She rubbed at the shirt until it seemed clean, then rinsed it repeatedly and wrung it out. He stood in silence, watching her. She straightened the shirt, smoothed it and put it in the dryer. She wiped her hands on a towel, and Josh suddenly seized one in both of his.
“You’re going to ruin your hands.” He stroked the rough skin on her knuckle.
“What difference does it make?” she asked. “I’m a farmer’s daughter. I get in the dirt and I plant and I weed. I don’t need to hold anybody’s hand. I shouldn’t hold yours. So let me go. Please.”
He raised one hand and set it on the back of her neck. “I don’t want to let you go. I want to keep you.”
“I don’t want to be kept,” she said, raising her chin. “And that’s what it would be, wouldn’t it? You keeping me? No. I’m never going to depend on anyone again except myself.”
“Well, Miss Independence,” he said, bringing his mouth closer to hers, “then how do you expect to have this baby?”
CHAPTER SIX
HER PRETTY MOUTH twitched in agitation. But she didn’t have to give him an answer, because someone tapped at the front door, a gentle, almost timid sound. Rap, rap, rap.
“That’s Glenda’s knock,” she said. “And I told you to stop touching me. I meant it.”
“Glenda? What’s she want?” Josh demanded. But reluctantly he let his hands fall away.
“She’s my sister-in-law and my neighbor. She doesn’t need an invitation. She can come over any time she wants,” Briana said. She moved quickly to the door, and Josh stood looking after her, flexing and clenching his hands in frustration.
She composed herself—what a good little actress she was—and flung open the door. “Hello, Glenda. What a nice surprise. Come in.”
Glenda stood at the threshold, her thin face red with cold. She stepped inside and stamped her snowy boots on the welcome mat.
“The phones are out,” she said in her breathless way. “I think ice may have brought down a line. I didn’t know if you knew.”
“I didn’t,” Briana said. She patted Glenda’s snowy sleeve, urging her inside. “Come in. I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate.”
Glenda shook her head. “No. I can’t stay. I came to say that Leo isn’t feeling well. Right after dinner, he started feeling queasy and weak. I’ve got him lying down in Rupert’s room. He says he wants to see you.”
Briana’s face blanched, and her hand tightened on Glenda’s arm. “He’s sick? Is it his heart?”
“I don’t think so,” Glenda said. “I’m hoping he just overate. And lately he’s been kind of—you know, on edge.”
She cast an apologetic look at Josh, who knew that he, of course, was the reason Leo was on edge.
“And he wants to see me?” Briana said, worried that her father was sicker than he would admit.
“Yes,” Glenda said. She fidgeted with her left glove, pulling and picking at it. “I don’t know what about. You know how he gets when he doesn’t feel well. Antsy. He worries about little things.”
Briana pressed her lips together and nodded.
“He wanted somebody to go to the old greenhouse, too,” Glenda said. “Just to make sure the latest seedlings don’t need thinning. You know—”
“Yes, yes,” Briana said. “He gets a bee in his bonnet. Does he want me to do that, too?”
“No,” Glenda said, still nervously plucking her glove. “I’m going down there now. Larry can’t do it. He’s too ham-handed.” She gave Josh another of her strained smiles. “But if you want to go with Briana, I’ll stay here with Nealie.”
Josh watched Briana, who was pulling her coat out of the hall closet. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll stay here. Nealie’s taking a nap.”
“Oh,” Glenda said and shrugged. “Well, if she wakes and you get cabin fever or something, the two of you can come down. The old greenhouse. The big one, you know?”
“I remember,” he said. And he remembered how vulnerable Briana was when it came to her father. Leo was an expert at sensing when he had a rival for her loyalty and attention.
Is the old boy really sick? Josh knew the question was too cynical to be voiced, but he had to ask himself. The old man wanted no outsider luring away his daughter.
Briana sat on the couch, pulling on her snowboots. Her face was pale, but a hectic flush colored her cheeks. “I’ll check on him. If I think he needs to go to the emergency room, I’ll drive him.” She darted Josh a worried look. “If I have to take him, you’ll stay with Nealie, won’t you?”
“You know I will,” he said.
She stood and wrapped a crocheted muffler around her neck, donned a cap and mittens. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she told him.
“I understand,” he said.
When she went out the door, Josh felt he was watching her being pulled away from him and toward Leo as if on an unbreakable string.
LARRY OPENED the door. He was in his stocking feet and had the Sunday funny papers in one hand. A basketball game was on television, the sound turned low. Rupert lay on the rug in front of the set with a bag of potato chips and his toy guillotine. He was trying to decapitate his GI Joe doll.
“Be quiet,” Larry told Briana. “The two little ones are asleep. Don’t wake ’em up.”
She was already unsettled, and his tone set her teeth on edge. Larry could be boorish, there was no denying it.
Yet paradoxically, this was one of the reasons she felt protective of him. He had no social skills, nary a one. He had always been athletic and handsome, but from childhood, he had an awkward way about him. People did not take to him.
He had many good qualities. He worked hard, he was a good provider, he was faithful to his wife, and when he made a promise he kept it. But he did not have an iota of charm. He wanted to be liked, but outside the family circle, he was not. Briana felt sorry for him.
So she nodded and said hello to Rupert.
“Shh,” Rupert admonished her. “The kids are sleeping. Wow! Three-point shot! Cool!”
Briana gave the boy a look that told him to keep a civil tongue in his head. Rupert looked guilty and stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth.
“Pop’s laying down in Rupert’s room,” Larry said, scratching his stomach.
“How is he?” Briana asked.
“Aw, he’s okay. He just pigged out,” Larry said. “He had three helpings of chicken.”
“He’s supposed to watch his cholesterol,” Briana said.
“Yeah? Well, tell him, not me.”
She sighed and started to take off her boots so she could leave them on the mat in the entryway. Larry went to the couch and flopped down on it, opening the comics pages.
Briana hung her coat in the closet and went down the hall to the back bedroom. She knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. She eased it open and peeped inside.
Rupert’s walls were covered with posters of Arnold Schwartzenegger as The Terminator, his idol. Over his bed was a large picture of Godzilla stepping on a bus.
On the bed lay Leo, his cheeks rosy, sleeping as peacefully as a cherub. His snoring was light and even.
Oh, Poppa, she thought in frustration. I thought you wanted to talk.
But she knew better than to wake him. Leo was cranky when wakened from a nap. And deep down she did not want to go to her own house. Josh made her fear her emotions too much.
She sat in the chair beside the bed. She would wait here, alone with her dozing father, trying desperately to sort out her thoughts.
NEALIE WAS wide-awake.
She was also surging with restless energy, so Josh dressed her for outdoors and walked her down to the greenhouse.
Glenda looked up when they walked in, and her face brightened at the sight of Nealie. She might feel uneasy with Josh, but he saw that her affection for the little girl was deep and real.
“Nealie,” she said with pleasure. “Just the person I need to see. You can help me thin these tomato seedlings.”
“All
right!” Nealie said. “What kind?”
“Nebraska Wedding,” Glenda answered. “And they need thinning. This batch looks a bit leggy. I guess your grandpa can just sense these things.”
Nealie stripped off hat, gloves and jacket. She dragged a little step stool to Glenda’s side and stood on it. She began to work, and Josh marveled at her. Although her hands were small, they were quick and sure.
Josh hung his parka on the peg beside Nealie’s and Glenda’s. The heat of the greenhouse seemed tropical after trudging through the February snow, and the aroma of growing things and soil filled his nostrils.
“Now that you’re here,” Glenda said to Nealie, “would you mind if I took a little break?” To Josh, her voice sounded falsely bright.
“No,” Nealie answered. “I like this.”
Glenda left the worktable and sat in a folding chair in the corner. She moved slowly, almost painfully.
Nealie had started singing to herself, a song from Beauty and the Beast. “Bonjour,” she caroled, “bonjour!”
Josh went to Glenda’s side. “You’re tired,” he said. “You should quit for the day.”
She looked at him with a self-conscious smile. “I’m fine. Really.”
He said, “It’s a long walk from here to your house. I’ll go and get the car and drive you home.”
Her smile fled. “No. Please. I like being here. It’s so peaceful.”
Not like your house, he thought. He said, “Briana says you’re going to have another boy.”
“I’d hoped—” She shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m used to little boys.” She nodded toward Nealie. “Look at her. She’s a natural gardener. She’s got it in her blood.”
Josh fought not to flinch at the mention of Nealie’s blood. He said, “I guess Leo casts a long shadow.”
She stared at him, and he realized he had used the wrong words. He said, “I mean, he’s got a gift for this. He passed it on to Larry and Briana and Nealie, too.”
She nodded. But she said, “You were right the first time, too, though. He does cast a long shadow. We all stand in it.” In a rush, she added, “I don’t mean he’s a bad man. He’s not. But somehow he has such influence. Larry wants his approval so much. And Briana feels so protective about him. I try to be the perfect daughter-in-law, but I know my kids don’t behave, and Larry won’t help. I don’t know why, maybe it’s some sort of rebellion. You know, passive-aggressive. At first I didn’t have the nerve to fight it. Now I don’t have the energy.”
Her candor surprised Josh. He looked at her with interest.
“I guess I’m feeling sorry for myself,” she said. “It’s just that I always have this sense that I don’t live up to Leo’s expectations.”
“I know that feeling exactly,” Josh said. “He isn’t exactly crazy about me. And that’s an understatement.”
“You’re a threat,” she said with the same frankness. “He was afraid you’d take Briana away. Now he’s afraid you’ll take them both.”
Her gaze moved to Nealie. She was still thinning the seedlings, singing another song, this one from Pocahantas.
Glenda said, “Leo loves Nealie and Briana. But he needs Briana. So does Larry. We all do. It isn’t fair.”
Josh had the feeling of a man who is deep in enemy territory and comes across an unsuspected ally. “Fair?” he echoed.
“All this,” she said, making a gesture that took in the greenhouse and everything within it. “It’s on her shoulders to run it. Leo’s never done it by himself. I doubt he could. Larry couldn’t. I couldn’t. So we all depend on Briana.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Why are you saying this to me?”
She looked into her lap at her soil-stained hands. “To tell you that if you want her, you’re going to have to fight for her. Hard.”
He kept his face impassive, but his heart seemed to stumble and keep stumbling. “And if I fight hard—will I win?”
She raised her eyes to his. She looked half hopeful, half fearful.
“I don’t know,” she said.
LEO’S EYES fluttered open. He yawned lavishly. Then he saw Briana at his bedside and blinked in surprise.
“Hello, Poppa,” she said. “How do you feel?”
His expression, bland and sleepy, changed to worried. He put his hand over his heart. “I felt queasy, a bit weak. I guess I needed rest.”
He glanced at the opposite wall. Multiple Arnold Schwartzeneggers scowled at him, and Leo scowled back.
“Besides, those kids get on my nerves. Neville threw a handful of mashed potatoes at Rupert, and Rupert spit a pea in his eye. I want to go home. I want the peace and quiet of my own house. Walk me back.”
Briana put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll borrow Larry’s van and drive you.”
“Nonsense.” He snorted. “I walked here. I’ll walk back. The doctor told me to exercise. And I feel restless. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Apprehension rippled through her. “What’s on your mind?” She hoped it wasn’t Josh.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” Leo said. “Let’s get out of here.” He rose with more spryness than she’d thought possible.
Briana worried that the frigid air would be a shock to Leo’s lungs, but once outside, he seemed invigorated. He inhaled as if savoring the briskness of the cold. His cheeks turned even rosier.
Their boots crunched on the snow, and she put her arm through his. “Now,” she said, “what’s bothering you?”
“Those kids don’t help matters,” he answered. “Why doesn’t Glenda make them mind? It’s her job to teach them manners.”
“She can’t do it alone. Larry has to back her up. And he never does.”
“Larry,” he said with an edge of exasperation. “Larry’s just a big kid himself. But he told me he wants more responsibility. More of a hand in running the place. Him? Ha!”
Briana lifted a questioning eyebrow. “What kind of responsibility?”
“He wants to expand the mail order business. Sell equipment. Tools. Fancy sprinklers. Water timers. Drip irrigation kits. Machines.”
Briana had often thought of expanding the business, but never in that direction. “Actually, Poppa, it’s not a bad idea. Larry understands machines. He’s very good with water systems. He knows his stuff.”
“This is a farm, not a toolshed,” Leo answered.
She said, “And maybe Larry should have more responsibility.”
“He doesn’t know squat about running a business.”
“He never will if he doesn’t get any experience.”
They had reached the crest of a gentle rise. “Let’s stop for a minute,” Leo said, putting his hand on his chest again. “I want to catch my breath.”
She tightened her hold on his arm. “Are you all right?”
He ignored the question. Instead he surveyed the view. Briana’s gaze followed his. From this vantage point she could see all four greenhouses nestled in the valley, the machine shed, the rows of cold frames, the empty fields.
“Look at it,” Leo said with reverence. “Twenty-five years ago, it was nothing but cornfields and pastures. This is what your uncle and your mother and I started creating way back then.”
“I know, Poppa. It’s a great accomplishment.”
A quaver entered his voice. “It’s a dream come true. But I could never trust it to Larry. He’s not—capable.”
Briana said nothing. She could see her little house in the grove of winter-bare trees. She wondered if Nealie was still asleep. She thought of Josh, and her heart tightened.
Leo harumphed. “I’m not saying Larry’s a bad boy, you know. It’s just that he never did well in school, the way you did. And he’s not good with people. Not like you.”
Briana turned to gaze at Larry’s house, looking cozy and well kept in the snowy landscape. “It’s not fair to compare us, Poppa. We’re different people. Larry can do a lot of things I can’t.”
“And you can do a lot he can’t,” Leo countered.
He was silent a moment, then said, “When I’m gone, he’d never last alone, you know. Without you to supervise things. He just couldn’t handle it.”
His words made responsibility and guilt weigh on her like a bag of stones strapped to her back. She thought of what Josh had said about her family and tried to push the memory away. It only made her emotions more complex.
She patted his arm. “Don’t talk about being gone.”
“I thank the Lord for you and Nealie,” Leo said, putting his hand over hers. “The two of you make everything worthwhile. And when I’m gone, I know the farm and Larry will be safe—with you here.”
“Poppa,” she said, “is this what you wanted to talk about? Larry and the farm?”
“No, no. It’s only an old man’s rambling. I’m rested. Let’s move on. I want to show you something at the house.”
Briana’s spirits sank. She could guess what he wanted to show her. And it was the last thing she wanted to see.
“I SHOULD GO HOME,” Glenda said, standing. “The boys will be waking up.”
“We’ll go, too,” Josh said. “I don’t want Nealie to wear herself out. We’ll walk you as far as Briana’s, and I’ll drive you back from there.”
Glenda didn’t object. She nodded with a small smile of gratitude.
“Come on, Panda Babe,” he called to Nealie. “We’re going back.”
“Just two more minutes?” pleaded Nealie. “I’m almost done. Honest.”
He looked at her, so delicate yet so efficient. She had potting soil on her fingers and a smudge across her chin. Her glasses had slipped down her nose. His heart ached with love for her. “Two more minutes,” he said.
She began singing again, although not with the same energy. The song fell into an almost tuneless humming.
“She’s not strong, is she?” Glenda asked softly. “I worry about her.”
In spite of the hugging warmth of the greenhouse, Josh felt a chill trickle through him. “Yeah, well, allergies.”
The Baby Gift Page 9
