by Betty Bolte
“Be sure to invite Grant, since he’s in town.” Roxie kept her gaze on Tara even as she addressed the middle sister. “I’m sure he’d enjoy spending the day with us.”
“Glad to.” Beth smiled, glancing between Roxie and Tara for a moment or two. “He’s quite a catch for the right lady.”
The second proverbial shoe had hit the floor. Still, there was something off about Roxie’s division of labor. Roxie knew Tara could pull together veggies much more easily than a fickle cake or the complexity of making pie crust. Whoever said pie was easy to make simply lied. There could be no other explanation. She caught Roxie’s attention.
“You know I don’t like to bake. Why are you pushing me into doing so?” Tara bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth as she waited for Roxie’s response.
Roxie crossed her arms over her chest and raised one brow. “Consider it my challenge to you to work past the mental barrier you’ve erected on your ability to make a pie. Or a cake for that matter. I believe you can succeed. Don’t you?”
Short answer? No. But she also never relished the feeling when her oldest sister, whom she had revered since she was a little girl in need of protection from her classmates, thought she wasn’t doing her best. Roxie had gone to bat for her, defending Tara at recess and walking home from school from the sneers and jibes of the other kids. Seeing Roxie gazing at her with such deep disappointment made her squirm like a child in church and thus even more desirous to meet her sister’s expectations. No matter what it took.
Tara attempted to smile at Roxie but imagined it looked rather wilted. “Never mind. I’ll figure out something.”
Chapter 7
Late fall afternoons in Tennessee proved hotter than anticipated. Grant swiped a hand across his brow to dry the sweat beading there from his efforts with the shovel. Clearing away the sod to create the walking path for the new memorial garden at Twin Oaks plantation gave him an excuse to be outside. To clear his head from the longing to find the woman who seemed to be in his every waking thought as well as in his dreams. He needed to focus on his mission. The reason why he came to Roseville in the first place. To find the source of the cure for the tumors that threatened his sight. To prove to his doctors it wasn’t a miracle but could be explained using science. Like his dad always said, everything had a basis in cause and effect, in fact and experience. What others termed magical and mystical occurrences simply hadn’t been scientifically explained yet. Well, he was going to find the answer to his question or die trying.
Although he’d already mystified them by contracting meningioma, a rare disease in itself and even more rarely found in men. They’d scrambled to try to understand how the disease had been introduced into his system, causing tumors to wrap around his optic nerves in such a way as to prohibit surgical removal without impairing or obliterating his sight. Without vision, he could not continue to be a geologist. His career would have ended along with his income. To say he had been scared and worried was an understatement. Zak had persuaded him to take a road trip with him, a totally unrealistic plan to use alchemy to cure him. He’d only agreed to travel to the backwater town of Roseville so that he’d have time with his brother.
Zak had almost immediately become infatuated with Paulette, despite her being great with child by another man, and Grant had feared the entire trip would be for nothing. He’d fumed and fussed to no avail as Zak continued to pursue his futile search and his obsession with the blond beauty.
Then after only a few weeks in the small Tennessee town, after meeting the lovely Tara, after the Halloween costume party, only then did Grant’s headaches cease and he felt more like himself. When he’d gone home to see his specialists to set a course of treatment, they’d all been amazed at the clean images of his brain. No tumors. Anywhere. Somehow, something cured him, and he was determined to figure out what and how.
If only he knew where to begin his search.
If only the thought of Tara didn’t prove wholly distracting.
He resumed his chore, muscles complaining at the extended workout. He lifted weights and jogged a couple of times a week to stay fit. But the effort required to dig and lift used different muscles. Perhaps he should get out into the field more often. He hadn’t gone hiking in ages. Rather he’d spent much of his time trapped in the lab examining soils and rocks, analyzing field data but not collecting any himself. Hmph. Maybe he should do something about his confinement in the city office. Standing outside on such a pretty day happened less and less frequently. He missed being out in nature, the best aspect of his chosen profession.
As boys, he and Zak had spent hours outside, combing the area for unique rocks and outcroppings. Over time his knowledge of the mineral content of the soil based on the geologic formations and stratification made him highly respected in his field. He had plaques on his office wall as evidence of certain prestigious organizations’ recognition of his abilities as both an analyst and geological consultant. Although, to be honest, consulting proved more difficult to get his foot in the door. Something he’d like to pursue now that he once again had a future ahead of him. His background and experience combined to make him uniquely qualified. He understood how anomalies of rocks and fossils occurred through transportation by animals and water. How human trade enabled the dispersion of various artifacts made from stone and quartz into areas where they didn’t naturally occur. How layers of sediment developed and changed with heat and pressure over vast amounts of time. All of that knowledge didn’t come from textbooks or journal articles. He needed to explore the outdoors more often to refresh and revitalize his passion for geology.
The plantation caretaker, Sean Williams, grunted as he swung the pickax to loosen the stump of a small nuisance tree cut down to enable other shade trees to be planted on either side of the winding path. The man had tended the property for decades, along with his wife, Meg. Together they had kept the place up and took care of the residents and the frequent bed and breakfast guests. Meg’s cooking was renowned in the county with good reason. Just the thought of her chicken corn chowder and corn bread made his mouth water.
Sean swung again, and a pang of sadness at the loss of the mimosa surprised Grant as the man worked. The species was considered by landscapers as messy and thus not desirable, but he had a special fondness for the flowing pink blossoms. So delicate and yet resilient. Like a fine woman. Which made him think of Tara. Again. How she’d smelled of some delicate, flowery perfume when she’d gyrated closer and closer to him on the dance floor. The light touch of her fingers on the sides of his head, as brief and tantalizing as butterfly kisses. The sway of her hips and the lift of her breasts when after a minute or two she had smiled and sidled away, leaving behind the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull her to him. A move that would lead to trouble since they’d only met during the one week he spent in town and shared only polite conversation as he’d bought a coffee at the bookstore. She’d delighted him by shaking off the other party guests to dance with him instead. One dance had left him wanting more, even while knowing they were too different. Too set in their own career paths to compromise. Or at least that was true one month ago. His future appeared muddied and uncertain, undefined yet. Still, his mind refused to cooperate and think about something else. Or someone. He shoved the blade into the hard ground with more vigor.
“What’s the matter?” Sean glanced at him, resting for a minute by leaning on the pickax handle, his blue-and-green plaid flannel shirt unbuttoned over a pale gray shirt and dark blue jeans.
“Nothing.” Not that he’d share. It made no sense to be so infatuated with a woman he barely knew. “I’m just not used to yard work, I guess.”
“You’re doing fine.” Sean hefted the pick. He spread his booted feet apart and prepared to swing the ax then paused and put the tool on the ground. “Looks like we’ve got some help. Hey, Zak.”
Grant looked up to see his older brother approaching the construction site. Tall with dark hair graying at the temples, he looked content in a way he
’d never been before he’d married Paulette a mere month ago. Even his stride, long and loose, demonstrated how relaxed and comfortable he was. By contrast, Grant couldn’t sleep or focus. Except on the unnatural mesmerizing attraction he experienced for the temptress Tara and the mystery he needed to solve. Yet being back in Tennessee brought him a sense of happiness unlike any other place he’d been. His heart fairly sang at being in the small town near to his brother and Tara. Inexplicably Tara. Hell, he’d never even taken her on a date. One dance at the costume party barely counted. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Especially after sitting so close to her the other day in his car, and then trying not to stare at her when she sat across the table during dinner. He had to force himself to look away as she placed loaded chips into her mouth or embarrass himself at the dinner table. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Hey, Sean. Grant.” Zak halted beside the cleared space and folded his arms. “Need some help?”
“If you want.” Sean motioned to the wheelbarrow and the collection of tools it held. “We’re laying the path out, winding like Meredith asked. Grab a shovel and start digging up the sod and put it in that wagon.” He waved a hand toward the small work wagon hitched to the lawn tractor.
“Why don’t you rent a Bobcat?” Zak moved to the barrow and lifted one handle and then another, finally retrieving a flat blade spade. “This would go a lot faster if you did.”
The small bulldozer type tractor would scrape away the grass and top soil with more efficiency than men and shovels. Still, the fuel consumed and the smoke added to the atmosphere would leave its negative effect on the area. Grant appreciated the need for speed many people seemed to favor, but at the same time, he also understood how the mechanization adversely affected the land and air. A trade-off necessary to make depending on the desired result. Besides, he enjoyed working with his hands to create something beautiful and lasting.
Meredith and Paulette lived on the family plantation along with their husbands, working to restore and repair the buildings after years of neglect and storm damage. Grant had witnessed the sisters working out whatever animosity they allowed to come between them until they reclaimed their friendship. Paulette had even persuaded Meredith not to destroy the manor but instead create a memory garden where others could plant a tree, bush, or whatever in honor of someone they loved and lost. A sanctuary where they could walk or sit and remember.
Sean shook his head and sighed. “The environmental impact would be much greater if we did that. Meredith and I agreed to do it with as little equipment as possible to lessen the damage to the ecosystem.”
“Since when did you get all naturalist on us?” Zak chuckled as he started digging.
“Since Meredith said she wanted to create something lovely and meaningful that didn’t destroy the property in the process.” Sean lifted the pick and prepared to swing it again. “Sustainable, I think she called it.”
Grant let his gaze trail across the meadow, landing on the historic manor house with its large sleeping porches overlooking the rear of the property. He could see the edge of the lake out front. The caretaker’s cottage snuggled into the shade of several large maples not far from an inviting gazebo with cushioned chairs. Two magnolias flanked the gate to the family cemetery with its neatly arranged tombstones, yet another fix Sean had made to the property since Grant’s last visit. Adding in a memorial garden would attract more visitors to the property and ensure it remained a place of love and peace for the foreseeable future.
“We need to assess the impact to the water table and the lake as well.” Grant chopped another section of turf and scooped it into the wagon. “I’m sure Meredith probably considered contacting the Corps of Engineers for their assistance.”
“She incorporated their study feedback into the layout to prevent any problems.” Sean fingered the wooden handle of the pickax and then held it across his torso. “As long as we follow her plan, we’ll be fine.”
“Whatever makes my sister-in-law happy makes me happy.” Zak placed a booted foot on the top of the spade blade and stomped down. He repeated the process to cut out a square of the sod and then flung it onto the nearby wagon.
“Is it always this warm in late November?” Grant kept his hand busy with the shovel, digging up ground covering vines by the roots and adding them to the growing pile. “It’s almost Thanksgiving and still in the 70s.”
“Not always, but I’ll take it.” Zak stuck the spade in the earth again and dug up a clump of grass. Grabbing the green blades, he shook off the dirt and then tossed the clump into the growing pile. “Speaking of Thanksgiving, you’re invited to join us for dinner at the Golden sisters’ house, since you’ll still be in town.”
Dinner with Tara? What a great idea. A wave of pleasure coursed through him as her face appeared in his mind’s eye. Her pretty brown hair with blond highlights glinting in the sunshine. Serious hazel eyes nestled among thick dark lashes. The way she’d graciously handled the taco shell fire in the kitchen, resorting to humor and not to tears or tantrums. The idea of being with her for the upcoming holiday made his heart swell. But he didn’t want to wait so long. He needed a plan. “Sounds good. Besides, there’s a certain brunette I’ve had my eye on.”
“Aha. I thought a woman must be involved to keep you away from your dirt and rocks and gems.” Zak stabbed the blade into the ground and continued his task, slowly inching across the width of the planned trail. “Is it Tara? You two seemed to hit it off at the party.”
“She’s hot.” She drew him to her like iron to a lodestone. Grant added more clumps of turf to the wagon, making the pile precariously high, and then leaned on the wooden handle of the shovel. “What if I were to start seeing her? Would that be insane or what?”
“Seriously?” Zak halted in the middle of aiming for another cluster of blades. “From up north?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a whim. Probably not a good idea at that.” Could he manage a long-distance relationship with a certain lady? He mentally shook himself. He was thinking crazy thoughts.
“Not a bad one.” Zak emptied his shovel into the nearly overflowing wagon. “You know you’re welcome to stay with us as often as you’d like, right? So you could visit her.”
“Never mind. Ignore my dumb idea.” Grant’s gut clenched at the realization. The thought of only seeing her on infrequent visits. He shook off the disappointment flooding his soul and pointed to the wagon near to overflowing with their efforts. “How about if I trundle that wagon of sod to a dumping place?”
Sean paused in pulling the stump up. “Give me a hand with this and then take it all over to the pile by the fence. I’ll use it to fill in some holes around the place.”
“What kind of holes?” Grant tossed his spade into the wheelbarrow before walking over to stand by Sean. “Nothing too big?”
“A few depressions, ones I’m hoping don’t become sink holes like those that opened up outside Winchester recently.” Sean propped his pickax against the wheelbarrow and dusted off his gloved hands.
“Those things are unpredictable at the best of times.” Grant moved to the other side of the stump from Sean. “Some hint or clue they’ll form, maybe, if you know what to look out for, but often it’s too late by the time you know what you’re dealing with.”
“Let’s hope I’m wrong then.” Sean grinned at Grant, including Zak in his happy countenance. “Ready?”
“If you are.” Grant stepped closer and bent to get a grip.
Zak shifted to move farther away. “I’ll stand over here if you all don’t mind.”
Grant and Sean grabbed hold of the loosened stump and together pulled it out of the ground. Shaking off the roots first, Sean heaved it on top of the turf pile. Grant strode over to start the tractor and drive it slowly across the meadow to the location indicated. While he shoveled the contents onto the ground, his thoughts stayed on Tara. On what he suspected was a mutual attraction between them. On the distance between them, both in miles and willi
ngness to be together. How might he satisfy both his obligations and his desires? Finishing his task, he closed the rear tailgate and then drove to position the wagon for the next load. Shutting off the engine, he grabbed his shovel from the bed and continued the job.
After several minutes he caught his brother’s eye. “I suppose I should get to know Tara better before I make such a rash decision?” Grant shook his head and studied Zak for several moments. “Maybe ask her out?”
Zak guffawed as he resumed his work. “That’s probably a good starting point.”
“I thought so.” He grinned in return and focused on the task at hand. Monday morning he’d stop in the bookstore and see if she agreed.
Chapter 8
“Where is it?” Tara scanned the shelf of cookbooks in the pantry. Maybe if she could find the right book. The one her mom had used most often. Trailing a finger along each worn cover, she tried to recall which one might help her with desserts. Easy desserts. Ones she could make that would taste good.
Frustrated, she grabbed several of them, juggling them in her arms as she stepped out of the closet and then stacked them on the table. Repeating the process three more times, she finally had all of them precariously stacked in plain view. Standing back to glare at the piles, her heart thudded against her ribcage. Fear of failure ricocheted in her mind, paralyzing her as she dragged in air to try to calm herself. Sundays were meant for relaxing and meditation, not anxiously searching for answers. She could continue tomorrow, ignore the pressing need to make a decision for one more day. Roxie’s disappointed expression floated through her thoughts. Rekindled the dismay she’d experienced. Tara cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. She’d find a way not to let her sister down. Not to let the family down.
Sliding out the chair, she settled onto it and picked the first book off the nearest stack. Opening it, she scanned the table of contents. All she saw were elaborate sounding endeavors that quailed her determination. She closed the book and set it aside, pulling another off the pile and opening it. Flipped through the contents and then slammed it shut. Surely one of the books would hold something she could manage. She repeated the process, growing more confused and less confident with each passing minute. When she’d gone through all of them with no better idea of what to choose, she propped her head on her hands, elbows on the checked table cloth, and closed her eyes.
