by Katie Powner
Hannie’s eyebrows rose. “Is that right?”
Rae nodded. “Even Morgan likes her, and he doesn’t like anyone. Well, except for maybe Gerrit. He’s the only person Morgan’ll talk to.”
Hannie glanced at Gerrit again, and Rae didn’t miss the enigmatic expression on her face. What were all these looks about?
“It all sounds wonderful,” Hannie said. “I’ll have to stop in sometime.”
“Good idea.” Rae took another bite. “Not many adults come around.”
Hannie refilled Rae’s glass with water from the pitcher. “What about your parents?”
Rae stiffened. What about them, indeed? They weren’t acting like themselves. They thought she hadn’t noticed. There was a growing fear in her bones that she would come home one day to the worst kind of news. But she couldn’t say any of that.
She felt Gerrit’s eyes on her, but she avoided them and lifted one shoulder. “They’re both busy.”
“What does your father do?” Hannie asked.
“He’s a lawyer. My mom doesn’t work, but my grandma’s not doing well, and Mom has to take care of her.”
“I see.” Hannie reached over to squeeze Rae’s hand. “They must be very proud of you.”
Rae brought her glass to her lips and paused. Proud of her? Only if she kept up with The Plan. Then Dad wouldn’t have any reason to blame Mom for anything, and Mom wouldn’t have to feel guilty about helping Grandma Kate. Sticking to The Plan would keep everything from falling apart.
“Sure.” She said it with more conviction than she felt. Much more. “Can I have some more potatoes, please?”
SOMEWHERE TO HIS left, the bushes rustled as daylight faded, and Gerrit tensed. From his favorite chair on the deck, he shot the most intimidating glare he could muster in that direction. The last thing this moment needed was an ornery rooster.
The noise moved deeper into the woods, and he let his shoulders relax. Good. No interruptions. Just him and Hannie and the sunset.
Hannie leaned her head back in her chair and sighed. “The brownies were even better this time.”
His lips twitched. She was right. They had been delicious. But then why had she insisted on sending the rest home with Rae? He rubbed his belly and frowned. Oh. That could be why. He was decidedly rounder now that his farming days were done.
Hannie, on the other hand, had never looked better.
“I bet they’d go over well at the shop, too.” Her voice held weight and meaning that hadn’t been there before. “Just like the éclairs.”
He couldn’t decipher her words. Her tone hinted at an invitation, yet what would she want with his baked goods at her shop? Sure, they were tasty, and he enjoyed making them. But people visited her store to buy flowers, not brownies.
“Of course, we’d probably have to hire an extra person if we added a coffee-and-pastry bar.”
His forehead wrinkled. A coffee-and-pastry bar? We?
“I’ve been researching the commercial-kitchen requirements,” she continued as if they’d had this conversation before. “There’s a bunch of forms to fill out and a permit fee to pay, but it looks doable.”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She looked so peaceful and content, the golden light from the setting sun softening her features and granting youthfulness to her face, but then warnings wailed like sirens in his head. What she was talking about sounded expensive. Commercial-kitchen requirements? Permit fees? If he agreed to all that, he’d only have a couple of years left to live.
But her face . . .
She was happy. Hopeful. A surge of unfamiliar emotion pulsed in his heart. Maybe it would be worth the shorter life-span to give her what she wanted.
No. He couldn’t risk it. It would be foolish to do something like that at their age. He was too old to start a new adventure.
She smiled. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it.”
His eyes widened. This was why he loved her so much. Why he fell for her all those years ago. She knew him better than he knew himself. Knew what he was thinking. What he needed. She was the other half he couldn’t live without.
Surely she would understand about the money. Understand they weren’t kids anymore. Didn’t have that kind of freedom. But he wasn’t willing to ruin the moment. Better to talk about something else.
“So . . .” And what else was there to talk about again?
“Isn’t it exciting about Mallory’s baby?”
He was happy for a change of subject, but not that subject. He grunted. “I guess.”
She yawned and closed her eyes, sinking lower in her chair. “Agatha is beside herself to become a grandma.”
“Well, I’m excited, too.”
She opened one eye and peeked at him. “You are?”
“About Memorial Day weekend.”
The eye shut again, and she blew out a breath through pursed lips. “Oh.” Her tone was guarded. “Have you talked to the kids lately?”
“I left another message on Evi’s phone a couple days ago.” He covered one hand with the other and squeezed to crack his knuckles. “She hasn’t called back.”
“I’m sure she will.”
“She acts like . . . like . . .”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He set his hands back on the arms of his chair in frustration. “Like nothing’s changed.”
Hannie was silent for a minute, and he stared down the hill at the activity going on at the farm below. Of course things had changed. Everything had changed. The fact that he was sitting here with Hannie watching his old life hum along without him was proof enough of that, wasn’t it?
“It’s great that you’ve been spending time with those other kids.” Hannie proceeded slowly, with caution. “And that you’ve been helping out around the house and everything. But none of those things change the issues between you and Evi.”
He thought back to the strange look Hannie had given him when Rae had talked about Community Hope. He’d brushed it off at the time, unsure of what it meant. Now, though, he pulled it back out and examined it. Had Hannie been thinking about Evi?
“How is anything supposed to change if she won’t talk to me?”
Hannie opened her eyes and sat up. Wisps of her hair fluttered in the evening breeze. “I’ll talk to her about coming.” She gave him a half smile. “As you have already seen today, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve for dealing with young ladies.”
He smiled back. “You came along just in time. I was going to leave her crying in the barn.”
“No you weren’t.” Her voice was tender. “You’re getting soft in your old age.”
Her tone, her teasing, the soft, rosy glow of her skin all pulled at him, capturing him. He lifted his hand and moved it slowly, warily, to cover the distance between their chairs. It came to rest on hers, her warm, silky skin like fresh cream skimmed off the top of an unstirred milk tank.
She sank back in her chair again. Closed her eyes once more. And didn’t pull away.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Kylee crumpled a Snickers wrapper and threw it at Rae’s face. “Why do you keep looking over there?”
Rae jerked her head back toward the lunch table, heat rushing to her face.
Kylee turned around and made a show of scanning the room. “Who are you staring at?”
Rae sucked in her lips and stared at her turkey sandwich. It hadn’t been David she’d been watching. She hadn’t talked to him in over a week, except for an awkward hi or two in passing. No, she’d had her eye on Morgan. He was an enigma she couldn’t help but ponder.
“I was just thinking.”
Kylee smirked. “Okay, sure.”
Rae snuck one more glance at the boy with the black hair. She’d tried talking with him at Community Hope, but he never said more than two words at once. Whenever she said hi to him in the hall, he acted like he didn’t hear her. What had she done that made him treat her as if she had the
plague? And why was he in the program if he didn’t have bad grades?
“Are you daydreaming about David?” Kylee wiped the crumbs clinging to her fingers on the sleeve of her coat. “Why won’t you talk to him?”
Rae cringed. “I can’t.”
“He’s not going to bite.”
“He hates me now.”
“Oh, please.” Kylee waved her words away. “He still gives you puppy-dog eyes when you’re not looking. You’re killing the poor kid.”
Rae frowned. She didn’t want David to suffer. He was cute and nice and a good friend. He’d been doing his best to be a good sport and act like everything was fine between them. But she knew it wasn’t. She’d hurt him. Wouldn’t her talking with him make things worse? After dinner the other night, Gerrit’s wife had said she might have to give David some space.
“It’s a dumb rule, anyway,” Kylee continued. “I had my first boyfriend when I was ten.”
It wasn’t so much the no-dating rule that was the problem. It was how she let David believe she didn’t want to go out with him whether there was a rule or not. But after feeling like her insides were turning into a black hole every time she looked at him for the past week, she was pretty sure she did want to. Mrs. Laninga had said relationships require a lot of work, and she’d have to decide if David was worth it.
When she pictured his face, she was sure he was. But when she pictured what Mom’s face would look like if she told her about him . . . her certainty wavered.
Stick to The Plan. Stick to The Plan.
“Even if I asked my parents to make an exception, it’s too late.” Her shoulders slumped. “He’s not going to ask me again.”
Kylee crossed her arms. “Then you ask him.”
“But my parents—”
“Your parents don’t need to know. Tell them you’re going to my house.”
“I’m not going to lie to them.”
“Oh, like you’re”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“not lying to them about failing Driver’s Ed.?”
She hadn’t technically failed. Yet. After only missing the pass mark by two points last week, Mr. Fletcher was willing to give her one more chance at her final drive tomorrow. “I haven’t told them yet. It’s not a lie.”
“Fine.” Kylee crossed her arms. “Then just be miserable. But don’t come crying to me when David starts liking someone else. I wouldn’t turn him down.”
Rae sat back like she’d been pushed. She hadn’t thought of that. Almost any girl in school would happily accept a date with David.
“He wouldn’t—I mean, he can’t—”
“You don’t think he would ask me?” Kylee scowled. “I’m not his type, is that it?”
“No. I mean, I have no idea what his type is. I just never thought . . .”
“What? That a guy would choose me over you?”
Rae blinked. She was digging herself a hole with a personalized shovel. She didn’t know what she thought. Or what she meant. She only knew the idea of David and Kylee together made it hard to breathe.
“It’s not that.” Her voice was desperate. Pathetic. “I didn’t know you liked him.”
Kylee pushed away from the table and looked down at Rae. “I never said I did.”
A rush of air escaped Rae’s lungs. This was just Kylee stirring things up, as usual. That’s all this was. She preferred guys with tattoos and bad grades, like Seth. Guys who couldn’t begin to charm the scales off a fish, as the saying went. Someone like David would be too boring for her, right?
Kylee marched away from the table, her words still lingering in the air, then stopped. Her eyes flashed as she turned back to look at Rae. “Then again, I never said I didn’t.”
RAE DIDN’T HURRY to get across the street to Room F when the last bell rang like she usually did. She couldn’t work up any excitement for it. She even considered bailing and catching a ride home, but Taylor was counting on her. Rae had the feeling most of the people in Taylor’s life were in the habit of letting her down. She didn’t want to be one of them.
As she trudged down the hall toward the double doors at the front of the school, she saw David through the glass. He never waited for her anymore, and yet he hadn’t quit Community Hope. While part of her had been afraid he only volunteered to impress her, his commitment to the kids in Room F hadn’t wavered.
Her heart squeezed at the sight of him. Maybe later today she would try to talk to him.
Before she reached the door, Kylee appeared at David’s side. Rae froze. What was she doing? Kylee stood close to him, talking. Smiling. Rae studied David’s face. Did he look interested? He didn’t look not interested.
Her heart pounded. Okay, she was definitely going to talk to him after Community Hope. People pushed past her on either side. She hesitated. Should she rush through the doors and interrupt them? Or walk by and ignore them?
Or wait until they were gone. Yep. Definitely her best option.
Whatever they were talking about, it didn’t take long. Kylee gave David’s arm a little tug that made Rae want to bang her head against a locker, and then she headed off toward her car. David walked through the mass of students loading onto buses and crossed the street.
Rae waited until both were out of sight before leaving the building, anger and confusion storming inside her. Her English teacher always warned the class about committing “assumicide”—causing yourself unnecessary trouble by making assumptions without all the facts—but how could she not assume Kylee was out to steal David from her? Not that David was hers. . . .
Aargh. She tucked her thumbs under the straps of her backpack and hurried over to Greenville Community Church. This was why her parents had warned her about getting involved with boys. This was why they always stressed the importance of letting nothing distract her from her studies. See? Here she was, a total mess, not caring one iota about her homework or her future goals.
All she cared about was working things out with David.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Don’t your parents wonder why you’re in a program for kids with bad grades?” Gerrit asked.
Morgan stared at the table. “No.”
“They don’t think it’s strange?”
The kid shrugged.
Gerrit rubbed his chin. He’d seen the books Morgan carried around in his backpack. AP Calculus. World Literature. Physics. Why he wanted to waste his brain singing songs on street corners, Gerrit had no idea. But even more bewildering was why his parents would let him. He exchanged a look with Daisy but didn’t get the impression she was on his side.
“Do they know about the songwriting thing?”
Morgan stiffened. “It’s not a ‘thing.’ It’s my dream.”
“Okay.” Gerrit huffed. “Fine. Do they know about your dream?”
“My mom says she had a dream once. But then . . .”
“Then you came along and ruined everything?”
Morgan frowned.
Oops. That hadn’t come out right. But if Morgan’s story was going where he thought it was, he’d heard it all before. Parents blaming their kids for their problems, as if they’d asked to be born.
“No.” Morgan’s voice sounded far away. “Then my dad started drinking, and she had to get a second job.”
Oh. That was a whole different story. One that didn’t sit well at all. A man had to provide. It was his duty. “Where’s your dad now?”
Morgan stroked Daisy’s head but didn’t answer.
Gerrit sighed. “I suppose your mom wants you to follow your heart.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He looked at his hands. The wrinkles. The swollen knuckles. Thought of the thousands of times he’d used them to milk a cow, throw a bale, shovel sawdust. They’d served him well as far as that stuff went, but what did he know about dreams? He knew Morgan was a smart kid. He knew he didn’t want him to waste his potential on a street corner. But he didn’t know anything about following your heart.
The kid’s red notebook lay on the table, tattered and yet somehow discerning.
He gestured at it with his chin. “You fill that thing up yet?”
“Almost.”
“Can I see it?”
He wasn’t sure what compelled him to ask. He didn’t know anything about writing songs. Still, he had the feeling the notebook was one of Morgan’s most prized possessions. And for some reason that made him want to look at it.
Morgan picked up the notebook and held it as if calculating its weight. “What for?”
“I want to see what a song looks like when it’s just starting out.”
The kid hesitated. “I don’t even let my mom read it.”
Gerrit made a show of looking around, then held out his hand. “I don’t see your mom anywhere.”
Morgan’s mouth hung open a little as he placed the notebook in Gerrit’s hand as though he were surrendering his firstborn child. Gerrit opened it with the gentle reverence he felt was expected. Daisy inched closer, tongue lolling, as if to get a better look, and he shooed her away.
“Go bug someone else.”
As the indomitable corgi trotted off to visit with other students, Gerrit flipped through Morgan’s book. Some pages were filled with words from top to bottom, while others only had a few brief notes scratched out in blue pen. And some pages had rough drawings and doodles. The ones that caught his eye the most had capital letters squeezed in above the words Morgan had written.
He pointed at one of the letters. “What’re these?”
“Those are the chords. For the music.”
It was foreign to him but strangely beautiful. Morgan’s handwriting was awful, like his. The only songs Gerrit knew were from decades ago—John Denver, Willie Nelson, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. He couldn’t abide what passed for music on the radio these days. But the snatches of lyrics in this book felt like music. A page with the words Anyone, Anywhere across the top caught his eye. He squinted at the writing.
An eager face
A run-down place
Back door slamming, echoing through the night
A couple tears
Nobody hears
