As he headed for the door, Kai realized she’d made a complete turnaround. Still, principles needed to be flexible at times, didn’t they?
* * *
MARGARET LOOKED UP from her iPad to Harry, sitting in his favorite chair by the long window in the patient lounge. He was waiting for her to fetch them both cold drinks from the tiny kitchenette on his floor. She’d been catching up on her email when he’d returned from physio. The old Harry would have grumbled, but this Harry—the husband she was still getting used to—seemed grateful for small pleasures. Maybe even passive.
That troubled Margaret because she wasn’t sure she wanted a passive husband. Forty-three years of living with the man had honed skills she never knew she had. Like learning to wait for him to see another point of view rather than highlighting it for him, or learning to let small annoyances slough away and focus on the bigger issues. She never resented yielding to Harry when necessary or when harmony at home was at stake, because he was a decent, kind and loving man who had always, even in the darkest hours of their life together, put his family first.
Now it was his turn to be first, and she was determined to ensure he made a full recovery. If the old Harry could not be restored, at least the new one could have some peace of mind and a hopeful view of the future.
“Okay, Harry, I’m finished. Thanks for waiting so patiently. I’ll get our drinks. Iced tea for you today, or a soda?”
He turned his head her way and said, “Soda.”
“Righto. And maybe there’ll be some cookies today. Or one of those granola bars?”
He pulled a face.
“No? A cookie then, if there are any.” As she made her way to the kitchenette, she decided to pass on some news. “By the way, I got an email from Kai. Apparently there was a problem getting the tractor going, but she met someone—don’t know who or where—who gave it a tune-up, and it’s right as rain. So she hopes to plant any day now.”
He took a long time digesting that before startling her with the very first full sentence he’d uttered since his recovery therapy had begun. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the sentence she’d been hoping for.
“Is that dog still there?”
* * *
KAI KNEW AS soon as Thomas stepped off the bus that he was still in a mood. Long face, slumped shoulders and no welcome smile. He must have had a troubled day, and she regretted not letting him know that Amigo was still at the farm. But the afternoon had passed too quickly, hours of plowing almost a quarter of their acreage. She’d taken turns with Luca, who’d figured out how to drive a tractor quicker than how to plow. Eventually they’d gotten into a rhythm, and time had flown. She hadn’t even had a chance to shower before the school bus showed up.
Luca was doing just that in the upstairs bathroom while she walked to the bus. He’d booked another room in town and promised to return early in the morning to work on the rest of the fields. For the first time in weeks, Kai felt she might meet her goal of getting the planting done before her father came home. It was a good feeling, and she wasn’t going to let Thomas’s mood spoil it. Besides, he was in for a surprise.
“Hi, sweetie, how was your day?”
She always asked and he always answered, either with a shrug or a smile and thumbs-up. Today there was neither, not even a glance her way. They were halfway down the drive when loud barking and a racing blur of yellow halted Thomas mid-step. He looked at Kai, but before she could explain, he ran to meet Amigo. When Kai caught up to them, Thomas had his face buried in Amigo’s neck while his small fingers kneaded the dog’s back. After a moment, he raised his head questioningly to Kai.
“Okay, here’s the story, Thomas. Amigo is only here for a few more days. Maybe a week or so. Captain Rossi has offered to help me plow the fields and get the soybeans in. I accepted his offer because I want Grandpa to be surprised when he gets back home, and frankly, there’s no one else around right now to help me. But the deal is, when we’re finished and it’s time for Captain Rossi to leave, he will be taking Amigo with him. We have to accept that Amigo has been here on loan. He belongs to Captain Rossi and he loves him, too.”
His long stare told her she’d been given a reprieve. Or so she supposed. With Thomas, there was a lot of guesswork. He got to his feet, motioned to Amigo and continued down the drive. Rossi was coming out the kitchen door, his short, dark hair glistening in the sun.
He nodded at Kai and said, “Hello, Thomas.”
Scarcely glancing his way, Thomas brushed by him and went into the kitchen, followed by a tail-wagging Amigo.
“Guess I’m not off the hook yet,” he said, half-smiling.
“We never know with Thomas. It’s—”
“Another long story?”
Kai hoped her smile was placating enough to not change his mind about returning the next day. “I imagine you’ll get to hear it soon enough.”
“I’d like that.”
His gentle tone took her by surprise. She watched him start toward his SUV, parked alongside the pickup in front of the garage. “Thanks again for today, Captain...Mr. Rossi. And for your help with the plowing. I know we all—even Thomas—will appreciate having some kind of normalcy return to the farm.”
He seemed ready to ask a question about that, but apparently changed his mind. Opening the driver’s door, he paused long enough to say, “Maybe it’s time we made it Luca...and Kai.”
Then he was driving to the main road before she could think of a reply.
CHAPTER FIVE
LUCA WIPED HIS face with his shirtsleeve and climbed off the tractor. The day was warming up, and he wished he’d worn a T-shirt. But when he’d packed for his two-or three-day road trip, he hadn’t anticipated staying longer, much less plowing soybean fields.
He’d been working on the Westfield farm two days now, alternating shifts with Kai, and they had just finished the acreage. Planting was next. She had booked a seeding machine for the next day, and he had offered to help with that, too. He could tell she was conflicted about the offer in spite of his insistence that he had no obligations anywhere and had all the time in the world. It was an admission that had embarrassed him, given his tendency to take on far more than most men could handle. But that had been the old Luca Rossi. The one he’d left behind in Afghanistan.
This new Luca Rossi was someone he was still adjusting to. His responses to certain situations were constantly surprising him. Like the other day, when they encountered that red-faced man in the tractor supply parking lot. For a split second the old Luca had emerged. Anger held in check but definitely a “don’t mess with me” tone in his voice. As captain of his squad, he’d had to use that tone often enough that his men and the Afghans who worked with them knew not to question him. But he was a civvie now and should focus on restraining that military voice as well as the body language. He needed to remember that the next time.
Still, the incident was another question on the list he was formulating about Kai Westfield and her family. A boy who wouldn’t speak and a farm in disrepair. He got that Kai’s father had had a stroke, but that was a recent event. The fallow fields and obvious lack of care for the place had been going on for a while. And where were the boy’s parents? Why was Kai running the farm alone? The questions kept piling up. He considered asking her while they were working but backed off, knowing how much he hated it when people asked him personal things like that. No doubt all would be revealed if Kai let down some barriers. For some reason, he wanted to know more about her.
He reached for his water bottle, tucked into a pocket beside the tractor seat. The water was warm now, but it felt good against his dry throat. And he felt good. At the end of that first day, he’d crawled into his bed at the motel right after an early supper. Every bone had cried out for attention, and his left knee had throbbed enough that he’d resorted to a painkiller. He bought an ice pack from a local pharmacy and that
, with elevation while he skimmed the limited television channels, had reduced the swelling enough for him to continue the next day and so far, today. His physiotherapist had warned him that tissue and nerve damage from the surgery could take weeks to repair. His shrapnel scars were healing nicely, and he’d removed the last dressing from his left side just before leaving home.
Had it only been three or four days since he’d left his mother’s house? Funny how time here sped along. His routine of arriving at the farm in the morning just as Thomas was being picked up by the school bus and leaving right after the bus dropped him off was working for everyone. Luca had been surprised at Kai’s suggestion that he cross paths with Thomas. He knew the boy harbored some resentment for him because of Amigo. When he’d questioned Kai, offering to come and go when Thomas wasn’t around, she’d explained that he needed to accept the fact that Amigo belonged to Luca and that he would soon be leaving with the dog. It made sense, he reasoned. After the planting, there wouldn’t be a need to stick around. Yet he knew already that he would miss the work. That and the fixed routine that came with it made the days fly. Returning to New Jersey was a reality he didn’t want to face just yet.
He headed for the kitchen door, knowing Kai would have lunch ready. There wasn’t much more he could help with today because the seeder wouldn’t be available until first thing in the morning. The thought of the empty hours ahead wasn’t appealing. Perhaps he could shop for some more clothes in Lima, but what was the point if he was going to be leaving in another day or so? And then what? Home? With Amigo? He hadn’t yet told his mother he’d be bringing the dog home after all. She’d had trouble enough processing the news that he was staying on for a few more days.
“Why would you want to help people you don’t even know?” she’d asked and then, realizing how crass she’d sounded, had tried to soften the remark. “I mean, surely there are people here you can help out? Maybe volunteer at a community center?”
He shook his head. His mom just didn’t get it. But instead of becoming frustrated, as he normally would, he had to laugh at her lack of tact. The relief of not being stuck in her house buoyed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Kai, turning around from the stove, where she’d been making grilled cheese sandwiches, caught his expression.
“There’s a happy man,” she said. “You must have finished up?”
Her comment struck home. He was a happy man, he thought, and had been for the past few days. Happy to be working hard and not thinking about himself, his past and especially his future. “It’s good to be working and doing something physical after so many months in the hospital and then recuperating at home. The physio was exacting but in a more complicated way.” He paused. “Painful. This is a different kind of work.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” She looked at him for a long moment before placing the plate of sandwiches on the table.
Luca went to wash up at the sink, pondering that comment, as she set out cold drinks and a bag of potato chips. When he sat across from her, he decided to follow up. “How has coming back to work on the farm been for you? I mean, McDougall told me you lived and worked in New York. It must feel strange to be back here...on your own.”
A mix of emotions played across her face. He quickly added, “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. Just curious.”
“I came back because of Dad’s stroke,” she finally said. “If he’d recovered fully, I’d be back in New York by now.”
There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice. And something else. Longing? The old Luca would have dropped the matter, reluctant to delve into sensitive issues. But he felt a sudden pull—a connection—and he wanted to hear more. “That must be difficult for you. Being forced to be here but wanting to be somewhere else.” He saw from the flare in her eyes that she didn’t like his comment.
“Someone had to look after Thomas,” she snapped.
A familiar flash of anger surged through him. He wasn’t used to people talking to him in that tone. At the same time, he knew he’d overstepped. It wasn’t really his business.
She rose abruptly from the table and went to the sink, filling the pitcher on the counter. After an uncomfortable moment, Luca said, “Again, sorry to intrude on what is obviously personal business.” He knew his reply was stilted, but he wasn’t accustomed to apologies.
She turned off the tap but stood with her back to him, staring out the window above the sink. Shoulders straightened and neck stiff, armored against the words she clearly didn’t want to hear. Luca wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her in comfort. He was puzzled by this urge.
When she finally turned around, her face held no hint of the effect of his questions, and relief flowed through him.
“It really doesn’t matter if the fields get planted or not,” she said, her voice cracking. “I think Dad had already given up the idea of farming after David died. I thought that getting back to some part of his former life might give his stroke recovery a boost.”
Luca heard the change in her voice when she said the name and waited a moment, biting into his first sandwich, before asking, “David?”
“My brother. Thomas’s father.” She came back to the table and sat. “He was three years older than I and was going to take over the farm eventually. But there are no sure things in life, are there?”
He just nodded. He knew all too well how drastically life could change in a mere blink of an eye. Or the turning of a head to see a dog running your way.
“The first reminder of that happened three years ago, when Annie, David’s wife, died of breast cancer. She found out she had that gene...you know...it ran in her family and she’d had all the checkups and was even considering preemptive surgery, but when they found it, it was too late. Nothing could be done. David was still in the grieving process when the accident happened.”
She stopped then, and Luca could see she needed to take a breather. After she’d finished half a sandwich, she said, “It was almost a year ago. The end of August. David was turning over a field to put in a last crop of hay. Our neighbor to the east of us—Bryant Lewis—had a dog that was always coming over here. Thomas loved that dog, Rufus, and David had been planning to get him a puppy for his birthday.” She paused to take another sip of water. “So that day Rufus had been here, but at some point, Thomas went inside. Rufus got bored waiting for him, I suppose. We’ll never know exactly what happened, but Rufus ended up running across the field that David was plowing. He didn’t notice the dog until it was too late. He must have tried to avoid it, but we think the dog changed course at the last second, maybe frightened, and David spun the wheel too sharply. He ended up striking the dog and the tractor rolled over.”
A vision of that scene filled Luca’s head. He closed his eyes briefly, picturing how it must have all played out—the panic, the aftermath and disbelief followed by grief so sharp no painkiller in the world could soothe it. He had lived that. He waited for her to go on.
“It was Thomas who found them. He’d gone looking for Rufus. He ran back here to get my father. Apparently he was screaming so loudly it took Mom and Dad a few seconds to figure out what had happened. Dad left Thomas with Mom. She called an ambulance first and then Bryant. He came over right away to try to help Dad push the tractor off David, but they couldn’t.”
Luca waited for her to tell him about the dog, because he knew it must have figured into the equation of all that occurred that day and the days afterward.
“Dad guessed right away what had happened—seeing the dog pinned under part of the tractor, too. The dog was barely alive and crying in pain. Dad stayed with David while Bryant ran back to his place to get his own tractor to help push ours off. There wasn’t much Dad could do. David was unconscious and died before Bryant returned. Dad went to the shed then and came back with his shotgun.” She waited, calming herself.
Luca guessed what happened next.
&n
bsp; “Dad put Rufus out of his misery, but I think...I think he might have shot the dog anyway. He went a little crazy, Mom said. Bryant saw what Dad had done and for some bizarre reason, he focused on that. Accusations were hurled. They haven’t spoken since.”
“And Thomas?” Luca asked after a long moment.
“My folks didn’t even notice that he’d stopped talking until after the funeral. They knew he was in shock—everyone was—but he didn’t even cry. Not after that first day.”
“Post-traumatic stress,” Luca said.
“Yes. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but officially it’s called elective mutism. Apparently there are a wide range of reasons why people—especially children—simply decide not to speak. But it’s been almost a year. We thought it might go away after a few weeks or even a couple of months.”
“And you? Were you here that day, too?”
She looked down at her half-eaten sandwich and shook her head. “No. I can’t even remember what city or country I was in. I barely made it home for the funeral.”
“That must have been painful for you, not being closer.”
She raised her eyes to his. “Yes. It was. And sometimes it still is. I’m not sure why. I’d thought I’d dealt with it all. The mourning and the turmoil of emotions. But when I came home to help out, all those feelings and memories returned. Along with my regret at not being here right away for my parents and Thomas—or much at all in the past year.”
“We have no control over these kinds of events,” Luca said in a low voice. “And there’s no time limit on our grieving.”
She tilted her head, taking in his words. “Good reminders,” she said.
“They’re not my words of wisdom,” he confessed. “My therapist’s. At least, the one I was seeing briefly after I came home.” He surprised himself with this admission. She didn’t comment or ask any questions about it and for that, he was grateful.
“Since we’re done our work for the day, would you be interested in a drive into Lima? I have some shopping to do, and I could show you a few of my favorite places.”
For Love of a Dog Page 7
