by Fiona Lowe
“There’s no crime in not returning love, Mart.” The chair moved back and forth, soothing in its rhythm, and then Vern rested the flowers in her lap. “There is, though, in hiding the truth.”
Her head whipped around at this unexpectedly deep maxim. It wasn’t that Vern wasn’t capable of deep, emotional thought, it was just he didn’t often voice it. A reply rose to her lips but she cut it off, experience having taught her not to break his train of thought.
The lines around his eyes were tight. “I haven’t been honest with you.”
A flicker of unease stopped her breath. “About what?”
“I’m not happy.”
Nausea clogged her throat and a flash of panic pooled sweat on her top lip. She was no naive bride and she knew marriages could falter at any time. She’d thought their shared thirty-six years, weathering the ups and downs, had soldered them together so they could enjoy their “third age.”
Don’t you dare do this to me now. Fear sparked anger and her fingers started shredding the bright blue flowers. “Since when has one argument been the basis of wanting a divorce?”
Confusion haunted his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Her heart pounded. “You not being happy.”
“What’s that got to do with a divorce?” He sounded utterly bewildered.
“I don’t know.” Petals scattered. “You tell me.”
Vern removed the flowers from her lap and set them aside in safety before picking up her hand. Tracing her wedding band he said, “I don’t want a divorce, Mart. I’ve loved you from the moment you threw yourself onto me on the state fair roller coaster.”
She tried to sound huffy. “I did not throw myself at you. That ride was scary and I just—”
“Either way...” he smiled—the special smile he reserved for her, “...that kiss made me yours for life.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.
Despite the familiarity of his mouth on hers and all those years together, he could still spark a tingle at the apex of her thighs and she sighed. Leaning her head against his shoulder she said, “So what’s making you unhappy?”
“I don’t want to play golf three times a week.”
She relaxed and wondered why she’d let a week of toxic thoughts unsettle her so much. “So don’t. You can take up bocce—that looks like fun.”
A long sigh shuddered out of him. “I don’t want to play bocce but most importantly, I don’t want to retire. I want to move back to the farm.”
Her head shot off his shoulder so fast that the glider chair lurched unsteadily. “No.”
“Hear me out, Martha,” he said firmly. “I know the last two years we spent here you were tired, sick of the long, cold winters and dreaming of any place warm. Luke was champing at the bit to take over and I wanted both of you to be happy.” His eyes clouded. “I’ve tried retirement, but I’ve missed this place like an amputee misses a limb.”
His heartfelt words slid through her like the ache of an old wound. “But you never said?”
He shrugged. “You were so happy and I know that over the years there were times you missed out some because the farm always came first. I owed you Arizona.”
“Oh, Vern.” She heard his love for her and his pain. She hated the fact that neither one of them could be as happy as the other in the same place. “Do you truly hate Arizona?”
“No.” He hooked her gaze. “Do you truly hate the farm?”
She thought about the past few weeks spent with her children and grandchildren and despite the friction over the future of the farm, she’d loved spending time with them all together in the same place. “This summer has been mostly enjoyable.”
“Good.” He gave her a wry smile. “So does that mean the truck isn’t driving off without me in forty-eight hours?”
She gave him a shrewd look, knowing he was calling her on her threat. “Maybe, but it also doesn’t mean I want to move back here permanently.”
“I know that and I’m not asking you to do it.”
He’d surprised her again. “So, I’m gathering you’ve come up with a plan?”
“I have.” He winked at her. “Long, lonely nights make a man think.”
She raised her brows. “And here I was thinking you were mostly spending them snoring.”
He tilted his head so it touched hers. “Summer in Arizona is way too hot.”
“Winter in Wisconsin is way too cold.”
“Exactly. Winter here will be Luke’s quiet time and we’ll spend it in Arizona playing golf. We’ll spend summer and fall here. He can’t make this ice creamery work without help and I’ll go crazy not working at all. That said, I don’t expect you to get back into the harness when you’re here. Heck, you can do even less than you did this summer if you want.”
“Actually, I quite enjoyed helping Wade with the B and B, playing with the grandkids and feeding everyone,” she admitted without reluctance. “I just don’t want to do it three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.”
He patted her hand. “Noted.”
Under the warmth of his love and consideration for her, the logistics started to firm up in her head. “How does this affect the family trust?”
“Luke wants the farm so the transfer goes ahead as planned. He’s insisting on paying me extra when I’m physically working here but I’m thinking we can afford to invest it back into the farm, at least at the start to help him out some.” He put his arm around her waist. “So is it official? Are we semi-retired?”
She looked up into his eyes where weeks of strain had drained away and the twinkle she loved so much was back. “Almost. I want to hammer in some start and end dates. Come November first we are most definitely in Arizona.”
“That late?” He grinned. “I’m two weeks ahead of you there.”
She thought about the harvest calendar. “What about the soybeans?”
“They’ll be in and if it’s an unexpectedly long season, Luke can manage the last crop. Besides, if I’m only playing golf during the winter, I have to keep my average up.”
She laughed and laid her head back on his shoulder. “Then I guess we’re semi-retired.”
“I guess we are.” He kissed her again. “This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”
She recognized the look in his eye and smiled.
“Ooh, what are we celebrating?” Keri’s voice sounded behind them.
She heard the run of the children’s feet and the heavier tread of the men and realized the entire family had arrived back for supper. “There are fewer interruptions in Arizona,” she said quietly to Vern, trying not to laugh at the resigned disappointment on his face.
Luke saw his parents exchange a knowing look—one of many he’d witnessed over the years. He’d often wondered about the secret code they seemed to share and now he got it. He’d had it with Erin, or at least he thought he’d had it with her.
These past two weeks had been beyond tough. With his emotions swinging like an erratic pendulum, he had moments where his anger at Erin for not giving them a chance consumed him. The anger would then vanish as fast as it arrived and all he’d feel was an emptiness that pervaded him like the chill of a Wisconsin winter. He missed her like—God, there was no analogy. He just missed her. Desperately. He didn’t know what he hated more—the fact she didn’t love him enough to try for a future together or, despite the crushing reality that she didn’t love him, he still missed her so very much.
Don’t look at me like that. He scratched Mac behind the ears as the dog gave him a doleful stare. The border collie had been fretting since Erin and Maggie-May had left.
If she can’t love us then she’s not worth missing.
The mantra he’d taken up chanting under his breath since Erin had left called up the whoosh of hot anger. He welc
omed it because it was easier to feel the heat of fury in his veins than deal with the cold, desolate and empty space in his soul.
Vern stood up. “We’re celebrating the fact we milk cows, make ice cream and maple syrup, that we’re part of local tourism and the Whitetail wedding business.”
Wade grimaced. “We didn’t do so well with our first wedding.”
“Nonsense,” Vern said with paternal pride. “We did just fine. The farm looked beautiful and you and your mother created delicious food. It isn’t our fault the bride was a nut job. But back to Keri’s question, we’re celebrating the diversity and changing needs of the family farm. Long may she be prosperous.”
Keri wrinkled her nose. “Dad, everything you’ve listed only involves Luke and Wade.”
“You’re a shareholder, Keri,” Luke reiterated calmly what he’d said to her more than once just recently. “More importantly you’re part of the family. Ideally, I hope you take your farm dividends, no matter how large or small, and invest them into the kids’ college fund. But, if you do want to sell your share—” he visualized his financial spreadsheet, “—I can’t buy you out immediately but by the time Grace and Ethan are in high school I should be able to make you an offer.”
Keri glanced at Phil who nodded encouragingly at her. “Thanks, Luke, I appreciate the thought behind the offer but Phil and I have been talking about it and we want to be able to bring the kids up here and have them feel like they belong on the farm.”
Wade gave Luke a jubilant grin as if to say I told you so. His hosting of the family in one of his vacation cabins had paid off.
Keri caught the grin and gave a wry smile. “I mean why should Grace and Ethan miss out on the character-building opportunity of getting up at 4:00 a.m. in their vacation time to milk cows?”
Vern snorted. “I think your memory’s a bit faulty on that score. Can anyone remember Keri doing that?”
Wade laughed. “I remember the bitching, whining and moaning.”
Keri moved fast, wrapping her older brother in a headlock.
The children cheered on their mother and uncle while Phil rolled his eyes and turned to his mother-in-law. “So, Martha, is there anything I can do to help with supper?”
She smiled at him. “Phil, I’m sure it’s your and my night off.” She jerked her thumb toward her two eldest children who were still horsing around. “Those two can serve us.”
Keri and Wade immediately started arguing good-naturedly over who was doing what in the final stages of the meal preparation. As everyone started drifting into the house, Luke leaned back on the porch post and the irony of the situation sucked the breath right out of his lungs.
The family farm was now safe. His family was at peace again in a way that only five strong-minded adults can be—a way that worked for them—and everyone was looking forward to new directions. It should have been perfect. A few weeks ago he would have considered having his mojo back and his family on board with his plans nirvana.
Now he knew it didn’t come close.
But it was going to have to do.
When he’d offered Erin everything, he’d put his heart on the line for the first time in his adult life. She’d returned it battered and had trampled all over his plans, not wanting to be part of any of them. Not wanting his love.
The dull ache that had become part of him throbbed. Love either existed or it didn’t. Futures couldn’t be built on a one-sided dream nor could they happen where there was no trust that together they could build something great. If he could wave a wand and have what he wanted most in the world it would be Erin loving him and being an enthusiastic partner in his life, as he would be in hers.
But magic wands didn’t exist.
He heard the low mooing coming from the barn, reminding him of his new Jersey cows. Unlike Erin, he could see something great. He could taste it and with hard work, sound business planning and a little bit of luck, he’d build something he was proud of. He could do this and by hell, he would.
He pushed off the porch railing with a clarity of purpose for his life. He was done with Erin and like the excruciating rip of a bandage coming off of hair-covered skin, he let go of her and visualized his future.
The sting lingered on his heart.
Chapter Twenty
It was past eleven and Erin was staring at her appointment board. She wasn’t going to have to move a single thing around to accommodate a bride who wanted to discuss the idea of photos in the Cowles Conservatory and the sculpture park.
There’s work in Whitetail.
So not going there.
Over the past two months, Nicole had been doing everything in her power to get Erin to consider moving to Whitetail permanently. She’d even visited Erin in Minneapolis during a short break with Tony and Max.
“Erin, we worked so well together, you must come back. Please.”
“We need you.” Tony had smiled encouragingly before putting his one arm around Nicole and the other around Max. “Besides, we need you there to take our wedding photos.”
“Can your dog come?” Max had asked hopefully as Maggie-May licked his face.
Although her bank account would love the work, Erin didn’t think she could be that mercenary. Whitetail meant steady employment but it also meant meeting Luke at town meetings, in the bakery and at social functions. She’d been back to shoot one wedding where he’d had been a guest. He’d left before dessert was served and she knew it was because of her. He didn’t deserve to have to dodge her all over a town he’d called home for thirty years. She owed him that at least. So, she was back in Minneapolis again, touting for business and sticking to her original plan. There was nothing wrong with that. A slow and steady growth was better than expanding too fast, too soon and losing everything. At least she didn’t have huge debt and she could sleep at night.
You are so not sleeping at night.
True, but it wasn’t due to debt.
Male voices outside her door jerked her out of her thoughts and Maggie-May gave a halfhearted bark. Apart from being excited with Max, she’d been mostly listless since coming home. Erin had been worried enough to take her precious to the vet, but the young woman had given Maggie-May a clean bill of health and suggested plenty of exercise. Erin knew what the problem was but she doubted the vet believed in a broken heart. Maggie-May was going to have to toughen up and get over it.
What? Just like you are?
The scratch of Jesse’s key in the lock knocked the uncomfortable thoughts aside. Although she’d been back home for weeks, Jesse was still living with her and as much as she grumbled at him about his appalling inaccuracy in using the laundry hamper as the hoop and his dirty clothing as the ball, she appreciated having him around. He filled and overflowed the way-too-quiet spaces in her life and she needed that.
Soon after her return from Whitetail, acquaintances had frequently asked, “Didn’t the quiet of the country make you crazy?” At first she’d tried to explain that what with the moos of the cows, the calls of the loons, the hum of the tractor and the gentle wash of the lake water against the beach, it wasn’t quiet at all. But their question was always rhetorical so instead of telling them that in Whitetail people stopped by just to chat and that in many ways her days were a lot less quiet than here, she just smiled and nodded. At first she’d made a flip comment about being glad she was back close to decent coffee half a block away, but she’d soon dropped that line because Luke had always made good coffee and talking about it reminded her of him.
She didn’t need or want reminding of Luke. Her cold and empty bed did that every single night.
You’ve turned safe into catatonic. Luke’s voice taunted her and she blocked it out with, He didn’t understand me. Remember, no regrets.
“Look who I found at the club,” Jesse said as he put his guitar down by the door and drop
ped his keys into the bowl.
Her father stepped into the apartment with a smile and wide, open arms. “Erin.”
A shock of surprise detonated inside her. Although she’d had the occasional text and phone call, she hadn’t seen him since he’d driven away from the farm. Thoughts of the farm gave life to the hollow feeling inside of her and she suddenly had an overwhelming need for human contact. Without thinking, she walked into his arms for a quick hug. He smelled of expensive cologne just as he’d always done. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“He came to hear the band,” Jesse offered by way of explanation as he opened the fridge and pulled out some beers. “You want one, sis?”
She shook her head. She was having enough trouble sleeping and alcohol always made it worse. “No, thanks.”
Her father accepted the beer and they all sat around her small table. “You’re looking good, Poppet.”
Was her father just trying to cheer her up? With dark rings under her eyes that no concealer could totally mask, she knew she looked like hell. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Jesse tells me that you won a photography competition.” His eyes held hurt which briefly flickered with something else, but before she could catch it, it faded.
“I thought you would have told me about it,” he continued, “seeing as I visited the sunflower field where it all took place.”
Unexpected guilt fluttered through her and she tried without success to block it. “Sorry. I didn’t actually win the competition. I won a section but not the grand overall prize and it wasn’t with a sunflower photo.” She bit the inside of her mouth so that the memory of what came after the failed wedding didn’t swamp her. Despite knowing she’d done the right thing for both of them, Luke’s pain-filled face had a habit of reappearing in her mind. “The photo was one I took of an older couple in their strawberry field.”
“Show Dad the photo,” Jesse said encouragingly. “What’s awesome is that the bride must be forty but the way the guy’s looking at her, all you can see is how totally hot he thinks she is.”
