Labor of Love

by Mary Manners

  “I never gave it a whole lot of thought. I just wanted to get away from the city and spend more time—undistracted—as a family. Mack said—”

  “What’s all the commotion out here?” Garrett came onto the porch, letting the door slam behind him. His voice was rough as sandpaper and waves of hair fell across his forehead in a mass of blond tangles as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “I’m trying to catch some shut-eye and you two are loud enough to wake the...” His voice trailed off as he caught himself before the final word, but Addy got the gist of it.

  “You’re grounded,” Addy reminded him.

  “How could I forget with the way you keep driving the point home, Mom?” He leaned against the porch rail and yawned. “And I’m trying to sleep, but you guys are putting a serious dent in my dream time.”

  “Dream time’s come to a screeching halt,” Addy announced. “Jace has come to take you with him around the property for a while.”

  “What?” Garrett fisted his hands and rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Why?”

  “You’ll need these.” Jace handed Garrett a pair of leather work gloves. “Because here on the ranch being grounded means something a little different than it does in the city.”

  “I’m not following you.” Garrett turned the gloves over in his hands, frowning. “Please, fill in the blanks.”

  “Get dressed and I’ll do just that. Wear some old jeans—a pair you don’t mind relegating to the rag pile—and put these on, too.” Jace lifted a pair of work boots from the stairs and handed them to him. “They’re a little worn but that ought to make them more comfortable until you can get a pair your own. They should fit just fine since your mom gave me your size.”

  “I don’t understand what’s going on here.” Garrett looked to Addy, his gaze pleading. “Mom?”

  “Like I said, you’re spending the day with Jace. He has some projects for you to work on together. For the next few days, you’re going to be a ranch hand.”

  “A what—no way! I have school work to do…papers to write for English class and that essay Principal Jones gave me to do about the rules. I have to have it done—a thousand stinking words—before I can go back to school.”

  “This sudden concern over your school work is heartwarming, but you can begin to tackle all of that tonight, and over the next few nights, after you get back from working.” Addy held out her hand, palm up. “There’s one more thing…give me your cell phone.”

  “What?” Vestiges of sleep fled from Garrett’s eyes as they widened in disbelief. “Please, Mom…how will I talk to my friends back home?”

  “I told you, Garrett, this is our home now. You’ll make friends here if you just give things a chance.”

  “I don’t want to make friends here. Trying to make friends here only gets me into trouble.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Forget it.” He groaned. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Have it your way. Now, give me your phone, son.” Addy refused to bend. She thought of the fear that had coursed through her as Garrett disappeared across the pasture yesterday, and of the trouble he’d caused at school. She had no desire to encourage a repeat performance. “Hand it over—now.”

  “Fine, here.” He pulled the phone from the pocket of his jeans and pressed it into Addy’s hand. “For how long, Mom?”

  “Until you return to school next week and maybe longer unless I see drastic improvement in your attitude.”

  “But, I need—”

  “You need to be ready in ten minutes.” Jace stepped between them. His matter-of-fact tone left no room for discussion. He drained his coffee mug and set it on the porch rail before placing his hat atop his head and smoothing a pair of fingers along the rim to set it into place. “Meet me at the truck, Garrett. We’ve got plenty of work waiting.”

  ****

  The kid was in a snit to beat the band.

  Jace gave Garrett room to stew as they made their way toward the truck and a length of fence line that waited beyond. Wire had come loose in more places than he could count, and at least a dozen posts listed sideways. Ranch work proved to be an endless endeavor, especially when projects went without attention for months…years…like they had at this place. He’d learned from his dad, though, to prioritize a list and go from there. So, first things first, the fence needed a facelift. No livestock that Addy brought here would be safe without a sturdy and dependable boundary-line.

  If she chose to stay in Atascosa County. Her words told him she would, but her eyes said something different. Suddenly Jace’s intention to buy her ranch and expand his family’s property took a back seat to lending her a hand. Why, he wasn’t sure. But there was something about Addy that touched a place deep inside of him…a place that had been in hibernation since his early days on the circuit, when he naïvely believed he could juggle a rodeo career and a family.

  He’d been critically wrong, and had paid the ultimate price with a failure he’d worked the next decade to drive from his memory. Running from the memories had become second-nature, but in the end he’d come full-circle, back to the starting point here in Atascosa County.

  Jace vowed not to make the same mistake twice.

  As the morning closed in on seven-thirty, the sun began to make its languid ascent into the sky, posing along the horizon like a gilded king holding court as it set the cloudless expanse afire. Jace never tired of the breathtaking display.

  Just like Addy…simply beautiful…

  The thought startled Jace and he turned back toward the house. A light glowed through the kitchen window and he saw her there, crossing over to refill her coffee mug. She’d packed him a thermos and Jace had added a generous lunch for him and Garrett to share. They’d be gone for the day; there was work to do—plenty of work. Experience told Jace the kid would need a hefty dose of fuel to make it through.

  Garrett huffed out a breath as together they approached the truck. An emotional storm brewed…one that proved dark and menacing. Nothing would move forward until it passed, leaving the air fresh from the cleansing. Jace waited patiently for the downpour to commence.

  Two more steps and the proverbial skies opened with Garrett’s heated words, “You’re not my father, you know.”

  There it was…the ice-breaker Jace had been waiting for. He was careful to hold his tone to a murmur, even and calm. “Yes, I’m fully aware of that.”

  “So, you can’t boss me around.”

  “Is that what you think fathers do?”

  “I dunno. I guess so.” Garrett shrugged. “At least that’s been my experience. My dad tried to be patient, but he was always too busy to really take the time. Things were supposed to be different here. He promised…”

  “That’s a tough road, for sure, and I’m really sorry for the mess you’ve been hauled through. But let’s get one thing straight.” Jace paused and turned to Garrett, capturing his gaze and holding firm to stave off any possibility of misunderstanding. “I may not be your dad, but I am, at least for the next handful of days, your boss. So, whether you like it or not, I can give you directions that will keep you from harming one of the animals—or yourself. And I plan to issue orders, often, if that’s what it takes to light a fire under your hind end.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be.”

  “You can order me around until you’re blue in the face, but that doesn’t mean I have to do what you say.” Garrett shook his head, and as blond hair spilled across his forehead to hide his eyes, Jace thought the kid could use a haircut. A few days working in the dust and the heat, and chances were he’d be begging for one.

  “No?” Jace grinned ruefully. “What will you do—use that fierce upper-cut of yours to punch me in the nose?”

  Garrett’s eyes smoldered. “You don’t know anything about that.”

  “Wanna bet? Lindy told her dad what you did for her, and then Sam told me.”

  “What did she tell him?”

&nb
sp; “That you were defending her from another boy who was saying some pretty ugly things—things that most definitely would not make his mama proud. Is that true?”

  “Do you think it’s true?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What does it matter?” Garrett toed the dirt with his boot. “Mom won’t listen to me long enough to let me explain, and Principal Martin…well, forget it.”

  “He’s a friend of mine. I can talk to him for you.”

  “Don’t bother. He’s got it in for me.” Garrett flicked hair from eyes that held a hint of uncertainty. “Why do you care, anyway?”

  “I care about the truth.” Jace adjusted the brim of his hat, shading his eyes from sunlight that fingered through the willow trees. “We men manage to create enough trouble of our own without having someone else’s dumped on our plate.”

  “Thanks. Maybe you can talk to Mom…”

  “Nope. That ball is in your court. You’ll have to find a way, when the time is right.”

  “The time is never right. She used to listen, but not anymore. That’s just one of the reasons I hate it here—a lot.”

  “What are the others?”

  Garrett shrugged again. “I dunno.”

  “You should figure that out. It’s square one, you know. And if you don’t take a long, hard look at what you want to make of your future here, you’ll just keep getting yourself into trouble. I can picture it now…Garrett Shaw, still grounded at forty.”

  Garrett stifled a laugh, but a grin chased the resentment from his eyes. “OK, maybe you are just a little funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be. I’m serious, Garrett. With your dad gone, your mom needs your help more than ever.”

  “And what if I need her? Does that even matter?”

  “Of course it matters. But you’re the man of the house now, and that means something. You have to figure things out.”

  “OK, as long as we’re figuring things out, let’s start with this. I know what doesn’t make me tick—people bossing me around and acting like they’re better than me just because they’ve lived here their whole life.”

  “Like that kid at school, the one giving Lindy such a hard time…the one whose nose you repositioned?”

  “Yeah…Derek Rhines.”

  “Ah, now there’s a light bulb moment…Derek.” Jace knew the name well. “Yes, I’m familiar with him and his family.”

  “How can you not be? There’s only about fifty people in all of Atascosa County. This place is more boring than a ghost town.”

  “Fifty people? That’s low-balling it a little, don’t you think?” Jace settled against the rear bumper of the truck and crossed his arms. “And maybe you just haven’t been looking for action in the right places.”

  “There are no right places.” Garrett’s scowl filled his face. “Whatever. Derek Rhines is a jerk.”

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Jace pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and tossed it to Garrett. “The question is; what kind of apple are you?”

  “The kind who doesn’t like getting bossed around.”

  “That’s too bad. Because my first order was going to be to tell you to drive the truck down the fence line while I unload the supplies from the bed.”

  “You want me to drive the truck? This truck?” The kid tapped the tailgate, where four-by-fours peeked over the lip. “But I don’t have a license.”

  “Ranch driving is different than being out on the open road. It’s wide open space...pretty much impossible to damage anything around here. You’re what…thirteen?”

  “I’ll be fourteen next April.” He puffed out his chest.

  Jace bit back a grin. “Well, driving around here—with adult supervision, of course—is a great place to start learning. That’s how I got a good hunk of experience under my belt.”

  “So, you really want me to drive? You’re not joking?”

  “No, I’m not joking. But since you’re so opposed to being bossed, I already know you’re not going to agree to do it, so why bother asking?”

  “Whoo hoo!” Garrett fist-pumped the air. “I’m going to drive.”

  “So you’re taking an order?”

  “Give me the keys.” Garrett held out his hand, palm up. “Boss me all you want. I’ll do whatever you ask as long as I can drive.”

  “Are you sure? We’ve got an awfully long list of chores to tackle.”

  “Yes, I’m totally sure. You can write it in blood.”

  “We might, by the end of the day. You have no idea…”

  “Come on, Mr. Baldwin. Let me have the keys.”

  “Jace…you can call me Jace. It works just fine.”

  “OK, then…Jace, hand over the keys. Please.”

  “Hang on just a minute.” Jace dangled the keys just shy of Garrett’s reach. “You know, for the record…sometimes one person’s idea of bossing is just another person’s way of making sure the job gets done right.”

  “I get it. Come on…I want to drive.”

  “Here you go, then.” Jace tossed the keys his way and Garrett snatched them on the fly. “Now take it nice and easy, straight down the line, and we’ll have this fence shored up in no time flat.”

  8

  Addy opened the oven door to peek inside, and a blast of heat warmed her cheeks.

  Everything seemed to be coming along nicely.

  The meatloaf, slathered in a special mixture of brown sugar and tomato catsup that Garrett loved, had browned with a light, moist crust while mashed potatoes sat fluffy and buttery atop the stove. The aroma of yeast rolls caused her belly to swim the butterfly stroke.

  On the counter an apple pie cooled, its crust suntanned and the contents bubbling over in a steamy breath of sweetness.

  Ahh…home. She was home. Addy finally found the strength to admit what she’d denied for months now: good, bad, or indifferent (and she really had no desire to carry the torch of indifference any longer) she and Garrett would make a home here—for good. There was no turning back; without Mack, Chicago held nothing for them.

  Addy had used the time since Garrett and Jace left that morning to begin setting the kitchen to rights. The walls and cabinets didn’t look half bad after a good scrubbing with a stain-erasing pad. The counters, though woefully outdated, managed to shine once a bit of elbow grease was applied. She’d given the linoleum a good once-over with a touch of bleach, doing the work the old-fashioned way—on her hands and knees. Now the room smelled cleaner than it probably had in decades and the canisters and various other knickknacks she’d placed along the countertops added a welcoming touch.

  The kitchen is the heart of a home.

  Carol Baldwin’s words from the night before came rushing back. The older woman was right; a kitchen transformed a house into a home. That’s what Addy and Garrett had been missing—a home. The time had come to plow forward into the great unknown and see where the trail might lead.

  Following her cleaning spree, Addy had embarked on a long-needed trek to the grocery store in town. A trunk-load later, the refrigerator was filled and cans of various sizes stood like a platoon of soldiers at attention in rows of squeaky-clean cabinets.

  Addy sighed and wiped her hands on the apron Carol had sent her home with last night. The sweet and unexpected gift had reminded her just how much she liked to while away in the kitchen, experimenting with the vast assortment of cookbooks she’d bought over the years. She’d dabbled in a few culinary arts classes post high school, and had put the lessons to good use preparing a variety of delightful cuisine for family and friends over the years.

  But Addy’s true passion remained photography. She’d taken a handful of non-credit courses at the Art Institute in Chicago years ago, where the instructors told her she seemed to have a gift for measuring light and finding the perfect angle for her subjects. It was something that took years for most students to master, yet she came by the technique with a seemingly natural ease.

  “Your brain frames the photo
through your hands, Addy,” one of the senior professors had informed her. “It’s a gift…a wonderful gift that you would do well to pursue to the farthest reach.”

  Addy had dreamed of owning her own studio. She had nearly made the dream a reality when she and Mack married, and then, within their first year as a couple, Garrett made his grand entrance into the world. Addy was elated to journey into motherhood, and gladly traded meticulously-choreographed nature shots for joyful candids of Garrett’s growth. Instead of whiling away the hours in a studio, she’d spent her days changing diapers and heading up the church’s annual directory while coordinating congregational photos. The closest she came to setting up a studio were the occasional treks to the shores of Lake Michigan at Grant Park when Garrett was still a baby. There, she got lost in light and shadows as she photographed the sprawling scenery while Mack worked in his office building downtown and Garrett dozed in a carrier strapped to her back.

  Now, Addy’s gaze was drawn to the stark-white surface of the double-paned refrigerator door. No magnets clung there; nary a single photo hung displayed. She’d have to remedy that. Not now…today, but very soon.

  She switched on the radio she’d placed on a counter beneath the cabinets and hummed along with a country station as she set a fresh pot of coffee to brew. The scent of hazelnut soon wafted, warm and homey, reminding Addy once again of Carol’s seemingly endless generosity. She thanked God for the woman’s kindness and then laughed softly, realizing her conversations with the Man Upstairs continued, despite countless obstacles. Was He truly listening now, as Carol had asserted?

  Jace would most likely enjoy a cup of coffee along with a generous slice of apple pie when he returned from his work around the ranch. For Garrett, she’d mixed a pitcher of his favorite lemonade, adding a few plump wedges of lemon to the mix for good measure. It chilled in the fridge along with a dozen eggs and a slab of thick-cut bacon that she planned to use to make breakfast in the morning.

  For the first time in months Addy felt alive…excited for the future.

  Happy. Hopeful.