Love is a Battlefield (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

  Libby: What?

  Ruby: Go look.

  Libby: I’m unwrapping it now … Oh Rube, I love it! I forgot about this picture.

  Ruby: We had so much fun on that first camping trip we decided to do it every year. The older I get, the more I cherish those years.

  Libby: I want to tell Addie to quit working so hard and to make time to enjoy her life. I loved camping so much because it forced me to live in the moment. I didn’t have a laundry list of things to do when we were out in nature. I could just be. Addie doesn’t realize what a gift that is, but I’m hoping she finds out.

  Brogan

  Where the heck did Addison go? She wandered away from the falls and could be anywhere by now. Also, why would she go exploring after our near miss with a cougar?

  I hurry to get out of the water and put my shirt on before heading toward the area where I last saw her. “Addison!” I call out. There’s no answer, so I continue my search/shout pattern for a good thirty minutes.

  I’m jogging by the time I pass my cabin on the way to hers. If she’s not there, I’m going to head to the lodge and gather as many people as I can to help me search.

  Addie is sitting on her porch drinking from a tin cup when I arrive. “Where did you go?” I ask by way of greeting.

  “Where did you go?” she counters. “One minute you were swimming by the falls and the next, you were gone.”

  “I was giving you some space,” I tell her. “I’ve been worried sick something happened to you.”

  “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” She seems way too calm for having just walked through the woods alone, especially considering our earlier excitement.

  “How did you get back here?”

  “I sprouted wings and flew,” she says. “How do you think I got back here?”

  “I thought you were terrified to be out in the woods alone,” I say.

  “If I’m going to be here for a month, Brogan, I’m going to need to get over those fears.”

  The Addison I left at the falls was practically a basket case. What happened between then and now to change her tune? “So, you just decided to wander back on your own?”

  “I’m not the same little girl I once was.”

  I’m not sure what to do at this point. She’s not inviting me in and nothing about her demeanor suggests I’m a welcome guest. I finally ask, “Do you want to come to my place for dinner tonight? I’m a fantastic cook.”

  “Thank you, no.”

  “Why not?”

  She informs me, “If I’m going to turn this into a glamping site, I need to experience it for myself. That includes making my own meals.” She’s brushing me off.

  “Did you fall and hit your head out there?” I’m only semi-joking. I don’t remember Addie being the most graceful creature when it came to hiking.

  She rolls her eyes. “I did not fall and hit my head.”

  Before I can find a chink in her armor, a golf cart pulls into the clearing. It’s my mom.

  When she’s close enough, I call out, “Hey, Mom. What are you doing up here?”

  “I’m here to have a meeting with my interior designer,” she replies with a wave.

  “Why don’t we all go inside?” I suggest.

  “We don’t need you here, honey,” my mom says.

  “Why not?” I’m starting to feel very unwanted and I have to admit, I find that worrisome.

  “Being that you’re wagering against Addie, I think it’s best if you scoot along.”

  She’s seriously telling me to leave. “I was just checking to make sure Addie was okay. I saved her when she got stuck in the outhouse this morning. If I hadn’t come over she’d still be there.”

  “Is this true, Addison?”

  “It is. But now that I know what the problem was, I can get out by myself.”

  “You see?” my mom addresses me again. “Addie doesn’t need you. Bye now.”

  I have no idea what’s going on. None. Not only was my mom not excited about my coming to visit, she’s been disregarding my presence since I got here. “Do you want to have supper tonight, Mom?” I know I sound pathetic, but somebody must want to eat with me.

  “Maybe later in the week. I’ll be pretty busy with Libby.”

  “Why didn’t my mom come with you?” Addie asks.

  “She’s spending the day at the spa. She said to tell you not to worry about her. She’ll catch up with you in a couple of days.”

  “I wanted to use our rental car,” Addie says. “Can you tell her I’ll be up later to get the keys?”

  My mom is quick to answer, “You can use one of the Jeeps that belong to the lodge. That way if your mom wants to go out later, she can.”

  “Where are you planning on going?” I ask Addie.

  “I told you, I like to spend time in the town where I’m decorating. I thought I’d head into Spartan and get a feel for it.”

  “I’d be happy to come along and give you a tour,” I offer. How can she possibly resist chivalry like that?

  “No thanks, I’m good.”

  After a bit of hemming and hawing, I finally decide, “I guess I’ll take off then.” I walk slowly to give them plenty of time to stop me.

  When neither of them calls out, I look over my shoulder to see if they’re still there, but they’ve already gone inside.

  Maybe I should go back to the coast and return when my mom has time for me, but that would mean not being around Addie. And while Miss Cooper seems to have decided she doesn’t want to see me, that oddly makes me more determined to hang around.

  I don’t care what she says, I’m going to keep checking to see if she needs anything and if the opportunity arises I’ll come to her aid again. I’m going to break down those barriers she’s building no matter what it takes.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Mothers

  Ruby: Addie is settling in sooner than we’d hoped!

  Libby: How do you mean

  Ruby: I just left her, and she seems in really good spirits. She’s even going to go into town to do some shopping today.

  Libby: Did she ask about me?

  Ruby: Of course. I’ll keep making excuses for as long as I can, but I’m eventually going to have to come clean.

  Libby: Do what you can, my friend. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my time away with Bob.

  Ruby: I’m one hundred percent on board with that. Every moment you have together is a gift.

  Addison

  “So, how was your first night?” Aunt Ruby asks me after we walk into the cabin.

  “It was pretty weird,” I tell her honestly. “I was scared to death when I went to bed because of all the unfamiliar sounds, but it turns out some of them were Billy.”

  She raises her eyebrows, waiting for more of an explanation. “He thought I might be nervous, so he slept on the porch to make sure I was safe.”

  “He’s a special man,” she says with a smile.

  “Have you known him long? I want to discover as much as I can about him. I can’t imagine having given up a life in New York to be here.”

  “He’s been around ever since I started visiting the lodge with Tom before we got married.”

  “Has he been homeless the whole time?” I want to know.

  “Billy doesn’t consider himself homeless,” she answers.

  “But he is, right?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe by society’s definition.”

  What other definition is there? “He works for you sometimes though, right?”

  “Not in the traditional sense. Billy likes to barter. For instance, he’ll bring fresh fish to the restaurant when he gets a big catch and in return we’ll give him whatever he needs, sometimes it’s coffee or bread and butter. Sometimes a blanket or soap.”

  “How does he clothe himself?”

  “He must trade with someone else for that. Since Billy isn’t much of a man about town, his needs are pretty modest.”

  Billy and I mostly spent our time talking
about things I could do to get even with Brogan for the pranks he pulled on me when I was a kid. He was a fount of ideas and when he left, I felt like we’d become partners in crime.

  “He told me he’s been here for just over forty years. That’s a long time to live in the woods,” I say.

  “He uses the fishing cabin when it gets really cold and we make sure to stock it with firewood and propane to keep him warm.”

  “So, he lives on your property and you’re fine with that.” It seems a weird situation at best.

  “As far as I’m concerned, he came with the place. He was living here before Tom and I took over from his parents.”

  The more we talk about Billy Grimps, the more I want to know. “He seems like a nice man,” I finally decide.

  “He is. If you’re ever in need of anything and Billy can get it for you, he will. Several years ago, he and I had a long talk while we were picking blueberries. He told me that he wanted to live in the kind of world where people worked together for the common good.”

  “Like a utopia,” I say. “I’m not sure how realistic that is.”

  “Billy chooses to practice what he believes in. He says it’s important to live by example.”

  “But don’t most people just disregard him as a homeless man?”

  Aunt Ruby seems to be really thinking about her response before she says, “Most people around this area know Billy’s philosophy and even while they may not agree with it, they respect his right to live his own life. He doesn’t need to have a house to be important to our community.”

  “After so many years of living in New York City, I guess I just assume the homeless are in the situation they are because of addiction or mental illness.”

  “Billy is the sanest person I know,” she says. “I’ve only seen him drink the occasional beer. As far as drugs go, he once told me that he’d had too many friends go down that path and it held no interest for him.”

  I’m not sure what else to ask about Billy, so I change the subject and explain my initial ideas for the cottage. We discuss her budget before Aunt Ruby tells me to start putting my ideas into motion. Then she says, “Buy whatever we need up here while you’re in town and I’ll reimburse you. I’d love for this cabin to be a prototype before you leave.”

  Little does she know, I’m hoping it’s done long before that so I can enjoy the comforts for myself.

  She interrupts my thoughts. “Ask Chris at the front desk for the keys and she’ll tell you where the Jeep is parked,” she says.

  “Aunt Ruby, about Brogan …” I start to say.

  “What about him, dear?”

  “Doesn’t he have to go home to work or something?” The thought of him being up here the whole time I am is more than a little disconcerting. Also, if he leaves, I can go back to the lodge with him none the wiser.

  “Brogan likes his solitude, so I can’t imagine he’ll be a bother. You let me know if he gets in your way though, and I’ll tell him to keep his distance.”

  He’s a bother all right, bothering me by being so darn attractive. When he pulled me into his arms after the close call with that cougar, I wanted to snuggle in and never leave. There’s no way I should be having feelings like that for Brogan Cavanaugh, at least not before I get my revenge on him for past misdeeds.

  While I like to think my attraction to him is nothing more than my need for physical contact, I worry that it could be something more. There’s something compelling about him that draws me in like a moth to a flame.

  I focus on Billy’s ideas for retribution and realize my need to get even has to supersede any attraction I feel. Even if I did allow my baser nature to take over, nothing could come of it. Brogan lives in Oregon and I live in New York. As soon as I win this stupid bet, I’m going home and never coming back here.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Mothers

  Libby: Do you want any tulip bulbs? I know they’re your favorite.

  Ruby: You’re in the Netherlands and you’re thinking about buying me flowers? Go play with your husband.

  Libby: They’ve got burgundy Breeders and Duc van Tol.

  Ruby: I want a dozen of each.

  Libby: Flowers have always been your love language.

  Ruby: You know me too well, my friend. I love you.

  Libby: When it comes down to it, Rube, love and friendship make the world go round. As long as we’re both alive, I’ll always be there for you.

  Brogan

  I’m dying to drive into town to find out what Addie is up to today. But there’s no way I can chance an accidental meeting. She’d know I was stalking her. So, I decide to go over to James’s farm.

  I pass field after field of hay bales waiting to be picked up. This time of year always makes me think of Monet’s Haystacks. There’s something so poetic about the way the sun filters through the blue sky and frames a field of freshly cut hay.

  If I were a painter, I’d sit in those fields from July through September. Life in its purest form is art, and there’s nothing more fundamental than growing things that sustain life. I admire James’s pursuits more than I can say.

  The entrance to my brother’s land is his farm stand, Poppa’s. He named it for our grandfather. Our dad’s dad was the man who fed our connection to the earth.

  Camping with Poppa was a way different journey than camping with our parents. Our grandfather believed that nature gave you everything you needed to succeed. As such, we didn’t pack anything more than we could carry.

  He taught us how to harvest pine nuts for protein, and then turn the pine needles into a tea that was high in Vitamin C. We learned which mushrooms were safe to eat and which were poisonous, which plants had healing properties, and which to avoid. Our grandfather was a treasure trove of information.

  James is nowhere in sight when I walk into Poppa’s. The cash register is being manned by the high school students that my brother employs every summer.

  I spot Jeffrey Wilkens, who is the son of my high school friends Cheryl and Damian. “Hey, Jeff,” I call out.

  “Mr. Cavanaugh, how are you?” he asks. Jeffrey is an all-American looking kid: tall, strong, and always sporting a big smile. He’s got enough of Cheryl’s dark skin that he’s not quite a dead ringer for his dad, but there’s no wondering at his parentage.

  “I’m doing well,” I reply. “Do you have any idea where my kid brother is?”

  “Probably in the peach orchard. He’s adding a bunch of new Suncrest.”

  James and I always used to volunteer to pick peaches for the lodge. During the month of August, our chef made enough peach butter and peach jam to last the whole year. Peach cobbler and peach shortcake were also on the menu if a fresh supply was available.

  I swear we managed to eat nearly as much as we picked. We always came home feeling bloated and sick, but we never seemed to learn our lesson. It’s no wonder James has two full acres of peaches on his farm.

  Walking out to the orchard, I can’t help but be impressed by all he’s been able to accomplish here. Even though this was a working farm when he bought it, the previous owners were an elderly couple who had gradually let things go. There was a lot that needed to be done to bring the land back to its glory.

  When the property went on the market, James borrowed money from our parents for the down payment. He paid them back in only a few years, but he practically puts every penny he earns back into the farm.

  I pull a peach off a tree and hurry to take a bite. It’s so sweet and juicy I have to stop walking so I can fully concentrate on my enjoyment. James sees me and calls outs, “I hope you came to work.”

  “Nope. I came to hang out with my brother.”

  He hands me a shovel. “The price for conversation is hole digging.”

  I point the shovel into the ground and do what I’m told. “You’ve done an amazing amount of work out here.”

  “The earth gives back what you put into it,” he states plainly. “There’s no downside to hard work.”

&n
bsp; “Mom doesn’t seem pleased that I’m here,” I say, changing the subject.

  “She’s still not fawning all over you, huh?”

  “No, and don’t make light of it. You know how she is. This is very disconcerting behavior.”

  “Go pick her some flowers. I’ve got black-eyed Susans, daisies, hydrangeas … you name it, the flower garden is heavy in bloom right now.”

  “I’ll grab them on my way out, thanks.” I decide to pick an extra bouquet for Addie, too. She may claim she doesn’t want to see me, but I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t melt when handed a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

  “Did Mom tell you what she’s planned for Dad’s birthday this year?”

  “No.” Our dad died two months before his birthday last year, so no one was in any place to celebrate while we were so deeply mourning our loss.

  “She wants us to go on a family hike around the property and sprinkle him in all of his favorite places.”

  Emotion chokes me as sure as if someone put their hands around my throat and started to squeeze. “That’s really nice,” I manage, though my voice is strangled. It’s not rare to spread a loved ones ashes in locations that held meaning for them. But every place my dad loved, we still love. Every spot is sure to be so full of happy memories that the juxtaposition of why we’re there may be my undoing.

  James and I continue to dig holes quietly for several minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Mine include the fact that at only thirty-five years old, I’m the old man of the family. More and more I feel the need to take care of my mother even though she doesn’t particularly seem to care that I’m around.

  “Do you ever wonder what’s going to happen to the lodge when Mom gets too old to run it?” I ask my brother.

  “I figured Chris would take over.”

  “Chris is only a year younger than Mom,” I remind him.

  “We’ll find someone. Unless you’re thinking we should sell it.”

  “How can we sell it? That land is our history. It’s our heritage. Every event that formed us into the men we are took place there.” After a moment, I add, “I guess there’s time enough to decide later. I just don’t want Mom working herself into an early grave. I’d like for her to travel or just relax if that’s what she wants to do.”