She opened her eyes, her gaze on the ceiling. The quiet moment before she spoke seemed to last an eternity. “You know what I need? New gardening boots. For my birthday.”
Ty exhaled and tried to make it sound like a laugh. “Really? That’s what you want for your thirtieth birthday?”
She nodded. “The toe in one of mine is busted. I got a boot full of dirt today.”
“Boots for your birthday. I can handle that.”
He waited for more about the girls, Jenna, school—something—but Betsy turned in silence and reached her arm across him. Ty smelled the lemon scent of her shampoo when she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Instead of bringing it all up again, he closed his own eyes. Finally, he felt the rhythm of her breath deepen.
Boots for your birthday, he thought before sliding into sleep. You deserve so much more than that.
thirty
Jenna
Jenna’s phone rang while she was still several steps away from her cabin. She hurried to open her door, fumbling and dropping her camera bag, though thankfully her camera still hung around her neck. She’d spent the morning shooting one of the artists, a painter who had set up his easel in the bow of a canoe and rowed it to the center of the lake so he could better observe the reflection of the trees’ canopy on the water.
Jenna was fascinated by his concentration, his determination to angle the canoe in just the right position to study the reflection and transpose it onto his canvas. She was so enthralled, in fact, that she hadn’t realized until now that she’d left her cell sitting on her kitchen counter instead of sticking it in the pocket of her bag before she left her cabin.
Once inside, she grabbed the phone without looking to see who was calling.
“Oh, Jenna dear. It’s Delores. It sounds like I caught you at a bad time.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” Jenna flopped down on the small love seat and kicked off her shoes. “I was just hurrying to get to the phone. How are you? It’s been a long time.”
“It has and I’m better now that I hear you’re okay. I started to worry when I didn’t see you and the girls back at your house. Are you still at the art retreat?”
“Yes, ma’am. And I’m sorry for not calling to let you know my plans changed.”
“It’s no worry. I would have called sooner, but I didn’t want to be a bother. Now, tell me all about it. What happened to make you stay longer?”
“Well, the first two weeks were hard. I wasn’t even sure why I’d come. But things started to pick up for me toward the end, and when my mentor offered me the chance to extend my stay, I took it. All the first two weeks did was tell me I needed to be here longer.” She ran her hand through her tangled curls, then grabbed a clip out of her bag and pulled her hair back, away from her face. “It’s been great, being able to focus on my work and really push myself to try some new things.”
“That’s wonderful. The time away must be a good thing. I know you miss your girls though. Are they still with your sister?”
“They are. They’re turning into little farm kids. But I do miss them.” She shifted in the love seat to lie with her legs hanging over the arm.
“I’m sure they miss you too. This is turning into a long trip. I’m glad things are going well for you there though.”
Jenna sighed and closed her eyes. She’d been focused on her work, adding quality shots to her portfolio and soaking up instruction from Gregory, but she hadn’t been able to shake the phone conversation with Ty. He was an honest and forthright man and she’d always appreciated that about him, but when the brutal honesty was directed at her, the words stung. She struggled to push his words away, but at the same time, maybe they were the exact ones she needed to hear.
“Hon?”
Delores’s voice was so concerned, so gentle, Jenna had to struggle to hold back tears. “You must have some kind of miracle phone powers.” She sat up and put her feet on the floor. Forced a small laugh. “I get terrible reception here, but your call came through with no trouble.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s any kind of miracle. Just good timing. I’ve been thinking about you and figured one phone call wouldn’t disrupt your muses too much.”
Jenna smiled. “Is your computer close by? I’ll show you a little of what I’ve been working on.”
She gave Delores the address of her Etsy shop, then listened as Delores’s fingers tapped on her keyboard.
“I’ve almost got it . . . there.” She paused. “This is your work?”
“Some of it. I have a lot more to add, but I wanted to get my shop back up and running now that I’m shooting again.”
“These are beautiful. I’m impressed, though I’m not surprised. Those photos of Addie and Walsh on your living room wall told me you were talented, but I didn’t know you had all this in you.”
“I didn’t either, to be honest. But I’m building my portfolio to show more of a range of work. I’ve been researching jobs—event photographers, photo assistants. Just entry-level jobs right now. And I’ve applied for a few freelance positions. I know I won’t get them, but it’s good to get my name out there anyway. It’s hard to get picked up if no one knows who you are.”
“That all sounds wonderful. I’m curious though—now that you know what you can do, will coming back home to Nashville feel like small potatoes?”
Jenna laughed. “I don’t know about that, but it definitely would be hard to put the photography on the back burner again and go back to just making coffee. I don’t think I could do it. Not now.”
“But why would you need to? Women were born to multitask. You’re already a mother, a friend, a strong woman—a talented woman. You can work your job and raise your kids and do your photography too. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”
Jenna stood and paced the small cabin to have something to do, a way to relieve the anxious energy coursing through her limbs. “I don’t know.” She paused by her camera on the kitchen counter. When she’d first arrived, it had felt as mysterious to her as a book in another language. Now it was familiar, an extension of her own hands and fingers. According to Ty though, that familiarity—that gift—had come at a cost. “I don’t know. A better mother would have packed up by now and headed back home to her kids. It’s just . . . It feels like if I don’t do this now, I won’t get another chance.”
“I understand the feeling,” Delores said, her voice soft. “But you’re a fine mother and pursuing your dream is something you can do, no matter where you are. Even if you’re back home.”
Jenna thought of her little house full of blankets and Barbies. Her girls’ laughter, their feet pounding the floor. Her camera gathering dust on the shelf. She felt like a different person now—would her life back home be different too?
“You may be right. You’re usually right about most things.”
Delores laughed. “I wish Willard were around to hear you say that. Now, I have one more question. This is another subject entirely, but I’m curious. Have you spoken with that nice boy from the coffee shop since you’ve been gone?”
“Sam?” Her smile was involuntary. She thought of how he looked sitting across the table from her in the mornings. Brown hair a touch too long for a corporate job, button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, charming grin.
“Yes, that’s the one. You were seeing him pretty much every day before you left, right? I’d imagine he’s pretty disappointed to be missing his dates with you.”
“They weren’t dates, they were just coffee. We texted a bit soon after I got here, but we haven’t talked since the last day I was in the shop. I’m sure he’s found someone else to have that cup of coffee with.”
“That’s too bad. From what you said about him, he sounded . . . sincere.”
“That’s a good way to describe him.”
“Trust me when I say in the long run, sincerity is a good quality to have in a man. Much better than those flashy bozos I see strutting down the street when I go out to get my hair done.�
��
Jenna laughed. “I’m not really in the market for a man, sincere or otherwise, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ve said this to you before, dear, and I’ll say it one more time. You’re young and smart and you have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking there’s only one road you can take, only one life you can live. You’ll figure out how to make the different parts of your life come together. I have all the faith in the world in you.”
thirty-one
Betsy
Hurricane Ingrid advisory 28. A hurricane warning is in effect for Jamaica and the Cayman Islands. This is a dangerous storm that could reach Category 4 before landfall. Maximum sustained winds are 145 mph. Ingrid is moving west-northwest at 15 mph.
The morning of her birthday, Betsy woke to giggling coming from the door to her bedroom. Then shushing, then more giggling. Outside, a soft rain fell, tapping on the windows. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She cracked one eye open.
“Happy birthday, Aunt Betsy!” Addie and Walsh yelled.
Ty stood behind them, his expression displaying both apology and amusement. “Told you it’d be a good day for you to sleep in.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.
She smiled and stretched, then sat up against the pillows. “Is this all for me?” She eyed the tray tipping precariously in Addie’s hands. Ty reached down and straightened it.
Addie nodded. “Blueberry muffins, orange juice—”
“And chocolate chips!” Walsh added.
“Walsh insisted on those,” Ty added.
“Well, why not? Chocolate chips go great with breakfast, in my opinion.” Betsy winked at Walsh.
“And coffee.” Ty handed her a large steaming mug.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips already on the edge of the mug. “What time is it?”
He checked his watch. “Seven thirty.”
“You need to go, don’t you?”
“I do. Carlos and Walker covered the milking for me, but we’ve got a load of straw bales coming later this morning. I need to get ready for that.” It was part of the farming life—weekends were just like regular days. Cows still needed to be milked, fields tended to, barns repaired. None of that stopped just because everyone else took a two-day break. Or because a storm was brewing in the Gulf.
“Go on then. It’s fine. The girls and I may move this party downstairs, turn on Curious George, and do some more lying around.”
Ty smiled. “Whatever you want. It’s your day. Little rainy”—he eyed the window—“but not too bad. I was thinking later on, why don’t you leave the girls with me for a few hours? You could take off and do something on your own.”
Betsy shrugged. “I don’t have anything I need to do.” She glanced at Addie and Walsh and lowered her voice. “And what about Ingrid? The news last night sounded pretty bad. Is there anything you need to . . . prepare, just in case?” She didn’t want to be too specific with Addie listening, especially not after her fears the night Dawn came through.
He shrugged. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.” His voice was light, but it didn’t hide the tension on his face. “Look, it’s your birthday. Go out and do something you want to do. Get your nails done or something.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to? When’s the last time I had a manicure?”
“I don’t know. Don’t all women like those?”
She laughed. “Sure. Maybe I’ll get my nails done.” She held her hand up and studied her fingernails. They were smooth and rounded, despite the week’s gardening, but nail polish felt like a foreign concept. “I did read about a master gardener seminar at the library this weekend. I can look it up and see when it is. Maybe I’ll learn a few tricks to keep all these new plants alive.”
“Perfect. Just bring the girls out when you’re ready to leave.”
“If you’re sure.”
He smiled. “Girls, I’ll see you a little later on, okay? Thanks for helping me with breakfast.”
Walsh reached over and grabbed a chocolate chip from Betsy’s plate and turned to Ty. She flung her arms around his leg and squeezed, then reached up and handed him the chocolate chip. “For you.”
He popped it in his mouth, grinned at Betsy, and waved good-bye.
When Betsy and the girls came out later that morning to bring Ty the leftover blueberry muffins, the barn was unusually silent. Instead of the regular music pumping from the barn speakers, brooms and hammers and machines moving and working, the space was still. While the cows grazed in the pasture, a knot of men huddled around the laptop on Ty’s desk, the tinny voice of a meteorologist floating from the speaker.
Betsy didn’t know how he did it—if it had something to do with his “sweet spot” internal hunch or if it was something else more science based—but Ty had always known which storms to concern himself with and which ones to ignore, regardless of what the weathermen said or how other farmers in the area chose to prepare.
He’d predicted the ferocity of Hurricane Mabel six years ago with startling accuracy, even when the storm was still more than ten days out. He moved the cows to the middle of the back pasture, away from the buildings and tall trees, even when other farmers thought he was overreacting. They preferred to err on the side of hope—a flimsy thing in the face of Mother Nature’s fury—but Ty chose to be realistic.
After Mabel blew through, leaving fallen trees, dead animals, and busted houses in her wake, Ty and Betsy found their cows munching wet grass in the pasture, only a few skittish heifers in the whole bunch. Their barn survived with minimal damage thanks to his preparations—a few missing shingles, some loose boards—and they didn’t miss a milking. Few doubted his instincts after that.
Seeing Ty hunched over that laptop, his lips a thin, straight line, his hat flung carelessly on the desk, she knew it was serious.
“I don’t know about you, Terry, but this reminds me a lot of how Ivan started way out in the Atlantic,” the voice from the computer said. “Maybe even Frederick. No one’s really talking about it yet, but I’d say—”
When Ty saw her and the girls, he closed the laptop. “I’d say we’ve heard enough for now, boys.”
The guys straightened up and looked around, as if coming out of a dazed sleep. They blinked and rubbed their heads and beards, smiled at her and the girls.
“Hey there, Bets,” Carlos said. He bent down to Addie and Walsh. “I’m going to need some help later this afternoon. Think I can count on the two of you?”
The girls nodded with enthusiasm.
“How’s Gloria doing these days?” Betsy asked. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Oh, she’s good. She’ll be happy to see you—”
Ty cleared his throat and Carlos stopped. “I’ll tell her you said hello.”
Betsy smiled. “Okay then.” She glanced at Ty, but he’d lowered his gaze to his desk, straightening a pencil and a stack of paper.
When the guys dispersed, Ty grabbed his hat and slapped it back on his head. “What’s this?” He nodded to the basket under Betsy’s arm. “Those were supposed to be for you.”
She looked at him another quick moment before handing the basket over. “The girls were concerned that you farmers get hungry during the day and don’t have enough food out here to munch on. They said I really should share.”
“And we had extras,” Addie said. “There’s one for you, one for Mr. Carlos, one for Mr. Walker . . .” She called out each man’s name like they were special friends.
Ty leaned against his desk. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. Why don’t you run and catch them before they get too busy?” The girls trotted out into the barn with the basket.
“What’s going on?” She nodded to the computer.
Ty sighed. “Ingrid. It’s looking like she could turn ugly. Already is for some places.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We’re
in pretty good shape here. We did a lot of prep at the beginning of the season so no need to cram now. I need to check the shutters on the house, make sure they close tight. And you may want to take a trip to the store in case we lose power like last time. Better to do it now before panic sets in. We still have a few days.”
She glanced through the open door. The girls handed Walker a muffin, then ran to the fence for the next delivery. “So it’s coming this way?”
He shrugged. “No way to tell for sure. But we’re due.”
“And you have a feeling.”
He nodded, his gaze on the floor. Then he turned to her. “So, time for you to head out?”
“I checked online and that class is at two.”
“Great. What else?”
“I . . .” She shrugged.
“Don’t worry about us. Walker is working long hours this weekend—I think he’s saving for a car. I have extra hands around, so we’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but what about naptime? It’s getting close, and I don’t think Walsh should—”
“We’ll be fine.” Ty placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “Really. They can take a quick nap after they’ve burned off some energy, then I have their whole afternoon planned. All you have to do is relax. And don’t come back before dinner. The girls and I are going to cook you up something special.”
“Okay,” she said, still unsure.
“Why don’t you call Anna Beth? See if she can meet you for a drink.”
“In the middle of the afternoon?”
“Why not? It’s your birthday.”
Betsy kissed him and waved to the girls. On her way back to the house, she walked past her garden. The earth was still freshly turned and deep black where she’d mixed fertilizer in with the soil. The fledgling plants were ready, waiting. She said a little prayer that their shallow roots would soon take hold so if the storm came, they’d be grounded.
The gardening seminar lasted an hour and a half. Betsy planned to stay for only a little while, just long enough to ask about aphids on her cucumber plants, but the speaker, a spry woman of about seventy, was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable, Betsy didn’t have the heart to duck out early. She took Ty’s advice and let herself relax, enjoy the absence of Goldfish crackers and myriad questions, and the company of other adults, even if those adults were all at least three decades older than she was.
Hurricane Season Page 26
