Vermont Valentine (Holiday Hearts #3)

by Kristin Hardy

  “It’s out,” he said triumphantly. “Happened today. Broad, immediate release. You could go down to your local ag supply and order Beetlejuice right now.”

  She whooped and jumped in the air, letting the phone go. The other inspectors stared but she didn’t care. It was the most deserved happy dance she’d ever done, and dammit she was going to savor it. The cell phone squawked. It took several seconds before she noticed.

  “Celie? Are you there? Did you just drop your phone?”

  She snatched it up. “Pete, I love you. I want to have your baby. I want to lie around in a Princess Leia bikini and feed you grapes. You’re fabulous.”

  “Could you back up to the Princess Leia part?”

  “Oh, you have no idea how happy this makes me. What kind of use is it rated for?”

  “In conjunction with removal, but only to fifty yards. Annual inoculations for three years and you’re home clear.”

  Cutting a circle of fifty yards, not a hundred and fifty. Clearing less than two acres, compared to fifteen. She felt like a soap bubble, like she was floating on air, everything shimmering around her. “This is incredible. Look, next time I’m in Maryland, I am taking you out for a drink.”

  “Lots of drinks,” he suggested.

  “Lots of drinks. And the biggest steak you can eat. We are going to celebrate.”

  “Wait a minute, what happened to the Princess Leia part? Hello? Celie?”

  Jacob stood on the ladder and leaned in under the overhang to check the upper holding tank. The spring sugaring season was going to start any day. He felt the familiar sense of anticipation, like a runner at the starting line awaiting the sound of the gun, the chance to go from poised readiness to all out effort. He had no illusions about how relentlessly hard he was going to have to drive himself, and for how long. It didn’t matter. He’d get through it.

  Someone burst out of the sugarhouse door behind him. “They released it!”

  “What?” He tried to turn too quickly and knocked his head on the overhang. “Celie,” he said, wincing.

  She hurried over to him. “Oh my God, are you all right?”

  “It’s only a minor fracture,” he said, touching his head gingerly. “I’ll be fine.” He hopped down from the ladder and kissed her. “So what’s going on?”

  “They registered Beetlejuice.” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a smacking kiss. He added a few of his own, just to get into the spirit of things.

  And then the words penetrated.

  “Registered it?” He pulled away with a little frown.

  “Released it. Approved it for commercial use.”

  “Wait a minute. I thought it was already approved. Wasn’t that what you said a couple of weeks ago?”

  “It was approved by the RAL but now the paperwork’s through.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and walked over to peer into the holding tank. “Everything’s official.”

  “So it wasn’t really a done deal.”

  “Everything but.” She shrugged. “Now the but has happened.”

  “Back up. What about before?”

  “What before?”

  “When you were putting it into my trees, before.” An edge entered his voice.

  “I told you, the paperwork had been generated and was being circulated for approval.”

  “So it could have been turned down at any time?”

  “No, the usage documents could have been turned back because someone didn’t like a comma. The RAL gave the okay,” she reminded him. “The release was a technicality. And one that doesn’t matter now. It’s history. Beetlejuice is out. You could get Muriel to order it today. Everything’s okay. In fact, it’s better than okay. It’s great.” She gave him one of those brilliant smiles and suddenly he didn’t care a whole hell of a lot about Beetlejuice anyway.

  “So what’s our friend the weatherman saying?” she asked.

  “The temperature’s supposed to start rising and hit the mid thirties in three or four days. Assuming you can believe the forecast that far out.”

  “Do you?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m ready.”

  “Do you want me to come tonight to help clean anything up?”

  Jacob thought of Isaac’s bathtub. “Yeah, I think you should come tonight and help me clean something up,” he said, sliding his hands into her hair and browsing on her mouth. “And after you’re all nice and clean, we’ll have dinner.”

  “Mmmm. I like the sound of that. Besides, we can celebrate.”

  “Beetlejuice?”

  “Yep. And the fact that we’ve been through almost ninety percent of the sugarbushes in Washington County and only found the maple borer in two places.”

  Almost ninety percent. Meaning she only had ten percent left. “That’s good news,” he said, and gave himself credit for sounding normal. “So I guess you’re nearly done.”

  Her rueful laugh didn’t quite ring true. “Oh, there’s still lots to do. We’ve got a few more inspections, and we need to look at the band of trees that overlaps the neighboring counties. And I’ve got to close on Durkin’s lawsuit.”

  “What’s going on with that?”

  “Our legal department has filed the paperwork. With luck, the courts will rescind the injunction within the week. We won’t have to take nearly so many of his trees now, though, so he’s going to be a lot less ticked off.”

  Jacob nodded to himself.

  “There are weeks’ worth of slaving to be done,” she said lightly. But her smile didn’t quite mask the hollow note in her voice and her words couldn’t change the reality.

  The time was approaching when she was going to leave.

  He thought of it as he kissed her goodbye and shut her truck door. He thought of it as he watched her drive off. And he thought of it as he started cutting more firewood, the hard way, with an ax, because he had to keep busy or he was going to go nuts.

  He’d been comfortable in his own skin once. He’d had a life that he’d been perfectly content with before she’d come along. He’d been happy enough being alone. Sure, there were times he’d felt at loose ends, but there were many more during which he was quite content to sit in his living room with his guitar and pass the hours. It had been enough. His work at the farm and Murphy and his occasional involvements had been enough. Now he needed someone.

  Now he had something to lose.

  Illogically, it made him angry at her. Everything had been fine until he’d found her in his trees. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need connections.

  But he needed Celie. Oh, he needed Celie.

  Never had he had to depend on someone else for his happiness. He’d never allowed it to happen, never allowed himself to care that much. With Celie, it hadn’t been a matter of choice. She’d barged into his life, his head and his heart and that had been that.

  And now she was about to barge right out.

  Facts were facts, but he’d no idea what to do about them. He was rooted in Eastmont and she was in a job that could—and would—take her away at any moment. Worse, there was nothing that could tempt her to stay. What would she do, give up a job, a cause she was committed to, a profession with international status to boil syrup with him?

  It was ridiculous. She was going to go and he might as well resign himself to it. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

  And all he could do was watch it happen.

  “You know what I don’t understand?” Celie asked Jacob as the steam from the evaporator billowed around them and the clock ticked toward 2:00 a.m. “Why don’t you have a cot in here? Then a person could lie down for a few minutes.”

  He flicked at glance at her. “Because if a person laid down for a few minutes and fell asleep, they’d have a scorched boil on their hands, three hundred gallons of ruined sap and a five-or six-hour cleaning job. And nowhere to put the new sap in the meantime.”

  “Okay, so maybe it’s not a good idea.”

  “Trust m
e, it’s not.” He walked over to press a kiss on her. “After, however, is another matter. We’ve got maybe another half hour to go, and I have a very comfortable cot back in my house. I’d be happy to give you a tour.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  He turned to the door. “Can you keep an eye on things? I’ll be right back.” He gave a brief smile. “Got to go see a man about a dog.”

  “You got it.”

  “I just filled the fire box, so everything should be all set.” He walked over to give her a kiss. “Don’t run away.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Can you bring back coffee?

  “Sure.”

  Celie listened to the door close and wished she could freeze life in this moment of expectation, being here, being part of Jacob’s world, knowing that any minute he’d be walking back in the door. Everything was coming together. Beetlejuice was cleared. She’d gotten the news earlier that day that the court had pulled the injunction. Durkin’s trees would come down in time, and thanks to Beetlejuice, only a fraction of them. She could do the work she needed, finally eradicate the maple borer, without the destruction. She was on the threshold of accomplishing her goal.

  And she had Jacob.

  Of course, there was no reason they couldn’t keep things going after the project was done. She was worrying over nothing. Planes and cars did exist. Even a man as rooted as Jacob would see that it was worth it to spend some time traveling if they could be together. And maybe she was a nomad now but things could change. Even if she couldn’t see how at the moment.

  Then again, Jacob didn’t like change.

  Celie frowned at herself. They’d find a way to make it work. She was worrying about silly things because she was trying to dance around the real issue—when did she tell him how she felt? She knew he cared for her. That much was obvious. So should she take the chance and just blurt it out? Should she test the waters? Should she wait until it was time to leave and tackle it then? But how did she hold it back when the words felt as though they lived constantly in her mouth, like butterflies threatening to flutter out every time she spoke? Every time she looked at him, held him, touched him, she wanted to say it. She wanted him to know.

  A hissing sound had her looking at the evaporator. The bubbles had come up, larger than she’d ever seen them. And still no Jacob. The clock ticked by. They’d have a scorched boil on their hands. The syrup was darker, she saw. The bubbles were the size of golf balls, even bigger. She walked over to the door. “Jacob?” she called, but there was no answer. Where was he?

  She came back to the evaporator, tapping her fingers restlessly, watching the bubbles grow. Finally, when they were verging on baseball-sized, she turned to pick up the dish of butter and the knife. She could at least knock them down. She could do that much. She knew that Jacob didn’t want her touching the boil. No matter how much he let her help, he always kept her away from the actual syrup. But she didn’t think she had a choice. “Jacob?” she called again but she heard no response.

  “All right,” she muttered to herself and walked over to the evaporator. She’d seen him do it a hundred times. You just tapped the knife in the butter and brushed it against the surface of the syrup. How hard could it be?

  Cautiously, she stroked the tip of the knife against the butter and reached over the evaporator partitions. The temperature surprised her. She’d never realized how hot it got. It was like putting her hand over a barbecue. She ignored it and touched the knife to the syrup in one spot then another then another and—

  “Damn!” Syrup splashed her hand from a large bubble that popped just as she was touching the knife down. Reflexively, she snatched her hand back. And with a plop, the knife dropped down into the syrup. “Damn!” she cried. Through the inch and a half of syrup, she could see the knife. Was it her imagination, or was the syrup around it darkening before her eyes? She blinked and looked again.

  She wasn’t quite sure what it meant but she was reasonably confident it wasn’t good.

  Jacob reached the top of the stairs with the new box of coffee. He should probably know better than to drink it at this hour, but he was so sleep-deprived he seriously doubted it would do anything to keep him up.

  Then he heard Celie call his name. He ran through the gift shop and opened the door to see her at the evaporator.

  “Jacob, thank God.”

  “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s the boil.”

  And he looked into the evaporator and saw the knife lying at the bottom, a rapidly darkening halo of syrup around it. “How the hell did that get in there?”

  “I dropped it in. I didn’t mean to,” she said miserably. “I’m sorry. I was trying to knock down the bubbles.”

  “Celie, I told you to leave it,” he said, snatching up the metal tongs.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”

  He grabbed for the knife, knowing even as he did that it was too late. “Dammit.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head in frustration. “It’s burned to the bottom.” While he’d been futzing around with coffee.

  “What?”

  “It’s burned to the bottom. The boil’s scorched. It’s ruined.” Sixty gallons of syrup lost, maybe more. The amount of time he’d lose cleaning the evaporator? Six or eight hours, judging by the look of it. While the holding tanks filled up and sap started running onto the ground. He ran some more sap in to dilute things and then shut off the valve on the inlet tube.

  “What do we have to do?” Celie asked.

  “Dump the boil,” he said, opening up the firebox.

  “All of it?”

  “Of course all of it. The knife is scorched to the bottom of the evaporator. It’s all going to taste burned. I’ve got to get the syrup out of there and clean the evaporator before I can do anything.” He’d been an idiot to lollygag in the basement while he left her there to watch it. Having her there had made him sloppy. Just because you had a partner didn’t mean they were enough. Sometimes working alone was the best way. You kept up your guard. You didn’t screw up.

  And you didn’t get hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” Celie said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

  Jacob grabbed a bucket and started drawing off sap. “I know you didn’t. Knocking down the bubbles is trickier than it looks. That’s why I asked you not to touch it.” He watched the syrup pour out and mastered his frustration. “Forget about it. Look, I need to clean this up. It might be best if you go on home.”

  “At least let me help you,” she protested. “It’s a big job.”

  “I can do it faster myself.”

  “You don’t need help scraping or anything?”

  “I can do it alone. Now just go, please.” He stopped and took a breath. “Look,” he softened his voice with effort. “It was my fault. I went down in the basement for some coffee. I shouldn’t have been gone for so long. I’m just too tired to think straight.”

  “And you say you don’t need any help.”

  “I’ve had just about all the help I can take right now.”

  She whitened as though he’d slapped her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “That was an idiotic thing to say. I’m ticked off at myself and I’m taking it out on you.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Okay, we’re both really tired and this is a one-person job. Why don’t you go home, get some sleep? We’ll talk later.”

  “Will we?” Her voice was bleak.

  “Yes. I just have a lot of work to do and I’ll do it more quickly if I’m not distracted.” His voice softened and he walked over to press a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Celie stared at her computer. Of all of her job’s many aspects, distilling each month’s work into a five-page summary was by far the most challenging. Sitting inside when she should have been inspecting trees made it even more difficult. Every day it
grew warmer. They were so close to their goal but soon the maple borers would begin to hatch, and heaven help them if they hadn’t uncovered all the infested trees by then.

  She sighed and hit the spell-check. Of course, she knew the real reason for her funk and it had little to do with reports. Things were wrong with her and Jacob. It made her whole world feel off. It hadn’t really been a fight, but in a way that was almost worse. Nothing had been clear, nothing had been resolved. Somehow, though, invisible walls had gone up.

  And she didn’t know how to pull them down.

  There was a sound at the opening to her cubicle. She turned, expecting to see Marce or Bob Ford. And her jaw dropped.

  “Gavin? What are you doing here?” She stared at her boss in shock. Gavin, who should have been at APHIS headquarters in Maryland. Gavin, who never did field work. Perhaps he’d made the trip to review her progress with his own eyes. Or maybe he was in the area and just decided to stop by.

  Or maybe he was here specifically to talk to her. Her insides clenched. This could be nothing good.

  “Good morning, Celie. I see you’re hard at work.”

  “My February status report,” she said faintly.

  “The one due March first?”

  She flushed. “I was inspecting and dealing with the lawsuit all last week. This is the first chance I’ve had to get to it.”

  “As project head, it’s your responsibility to keep me informed. On all levels,” he added. Was it her imagination or was there a hidden emphasis in his comment?

  “I do my best.”

  “Do you? Then perhaps you’ll tell me why you saw fit to begin injecting an unapproved insecticide into a ring of trees marked for removal according to the eradication protocols that you yourself helped develop.”

  Once, during first-grade recess, she’d gotten hit in the face with a softball as she’d run toward the swings. No warning, no shouts. One second she was intent on reaching the last open swing, the next, her world had exploded in white-hot shock.

  It had felt a lot like this.

  For an instant she couldn’t speak, could only search frantically for answers that just weren’t there. Gee, sir, I did it because I knew the committee protocols were unnecessarily cautious? I did it because I’m tired of tearing down healthy trees when I know there’s a solution that’s caught up in red tape? Gee sir, I did it because I couldn’t stand the pain in the eyes of the man I love as he watched his way of life destroyed?