anybody on any of the neighboring farms—will talk about J.T. Every time I bring up the subject, nobody wants to talk about him. They don’t know where he went. They don’t know why. I think it’s too big of a coincidence that a man with a criminal record vamoosed right before a plant explodes—a plant, mind you, that was abundant where he came from—a short time after he left. I’m like my dad, Ryan. I don’t like coincidences. J.T. may have nothing at all to do with it. But a man doesn’t run if he doesn’t have something to run from.”

  Ryan worked this problem. How much to say to Becca without saying too much?

  Before he could decide she continued with her questions. “It just makes me curious—the fact no one wants to talk about him. Did he leave on bad terms? Did he feel shorted in some way? Could he have come back and planted the vine as revenge?”

  “Boy, you’re sure into conspiracy theories. I’d love to hang all this on J.T., and the way you say it, it even makes sense. But believe me. He’s not been back. He’s gone. He’s been gone. Leave it alone. Trust me, he had nothing to do with this.”

  “You can’t be sure of that—unless you know something you’re not telling me. If you’ve been up front with me, if neither you nor Jack had anything to do with that vine being planted, then it has to be someone with easy access to your land. J.T. fits that bill, and you know it. Even if he didn’t plant it, he could have seen something. He’s the key. At least, I think so. But I can’t be sure until I talk to him. We need to find him,” Becca pleaded. “He may well be the link between Murphy and the vine.”

  “He could be wasted away in some bar, where he’s been dead drunk for months, with no clue as to anything that’s gone on here since he left.”

  Becca’s mouth twisted with impatience. “I’m looking for him. You ought to know that. I told my dad that we needed to find this man, but it’s hard to find a Texan with the initials J.T. when you don’t know what they stand for! So help me out, won’t you?”

  “I don’t know what they stand for. I barely knew the man.”

  “So you let an ex-con work with your elderly grandfather, live on the same property with your grandmother and you didn’t know zip about him beyond that?” She laughed. “Right. Like I can believe that.”

  “Believe it or not. Gramps ran this farm. Not me. I asked him about J.T. when he hired him, and he assured me that J.T. was an honest, hard worker who did more than his share. Beyond that, Gramps didn’t care.”

  “Ryan!” She touched his arm and he jerked away.

  “Becca…you are so barking up the wrong tree here. Just leave it alone, okay. Leave it alone.”

  “I can’t. And you know I can’t. Ryan, when will you get it through your skull that I’m trying to help you? You’ve got some piece of information tucked inside you, and you are wrapped around it as tightly as any mama bear around her cub. Let it go…please. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, felt weary down to the soles of his feet. He was so tired of carrying around this doubt, this fear.

  He could tell her. He could tell her everything. Every suspicion he had. Every worry.

  But it would be selfish. He wouldn’t be thinking in Mee-Maw’s best interest. He’d be doing it just to transfer the burden from his shoulders to Becca’s.

  And what could she do? She worked for an insurance company; she had to follow Ag-Sure’s best interests. Not those of a widow who had spent nearly every waking day on this farm for well over half a century.

  When he thought about it like that, it was an easy decision to make. With jerky movements, he fired up the pickup and slammed the transmission into gear.

  “If you want to find J.T., then I expect you will. You’re the expert. But all it will do is bring a world of pain down on Mee-Maw, so you can do it without my help. And I’d be obliged if you’d not bring up that man’s name to Mee-Maw. Ever.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  HIGH-HANDED, stubborn…

  Becca fumed inwardly, thinking of a thousand things she’d like to shout at Ryan, but he’d closed up as tight as a bank on Sunday.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. With a groan, she remembered that she’d neglected to do her evening report to her dad.

  In lieu of a greeting, she answered the call with, “I’m okay. I
was just in the middle of something and—”

  “Well, just get out of the middle of whatever it is and follow directions,” her dad snapped. “Do you know where I am? In the front seat of the car, with the keys in my hand.”

  “Everything’s…fine, Dad.” She shot a glance at Ryan. For the first time this evening, she wished for some privacy so she could tell her dad the predicament she was in.

  “What was so all-fired-up important that you took off a good five years of my life?”

  She related what she and Ryan had just seen. Her dad made the expected growls about how foolish a risk they’d taken. “Good idea, though. A shame it didn’t work out.”

  “I agree. Listen…about that hired hand…” She sensed Ryan stiffen behind the wheel. “Any luck?”

  “No, not yet. But I’ve got a few strings left to pull if you think it’s worth the trouble. J.T. was long gone before any of this unfolded. What makes you so sure he has something to do with this?”

  “I-I can’t give you all the details now, Dad. Can’t you just trust me on this?”

  He made an impatient noise in reply. “All right. I’ll start doing a serious search for this guy. But we’re going to have to justify it to Ag-Sure, or the head honchos over there will accuse us of running up billable hours, so you’d better get something to me in writing fast. E-mail me that and I need a full name and a social, or it’s going to be hard going. Why can’t you just get it from the MacIntoshes?”

  “Uh…” How much could she say without Ryan understanding why she was talking about him? Zilch. “Tried that and failed.”

  “What? Then we really do need to turn up this guy.”

  “I’m going with Plan B in the morning.”

  “Didn’t you say he had a girlfriend?”

  “That’s my Plan B.”

  “Good. Check her out. Any small thing might be the key, you know that.”

  Becca felt guilty about letting her dad loose on the hunt for J.T., but Ryan could have made it easier.

  And he hadn’t.

  His reasons didn’t hold one droplet of water. She knew he was hiding something—had every reason to suspect that it was J.T. behind the infestation and for some reason the townspeople were protecting him.

  But why?

  Ryan pulled up near Mee-Maw’s back porch. He turned off the truck and slung himself out of it. Becca watched as he stalked across the backyard and up the steps.

  Her heart twisted with regret. She was asking him to trust her, but wasn’t he asking her to do the same for him when it came to J.T.? And wasn’t she refusing?

  Didn’t he understand that she had to?

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Ryan still hadn’t unbent himself out of whatever pretzel he was in over her questions about J.T.

  Ryan’s silence—and his refusal to meet her eyes over the cups of coffee they drank—worried her. Just when she’d convinced herself Ryan had truly been caught in a simple bad spot, he was deliberately obstructing her investigation.

  Why?

  “I’m going into town to talk to Charlotte,” she announced over the grits she’d barely touched.

  Mee-Maw nodded. “Good timing. I need a few things from town,” she told Becca.

  Ryan ignored Mee-Maw and gave Becca a less sanguine reply. “You’re what? No, you’re not. I can’t spare time away to go with you, and you’re sure not going alone.”

  “Why not? Murphy’s not going to risk something in broad-open daylight. Both times he’s tried something, it was at night.”

  Becca didn’t want to admit how rattled she was at the prospect of braving the trip by herself, but a part of her was glad Ryan couldn’t go. She’d figured—rightly it had seemed—that he’d need to catch up on his work and inspect the damage from the storm. What she needed was to talk to Charlotte—alone.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said, Ryan? I said I needed a few things,” Mee-Maw interrupted as Ryan started to protest. “I’ll be going along.”

  Becca suppressed a groan. Just what she needed. She genuinely liked Mee-Maw, but right now, more than anything, Becca needed to ask Charlotte some questions. Without Ryan. Without Mee-Maw. She needed the time to stare Charlotte down and make her cough up every suspicion she had about J.T.

  Becca most certainly did not need to be chauffering Mee-Maw to the grocery store.

  “Oh, all right,” Ryan ground out. “No need in Mee-Maw getting caught in any cross fire meant for you. I’ll take you.”

  For a moment, Becca was too angry to speak. Did he really think she’d let his grandmother wander into harm’s way? Did he think Becca was some kind of Disaster Doris that brought hell raining down on anyone unlucky enough to be close to her?

  Maybe he just doesn’t want me to have time alone with Mee-Maw where he can’t monitor the situation.

  Mee-Maw drew herself up to her considerable full height. “No, sir, young man. You will hit those fields. Becca and I will get ready and head for town. If we don’t dawdle, we’ll be back for lunch. I’m too old to get on a tractor—which is why you’re going to do that, and I’m going to do what I’m still able to do.”

  Then she rose from the table and carried her plate to the sink. The subject was clearly closed to further discussion.

  I’ve got to learn how to do that, Becca decided. When I do, the first guy I’ll try it on is my dad.

  Her heart did a funny little skip as she added to herself, The second guy will be Ryan, so he’ll tell me what he’s hiding.

  * * *

  MEE-MAW DID NOT CARE one whit for Becca’s Mini Cooper. She sniffed as she arranged herself and yanked on her seat belt.

  “Got to be one of them imports. Pshaw, they couldn’t even figure out where the gauges go in the dashboard. Why would you buy something defective anyway? Or did you get it for a good deal?”

  Becca’s lips twitched, but she smothered the urge to laugh. She suspected that Mee-Maw was a lot worldlier than she let on. Probably the old woman simply pretended to be a country bumpkin to make sure people routinely underestimated her.

  Something Becca had long since stopped doing.

  She drew in a deep breath as she turned the car toward town. While she had Mee-Maw captive, she might as well dive in feetfirst.

  “Mee-Maw, I really need to know some more about J.T.”

  Mee-Maw ceased her under-the-breath grumbling about the Mini Cooper’s shortcomings. “J.T. again. Honestly, I believe you’re a tad bit obsessed with that man, though I don’t understand why. Is that what you and Ryan were in such a twist about last night? Land sakes, my screen door can’t handle such door slammings as Ryan did when he came in. Knocked me clear out of a sound sleep, it did.”

  Becca resisted the urge to be sidetracked by Mee-Maw’s evasive measures. She focused on the topic at hand. She needed some answers.

  Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, she said, “I’m not obsessed about J.T., but I think he might be vital to the investigation. I have to find him. You guys may not get your insurance money until—and unless—I do.”

  “Young people don’t fight fair, you know.”

  For a moment, Becca was nonplussed by Mee-Maw’s response. How was she not fighting fair?

  But then Mee-Maw went on, “Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, that’s what we always lived by when I was comin’ up. Me and Mac, we never went to bed before we worked out whatever problem was worryin’ us. No sense in it, anyway. Wasn’t like anybody was going to get any sleep. Ryan didn’t, either, not last night. I could hear those springs of that ol’ bed just a creakin’ as he tried to get settled.”

  Becca pictured Ryan tossing and turning. A lump formed in her throat. Had he been upset over their fight? Or was he trying to figure out how to keep wha
tever secret he held from her?

  If he’d just tell me—

  Her frustration made her speak more sharply to Mee-Maw than she should have. “Mee-Maw! Listen! Aren’t you hearing me? I want to help! I want to, but I need—”

  “I know, I know. Find J.T. What good it will do you, I don’t know.”

  “Let’s just say I have a theory that a man convicted of grand theft auto would be the type to make a quick buck.”

  “I’ll just bet you’re full of theories, a girl like yourself. I was at your age. I had life all figured out. But people ain’t what they seem—and neither is life. Sometimes…sometimes you just gotta take second chances when you can get ’em.”

  Becca frowned at Mee-Maw’s cryptic words. Had J.T. left to take a second chance? Or was she telling Becca that she was missing an opportunity for a second chance herself?

  “I need his full name and his social-security number. You have that, don’t you? You had to pay his social-security taxes, right?”

  Mee-Maw slumped down in the seat. She closed her eyes. “That’s a good boy, that J.T. He got in a scrape of trouble when he was younger. Some of his buddies stole a car, told him it was a new one that one of the gang had just bought. So they all went for a ride. It was J.T.’s turn to drive—they were all taking a turn behind the wheel, see. Only…when the police pulled ’im over, those so-called friends of his…well, they said it was all J.T.’s idea.”

  Becca had heard that sort of story before, but she supposed it could have happened that way.

  Mee-Maw went on, “Can’t get a real good job when you’ve served time in prison, so J.T. bounced around a bit. Found his way to us. He was good help. Really liked farming, had a talent for it. I didn’t expect him to stay forever.”

  “Mee-Maw…”

  “John Thomas. I got his social-security number at the house. But I can tell you, that boy knows how not to be found. If he don’t want you to find him, you’ll have to look mighty hard until you do sniff him out.”

  * * *

  BECCA MANAGED to mute her protests—albeit with gritted teeth—as she pushed the buggy down the aisles of the grocery store behind Mee-Maw.