What was she really getting at? Does God care about me?
Toby adjusted his hold on the wheel to free up his right hand. Taking a risk, he reached over and grasped her hand. “God cares about you, Jenna. I know that’s true.”
She looked down at their hands but didn’t pull away. “I want to believe that’s true,” she whispered.
Her forlorn tone found soft soil in his heart and twisted, slicing him open inside. Jenna didn’t believe God cared about her. How could she not see how special she was? It took all of his self-control not to jerk his vehicle to the side of the road, toss it into Park and pull her into his arms. Hold her until she believed that she was precious and worth cherishing. Get to the bottom of whatever had made her think otherwise.
Forcing his attention to stay on the road, he took a deep breath. “Why don’t you believe it?”
“God never rose to protect me against anything that’s happened. Not with my mom, or now with my dad, or other times.” Her voice shook. Toby squeezed her hand, offering silent encouragement. “I’ve cried out to Him so many times and everything—really bad stuff—still happened.”
Toby glanced her way, but her gaze dropped before he could make eye contact. A sense of unease churned in his stomach. He knew about her parents, but what “really bad stuff” had happened to Jenna?
They turned down the long gravel driveway that belonged to Crest Orchard, and Jenna yanked her hand away from his. She couldn’t yet see his surprise, but he prayed she would be happy with all he’d planned.
Give me the words to say.
“God cares about you. More than that, He loves you, Jenna. You can’t question that. You’ve lived a life that...” He swallowed hard. “You have no reason to question why God would care about you.” Unlike Toby, who had partied during high school, burned his way through several girlfriends in college and then fallen into a self-medicating depression. He’d constantly failed God. That kind of life made a man question if God could care about him.
“No reason?” She bristled. Her fingers flexed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know you.” He kept his voice soft, soothing. “You’ve lived an honorable life. You do everything right. You—”
“You don’t know me at all.” She yanked her hand away from his.
They started to round the bend in the driveway where the tree line opened up to show the farmhouse. A bus, a few pickup trucks and a team of thirty or forty guys came into view. It looked like they’d already started working on the house.
Jenna unsnapped her seat belt and leaned forward, hands braced on the dashboard. She looked at the people swarming her orchard and then at Toby, then back at the crowd. “Who are they? What are they doing? I don’t understand.”
Toby pulled the keys out of the ignition and jangled them in a nervous motion. Please don’t bite my head off for planning this behind your back. “You said you were worried about the house and grounds being ready on time. Your dad knows this is happening. Everything’s being done with his permission.”
Caleb and a few other men were directing the teens in their tasks—the entire high school football team, from the looks of it. Toby recognized Evan Daniels, another Goose Harbor lifer. Evan ran a woodworking business, volunteered with the youth group and was known to be handy. There were two power washers going, tarps already down and at least twenty teenagers scraping old paint off the house’s exterior. Another group could be seen fixing up the front of the country storefront attached to the barn. Toby would have them clean inside there, too.
She swiveled and grabbed his forearm. “You did this? How? Why?”
He didn’t move. It was the first time Jenna had initiated physical contact with him, and he wasn’t about to ruin the moment. “I worked out a deal with Caleb for the whole football team to give some volunteer labor to help us get everything ready on time.”
She leaned closer, her eyes wide, giddy. He saw a glimmer of his old best friend. “What type of deal?”
He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth and then sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
The pressure in her fingertips doubled. “I can’t afford to pay all these people.”
“Ah, see, that’s the beauty of the word volunteer.”
“Tobe.” She shook his arm. “Tell me. What did you promise them?”
She’d find out anyway. “Well, you’re looking at the new assistant coach for the high school. I’m going to teach some special clinics, too.” All for free, for the entire season. But she didn’t need to know that part.
“Thank you. Really. This is... Thank you.” She smiled at him, a real, wonderful, heart-crushing smile, and then let go of his arm and exited his SUV.
Toby hung on to the steering wheel, gathering his bearings. Every interaction with his childhood best friend made his heart drum hard against his ribs. What was happening to him? He hadn’t felt like this since...since he’d left town ten years ago. Since he’d left her.
He had to win back her good favor. He wanted to deserve that smile. He missed her friendship, more than he’d ever realized.
Chapter Six
Between yesterday, when the football team had worked at the orchard for seven hours, and today, when they’d returned after school to paint the house, bunkhouse and barn, Crest Orchard looked like a completely different place.
Jenna pulled back the lace curtain that hung over the kitchen sink to spy on Toby. He was out on the porch that wrapped around the house, talking with Evan Daniels. All the other workers had left for the night. She dropped the curtain and headed toward the front sitting room. Peeking around the corner, she spotted her father sitting on the couch watching a historical special with a zonked-out Kasey curled against his side.
Dad held a finger to his lips. “The little thing’s all tuckered out. She’s had a lot of excitement in the last few days. Let’s let her rest.”
Jenna nodded as she bit back a smile. Sure, Kasey was overtired, but her early bedtime probably also had something to do with the logical sugar crash that had accompanied the copious amount of ice cream she’d consumed today. Dad had been indulgent. Jenna knew he loved spending time with his new little buddy. Kasey already treated him like a grandfather.
The monotone speaker on the documentary began to list off all the programs encompassed in FDR’s New Deal. Jenna couldn’t blame Kasey for falling asleep during one of Dad’s shows. As a child, Jenna had done the same. Her dad had a fascination with biographies.
“Need anything?” Jenna whispered.
“Thank Toby again for me, will you?”
She pressed her hands into the solid doorframe behind her. “I will.” She paused, not sure how to continue. She’d wanted to broach the money topic with him since returning but had never found a delicate way to do so. “Hey, Dad?”
“What’s on your heart, honeybee?”
“I know the labor was free, but I need you to be up-front with me about our financial situation. How much does the orchard have to make in the next two months in order to afford all these improvements?”
He yawned, settling into the couch a little deeper. “We’re not in debt for any of it.”
Jenna calculated the supplies needed to fix parts of their house and roof, the cost of the wood they’d used to build ramps into both the house and the barn. Paint, rental equipment, the catered food that had shown up for lunch and dinner yesterday and dinner tonight. She hadn’t ordered that stuff, but food to feed fifty people—most of them teenage athletes—didn’t run cheap. Wood alone was expensive.
“How much did all of it cost?”
“Well, this is tricky.” Dad shifted. “I promised not to say.”
“Promised? Promised who?” Jenna rocked forward. “Toby?”
Kasey let out a little moan and flipped so she was facing the
back of the couch.
“Enough of that.” Dad bunched up his mouth. “Keep your voice down.”
“Fine.” She put her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t going to get any more information out of him. Not tonight, at least. “Can I bring you anything? Tea? Cider?”
He shook his head and adjusted the blanket draped around Kasey. Good thing they had Toby around to carry Kasey to her bed later. The girl was tiny but still more weight than Jenna could lift and haul outside and into the bunkhouse. Come to think of it, the bunkhouse had only one bedroom. If Toby gave Kasey the bedroom, where was he sleeping?
Jenna turned and sagged against the wall in the hallway, where Dad couldn’t see her. Thank You, God, for giving him this special bond with Kasey. For giving them each other. Especially since I don’t think he’ll ever have a grandchild.
A sharp stab, followed by a familiar ache, spread through Jenna’s chest. She wouldn’t let herself dwell on it. After the miscarriage she had suffered during college, she’d decided that the only way to protect herself from experiencing that level of pain was to never enter into a relationship again. Beyond that, men had hurt her. Ross, her college boyfriend, should be in jail for the pain he’d caused her.
Her feet heavy as concrete, she forced herself to shuffle back to the kitchen. Dad had asked her to thank Toby again, so she would. Besides, if she was stuck with her old friend for the long term, she had to start talking to him. They could be cordial and keep all conversation on the surface.
She and Toby had spent the last two days brushing shoulders as they scrapped the house, worked on the yard and painted side by side. With aggravating precision, he seemed to be aware of what she needed at all times, from handing her a bottle of water right when she started feeling thirsty to setting up the country store exactly how she always did without her explaining anything. Moreover, he’d taken it upon himself to check on her father every hour and make slight accommodations to tasks so that Dad could help, too.
Before sunset, the four of them had stood together outside the house and surveyed all that had been accomplished. Dad had looked so proud. Their house—gleaming white with red painted trim, flowers hanging from all the baskets on the railing of the porch and pumpkins lining the steps—hadn’t looked that good since before Mom passed away.
What did Toby stand to gain by treating the Crests with such kindness? Was it only that he felt indebted to her father? Or something else? What if he planned to leave them high and dry like he’d done in the past? Either way, Jenna needed to find out.
She glanced out the window again. He was still visiting with Evan. He and Toby were making big hand gestures. Football talk or something equally manly, no doubt, but she planned to catch him when Evan left.
Remembering that caramel cider was one of Toby’s favorite drinks, Jenna pulled ingredients from the cupboard. While she and Toby might be at odds, Mom had instilled a deep respect for good manners before she died. After all the extra work he’d poured into the orchard so far, offering him a small bit of refreshment was the least she could do.
She added equal parts brown and white sugar to a pan with water and stirred the mixture until it rose to a slow boil. The scent of the hot sugar water filled the room with a light sweetness. After she removed the mixture from the heat, she measured cinnamon and stirred until it was blended. Then she poured fresh cider over the homemade cinnamon dolce syrup and set the pan on the burner again, stirring the mixture constantly. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the smell of mulled cider—it smelled like fall, harvest, apples, home, Mom. Toby fit somewhere in there, too, didn’t he?
Don’t think about that.
Over the last few days, she might have stopped wishing he would disappear from her life, but that didn’t mean she wanted anything beyond a working relationship with him. At best, Toby was a hired hand who did good work, and she wanted to know what his angle was in all of this. End of story.
Once a few minutes had passed, she turned off the burner, ladled the caramel cider into two mugs and then dug whipped cream and caramel syrup out of the fridge to top off the drinks. She even took the extra couple of seconds to make a fancy design with the syrup. With a cup in each hand, she used her foot to open the back door and then stepped outside.
Evan spotted her first and offered a one-hundred-watt smile. He was a few years older than her, and Jenna had to admit that Evan was awfully handsome. His swooping dark hair looked like something out of a shampoo advertisement, and he wore a tool belt as if it were a trendy fashion accessory. If one of the cable home-improvement networks ever stumbled upon him, they’d offer a contract on the spot, and women all over the country would lose their hearts after the first episode. Evan had a reputation in town as a horrible flirt, but thankfully, he’d never tried to flirt with Jenna, so they were able to be friendly acquaintances.
“Can I interest either of you in hot cider?” She crossed toward the back stairs where the two men huddled.
Evan held up a hand. “Man, that smells so good, but I should head home. My alarm clock sounds early. But you two enjoy.” He pointed at Toby. “Think about what I said.”
Toby uncrossed his arms and reached out to ease a mug from Jenna’s hand. “Will do.”
Evan bid goodbye and shrugged off her praise for all his hard work. “It’s what neighbors do.” He headed for his car, and his headlights blinded them temporarily as he backed down the driveway.
“Good guy.” Toby tipped his mug to indicate where Evan had left.
“He really is.” Jenna dropped onto the large bench swing hanging from the porch. Someone had replaced the old, creaky chains in the course of the work during the last few days, but the wood still groaned as she set it into motion.
“May I?” Toby pointed at the space beside her.
Jenna caught her toes on the ground, stopping the swing long enough for him to take his seat. They didn’t set it rocking right away. Instead Toby wrapped an arm across the back of the chair behind her and cupped his mug in his other hand. Despite the fact that he wasn’t touching her, Jenna’s neck and shoulders blazed as if he were. He was so near, and he smelled like a delicious mix of cedar and mulled cider and sweat.
Memories from years ago hit her with the force of a punch to the jaw.
In the past, the two of them had spent many evenings here. He would arrive home, dog tired from football practice, but he’d still come over so Jenna could tell him stories. She’d store up things to share with him all day long, and he’d listen as she rattled on, some nights for hours. When she felt brave, she would lay her head on his shoulder, praying that they could stay like that forever.
Jenna had imagined them sharing their first kiss there, cuddled together under the stars. She’d even gone so far as to wonder if he’d propose on the bench. Or whether he would favor the tree house in the forest beyond the orchard, where they had forged their friendship early on in childhood, pretending to be jungle adventurers together, discovering new lands.
Neither, apparently. Because Toby had never thought of her that way, a realization that still stung. The world could be so cruel. He was the only man she had ever loved. And the only man she ever would. She knew that for sure because she was never going to open her heart up to that magnitude of pain again.
He took a swig from his mug and moaned. “Wow, that’s good. Your mom’s recipe, right?” Another sip. “The last time I had this...” His voice dropped.
Yeah, they both knew. There was no reason to speak about it. Last time he’d tried to talk to her, and she’d ended up prying the mug from his hands, dumping the drink in the yard and telling him not to come back.
Being out here with him, reliving an old tradition... What a horrible idea.
She inched away from the shelter of his warmth on the bench, then sprang from her seat and set her mug down on the little table under the window.
“Jenna.” His voice held a warning. Hearing her being self-deprecating had never sat well with him.
She backed up so she could lean against the side of the house, a good distance away from him. Sweet, wonderful distance. That was better. Safer. “I wanted to thank you, too. I have a feeling you did more to make this happen than you’re letting on.” Like financing everything. “It makes me wonder why.”
His brow scrunched. “I care about this place. I care about—”
“Toby, don’t. Come on. Don’t pull that with me.”
“Pull what?” He rocked forward, his muscles coiled as if he were back on the football field at the start of a play. Ready for action. “I’m not pulling anything. I care about you and your dad, and about the orchard. I always have. You guys are a second family to me.”
Lies. All lies.
“Don’t say stuff you don’t mean.”
He balanced his mug on the edge of the railing and slowly rose, crossed over to her and picked up her hands. He brought one pair of their joined hands up, caught her chin with two of his fingers and lifted her face to his. Inches away, his gaze searched hers with an intensity she couldn’t look away from.
“I care, Jenna. I care. Tell me what I have to do to prove it and I will.” His breath warmed her cheek. His proximity should have caused her to freak out. That would have made sense. Toby’s nearness was affecting her, but not in an unpleasant way. Far from it.
Wrestling her racing heartbeat, Jenna fought a desire to sag against him. To rest her head against his chest, cling to him and cry for all their lost years. But Toby didn’t love her. Never would. He made that fact crystal clear years ago—his friendship with her was a dirty secret he didn’t want anyone to know about. She wouldn’t fall for that again. For him and his ability to say the right thing and act charming when it was just the two of them.
Apple Orchard Bride Page 7
