by Amelia Adams
“If we get about twelve more yards of chicken wire, I think that’ll do it,” one of the men was saying as she approached. Then he nodded at her, and before she knew it, all four of them had turned to face her.
If she could just die and blow away like a tumbleweed, that would really be awesome.
“Um, hi,” she said, her wish to die obviously not being granted. “I’m Melissa Daniels.”
“I’m Frank McClain,” said the man who’d been talking when she walked up, “and these are my brothers—Benjamin, Caleb, and Gideon.” Each of them touched the brims of their cowboy hats, and her stomach turned into a warm glop of goo. She could just stare at them all day. In fact, she was pretty sure she was already staring. She cleared her throat.
“I’ve been told that Benjamin might be able to answer a question for me. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure,” the one named Benjamin replied, and she cleared her throat again. It wasn’t natural for men in the real world to look like they did. They could all be models or book covers or spokesmen for Hot Farmers of America or something. “What can I do for you?” he prompted when she didn’t reply.
“Um, yeah. Well, my grandparents were Ted and Marilyn Daniels, who ran the Daniels’ Pumpkin Patch—”
“That’s right,” Caleb interjected. “I thought you looked familiar. We’re your neighbors.”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to explain why she’d never gone over to introduce herself properly. “You’re a bunch of weirdos” would probably come out wrong . . . “So, I hear you know a lot about plants,” she went on, addressing Benjamin.
“I’ve been told I have a green thumb,” he replied.
“Well, my entire pumpkin crop died this year. The whole thing. There’s not even one usable pumpkin in the field, and it’s so close to Halloween, and I’m supposed to be able to keep the farm going for half a year with the money I make over the autumn holidays, and . . . I just don’t know what to do. It’s a total loss for this year and I understand that, but if you could tell me how to prepare the ground for next year, I’d sure appreciate it.” She suddenly realized the magnitude of what she was asking him to do. “I’d be more than happy to pay for your time,” she added quickly, hoping she didn’t sound like she was asking for a favor. “I mean, you’ve got stuff to do with chicken wire, and I know you’re busy . . .”
Benjamin held up a hand. “I’m more than happy to stop by. We need to get some supplies, but I can come over around one, if that’s all right.”
“Yes, please. Um, I mean, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble.”
He smiled, a slow smile that took its time filling up his whole face. “No trouble at all.”
“Okay,” she breathed, then spun on her heel and got out of there before she could embarrass herself any more than she already had. Have mercy.
Chapter Three
“We really should get to know our neighbors better,” Caleb said as the four brothers watched Melissa walk away. She was moving quickly, like she couldn’t wait to get out of there, and Benjamin wondered what he’d said or done to scare her off. Whatever it was, she’d probably feel more comfortable if he brought someone with him to her farm so they wouldn’t be alone.
“I agree. Especially if all our neighbors are that pretty,” Gideon chimed in.
Frank punched him in the shoulder. “Come on—we’ve got chicken wire to buy.”
“And don’t forget nails,” Benjamin said as he pulled out his phone and hit memory dial one. It rang just twice before his mother answered.
“Good morning, son,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I wondered if you could spare me a few minutes this afternoon. I need to run an errand over to the Daniels’ farm next door, and I thought I’d take you with me.”
“You want to take me along? Me, your old mother, who rarely gets to leave the kitchen?” Her tone was jovial, but there was a ring of truth in it—his mother spent more time in the kitchen than any other woman he knew. She claimed no one else could do it right, and it was a fact that she was one amazing cook.
“It’s a young lady I’m going to see, and she might feel more comfortable if you were there,” he said, realizing that his explanation made things sound a whole lot more awkward than they really were.
“A young lady?” He could hear fireworks and bells and whistles going off in his mother’s brain, and he laughed.
“No, Mom, not that kind of young lady. Didn’t Adam’s wedding give you your fill for a while?”
“It most certainly did not. It just primed the pump. I’ve got seven of you to marry off, you know, and we’re not getting younger—any of us. I want grandchildren before I’m too arthritic to play with them.”
Benjamin nodded, even though his mother couldn’t see him. His father had said something along those lines not too long ago—that it was time they all got married. Benjamin didn’t know what the rush is, why it was time now when they’d been getting along fine before. All their focus had been on the ranch and the boys, but now, it was like something had shifted in the wind, and their father was keeping his eyes trained on the future of his sons.
“I know you do, Mom, but we’ve got a little time yet, and I’m just going to look at her pumpkin patch. It’s not doing well this year.”
“Oh. So this is a business thing.” The disappointment in her voice was palpable, and Benjamin felt bad.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m sorry. Just a business thing. Does that mean you won’t come along?”
“Well, I was looking forward to meeting my next daughter-in-law, but I guess I can come on a business thing too, if you think it’s for the best.”
“I do. She’s kind of skittish.”
“What time should I be ready?”
“How about a quarter to one? I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Benjamin hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket, then joined his brothers in the hardware store. It would take all four of them to load up the planks of wood they needed, and sure enough, not one of them had remembered the nails he’d asked for. He shook his head. He loved his family with a depth he couldn’t explain, but they sure made him want to rip his hair out from time to time.
***
When Benjamin pulled up in front of the main farmhouse where his parents lived, he cut the engine, but his mother bounded down the steps before he could climb out.
“Dad would have my hide if he knew you didn’t wait for me to come escort you,” he told her as she closed the passenger door.
“Well, I won’t tell him, and then you can keep your hide,” she said as she clicked her seatbelt, then turned to him with an expectant look. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” He started the engine again, wondering what had his mother so . . . bouncy. She was excited about something, and he had no idea what. “Anything fun going on today?”
“No, not really. Oh, I did get a call from Adam. He and Tiffany are having a wonderful time on their honeymoon, but he wanted to check in on the boys. He said he sensed that Hunter was struggling a little bit at his last appointment.”
“Yeah, he’s going through one of his usual ‘I hate chores’ cycles. He should be out of it in a few more days.”
“I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on it. I told Adam to focus on his new bride, but he’s never been able to turn off his worries, no matter how he tries. It’s hard for him, but it makes him a good man.”
“Yes, it does.” Benjamin turned the truck onto the main road. “I hope I can be half the man he is.”
Lillian McClain reached over and patted her son’s knee. “You already are. I’m proud of all my sons—so proud, you have no idea.”
“Thanks, Mom. I know we all try.” Benjamin swallowed a few times, wondering at the emotions that were suddenly rising up inside him. He’d felt it too—some sort of shift in the air, things changing for their family, and it made him feel vulnerable. Tiffani coming along had been a very good change,
but he couldn’t say if all the things buzzing around in the universe would be as positive. He didn’t have his father’s gift of foresight.
When he parked his truck in front of Melissa Daniels’ house, he noticed that she was waiting for him on the porch. She’d done something different—maybe she’d changed her shirt. He never paid much attention to things like that, but she did look a little nicer than she had that morning. Not that there had been anything wrong with the way she’d looked that morning . . . His thoughts were a mess. Of all the things he’d expected today, a beautiful skittish woman wasn’t one of them.
“Are we getting out, or should we just sit here all day and admire the view?” his mother asked, a note of humor in her voice, and he was jolted back to reality.
“What? Oh, sorry. Yes, we’re getting out.” He jumped down on his side and came around the truck to let his mother out. Then he took a deep breath before turning to face Melissa, suddenly nervous, although he had no idea why.
“Hey there,” he said, nodding. “I’d like you to meet my mother. Mom, this is Melissa Daniels. Melissa, this is my mom, Lillian McClain.”
“It’s good to meet you, Mrs. McClain,” Melissa replied. “And I appreciate you coming over, Ben. Er, Benjamin. Um, Mr. McClain.” She shook her head, and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “What should I call you?”
“Benjamin’s fine,” he said with a smile. “Around our place, there are so many Mr. McClains, things could get confusing in a hurry.”
“And there are seven of you, right?”
“That’s right. Adam, Benjamin, Caleb, Daniel, Ephraim, Frank, and Gideon.” Lillian grinned, and Benjamin shook his head in amusement. She loved watching people’s faces when she told them that.
“I was wondering about that, actually. You’ve used alphabetical order—that’s unusual, isn’t it?”
Lillian raised an eyebrow. “You don’t recognize where those names are from?”
“I’m sorry, no.” Melissa looked back and forth between Lillian and Benjamin. “I feel like I’ve committed a cardinal sin somehow—what am I missing?”
Benjamin smiled and leaned on the porch railing. “My mother’s favorite movie of all time is Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. If you’ve never seen it, no worries—you’ll probably be gifted a copy before the night’s out.”
“I buy DVDs by the case just for moments like this,” Lillian said. “The world must be educated!”
“All right,” Melissa said slowly. “This isn’t like some sort of weird cult thing, is it?”
“Oh, gracious no,” Lillian replied. “It’s classic Hollywood.”
Melissa nodded. “I’ll look forward to it. So . . .” She hesitated. “Do you think you can help my pumpkins?”
Benjamin blinked. He’d nearly forgotten what they’d come for in the first place. “Of course. Lead the way.”
Melissa led them across the expansive yard and into the pumpkin field. Rows upon rows of withered vines greeted them, and Lillian let out a small gasp. “Oh, dear. This is a sad situation.”
Benjamin only half listened to Melissa as she told some of the successful history of the farm. Lillian plied her with questions, and again, Benjamin had to smile at his mother. She knew without even being asked that he needed her to distract Melissa so he could do his thing.
He squatted down and sifted some of the dirt between his fingers. It felt tired. That wasn’t unusual, considering that it was fall and nearly time for the growing season to be over anyway, but this was more that. This was a deep exhaustion, something that felt as though the very soul of the place had been siphoned off somehow.
He inhaled and touched the vine. He was immediately filled with a sense of loss, as though something had been taken away that should have been there. Curious. At first, he wondered if the land was in mourning for the grandparents who had recently passed away, and he sent a question into the earth. No. It missed the Daniels, but because it was earth and earth was nature, it understood that all things live and all things die. It was their time.
Then what? Why were the plants dying? Why was the dirt so tired?
He was aware of his mother continuing to ask questions. A glance over his shoulder told him that both women were distracted, so he turned back and spoke to the vine, asking it to grow, to show him what strength and energy it still possessed. It tried valiantly—he could feel its struggle. But it could not grow.
This was frustrating. He’d need to try something different.
He stood up and began walking up and down the rows, searching for any sort of clue. As he walked, he began to notice something. The energetic shift of the plants seemed to be pulling in one direction, and that was toward the McClain farm. He closed his eyes and envisioned it, faint because it was so nearly dead, and yes, that’s where it was going. But why would it be doing that?
Then a thought hit him so forcefully, it was like the universe had decided to whack him on the back of the head. It was all his fault. He’d wanted the boys to have a good crop this growing season so they’d see the results of their hard work, and so he’d pored a little extra into the land to encourage growth. Some of the earth’s positive forces must had been pulled from the surrounding land to create what he was asking of it. He had created everything Melissa was facing now because he got greedy.
He knelt down again and touched the dirt, asking it if his hypothesis was correct, and he was filled with the answer. Yes. The energy of the land had been drained and was being sent to the McClain farm. The land had heard and obeyed Benjamin’s request.
Well, was that lovely or what?
He ran a hand down his face. His father had always warned his sons about their use of power, and Benjamin had gone too far.
He stood back upright and faced the two women, who were now looking at him curiously.
“What do you think?” Melissa asked. “I plan to plow it under tomorrow, but should I add something special to the mix? I’ve got some great bags of cow manure out in the shed. Smells horrible, but I’ve heard it’s amazing.”
“Don’t plow it under just yet, if you don’t mind holding off. I’ve got some fertilizer back at the ranch that I’d like you to try, but it has to be applied very specifically, so I’ll do it myself. Is it all right if I come back in about an hour?”
She blinked. “Sure, that’s fine. Thank you. What will I owe you?”
He couldn’t possibly take money after ruining her entire farm, and it’s not like he would have charged her anyway. But if he did it for free, she might think he was on the prowl or something, and she was already frightened of him. “Why don’t you make me a batch of cookies and we’ll call it square?”
She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I bake?”
“Because you’re a farm girl, and every farm girl knows how to bake.”
She shook her head, looking exasperated. “First of all, that’s not true, and you could be accused of stereotyping for making such outrageous statements. Second of all, I do bake, but that’s a total coincidence and does not mean that your theory is correct. Chocolate chip or raisin oatmeal?”
“Please. Chocolate chip. As if there’s any choice.” He liked the way her eyes lit up when she was riled. They were very pretty eyes.
“All right, then. You come back in an hour, and I’ll have some cookies waiting for you.”
“It’s a deal.” He turned to leave, but then turned back. “Could you make some extra? Chances are, I’ll have a couple of our boys with us, and you know how teenagers are.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, chuckling. “I’ll make extra.”
He grinned as he helped his mother into the truck, then lifted his hand. “In an hour.”
Chapter Four
Melissa watched the truck as it bounced down the dirt road, her hands clutching the porch rail for all she was worth. Have mercy. That man was something else. Since that morning, she’d been trying to convince herself that he couldn’t have been as good-looking as she’d thought—no human be
ing really was. But then he pulled up in that red pickup and he brought his mother—how cute was that?—and he was coming over again in an hour. She was so glad she’d thought to change her shirt. Of course, the ketchup stain she’d found on her first one sort of forced her into it, but it was a good move regardless of why. The one she wore now fit her better.
She went into the kitchen and grabbed an apron, then pulled her cookie makings from the cupboard and fridge. If Benjamin McClain wanted cookies, he was going to get them. He probably had girls lining up for miles to bake him cookies, but hers were the ones he’d asked for, and she wasn’t going to take that lightly. She grabbed two eggs and cracked them into the bowl with a little more force than necessary, then had to pick out the bits of shell that had gone every which way. She needed to get a grip.
Her phone rang while she was beating the butter and sugar together. She turned off the mixer and said hello, then grabbed the vanilla and added it in.
“Hey, sweetheart. I just wondered what we should bring with us when we come. Is it cold there? Still warm? Do I want a jacket?”
“Hi, Mom. It’s been a little cool, yes—I’d bring a jacket.”
“Okay.” Her mother paused. “You sound different. What’s going on?”
“Just worried about the pumpkins. If I can’t make a go of this . . . Honestly, Mom, why did Grandpa and Grandma leave the farm to me? Wasn’t Dad the logical choice?”
“Maybe so, but you’re the one who had the love for the place. Your dad was never much into farming—he got a job and moved away as soon as he could. You know that.”
“Yeah. I just don’t know if love is enough.” Melissa tried to open the flour with one hand, but it didn’t work, and she decided to wait until she was done talking to her mom. “Oh, and I took your advice. Benjamin McClain came over this afternoon to look at the fields, and he says he has a fertilizer that will help.”
“Oh, that’s good, dear. I hope you still need us, though—I’ve been looking for an excuse to visit.”
