by Mia Ross
“Twenty-two hundred and four,” he corrected her.
“With the price of land these days, it must be worth a fortune,” she continued. “You can’t knee jerk such a big decision.”
“I’ll buy you out then,” he insisted, looking to Caty for support. “I can do that, right?”
He looked so hopeful, she didn’t have the heart to remind him he didn’t have nearly the amount of money that would take. “If the others agree, yes.”
Marianne was toying with her spoon with a pensive expression. “If we keep the farm, who’s going to run it?”
“I will,” John volunteered. “I know every inch of this place, and all the guys like me.”
“Which is why they never listen to you,” she responded. “You’re one of the Indians, not a chief.”
“Dad must have had someone in mind,” Lisa said with a puzzled expression. “But who?”
* * *
Caty’s gaze landed squarely on Matt, and he thought his heart thudded to a stop for a few seconds.
When it started up again, he bit back a curse, because in his mind this was still his father’s house. Standing on the other side of the island, he was outside the circle at the table. Suddenly, it felt much too close.
“Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m not moving back here.”
“Matt, be reasonable,” Marianne said in that because-I’m-the-mom voice every kid hated. “Someone has to run this place, and Dad chose you.”
“We’ll hire a foreman.”
She gave him a doubtful look. “In the middle of harvest season?”
“You can do that,” Caty explained. “Ethan paid himself a salary, and proceeds from the life insurance can be combined with that to hire extra help. After twelve months, whatever insurance money is left goes equally to John, Lisa and Matt, and into trusts he set up for Kyle and Emily.”
“I’ll just take it out of my portion,” Matt offered. It would be worth every penny to keep his sanity.
Frowning, Caty shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Any remaining funds will be divided equally among the five of you.”
Matt barely stifled a groan. Without much in the way of living expenses, he could step in and run the farm for almost nothing. Hiring someone on such short notice wasn’t impossible, but the price was bound to be astronomical. If he chose to do it anyway, he’d be stealing money from the others. His father knew him well enough to be confident Matt would never do that.
While he searched for some kind of compromise, he stalled for time. “How much are we talking here?”
For the first time, Caty looked uncomfortable with the conversation. They’d put her in a tough spot, he suddenly realized, asking her to be professional while they sat around their kitchen table nibbling on leftovers. He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head while she shuffled through information only she knew. After a long silence, she finally answered.
“Half a million.”
Marianne gasped something incoherent, and Lisa squeaked, “Dollars?”
“Yes.”
John didn’t say a word. Rocking back in his chair, he stared across the kitchen at Matt, waiting.
The invisible noose was back, crushing Matt’s throat until he could barely breathe. They all expected him to backtrack and embrace the life he’d escaped fifteen years ago. Sure, he could do it, but it would drive him crazy, getting up at dawn every day for fourteen hours of backbreaking work that could all be wiped out by a single hailstorm.
He was not, and never had been, a farmer, rooted to the ground he walked on, worrying about blight and insects. Watching the sky and hoping for rain, watching the rain and hoping for sun. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.
The last eyes he connected with were Caty’s, and he finally found what he was looking for. Sympathy.
“This is a lot to consider,” she said in a firm, gentle voice he was convinced could soothe a rushing bull. “For now, I think it’s best if you just focus on finishing out the harvest. There’s plenty of time for the rest.”
“I guess you’re right,” Marianne agreed, dishing up some potato salad before passing it to Lisa. “The kids and I have a lot to do, getting ready for school.”
As the conversation began spinning around the new topic, Matt mouthed Caty a thank-you. She gave him an encouraging smile, and the invisible band crushing his chest loosened just enough for him to breathe again.
“I’ll go pull your van in, Mare.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her keys from their hook and strode out the side door.
Parking the van took all of a minute, but he wasn’t near ready to go back inside. It had been a long day of fighting against his emotions and biting his tongue to keep from upsetting his family. Deciding he needed some time to himself, he wandered through the backyard and over to the pond. He walked out to the end of the dock and sat down, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.
He was now one-fourth owner of a farm he didn’t want, had never wanted. At least the house was Marianne’s. He couldn’t stand living here for very long, but he knew he could never bring himself to sell the Sawyer homestead. It would have broken his father’s heart, and even though he was gone, Matt couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down. Again.
He heard a door slam, followed by the light footsteps of someone a lot smaller than John. His sisters would know better than to follow him out here, so it must have been Caty. As he scooped up a handful of gravel, he had to admit her sarcastic cheerleader comment had impressed him. In a classy, no-nonsense way, she’d put him firmly in his place.
She wasn’t like the other women he knew, he mused as he tossed a pebble into the water. Then again, none of them had a serious job like hers. None of them would have been at a funeral on a beautiful summer day when they could have been playing hooky from work at a lake somewhere. Lobbing in another stone, he watched the ripples work their way through the water.
“Hey, there.” Caty offered him something wrapped in a napkin. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Another stone plunked into the water. “Not really, but thanks.”
Anybody else would get the hint that he wanted to be left alone. But not this one. She actually came closer.
“It’s kind of warm inside. Do you mind if I hang out here for a few minutes?”
Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Thanks.”
She sat a couple of feet away, not too close but close enough that he couldn’t forget she was there. He also couldn’t miss the subtle scent of roses that had come with her. Light and sweet, it suited her perfectly.
Man, he was tired. Turning into a regular poet. He waited for her to say something so he could tell her he really wasn’t up for company. To his surprise, she remained totally silent. Leaning back on her hands, she looked up at the sky while she wiggled her toes in the water.
For a long time they sat there side by side, not even looking at each other. Matt continued tossing pebbles, and Caty seemed content admiring the surrounding fields. Frogs croaked around them, intent on being louder than the crickets, and a couple of ducks glided past, eyeing him warily. They reminded him that this was their place, and he was only visiting.
That didn’t do much for his mood, and he whipped the last few pieces of gravel into the water. None landed near the ducks, but they didn’t appreciate the noise and quickly changed course.
With his hands empty, Matt eyed the muffin still sitting on the dock. Deciding that he didn’t care if she thought he was an idiot, he picked it up and broke off a piece. He popped it in his mouth and sighed in appreciation. “Blueberry’s my favorite.”
“I’m glad.”
She still wasn’t looking at him. He knew because he kept glancing over, and he didn’t catch her eyes e
ven once. This was a new one for him, since women usually connected with him pretty fast.
“Want some?” he asked, holding out the muffin.
“Sure. Thanks.”
As he handed her half, her eyes finally met his, and he was struck by the directness of her gaze. He dwarfed her and hadn’t exactly been friendly, but she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him. The cute suit had some guts. Who’d have figured on that?
They munched in silence for a few minutes, and Matt tore the napkin in half to share with her.
“Thanks.” After wiping her mouth and hands, she stood up. “I’ll leave you be now.”
Her bare feet rustled through the grass as she walked away from the pond. She was a few yards away when he heard himself call out her name.
She turned, and a shaft of late sunlight hit her like a spotlight. If he were superstitious, he’d think someone was trying to tell him something. He shook off the weird feeling and went on. “You mind hanging out awhile longer?”
She took a step toward him and stopped. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
She hadn’t pushed him to talk, hadn’t tried to be entertaining or lift his spirits. She’d just let him sit there and stare at the water. It made him wonder if somehow she understood how he felt.
When she sat back down, he realized it was getting cool and her pretty blouse wasn’t much for warmth. He pulled off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Sighing, he stared at the house he’d avoided like the plague for so many years. “I wish I could’ve said goodbye.”
“You’re not just talking about Ethan, are you?”
Her perceptiveness was unnerving, to say the least. Avoiding her eyes, he stayed fixed on the house and shook his head. Then, for some insane reason, instead of leaving it there he started to explain.
“When I was ten, our mom got real sick. I didn’t know it then, but she had leukemia. She went to the hospital and didn’t come home. We had supper with her one night and the next morning she was gone. I never got to say goodbye.”
Caty put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He hated it when women tried to baby him, but for some reason her gentle touch didn’t bother him.
“That’s so sad. You must have missed her so much.”
“Marianne was seven, but John and Lisa were too young to understand. Lisa doesn’t even remember her.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. Even after all these years, talking about it was almost impossible.
Folding his hands in an effort to control his emotions, he stared down at them. “After she died, everything changed.”
He expected Caty to jump in and finish his thought, maybe fill in the blanks for him, but she didn’t. To his surprise, her patient silence actually made him want to keep talking. Hands clamped into helpless fists, he lifted his head and met those bright green eyes.
“The older I got, the harder it was to be here. I left Harland the day after graduation. Dad said he hated to see me go, but he understood. No matter what I did, he always said he understood, but I’m not sure he meant it.”
Matt had never shared that with anyone, and he had no idea why he’d picked now to bare his soul. Too tired, he figured, to keep his mouth shut.
“He loved you,” Caty said, rubbing his shoulder. “He wanted you to be happy. If that meant leaving home, he was okay with it.”
Matt wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t have the energy to argue with her. From leading his careless lifestyle to ignoring his family, he knew he’d disappointed his father too many times to count. Now it was too late to fix what he’d broken.
Tears stung his eyes, and he held them back with the heels of his hands. Caty put an arm partway around his shoulders, and he felt himself leaning into her. He didn’t know why, but just having her there made him feel slightly less miserable. The warmth of her went beyond the physical, drawing him in. When he realized he wasn’t fighting it, he knew he’d gotten way too close to this sweet, understanding stranger.
Angry with himself for losing his grip, he pulled away and got to his feet. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“Told me what?” she responded lightly. “We’re just out here getting some fresh air.”
Her smile promised she’d keep his emotional meltdown to herself, and he managed a halfhearted smile of his own. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He went a few steps, then turned back. “You introduced yourself as Caitlin, but everyone calls you Caty. Which do you like better?”
She shrugged. “Whichever. I’m not picky.”
After studying her for a few seconds, he decided, “I like Caty. Suits you better.”
* * *
Matt turned and headed for the house, leaving Caty there, wondering what on earth had just happened. While she’d also lost her own mother at a young age, hers had simply vanished from her life. Lost in an accident with a coworker who’d had a few too many drinks after work. Caty couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for a child to watch a parent wither away from illness. Matt had been old enough to know what was happening but too young to accept that she was gone.
Always missing her, wishing she could come back. Tears welled in Caty’s eyes as she pictured that little boy growing into a young man, bitter and furious, desperate to leave those painful memories behind. But Ethan had still been there, along with John and the girls. The pull of the farm fought with Matt’s need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Judging by Marianne’s coolness toward him, his solution had only created more problems for his family. Over the years, he’d probably decided it was easier to stay away than come home and face the music. Unfortunately, it had kept him from being there when they needed him, and he could never change that.
Guilt is a terrible burden to carry around, no matter how strong you are.
Chapter Three
After spending the night on the Sawyers’ couch, Caty woke as the sun started peeking through the living room’s sheer curtains. She was usually up before now, but her long day had completely knocked her out.
She folded the light blanket and stowed it with her pillow in a hand-carved chest. After a couple of tries, she managed to fold up the sofa bed and replace the cushions and throw pillows. Stepping back, she decided everything was the way Marianne had left it and glanced into the antique mirror next to the front door.
Dressed in one of John’s battered football jerseys and a pair of Marianne’s capris, she wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but she was more or less presentable. She caught her hair up in the clip she’d worn yesterday and padded into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. While it gurgled, she saw Tucker sitting on the back porch, gazing in longingly through the screen door. He had free run of the entire farm, but apparently he was feeling lonely.
“Morning, boy,” she greeted him, holding the door open. “Want to come in?”
Panting, he thumped his tail with enthusiasm and looked over his shoulder toward the field road that wound alongside the woods.
“You want some company?”
The thumping increased, and he spun a couple of tight circles before settling back on his haunches with an expectant look.
“Okay.” She laughed. “Give me a second.”
Most of the cups were too small to hold her usual dose of morning coffee, so she ended up with a huge purple mug sporting “Lisa” in fancy silver script. The dot over the i was a star, and the mug played “When You Wish Upon a Star” when she poured in her coffee.
“Totally Lisa,” Caty commented to no one in particular as she spooned in creamer and sugar. After a quick taste, she decided it worked and headed out the back way with Tucker.
He bou
nded down the lane toward the restored carriage house John called home. When Tucker raced up the steps and did some more spinning, Caty noticed Matt in a chair on the little porch. The Lab ducked his head under Matt’s hand, delighted with the ear scratching he got in return. Ten seconds of that was enough, and he repeated his come-with-me dance for Matt.
“Looks like you’ve snagged a partner already, boy,” he said with a guarded look at Caty.
She’d thought they were starting to become friends, so it was tough not to take his attitude personally. Reminding herself that he needed some understanding, she bit her tongue and forced a smile. “Tucker’s motto is The More, the Merrier.”
There, she thought. She wasn’t exactly asking him to come along, but she’d made it clear she didn’t mind if he took the dog up on his wagging invitation. Matt didn’t move at first, but eventually he got to his feet.
“I’d hate to disappoint you,” he told Tucker, avoiding her completely. The dog bolted from the porch and galloped up the road, glancing back to make sure they were following.
Matt’s long strides quickly took him past her, and when he got to the top of the small hill, he stopped to look over at a gnarled old oak a few yards away. The impassive look on his face changed, and she got a glimpse of the same grief she’d witnessed last night. Out of respect, she stopped, too. He seemed to be wrestling with something, and she didn’t want to intrude. To her surprise, he turned to her with a pensive expression.
“This is—was—Dad’s favorite place on the farm.” He glanced out over the hill toward the wheat fields becoming gold as the sun rose behind them. “He had all that, and he liked this old tree more than the rest of it.”
Caty took that as an invitation to come closer, and she paused a few feet away. Judging by Matt’s anguished memories of his own past, she suspected that, while he respected Ethan’s fondness for the old tree, he didn’t share it.
“Y’know,” he said with a scowl, “you’re really easy to talk to.”
The warm blue of his eyes took some of the sting out of his comment, and she smiled. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”
