“He’s never known a father.” Brent surged to his feet. “From what Allison says, his mother had a new live-in every few months.” He’d been one of those. The only one, apparently, to implant a child in her.
“I repeat. Does he not deserve a father now? The past is past, Brent. Yours and his both. All there is is the future. He’s what, four, you said? He’s got a lot of years to go. Years you could make a huge difference in.”
“But—”
“And you love the woman who has custody of him.” Patrick flung his hands in the air. “You are making no sense to me, boy.”
There was no way in heaven or on earth that Allison would listen to his entire sordid tale and accept him anyway. None. He had an imagination. He’d had an imaginary friend like Finnley did. Kefir. But he didn’t have enough imagination to see any positive outcome from laying it all out for her.
On the other hand, he’d already lost her. He’d pushed her aside himself. For the first time in two weeks, he wondered what she thought the reason was. Did she suspect? Her only clue was that both were Korean. Far from conclusive, of course. There was no shortage of Koreans in this world.
“Brent, my boy. You’ve got nothing more to lose.”
* * *
Sierra and Gabe’s wedding loomed. The pace at Green Acres picked up as the garden needed weeding and the early strawberries ripened. Finnley spent long hours with Keanan, perched on the back of one of the huge Percherons as they circled the field next door.
Allison tried to tell herself it was the wedding she was looking forward to. She’d never been involved in preparation of one before. They’d prepared gallons of rhubarb punch for the freezer. Poured clear golden honey into miniscule jars, topped with tiny paper bees for wedding favors. Baked baguettes, squares, and the bases for petit fours. Nurtured the flowers beside the pole barn where the ceremony was to take place.
What would it be like to prepare for her own wedding? And that’s all it took to send her mind chasing Brent again. Wondering what he was doing, whether he was thinking about her, what would happen when he returned to the jobsite, windows in tow, the Monday after the wedding.
Whether there was a chance in the world they could get past this roadblock. Wondering if she wanted to. Changing her mind a dozen times a day.
Was this love? He’d said the words then taken them back. They were still true. Weren’t they?
But if she expected Brent to say what held him back, wouldn’t he expect the same from her? How could she share the most secret, shameful bits of her past? Become open and vulnerable? He’d already rejected her, even without knowing all that. The knowledge couldn’t reverse it. It would only drive a deeper stake.
If only she could block him from her mind, but he’d been gone over a month now, yet was still at the forefront of her mind every minute of every day.
Finnley loved to listen to Keanan’s guitar, haul Danny Boy around, play with Maddie, and follow the men around the farm. But when nothing else was going on, she’d find him sitting glumly in the vacant school building, or, once, up at the unfinished house, dandelion stems tufted with white fluff clutched in his little brown hands.
He missed Brent, too.
And when Brent returned, nothing would have changed. He’d do his job, complete the buildings over taunting months, and disappear again, this time for good.
She should consider a man like Keanan. A gentle, poetic guy who didn’t demand, didn’t argue, didn’t make her pulse race. She liked him. So did Finnley.
What had happened to her plans to do life alone, her and a guard dog, until she was eighty? Was it only because Finnley needed a father figure? No. If she were being really, really honest, it was all Brent’s fault.
It was Brent or no one. But at what cost, either way?
Chapter 24
“It is so good to see you again!” Chelsea bounced in front of Allison. “How’s farm life treating you?”
Sierra’s sister obviously wanted a hug. Somehow, Allison wasn’t as adverse to those as she’d once been. She laughed and held out her arms.
Chelsea beamed and gave her a tight squeeze. “And your nephew is adorable. Sierra says he’s come a long way since he got here?”
Allison nodded. “He really has.” Not that he jumped into her arms of his own volition yet, but he allowed brief hugs and pats on the way by.
“How’s your sister doing?”
Allison stared at Chelsea blankly. “My sister? She’s in prison.”
“I know, but how’s she doing on the inside? Does she miss Finnley?”
“How would I know?”
Chelsea searched her face. “You… there hasn’t been any contact?”
Allison tightened her arms around her waist. “No.”
“Oh. I just wondered. I thought she might like to hear from you. I know you haven’t been close like Sierra and me—”
Allison snorted.
“—But she’s still your sister.”
“Half-sister.”
Chelsea shrugged. “Your sister in every way that mattered. You grew up together.” She grinned. “Probably stole each other’s clothes.”
“Not really.” Lori had dressed like a hooker as young as she could get away with it. She’d always sought the attention. Allison? She’d rather have stayed hidden. Even that hadn’t worked.
“I’ve been praying for your sister. Do you know if her prison has a chaplain?”
Allison stared at her friend, emotions awash. Guilt that she’d shoved every thought of Lori out of her mind. Hadn’t really prayed for her — much — now that she’d gotten Finnley. Hadn’t thought to wonder about her sister’s spiritual needs.
She used to pray for her. What happened? Had she only cared about Finnley and not her own sister? But Lori had made her choices and dragged Finnley along. It hadn’t been the little guy’s fault. Only his mother’s.
Was there any chance Lori was a victim, too?
Victims came in so many sizes and shapes. Some hid everything better than others. Allison should know. She was a hider.
She tried to imagine telling Brent the real details of her growing up years. He’d rejected her already for far less.
“Allison?”
Her gaze snapped back to Chelsea’s concerned face. “I, uh, I don’t know if there’s a chaplain. I’ve been rather busy with the building projects and Finnley, and I haven’t given much thought to Lori.” She stared at the floor. “You must think me a terrible person.”
“Of course not.”
The awkward silence belied that.
“Where is the little guy, anyway?”
“Out in the field with Keanan.” Allison shielded her eyes and looked out past the plum trees, all leafed out now. The team was out of sight at the moment, probably at the north end of the field. “He loves riding on the horses.”
“Keanan?” Chelsea glanced at Allison. “Sierra told me a bit about him. So he’s living here now?”
Allison shrugged. “If you can call living in a tent anything permanent. He just showed up one day and offered to work for food and a place to pitch his tent.”
“Sounds weird.”
“He’s basically a leftover hippie, I guess. Nice enough guy. We often all gather around in the evening and sing along with him and his guitar.”
“Does he spend a lot of time with Finnley?”
“Quite a bit.” Allison caught Chelsea’s gaze. “Why? Do you think that’s a problem?”
“I don’t know. Is it? How well do you really know him? And after all your nephew has been through…”
“Trust me, Finnley’s radar is better than most. He adores Keanan, and there’s no way he’d go anywhere near him if Keanan didn’t treat him right.”
A grin deepened Chelsea’s dimple. “He adores him, does he? How about you?”
“He doesn’t show affection for me, really. He—”
Chelsea chuckled. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Huh?” Alliso
n met her friend’s gaze.
“Do you adore Keanan, too?” Chelsea’s elbow caught Allison’s ribs.
The horses plodded back into view in the distance, cutting hay on Steve and Rosemary’s land next door. The big man with bushy red hair walked behind them, handling the reins. Did she adore him?
Allison chose her words carefully. “He’s really sweet and well-educated. He spent the past ten years working on organic farms around the world, learning and making a difference. I can’t tell you anything I don’t like about him, but he doesn’t make my heart speed up.”
She’d caught him looking at her a few times, with something like speculation evident. Not calculating, really. Just wondering. She wondered, too.
“Well, he lives in a tent, so I guess he’s not really up to standard anyway.”
Allison shot Chelsea a look. “That’s not it. Not at all.”
Chelsea’s eyebrows went up.
“No, really. He’s given up the trappings of wealth to make a difference in the world. I admire that in him. And honestly, if I were in love with him, I have more than enough money for the both of us. He’s poor by choice, not because he’s a lazy bum. Look at him.” Allison pointed out across the pasture. “He works hard, but he isn’t consumed by work. He takes time to enjoy it.”
“He’ll probably disappear again in a whim, anyway.”
Allison shrugged. “He might, I guess.” Was that why she held back from Keanan? No. She simply wasn’t attracted to him. Brent, on the other hand… even the thought of his name increased her heart rate, and she hadn’t seen the guy in over a month. The only message she’d had from him had confirmed the date of the windows’ arrival and his return to the job site. She’d read even that a dozen times, looking for nuances.
“So when are you moving to the farm? I know you wanted to come almost as much as I did.”
Chelsea grimaced. “Every time I set a date, something comes up. I get hired to plan a large event or something. Right now I’m trying to set a solid break for September.”
Allison chuckled. “Be more like Keanan. He just showed up.”
“Yeah. I’m not that kind of impulsive. I’m hoping September will work. Every time I come to Green Acres, it seems to fill a bit of my soul, and I wonder what’s taking me so long. You know what I mean?”
Allison nodded. “Yeah, I know.” She took a deep breath of the forest-scented air. “I don’t ever want to leave.”
“Now you sound like Claire.” Chelsea chuckled.
“Noel gets her off the farm once in a while. Mostly into the high mountains, though. They have quite a few guiding trips lined up for fall.”
“Sierra said they’d turned down a fishing trip with a group of German men for this week.”
“Yeah. It would have required them to miss Sierra and Gabe’s wedding. That wasn’t an option. The German guys hired a company in Colorado instead.”
“Well, one day I’ll move here, too. Right now I’d have to live with Claire and Noel in the big house with Sierra getting married. That’s fine for a few days for a visit, but not long term.”
Allison laughed. “I get it. But you could always pitch a tent.”
“And freeze to death all winter? I don’t think so.” Chelsea poked a chin in Keanan’s direction. “Dude there will have to make other plans, too. I can’t believe someone would just wander onto a farm, uninvited and unannounced, and act like he belonged.”
“Methinks you should meet our Keanan.” Allison took Chelsea’s arm.
“Uh, no. I’m thinking not.”
* * *
Keanan’s guitar plucked out love songs in the hushed pole barn. Sierra’s brother, Jacob, and Noel seated the last few wedding guests that straggled in, then Jacob seated his mother.
Allison’s pulse quickened. She’d watched this romance develop last fall when she’d visited Green Acres a few times. Gabe and Sierra’d had baggage, too. Different than Allison’s, but baggage all the same. And who knew what Brent’s problem was? Could it be worse than Gabe’s struggle with mourning his first wife, who’d died in a vehicle accident? Could it be worse than Sierra’s struggle with depression and her cancer scare?
And yet, here they were.
Gabe stood at the front of the pole barn with Zach beside him, best friends since childhood, as Chelsea strolled down the aisle as maid-of-honor. Neither Jo nor Claire showed any signs of jealousy that Sierra had chosen her sister for the privilege instead of them.
Who would she choose? Who was she that close to? Certainly not Lori, though Chelsea’s words niggled in the back of her mind.
Not that it mattered. She wasn’t getting married. There was only one man for her, and he’d pushed her aside.
Of course, Gabe had thought there was only one woman for him. He’d been happily married. He and his wife had been expecting their first child when she died.
The light on Gabe’s face as Keanan switched to the strident wedding march could not be denied. Allison stood with the others and watched Sierra walk down the aisle on her father’s arm, her white gown barely brushing the gravel path, her gaze never leaving Gabe’s.
It was obviously possible to love again. Maybe, in time, Allison could set thoughts of Brent aside and fall in love with a man who loved her and Finnley. Whatever had happened to her vow to remain single? What had happened to her belief that all men cheated like pond scum?
The men in this barn had changed her. Noel. Zach. Gabe. Steve. She didn’t know most of the others, but Gabe’s parents were here all the way from Romania, where they were missionaries. They’d been together for a lot of years, too.
Keanan’s guitar slowed as Sierra and her dad stopped in front of Pastor Ron. The music dwindled and faded.
Allison studied Keanan’s face, visible for once as he’d tied his mass of hair back with a leather lace. He wore a white shirt and, Allison knew, his best jeans. Could she love Keanan?
He must’ve felt the heat from her gaze because he glanced her way. A slow grin crossed his face and one green eye closed in a wink.
No tingle. No spark. Not even a flush of embarrassment.
She grinned at him and turned her attention back to the ceremony as Sierra’s dad laid his daughter’s hand into Gabe’s. Tim Riehl slid into the seat beside his wife and draped his arm around her shoulder. She dabbed her eyes as she glanced at him, then leaned against him.
Yeah, Allison’s parents would have been all about the society pages. Who was present. How expensive the whole event was and how much it would raise their standing in society. Dad would have had an apoplectic fit if he’d seen Keanan’s wink or the look that passed between them. That was probably why Allison even entertained the thought.
“We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman together in holy matrimony.”
Had she ever been to a wedding like this? Not the farm setting, of course. But where everything was tasteful and elegant yet understated. Where the focus was on the marriage before God instead of the societal maneuvering.
Pastor Ron spoke of true love. Patient. Kind. Not envious or boastful or proud. Not dishonoring of others.
Dishonor. What did that even mean? Her father had certainly dishonored her. He hadn’t exhibited any of the traits Pastor Ron spoke of, not to his wife, not to his daughters. It had all been about him.
Sierra’s mom nestled her head against her husband’s shoulder, as his arm snugged her tight. Across the aisle, tears rolled down Gabe’s mother’s cheeks. She and her husband clutched their hands together. Beside them sat Gabe’s former mother-in-law, a widow herself. If that genuine smile on her face wasn’t strange, nothing was. Next to Doreen, Steve’s arm surrounded Rosemary.
Love could last a lifetime, even in the face of huge changes. Which of these people could have seen the difficulties ahead? But it didn’t matter. The evidence was clear. Trials had brought them even closer together. They faced things as one. United.
Love always protects. Always trusts. Always hopes. Always per
severes. Never fails.
This passage spoke of God’s love to mankind, Pastor Ron explained. Yet it gave a standard for human love to stretch for. No one could reach it. Words like “never” and “always” made the goal unattainable, but with prayer and commitment, a couple could come closer and closer to the ideal God had laid out.
Beside Allison, Jo wiped her eyes. Allison caught Zach watching his wife from the front of the pole barn, his own eyes bright. At the end of their row, Noel had slipped in beside Claire and tucked her firmly to his side.
Marriage as an example of Jesus’ love for the church was not something Allison had really thought about before. Did she actually love Brent? Her heart sped at the thought of him, at the memory of the kiss they’d shared. But that couldn’t be enough.
Which kind of guy was Brent? The kind she’d always believed all men were? Or the rare breed that seemed to hang around Green Acres — a man who could love like Pastor Ron talked about?
To find out, she’d have to risk herself. Be vulnerable. Her gut froze at the very thought. Brent had already pushed her aside. How had she become desperate enough to consider going back for more of the same?
No. Brent wasn’t that kind of man. He needed to know how she felt. If he rejected her anyway, well, that was his problem. She’d always know she’d tried her.
Her heart lightened. Yes, it would be hard, and it might backfire. It wasn’t that she wanted to bare her soul to him… or to anyone. But, looking around her as Pastor Ron introduced for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel and Sierra Rubachuk, it seemed worth the risk.
Chapter 25
Six weeks of working on an eight thousand square-foot mansion overlooking Lake Coeur d’Alene had been plenty long enough for Brent. What did anyone need that much space for, unless they had ten kids or ran a bed-and-breakfast? The client agonized over marble versus granite on the countertops, over walnut versus cherry on the floors, over every chandelier, sconce, and nightlight. Dale Everly treated the client with all the deference of a good foreman with Timber Framing Plus.
Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4) Page 17
