“True. And going to church.”
“You know, maybe we’re underestimating them. If they can accept you becoming a Christian and not marrying the person they choose for you, why wouldn’t they accept your decision to live a quiet life in the country?”
There was a short silence as they both considered the possibility, and then they spoke in unison. “No, they wouldn’t.”
Charlotte would have laughed but she understood Sahil’s pain too well. “But come visit. I’m serious. You come at the end of summer, I’ll be able to feed you dinner right out of my garden.”
“Sounds delicious but I’m supposed to be attending that conference in Philly.”
“Just think about it. My mom’s coming in late July so any time after that. I really want to show you my… giant white rabbit!”
“Your what?”
A snow white creature had slipped under the lowest bar of the old wooden fence on the northern end of the garden. She would have said it was a dog, as large as it was, except for the enormous ears and distinctive hopping. Charlotte felt her eyes go wide as the rabbit came closer, moving down the rows until it was barely fifteen feet away. She wondered if Lewis Carrol had seen a rabbit like this before sending Alice to Wonderland.
Charlotte dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “Big white rabbit. Eating my plants. Must go.” Sahil was laughing as she disconnected.
The rabbit peered around, then set to nibbling her tiny lettuce plants. Charlotte jumped from the porch. Waving both arms, she shouted as she ran toward the big rabbit. She expected the bunny to leap in a panic, but it didn’t. It fixed her with one eye, and went on nibbling. Charlotte slowed to a stop. It wasn’t afraid of her. It was tame. It was someone’s pet.
She turned to her neighbor’s property and glared at the ramshackle wooden fence bordering her garden’s north side. In an urban neighborhood, the fence would have provoked complaints from the home owners association, but out on the outer banks of the canyon, Charlotte thought it was as charming as the rows of lilacs that edged the rest of her property. Now she saw the fence in a whole new light. It was responsible for letting in this voracious bunny that was standing between her and her dreams. Charlotte reached out a hand and stroked the back of the rabbit. Yes, definitely a pet, and if the direction it entered the garden was any indication, she knew where the rabbit belonged.
Chapter 2
“Don’t eat anything your great-grandmother wouldn’t recognize as food.”
― Michael Pollan
Charlotte slipped her hands under the rabbit’s belly. She was going to personally deliver him back to the mysterious neighbors. They may not want to socialize but they were all going to meet the new librarian whether they wanted to or not.
For a moment, it seemed as if it was going to work, but the rabbit kicked out with its back legs and launched itself into the air, landing several feet away. It gave her a sour look, and proceeded to gobble the last of the lettuce.
“You’re not winning this fight, mister.” A quick trip into the house and she was ready with a handful of bright, sun-ripened strawberries. “Don’t think you’re getting treats every time you sneak over here,” she said. “This is a one-time deal.”
The giant rabbit held still as she crept closer, hand outstretched. It twitched its nose and hopped forward, but just before it could grab a berry, Charlotte slipped a hand underneath and lifted the animal to her chest. It must weigh ten pounds, at least. It didn’t kick this time, just nibbled strawberries in her hand as she walked toward the fence.
“Come on, Harvey. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who can see you.”
She didn’t stop to think about her mud-streaked shirt and worn out jeans. She scooted over the top beam of the wooden fence and headed for the farmhouse. Pots of geraniums dotted the long porch and a wooden swing hung from a large oak. The rockers on the porch were empty but Charlotte saw an old truck in the driveway. Most farmers had several work trucks so it was no guarantee that anyone was home.
“There you are!” A little voice behind her almost made Charlotte miss the first step of the porch. She turned to see a little girl about five or six years old, with curly dark hair and large brown eyes.
“Is this your bunny?”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for him.” The little girl spied the strawberries in her hand. “Are you trying to steal Bunnicula?”
“Bunn―?” Charlotte said. “You named your bunny after the book?”
“My papa did. He read it to me and we both laughed a lot.” The little girl was still glaring at her, eyes narrowed. “Bunnicula wins a blue ribbon every year at the fair. He’s a champion and very valuable.”
“I’m not stealing him. He was in my garden eating all my lettuce.” She tried to sound very grave and serious
She crossed her arms. “Bunnicula would never do that. He hates lettuce, just like me.”
Charlotte took a second to compose an answer. Kids hated to feel like they were being laughed at, but she couldn’t help grinning. This moment was exactly why she’d left her job in a big academic library. In the five years she’d worked in Fresno, she’d never once been accused of bunny rustling.
“Is your mom home?” As rural and friendly as Arcadia Valley was, Charlotte was still a stranger in someone’s backyard.
“I don’t have a mom.”
“Oh. Then is your dad home?” Charlotte knew she’d let a second too long pass before answering. That honesty she loved about kids could also be a little startling.
“In the shed. Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry?”
“For the strawberries?” Charlotte glanced down at Bunnicula.
“No. Because I don’t have a mom.”
“Did you lose her recently?” Charlotte asked gently. Maybe she’d died and the little girl was mourning. If so, Charlotte had missed an important moment in their conversation and her heart squeezed at the thought.
“No, I don’t even remember her.”
“Are you sorry you only have a dad?”
The little girl dropped her arms to her sides and shrugged. “No,” she said, her tone defiant. “But everyone tells me I should be sad that it’s just me and my papa. Mrs. Kokinos told me at church that all girls need mommies. And Mrs. Spiros said she knows I feel bad about it but I just don’t want to admit it.”
Charlotte felt her hands tighten on Bunnicula. She’d met people like Mrs. Spiros, people who thought they had a better insight into your heart than you did.
“But I don’t remember her at all so how can I be sorry that I only have Papa? He can do everything a mommy can do. He’s taught me lots of things. I’m just as smart as the other girls.”
This wasn’t the conversation she’d expected to have when she hopped the fence. She knew the pressure this little girl felt because she’d felt the same when she was young. Not for a mother, but for a father.
“I think you’re perfect the way you are,” Charlotte said.
The change was immediate. The little girl walked forward and petted Bunnicula between the ears, a smile spreading over her face. “I’m Elena. What’s your name?”
“Charlotte,” she said.
“Like the spider?”
“Just like the spider.”
“That’s my papa’s favorite book. Come on, let’s go talk to him.”
Charlotte admired the garden and its long rows of carefully tilled earth although there were no plants that she could see. Tall, wire fencing surrounding the large area made it clear to Charlotte why the giant white rabbit preferred to eat out. They had a chicken coop, a long space for the chickens to run, a red barn, and several rabbit hutches.
“He’s in the shed, fixing Mr. Packer’s dinner,” Elena said, pointing out a little building. It had a smoke stack but no windows, and Charlotte wondered if it was an old-fashioned cookhouse. She imagined telling Sahil about finding a neighbor stirring a cast iron vat of homemade chili. She had a momentary daydream of the man offering to share th
e recipe, generations old and very secret.
Elena pushed open the shed door and called, “Papa, our neighbor caught Bunnicula over the fence.”
It took several seconds for Charlotte’s eyes to adjust to the dim light and then several more before she could understand what she was seeing. An assortment of knives hung on the wall and a small metal counter was covered in tools. The floor was simple concrete with a drain in the center. A tall, powerfully-built man turned to look at them, his heavy brows drawing down over dark eyes. His mouth pressed into a straight line and two deep dimples appeared. The leather apron he wore was spotted with red and his gloved hands were full of soft, white fur. Her gaze traveled from the hulking man to the place he’d been facing just moments before. A small animal was tied upside down to the shed wall, its pink and glistening body naked to the neck.
As all the pieces finally came together in her mind, Charlotte sucked in a sharp breath. Instinctively putting a hand over Bunnicula’s eyes, she quickly backed out the door and out into the sunshine.
She stood there for several seconds, trying to catch her breath. That was not a cookhouse and Mr. Packer’s dinner was definitely not chili.
Chapter 3
“The poetry of the earth is never dead.”
― John Keats
“Papa, Bunnicula was in her garden,” Elena said, switching to Greek. Her little face was shadowed with concern. As usual, Elena was giving Nico more information before he’d had a chance to ask questions. People said he was a man of few words but Elena took after her grandmother, using up enough for words for both of them.
She tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “Isn’t she pretty? Her name is Charlotte, just like the spider, and she looks like our Christmas tree angel.”
He grunted. There was a resemblance, he couldn’t deny it, but the look on the new neighbor’s face was definitely not angelic. The woman probably thought she’d walked into a war zone. Most people weren’t prepared for an intimate look at butchering. Even though they liked to eat meat, the process of preparing it was far beyond their comfort zone.
“Come, Papa. Come talk to her,” Elena said.
If he’d wanted to talk to her, he would have introduced himself, the way every busy-body in town had encouraged him to do. His own mother had given him a speech in her mile-a-minute Greek about how Elena needed a mommy, the new librarian loved kids, and how she was the best thing to happen to Arcadia Valley since sliced bread. Nico had told her he was more of a meat and potatoes man, but his mother hadn’t laughed.
Nico dropped the rabbit skin on the wooden chopping block, wiped his boots on the mat and let himself be led out into the sunshine. His second look at the woman wasn’t any less startling than the first. She waited for them, her bright blonde hair shining in the sun, Bunnicula clutched to her chest. He’d thought he was long past noticing beautiful women, but he’d been wrong. And with that realization, he was suddenly conscious of how long it had been since he’d had a haircut, how his five o’clock shadow was well on its way toward becoming a full beard, and how he wore the tang of fresh animal blood like a cologne.
He’d laugh at the situation if he wasn’t still finding his own footing. He couldn’t have been more surprised if a grizzly bear had walked into his shed. New neighbor, indeed.
She held out a hand. “Charlotte McGregor.” Her gaze dropped to his bloodied gloves and she snatched her hand back.
“I’m Nico De―”
“Papa, she said Bunnicula was eating her lettuce.”
“And everything else,” Charlotte clarified. “I think he was even into the shed a few times. I’ve found my watering can tipped over and a pot broken.” She sounded a little breathless.
He started to smile.
“You might find it amusing, but I’m trying to get my garden started,” she said. “I had to lure him with a handful of strawberries.”
“Losing your crop isn’t amusing at all, but… Have you kept his pants and jacket for your scarecrow?” he asked.
Her lips twitched. “Remember Mrs. McGregor was fond of rabbit pies.”
Touché. They stood there for a moment before she seemed to gather her thoughts.
“I was hoping you could fix your fence,” Charlotte said.
The fence was a traditional split rail and it seemed fine from where he stood.
She went on. “I can’t get anything to grow because he’s eating all my seedlings.” As if ashamed of himself, Bunnicula decided it was time to go, and wiggled out of her arms. “What kind of rabbit is it, anyway? I’ve never seen one that big.”
“He’s a New Zealand lop,” Elena said. “They’re good meat.”
Charlotte seemed to catch herself mid-grimace and achieved a neutral expression.
“You’re a city gal,” he said.
“Yes, but I don’t see how that matters. I live here now.”
Nico looked up at the bright blue sky, watched the homing pigeons circle around, and wondered where to start. He never liked talking to people he didn’t know. The conversations seemed to be filled with awkward pauses and false starts. The girl who worked the counter at the hardware store said he was mysterious. The guys who ran the river fishing trips for tourists called him ‘the sphinx’. Even his brothers said he needed to learn how to chit chat.
“It’s too early for seedlings. By the almanac, the last frost is May twentieth,” he said.
“Last… frost?”
“Yes.” They’d had a few weeks of spring weather but locals knew to keep the seedlings inside for another week or so. Maybe she had gardening experience in warmer climate, but the confusion in her tone told him that she didn’t know enough to look at growing zones.
“Okay, but that doesn’t change the fact your animal is getting into my garden.”
He prayed she didn’t take the next bit of information the wrong way. “I apologize for the damage he caused, but this is open range country.”
“For bunnies?”
“No, for cows.”
“But,” she gestured to the rabbit hopping around the yard, “that isn’t a cow.”
Elena was looking from the new neighbor to him, as fascinated as if she were at the movies. “She’s right, Papa. Bunnicula is not a cow.”
“Herd districts require animal owners to keep their livestock contained. Open range laws put the responsibility on the land owner to keep out the livestock.”
“So, you’re saying I have to put up a fence? But there’s a fence already there and it’s not good enough.”
Nico shifted his feet, wishing he knew the right way to explain the county bylaws. It was sounding as if he didn’t want to keep his animals under control.
“It’s your fence. And your rabbit,” she said. Her gaze flicked toward the shed. “Of course, maybe his time is limited.”
“Contrary to city folks’ understanding, we don’t simply eat anything that makes a good stew.”
“We don’t like squirrel,” Elena said. “It’s chewy. And Papa says they’re too close to rodents.”
He would have laughed at Charlotte’s expression if he hadn’t been trying so hard to keep the conversation from going off the rails. “Even if I fixed that one length of fence, there are other animals who’ll love a nibble of your plants. It’s best to put up a fence around the perimeter.”
She brushed back her hair, a stubborn look on her face, and Nico tried not to sigh. He’d known it would be this way. His mother had managed to find out that Charlotte was single and available, which somehow translated directly into Nico having a chance. As much as everyone had insisted he get to know her, he just wasn’t the type to charm the socks off the new neighbor. He could have told them how it would go. Maybe not the lettuce and the fence, exactly, but the misunderstanding and frustration part.
She took a deep breath and Nico steeled himself. This was where the guano hit the rotating blades.
“Is Charlotte’s Web really your favorite book?” she asked.
He looked at Elena. The
y must have had a good conversation before they ever reached the shed. “Favorite children’s book,” he clarified.
“Thank you for explaining about the date for the last frost. And could you tell me what kind of fence I should put up?”
He’d been sure she was going to argue until the sun went down. “Talk to Joey Frappani at Farm Supply on Alder Street. Or Megan Cristoldi, if she’s at the counter. Measure the perimeter of the garden so they know how much you need, then they’ll add on the extra for posts and a gate.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nico felt a sudden wave of wistfulness. If only it were as easy as everyone said. If only he could just meet a beautiful woman and replace the love of his life. If only he could simply bring someone into Elena’s life and she would magically have the mother she never knew. But love didn’t work that way, and all the wishful thinking in the world wouldn’t make it so.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“I’d better get home. Nice to meet you both.” She leaned down and spoke to Elena. “And make sure to come by the library sometime to see me.”
“I will,” Elena said. They both watched Charlotte walk back across the yard and disappear into the lilacs.
Elena slipped her hand into his. “We should invite her over to our house.”
He didn’t answer.
“Even Bunnicula likes her. He hardly ever lets me hold him that long.”
“You have to support his feet like I taught you.” He turned toward the shed.
“She could have hit him with a rock and put him in a pot for eating up her garden.” Elena followed him. “It was nice of her to give him strawberries.”
Nico thought about how Bunnicula was never going to stay away now that he’d been rewarded with a treat.
“She likes to garden, just like you. Maybe we could help out sometime.” Her little face was bright with eagerness.
Nico stopped and put his hands on his hips. “You always complain when I ask you to weed our garden.”
“I dunno.” She toed the dirt, her lower lip jutting out.
Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0) Page 2
