By the time she loaded all the groceries in her van, with Trevor and Katy buckled in their car seats both munching on the crackers she’d piled in their laps, her insides were trembling. She worried if, in fact, her picture was now plastered in the store with each cashier with bold black lettering “BEWARE OF THIS CUSTOMER” underneath it.
By the time Emily got home, Mary Haske was already there. While Emily hauled in the groceries, Mary settled the children in front of the television. Mary was a robust seventy-year-old grey haired woman who wore bifocals and had a grandmotherly smile that warmed Emily’s heart.
While Emily put away the groceries, Trevor squealed in a voice sounding exactly like Arthur—the cartoon program blaring to life on the TV. When she peaked around the corner, he was bouncing and swaying in front of the TV. Katy was snuggled with her baby blanket on the sofa.
“Would you join me for a cup of tea, my dear.” Mary filled a yellow flowered teapot with hot water. “Come sit down.”
“Thanks, Mary.”
Mary set a tray with milk and sugar, and carried it to the oak kitchen table that had been freshly scrubbed. “Sit down while you can. You’re going to spend most of the day on your feet, so may as well take advantage of some down time.”
Emily accepted the hot mug of tea but waved off the milk and sugar. “Mrs. Haske—”
“Mary, please, I insist. Dear Brad, bless his heart, can’t seem to shake the formality. He’s called me that since he could first talk.”
Emily was drawn into the genuine motherly affection of this woman. “Mary, Brad told me you live down the road and he’s known you his whole life.”
“His mom and I are old friends, saw that boy in his diapers. We’re a small community here. You’ll find out. We help out our neighbors. I live down the road on a small ten-acre parcel; it’s all that’s left of the 50 acres Herman sold off to Brad’s daddy. Lived here my whole married life, my Herman, God rest his soul, we were married fifty years when he passed on a few years back. He brought me here from the big city of Spokane. I was a city girl who knew nothing about farming and what it takes to live off the land. He was patient and I cried a lot of tears, packed my bags to leave more times than I can count. I was a silly young thing.” Mary smiled warmly.
Emily turned in her chair, so she could see the kids. Actually, her gut ached as she worried what Trevor would do next. “Oh they’re just fine, your little angel there seems quite comfortable with Trevor.”
“Yes, she’s a good girl.”
Mary wrapped her hands around her mug as if she needed to warm her hands. She gazed into it, as if needing to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words.
“Brad’s real special to me. He owns a lot of land here, Emily, almost five hundred acres. His daddy started buying up the land in these parts when families were approached by developers. He didn’t want a bunch of small acreages and city slickers moving out here. And Brad has stayed true to his daddy’s ways. He’s a farmer, he works the land, raises cattle and hay, has dairy cows, and he’s one of the few around here who’s stayed away from all those antibiotics and growth hormones. He’s got a good head for business. Smart when the smaller farmers went under. Brad’s expanded until he’s become the largest dairy producer on this side of the peninsula. What I’m saying to you is he’s not good at tending the home. I’m glad he hired you.”
“Thank you, I am too.” They both laughed, but Mary’s frankness about Brad gave her a deeper insight into the fallibility of this difficult man.
“Now I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Brad and his two brothers were a wild bunch growing up. One night the sheriff showed up with all three of them in the back of his car. His daddy sure was mad. After that, he worked them pretty hard. Said if they had all this free time to get in trouble, well he’d find more productive ways to direct that energy. And boy, did he. All the farm grunt work was done by his boys, all summer. He didn’t need to hire no help that year.” They both laughed at the picture that presented.
“Emily, you know, Brad had quite a time finding someone for this job. It was awful. Women apply, they come out, work a few days, see Trevor and one of his spells and they’d leave. And I can see that same look in your eyes.”
Emily met those wise, glassy eyes straight on. “There is something wrong with that child. In the store today I didn’t know what to do. He went ballistic. Threw his shoe, it hit the cashier and then security was called…” she dropped her face into hands as her stomach pitched, reliving that awful moment.
Mary gripped her forearm. “Brad should have been straight up with you. I’ve seen some things. Taken him to the store and he’d pee in the middle of the food aisle. There’re colors like orange and yellow that he’ll yell and scream if sees them. Even the smell of certain perfumed laundry soaps can send him in tailspin. I don’t know what to tell you, Emily. I just don’t know about these things. In my day, we’d give the child a hard whack on the bottom to straighten him out.”
The knowing look Mary fixed on her confirmed her suspicion of this astute woman. “He doesn’t know anything’s wrong with Trevor, does he?”
Mary threw her hands up. “I raised five young’uns, some kids are high-spirited. But Trevor’s not quite right. Brad may know deep down, but he’s been struggling for a while to just get through day and night.”
Emily couldn’t fight the urge, even though she knew it wasn’t her place to ask. “What about Trevor’s mother, what happened to her, didn’t she help?”
“Nah, that girl Crystal was selfish. A baby didn’t fit her lifestyle. The best thing that ever happened to Brad was the day she left. Hurt him bad and changed him overnight.”
Her mouth ached; she didn’t know how to ask how’d it change him? What was he like before? Those questions remained unspoken, locked inside.
Mary finished her tea, and then got up and rinsed her cup in the freshly scrubbed sink, before putting the cup in the dishwasher. “Keep Brad out of the kitchen. He’s the worst cook and wouldn’t know how to put together a proper meal.”
Emily had figured that much out. The first day when she went to the cupboards, the fridge and freezer, she saw nothing but prepackaged foods, TV dinners and lots of canned ready-to-go meals. Easy, and absolutely zero nutritional value. Except the one saving grace, two freezers on the back porch filled with homegrown beef.
Mary lingered for a few hours, showing Emily where things were stored in the house. The chicken coop behind the house, where she could collect eggs, normally one of the hired hands would look after it, but in case they got busy, she’d know what to do.
Emily carried Trevor through the twenty-stall horse barn, with individual turnouts, a hot wash rack, separate hay storage, an outdoor riding ring, a poultry barn for meat birds and the dairy barn. There were several other outbuildings Emily had no idea what they were for. There were, what looked to be, hundreds of cattle grazing in the field with calves dogging their mommies. The sky appeared bluer, larger; so did the pristine untouched forest and the picturesque mountains in the background. It was invigorating, and a lot of responsibility for a man to carry. Maybe that’s why Mary showed her around, to give Emily this outside view of how complex a man Brad was. She knew that she’d only skimmed the surface of his life and his responsibilities.
Chapter Nine
Katy became cranky and wanted up. Trevor whined a “whee, whee” sound, sure to escalate into a full-blown meltdown, so Mary and Emily hustled back to the house. Time had slipped away. Although Mary had provided Emily with loads of information, it had thrown her schedule off. Not that she’d hammered one down yet, but she had a pretty good outline and the only saving grace was that the men had gone to town for lunch.
Now as the kitchen clock mounted on the wall by the table ticked closer to four, she scrambled, grateful the kids were occupied in front of the big screen TV again with their baby blankets, watching Treehouse, a children’s television station.
Emily grabbed two pounds of butcher-wrapp
ed hamburger from one of the large freezers by the back porch and started browning it in a large frying pan. Pulling out the macaroni and canned tomatoes, she hurried to set the table until the meat was cooked enough to add the other ingredients. Just as she assembled the entire casserole, she heard footsteps, the men’s deep voices laughing and joking and someone stomped in the back door. She stole a glance over her shoulder as Brad entered the kitchen, alone. He stopped cold and quirked his lips in a teasing way she’d never seen before. Emily glanced down to see what he found so amusing and she nearly tripped over the big black garbage bag propped up beside the fridge. While cooking dinner, cleaning out the fridge somehow found its way onto her list.
“Wow, you wasted no time putting some order into this well-neglected kitchen.”
Emily warmed. She was so unsure of her footing around Brad. He could turn on a dime. She needed to distract herself, so she turned back to the stove. But he didn’t take the hint; instead, she could feel his heat as he came up behind her. Flustered, she wondered if she’d overstepped. “I cleaned out your fridge, I’m not sure how long some of the stuff was in there but I don’t think it’s edible. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just toss it than take a chance.” She found the nerve to turn around and face him, and willed her shaking hand holding the wooden spoon to stop.
With a twinkle in his eye, he lifted the spoon she was holding and set it down beside the stove. “For safety, just in case you decide to knock me over the head for the mess I left you.”
Huh, who the heck was this guy?
“Anyway, you’re probably right. Mac’s been helping out in here, afraid we’re not much good in the kitchen. The guys quite often eat here too. Did I mention that?”
“You did. I’m not sure if I made enough tonight. How much do they eat?” Her palms were sweating.
“Relax, they’re not coming tonight; they’re headed into town as we speak.”
Emily was relieved at least for that reprieve, now maybe there’d be leftovers for lunch. “Um, I wanted to talk to you about something that happened today at the store.”
“Did I give you enough money?” He frowned.
“Yes, yes you did. It’s not that.” Oh, boy, how was she going to tell him? “When…” A thunk, as if something heavy had hit the floor, had Brad rushing into the living room, Emily right behind him.
The potted spider plant that was on an entry table lay on its side with dirt spilling out. Trevor was barefoot, dancing in the soil, with a fistful of dirt he was about to shove in his mouth. Brad yanked his hand down and snatched him up. “Oh you little shit.” Emily covered her mouth, afraid of Brad’s rising temper. But he shook his head and firmed his lips as he turned to Emily.
“Sorry it slipped. Not a good spot for the plant Emily, you’ve got a two-year-old, I’m surprised you put it so low.”
Now this was her fault? Oh no, I don’t think so. She crossed her arms and took a step forward. “I didn’t put it there. And Katy would never pull a plant off the table. And it’s been a really busy day. I haven’t had time to go through and childproof this house for whatever Trevor can grab and pull down.”
Brad’s cheeks tinted a subtle pink. She’d hit a nerve. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’ll get him cleaned up. Do you want to sweep this up?”
“I’ll clean up. Then dinner’s ready.” She turned her back. Proud she’d said what she did. By the time she tidied up, Brad had Trevor cleaned, changed and deposited back in the living room beside his toy box, where Katy was playing with her baby dolls.
“Mmm, smells good.” Brad said as he strode to the backdoor, where a rung of a half dozen coat hooks lined the whitewashed wall, and he draped his tan barn coat over one.
Emily put dinner on the table. When she glanced up, Brad was staring at her with such softness, it shot off a fizz of bubbles in her tummy much like a can of soda pop when you first crack it open. He cleared his throat and cocked his head toward the overstuffed black garbage bag. Brad wrinkled his nose as he sidled up to the offensive bag. “I better take it out. Come on, I’ll show you where we keep the garbage out back.”
Brad tied the two ends of the black garbage bag and hefted it as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. Emily followed to the back porch, but they both stopped in the doorway of the living room. Trevor was stuck in his own world, barefoot and pants-less again, driving his toy cars over a cloth fringe on the coffee table, patting it down then repeating the exact same pattern.
“Oh look at that, he’s playing cars with your Katy.” Emily didn’t look up at Brad; what she saw was Katy playing with her Dolly, cuddling her blanket and rubbing her eyes. They were sharing space. When she looked up at Brad, he grinned in a way Emily wasn’t so sure was joy.
“We better hurry, we’re entering the witching hour and something else could land on the floor.”
The kitchen clock ticked five. Emily hurried behind Brad to the back porch, where Brad dropped the bag in one of the large black cans, leaning against the side of the house. “Make sure you secure the top down so bears and raccoons can’t get in it. That is a mess I don’t want to be cleaning up in the morning.”
He was abrupt; the change from laughter to serious, all business, was so fast, Emily felt the foolish warm good-all-over glow he put there earlier wiped away. “I will.”
He gestured to the door, “Dinner ready?”
Let me get the kids and we can eat.”
They walked back in to whining, jumping and the patter of little feet running circles on the hardwood floor.
“The witching hour, huh?” His lips twitched as he glanced down at Emily. “I’ll get washed up.”
The most unpredictable man sauntered upstairs, how different a man he was from Bob. A nuisance really, Bob, was on Gina’s color-coded list, to reorganize Emily’s life, of things to handle. Emily sighed. “Katy, Trevor, dinner.”
Chapter Ten
Emily didn’t bring up the incident with Trevor at the market. She kicked herself for days after, for holding onto it. But every time she looked at Brad, she realized there was some hidden fear he didn’t want to know. She watched Trevor. She tried to play with him, but he just wasn’t quite right. When he wacked his head on the corner of a wall hard enough to leave a sizeable goose egg, he simply rubbed his head and went back to his cars. The latest trip to the grocery store had him running his hand over the conveyor belt at the checkout; Emily couldn’t get him to stop. Little things would set him off into an atomic tantrum, where he’d throw himself to the ground kicking and screaming—pulling him away from the television or his cars if he was lining them up.
If someone new he didn’t know came to visit, he’d climb all over them and then wrap himself around their legs. Brad yanked him off the nice lady who showed up with business papers for him to sign. It was embarrassing and Brad had apologized profusely after he yelled at Trevor.
Emily scoured the internet when the kids napped—when Trevor slept. There were times, days, he just wouldn’t sleep. She researched his symptoms and what consistently popped up was either mercury poisoning or autism.
Emily needed to find the courage to sit Brad down, and talk with him. Trevor needed help and Emily worried each time she took Trevor out to a store; whether he’d have a public meltdown, if he’d scream and flail. The only thing she could do is pick him up and hurry back to the van with Katy, trying to ignore the hard judgmental glares from strangers. Was she hurting the kid, or just a bad mother? They didn’t say it out loud. They didn’t have to.
Chapter Eleven
He’s an asshole, a thorn in her side, which now began to fester. Why the hell wouldn’t the jerk grow some balls and play nice? Sheep were more likely to grow wings before that idiot, who she was unfortunately still married to, decided to become a responsible man. That would best describe all the separation legalities with Bob. He’d left everything for Emily to look after, no surprise there. That’s what he’d done the entire time they were married. All the phone c
alls, the landlord and the bills he began to challenge were all her responsibility. As her new lawyer, Peter Murphy, said, he was bitter. Even the petty refusal of allowing Emily any part of the damage deposit, which the landlord was still refunding, even with the short notice, only because the house was snatched up by another family. Even though Bob was not paying full child support and no maintenance for Emily, refused to clean the house and handle any of the details for the disconnect services, he still expected all the money. What a piece of work. You hear stories from other women of how nasty their ex’s turn when the couples split up. Emily couldn’t quite grasp, couldn’t wrap her head around, the fact that she’d awakened and realized someone she’d once loved, and thought she knew, had turned into a monster. So to expedite everything, she’d endorsed the entire check over to Bob, refusing to fight over yet one more detail, even though Gina told her not to do it. But Emily didn’t want to fight. Wasted energy. She had too much on her plate, including caring for an unpredictable child who wasn’t even hers.
Her lawyer, Peter, a short, balding man with round glasses and an overbite, filed the necessary paperwork for legal separation and custody of Katy. Bob hired nobody. He was just being an ass. Visitation, Emily was pleased he’d agreed to, every other weekend.
One Tuesday during Emily’s third week, Katy and Trevor were seated at the table, their almond butter sandwiches cut up for them, when the telephone rang. Brad wandered in the back door at the same time. He snatched the receiver from the wall phone.
From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone Page 5
