“She went back to Mac. You heard she went away for a week? I was hoping it was for good this time, but she’s back. She won’t listen to a thing I say. She won’t listen to anybody.”
“You can’t make that decision for her, Hank. She’s a grown woman.”
“I know.” He rubbed his thumb up and down on the side of the bottle. “Just makes me so angry, the way Mac manipulates her. Makes me feel helpless too.”
“She’s never filed a complaint against him, has she?”
“Never. She thinks everything he does to her is her own fault. It’s never his. Always hers.” He sighed. “You know how it is.”
Sadly, like most cops, Derek did know how it was. He’d seen the cycle of abuse enough times in his years as a sheriff’s deputy. “Yeah. I know how it is. And all you can do for now is tell Fran you’re there for her, if or when she’s willing to let you help. The way you’ve been there for her in the past.”
Hank’s voice turned hard. “Sometimes I’d like to forget I’m sworn to keep the peace and just get Mac in a room by myself for about fifteen minutes.”
Derek didn’t reply. Some men he would worry about. Hank wasn’t one of them. His friend needed to blow off steam, that was all. Hank would never take matters of the law into his own hands. No matter how provoked or justified.
“What about you?” Hank took another long drink of soda. “How’s the growing season going for you?”
Derek was happy to let his friend steer the conversation in another direction. “Been good. It should be a profitable year, barring anything unexpected.”
“Which happens often in farming.”
“True enough.”
“I’ve told you this before, but I’m mighty impressed with what you’ve managed to do here. I mean, this place was nothing much but a little house, pasture, and a few trees when you bought the property. Now look at it. The new outbuildings. The new fences. All those nice rows of fruit and vegetables. Lotta love and labor evident wherever you look.”
Hank was right. A lot of love and labor had gone into this place. Even with just three acres, Derek had achieved everything he’d set out to do and more besides. And he’d learned a lot along the way.
His gaze shifted to the yellow house next door. “Derek, what if I never agree to sell you any of my land?” He’d heard Brooklyn’s question repeat in his head at least a hundred times since that night. And if he’d thought about her question a hundred times, he’d thought of Brooklyn a thousand.
I’ve missed her.
Sure, he’d seen her now and then, but mostly in passing. Hardly with enough time to say hello or good-bye. A wave of the hand. A smile. There had never seemed to be an opportunity or an excuse for more than that. But did he need an excuse?
“Derek, what if I never agree to sell you any of my land?”
He leaned forward in his chair, realization shivering through him, his friend forgotten.
The question he’d thought about and mulled over and let repeat in his head wasn’t the question that mattered to him at all. It wasn’t What if she doesn’t sell any of her land to me? It wasn’t How can I make my farm grow and succeed without those extra acres? The real question was When can I see her again? When could he spend more time in her company? When could he get to know her better than he knew her right now? When could he become an important part of her life, the way she had somehow become an important part of his?
The answer to her question was actually quite simple. It wouldn’t make one bit of difference if she wouldn’t sell her land to him. Because he wanted her far more than he wanted any piece of property.
Now all he had to do was make her believe it.
Chapter 23
Farmwork and deputy duties kept Derek busy from dawn to dusk for more than a week, and he spent a lot of those days trying to figure out the best way to tell Brooklyn how he felt about her. How to tell her that he was interested in something more than friendship and certainly something more than her land. The passing of time both relieved and frustrated him. But his gut told him he had to go slow, and giving her some space might be for the best. Even now. Even after that kiss—which seemed to have happened all too long ago.
Brooklyn had two really good reasons not to trust men—her dad and Chad. And like it or not, Derek had given her at least one more reason to wonder if she should trust any of his gender. He wished now he’d never told her that he wanted to buy her land. Since he couldn’t take it back, he would have to overcome it. Being a good neighbor wouldn’t be enough. He needed to win her heart, not just her head. All he had to do now was figure a way to do that.
And today, he’d decided, was the day to try.
Heat clung to the earth as he strode across the field toward Brooklyn’s house. Once there, he knocked on her back door and waited. Strange, how nervous he felt. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen each other or spoken since the night of that kiss. But now that he’d made up his mind to try to move things along, there was more at stake.
When she answered his knock, a fleeting smile curved her mouth. A good sign, he supposed.
“Evening, Brooklyn.”
“Hi, Derek.”
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.” She pulled the door open wide. Another good sign.
Good smells wafted out from the kitchen. “I’m not interrupting your dinner, am I?”
“No. We ate awhile ago. I just finished washing the dishes. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” He moved past her, stopping near the kitchen table.
She closed the door and faced him. “Would you like to sit?”
“No. Thanks. I . . . I don’t want to keep you.”
Her head tipped slightly, as if asking a question.
He rushed on. “You remember that they have concerts over at Dubois Vineyards during the summer?”
“Sure. I’ve never been to one, but I’ve heard people talk about them.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” his grandmother often said.
Derek continued, “Well, there’s one coming up next Friday, and I thought maybe you’d like to go with me. If you’re not working that night.”
“I’m not,” she answered. “I work day shifts on Fridays.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a refusal either. He almost smiled. “So you’ll go?”
Brooklyn opened her mouth, about to answer, when Alycia rushed into the kitchen. “Mr. Johnson! You’re here. Mom, did you ask him? What’d he say?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ask me what?”
“Mommmm.” The girl dragged out the word in a pleading tone. “It’s been forever.”
Brooklyn responded with a soft, “Alycia.”
Even he heard the warning in her tone. A flicker of rebellion—something Derek didn’t remember seeing before—appeared in Alycia’s eyes, and she pressed her lips together in a hard line.
“Honey,” Brooklyn continued in that soft but firm voice, “you need to let me talk with Mr. Johnson alone. Go back to whatever you were doing.”
“But—”
“Now, Alycia.”
The girl released a dramatic sigh. After a short hesitation, she turned and left the kitchen.
“She’s not happy with me at the moment,” Brooklyn said.
“I could see that.”
She motioned a second time to the chairs by the table. “Please.”
This time he didn’t refuse.
Brooklyn sat opposite him, her gaze flicking toward the doorway. “I’m not sure what to tell you first.”
“Let’s start with your answer about the date.”
Her eyes returned to him. “The date.” It was a question, yet not a question.
“Our date,” he emphasized, just to be sure she understood. “Yours and mine. To the concert.”
“Derek, do you really think—”
“I really think. Whatever you were going to ask, I really think.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
“So .
. . ?”
She sighed. Not as dramatic as her daughter’s had been. More like she was giving in. “All right. I’ll go to the concert with you.”
“Great.” It felt like a huge victory. As if they had both cleared a hurdle. “Dress for the heat, because it’s outdoors, and Friday’s supposed to be close to a hundred degrees. I’ll pack the food. You don’t have to think about bringing anything except a sweater for when it cools off after the sun sets.” He took a breath and added, “I’ll come for you at six.”
“Okay.”
“Now . . . what did Alycia want you to ask me?”
A tiny frown furrowed Brooklyn’s brow. “Just so you know, I didn’t accept your invitation because of what she wants.”
“Good to know.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Continue.”
“You may have heard. The church is having a father-daughter campout in a few weeks.” She hesitated, then rushed to finish. “And Alycia wants you to take her.”
He leaned back in his chair, both surprised and pleased.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot to ask. I mean, I know you are always crazy busy with your farming and with your duties as a deputy. And—”
“I’d love to do it, Brooklyn.”
A flicker of a smile appeared again. “You would?”
“I would.” The thing was, he didn’t want to do it because of Chad’s request, and he sure didn’t want to do it as quid pro quo for the coming date with Brooklyn. No, camping with Alycia sounded like fun. It sounded like something he’d missed out on in the past and could look forward to in the future. Maybe he shouldn’t read that much into it, but he did.
“She’s never been camping before,” Brooklyn added.
He shrugged. “Not a big deal. I’ve been camping plenty of times.”
“But not with Alycia.”
He had the insane urge to jump up, round the table, and hold her in his arms. To make her feel safe and secure. Instead, he said, “You’re right. Not with Alycia. But I promise I won’t screw it up. You can trust me, Brooklyn.”
Trust him. Let go and trust him.
Was it possible to do that? To trust someone the way Derek wanted to be trusted? Brooklyn didn’t know if she had it in her to trust that way. She could trust God. But a man? And with her daughter? What if something went wrong on the camping trip?
What if . . .
He leaned toward her, forearms now on the table, and lowered his voice. “Is it okay to tell Alycia? I’ll bet she’s out there chewing her fingernails.”
Let go.
Trust.
Discover something new.
“Okay,” she answered. “She’s already waited a long time for me to ask you. Let’s tell her.”
He stood, then waited for her to do the same. But when she started to walk by him, he stopped her with a light touch on her shoulder. “Brooklyn.”
She met his gaze. There seemed to be an ocean of kindness in his eyes.
“I’m not doing this because Chad asked me to. And since you brought it up, I’m not doing it because you said you’d go out with me. I’m doing it because I want to.”
Those words, combined with the look in his eyes, caused a lump to form in her throat. The swiftness of her reaction alarmed her, but she was determined he wouldn’t know that. So she nodded and hurried onward.
When Brooklyn entered the living room, Alycia was lying on her tummy on the floor, the Kindle Fire held between both hands. But something told Brooklyn that her daughter had been straining to hear the conversation taking place in the kitchen, not reading.
“Sweetheart?”
Alycia feigned—and failed—a look of surprise.
“Mr. Johnson has something to tell you.”
Her daughter dropped the device and scrambled to her knees. Her gaze shot beyond Brooklyn’s left shoulder.
From perhaps a step or two behind her, Derek said, “I hear you’d like to go camping with the church group.”
“Yeah.” Her face lit up.
“I told your mom I’d be glad to take you.”
Alycia was on her feet in a heartbeat. “Really? You’ll really do it?”
“Really.” He chuckled.
Brooklyn felt his laughter in her chest. In her heart. She wanted to turn and smile at him, to thank him, but she remained afraid of revealing too much. These were uncharted waters and growing more so. Alycia dashed forward, and Brooklyn couldn’t help but turn her head to see what happened next.
Her daughter hugged Derek around the waist. “Thanks, Mr. Johnson. I’ll do everything you tell me. I won’t break any rules. I promise. I won’t be any trouble at all.”
He chuckled again. “I believe you, kiddo.” He ruffled her hair, an action he’d done before. This time Alycia didn’t pull back.
“This is the best day ever!” Alycia said, looking up at him.
“We’ve got a few weeks to get ready,” Derek said, eyes serious. “When I’ve got time, I’ll teach you some of the things you’ll need to know.”
“Great.” She whirled to face Brooklyn. “Mom, can I call Wendy and tell her I get to go?” She barely waited for Brooklyn’s nod before she rushed off to make the call.
“You couldn’t have made her any happier if you’d tried,” Brooklyn said.
“It’s a start.”
She turned to look at him, unsure if she was doing the right thing and yet unable to change the direction they seemed to be headed.
Don’t you dare break her heart, Derek Johnson. Or mine.
Chapter 24
But you like him,” Esther said, her tone both gentle and prodding.
Brooklyn lay on the living-room sofa, staring at the ceiling, as she talked on the phone. “Yes, I like him.”
“And you believe he is a nice, decent man?”
“Yes. I’m sure he is.”
Esther was silent a few moments. “Then it sounds to me as if you did the right thing. For both you and Alycia.”
Did I? She’d been asking herself the same question for a solid week. If only she could be sure. Why didn’t God give her an unmistakable answer, like a neon billboard flashing a message?
“You already know what else I want to say, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Brooklyn answered. “Trust God and stop borrowing trouble.”
Her friend laughed, but it ended in a coughing spell.
“Esther?” Brooklyn sat up. “Are you all right?”
When Esther was in control again, she answered, “Yes. I’m fine.”
Her friend wasn’t fine, of course. Far from it. But she refused to discuss the details of her illness as it progressed. A few weeks ago, she’d told Brooklyn that she only wanted to talk about life and the living, not dying and death. So Brooklyn did her best to honor Esther’s wishes. But it wasn’t easy. Especially since she believed time was growing short.
Tears welled in her eyes as she wondered how many more telephone conversations they would have. One? Five? Ten? No matter how many, they would be too few.
“How are your plans for the bed-and-breakfast going?” Esther asked, deftly changing the subject.
Brooklyn drew a quick breath and, keeping her voice as light as possible, answered, “I think they’re going well. I keep revising my budget and the projected time frame, but I’m getting a good grasp of it. I research something new on the Internet almost every night. Alycia and I have painted two more bedrooms and one of the upstairs baths.” She scrambled in her head to think what else she could tell Esther that she hadn’t said before. Then she decided it didn’t matter if she repeated herself. “Our finances are tight, of course. I knew they would be. But I got a job so quickly, they aren’t as bad as I expected them to be. I seem to always have just enough money to pay for the next can of paint or whatever.”
“God provides,” Esther said.
“Yes. He does.”
“You mentioned you were going to talk to other businesses about package deals for your guests. Have you do
ne that yet?”
“No. It’s far too early. I need to have a firm opening date in mind first.”
“I’m so proud of you, Brooklyn.” Esther coughed again. “I’m sorry. I think I’d better hang up now. Call me Saturday. After your date. I’ll want to hear all about it.”
Brooklyn’s grip on the cell phone tightened. “Yes. I’ll call you.” She paused a second. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Give Alycia a hug from me.”
“I will.”
“Email me some photos. I’m dying to see where you’re living. Take some of the vineyard when you’re at the concert.”
“I will. I’ll send some before I call you so we can talk about them.”
Brooklyn remained sitting on the sofa a short while after the call ended, still thinking about the friend she hadn’t seen in almost four months. Esther had looked so very frail before leaving Reno to live with her cousins. How much more had she changed by now?
“Take care of her, Lord. I know she isn’t afraid to die, but please ease the pain of the process.”
Drawing a breath, she rose. The house was unusually quiet without Alycia at home. Her daughter was at Wendy Royal’s house for the afternoon while Brooklyn tried to plow through the boxes that had been stored in the garage for close to a decade. She’d been halfway through the appointed task when Esther called.
Sorting through the things John and Marie Hallston had chosen to save was proving to be more time consuming than expected. With almost every item, Brooklyn had to wonder if it was something she should save for Alycia because it had belonged to the grandparents she would never know.
She wondered now if her dad had saved anything that once belonged to his own parents. If so, she’d never seen a sign of it. No surprise there. Her dad wasn’t sentimental in the slightest. He’d never displayed anything of Brooklyn’s on their refrigerator. Her drawings and report cards and other achievements had gone straight into the trash with hardly an acknowledgment.
A sigh escaped her. Not sad. Simply resigned. And perhaps for the first time, she felt a stab of pity for the man who seemed encased in emotional ice. How very sad it had to be to be him. And how grateful she was not to have become like him.
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