Her Country Heart

by Reggi Allder

  He drove the pick-up truck into the driveway and turned off the engine. Guilt raked him. He should’ve called Amy today. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it or to sit through Thanksgiving dinner pretending everything was fine.

  Not until he talked to Amy in private and straightened things out between them could he relax.

  Why was the holiday a big deal anyway? It had been just another work day for his mother, a waitress. So as a kid, he’d never paid attention to the day. After her death, there didn’t seem to be a reason to celebrate.

  But to Amy it was major. She’d called it the second most important holiday in the year, with only Christmas more significant. Shit. He should have phoned her.

  He jumped out of the truck. Pain shot down his back. Yesterday he’d been thrown from a horse, his fault for not keeping his mind focused on his day job. With a grimace, he limped toward the house, his head down against the stinging rain.

  At the front door he stomped the water from his boots, cringed as pain radiated up his back He shook the rain drops from his hair and punched the door bell.

  About to ring the bell again, the door flew open. Amy stood guarding the entry. Her strawberry blonde hair lay over her shoulders, messy, curly, sexy, just the way he liked it. The nightgown she wore hugged her curves and accented her breasts making his hands tingle with the desire to caress them. But fire flared in her eyes and anger warned him not to touch.

  It was not going to be easy telling her the things she needed to know. He took a deep breath. “It’s kind of wet out here. You going to let me in?” He smiled.

  She stood her ground at the door. “It’s late.”

  Just then lightening lit the sky and thunder boomed.

  “We have to talk.” He pushed past her, twisting his back as he did. He sucked in a groan.

  “What wrong? What’s happened to you?” She quickly shut the door behind them.

  “Nothing. It’s just a back spasm. I’m getting too old to keep being thrown off a horse.” He laughed without humor and entered the living room.

  “You’re only twenty-nine.”

  “Thirty in December. I started when I was sixteen. That’s a lot of years for any man to be bucked off a horse.”

  He put his arm around her, pulled her to him and breathed in her vanilla scented perfume. “You’re beautiful and you smell good too.”

  “Don’t.” She pulled away. “Have you been drinking?”

  “No. Look, I should’ve been here today. I had a decision to make. I didn’t feel I could come here again until I’d made it.”

  She stared at him anger blazing in her eyes. “Bobby waited for you.”

  He looked away. Had she been waiting too? He exhaled loudly. “Whatever I tell you now, I care about you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “As executor of Granny’s will I’m charged to do what she wanted. That might not be what you want. But I have to execute Granny’s wishes as stated to me verbally and in her last will and testament.”

  “I don’t get it?” She crossed her arms.

  “My back is killing me. I need to sit down?”

  “Sit.”

  He sat stiffly in a straight back chair near the fireplace. “Amy, I admit the apple sale and pumpkin patch went better than I thought it would. But it can’t sustain you and Bobby. It doesn’t guarantee your future.” He adjusted his position hoping to find relief from the backache.

  “To run the farm successfully, this place needs a new irrigation equipment and young trees for the orchards to replace an aging stand. The barn is rundown and will need remodeling to accommodate new equipment. The Christmas trees need reseeding.” He took a breath.

  Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened.

  When she didn’t speak, he stood in front of the fireplace and wondered how to continue. He shivered. A hot cup hot coffee would be welcome, but it didn’t look like he was going to be offered anything, except the door.

  “Amy, you were a kid when you first saw Granny’s farmhouse and you still see it with eyes of a child. But the roof is in bad shape. I wonder if it will last another winter. Not only that, I checked the basement and there are signs of termites. Some of the wooden studs and flooring will need to be replaced soon. I haven’t checked everything out, but it stands to reason the years without maintenance have damaged the place.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I should have told you all this at the courthouse on the first day. But you were so sad, so vulnerable—I just couldn’t add to your grief. By not telling you the problems, in detail, I gave you false hope. That was a mistake. I know that now.”

  “Why are you bringing this up?”

  He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Before Granny died she put out feelers, hoping for a quick sale of the farm.”

  “What?”

  “Yesterday a real estate agent sent me an offer for the farm, house and land. It’s an excellent offer considering today’s economy and the condition of the land and buildings.”

  “I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “The farm has been for sale the whole time I’ve been here and you didn’t think to tell me? I knew you had realtors look at it, but you never said it was actually on the market.”

  He watched her push a wayward strand of hair back from her face and stare at him. Anger flashed in her hazel eyes.

  Only the sound of the rain, pounding on the roof, interrupted the lengthening silence.

  Finally she said, “Why did they send the offer to you? I’m Granny’s granddaughter. It should’ve come to me.”

  “I’m the executor.” As well as half owner. He moved away from the fireplace. “It’s a good offer. An agriculture conglomerate wants the land. They have a processing plant in Sacramento and Granny’s property is in the perfect spot for one of their farms. In this market I didn’t expect the farm to sell, not with the downturn in the market and with a flood of new properties coming on up for sale every week.

  “This is an organic farm. Always has been. Is the conglomerate organic?”

  “Uh—no.”

  “So they’ll spray pesticide, destroy our orchards and plant their own non-organic trees.

  He hesitated, not wanting to anger her more.

  “They don’t produce organic, but will they fix and use the house and barn?”

  “To make it worth their while, the house and all the out buildings, including the cottage will have to be knocked down to make room for more apple orchards.”

  She gasped.

  “It’s a trade off to make your future financially stable. With the money from the sale, you could take care of Bobby’s medical needs without worrying about how to pay for the insurance and doctors. Even with the outrageous real estate prices in San Francisco, you might have enough for a down payment on a small condo or you could buy in Sacramento if you wanted to.”

  She glared at him, an expression of disbelief on her pretty face. Then as if he’d knocked the breath out of her, she slumped to the sofa and put her hands to her face. He thought he heard a sob, but with the storm, he couldn’t be sure if it was her or the wind.

  The information seemed to deflate her. The determined spark of life he’d seen and admired in her, since she arrived, was gone.

  He grunted. The day in the pumpkin patch, he’d noticed joy in her expression and the memory sent a pang of guilt running through him.

  “Hell. Amy, I didn’t want the position of executor for Granny’s will? But she asked and I promised. I’m just a damned cowboy. I don’t want to run people’s lives. That’s never been my goal.” He stopped and took a slow breath. “I’ve never broken a promise. Yesterday I called Judge Wilcox. He told me to follow the dictates and the spirit of the law and do whatever Granny wanted. How I feel has nothing to do with what I’m doing now. It’s my job as executor.”

  “Even if I don’t want to sell?”

  “Granny wanted to the place on the market. She was clear about that. Your gr
andmother said she knew you better than anyone else in the world. As a kid all you talked about was living in the city. Not a life on the farm. She understood the heartbreak and struggle farming brings.” He moved closer to her and she shrank from him.

  “Amy, Granny loved you and thought this was best.” Wyatt spit out stale air. His argument had come full circle.

  “Why did you let me think I could stay here? Why help me build the maze? Or let me have my friends make their crafts to sell on the farm? You could have told me about the sale when I opened the pumpkin patch—or when I was in your bed.” She hissed. “Why not tell me then?”

  Before he could answer she said, “You tricked Granny, an old woman who needed your help, and got her to sign half the property over to you. Now you want your money out of the deal.”

  She trembled. “You’ve waited long enough and now you need your profit. You’re a money-grubbing, uh—I can’t think of a word bad enough to describe you.” She gasped. “Bobby. How can I tell him? What can I say? He loves you and the farm.” Her hand flew to her mouth.

  He reached for her. “Amy, try to understand what…”

  “Stop.” She yanked her hand from him. “I don’t want to hear any more. I feel sick when I think I let you touch me. Sicker when I think how losing the farm is going to rip Bobby apart. He thinks it belongs to him. He won’t understand. He’s already been betrayed by his father and now you’ve betrayed him.”

  “That’s not fair. You know I care about Bobby. The money is for him. It gives him a chance for financial security.”

  “All you care about is money. That’s all you talk about. There’s more to life than cash. How about the love of family, or peace of mind? Or doing something important for your community? Or—”Her eyes blazed. “There must be a way to reach you. Wyatt, don’t you understand? I can pass on the tradition of family farming and good values to Bobby? Something on this earth will belong to him, be his alone.”

  At that moment, he realized he loved her, knew he always would. But a quick glance at her expression told him she’d never believe him if he told her now.

  “Wyatt, you piss me off. You hold riches way too close, so close you can’t see the value of anything else.” She glared at him. “Why don’t you answer?”

  “How’s Bobby’s going to get along without cash?” He slammed his hand on the coffee table. “How is he going get the medical care he needs?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again.

  “If you want to talk about peace of mind, how about medical insurance for Bobby and a savings account for his college? That would give you big-time peace of mind.” He held out his hands and rubbed his fingers together. “Money, a broken down farm needs it, whether you want to admit or not.”

  He paced in front of the fireplace. “There’s no happiness when you can’t pay the bills. I sure know that. I grew up hand to mouth never knowing where I was going to sleep or if I’d have dinner at night. I’d think you’d want more than that for your son. I shouldn’t have to tell you he needs financial security.”

  “Stop.” She held up her hand. “No more. I can’t stand to hear anymore. Just leave.”

  “I’ll send you the offer. You can look it over.”

  “Do whatever you want. I’ll never sign the papers. You can’t make me.” She got up and walked to the front door. “Go. And remember I still own half of this place. If I have to get a second job to buy you out, I will. Now get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.”

  Her words hit like a punch to his gut. He reached for her hand. “Amy, don’t say something you’ll regret. This isn’t about us and how we feel about each other. You have to understand that. Don’t confuse the issue.” I still—“

  She yanked out of his grasp. “Get the hell out of my house.”

  He hesitated. But seeing her rage, he walked out the front door slamming it behind him.

  CHAPTER 28

  Amy jumped when the front door banged shut with such power the windows of the old farmhouse rattled so hard she thought they’d shatter. They didn’t, but without Wyatt, she’d never be put her heart back together.

  “Damn him.”

  Upstairs, she couldn’t sleep. The memory of Wyatt’s gentle touch and demanding kiss taunted her. She yearned for the feel of him pressing against her, holding her, and taking her to heights she’d never before experienced. Tormented, she stared into the darkness.

  ***

  Early Friday morning the rain finally stopped and the sun returned.

  Did Wyatt sleep on the farm last night? Amy pulled the lace curtain back from the bedroom window and looked out to the cottage.

  If she were honest with herself, she’d admit wanting him even now. Since the time she saw his smiling face that first day in high school she been attracted to him. Even then, she’d been warned away from him by her grandmother. “Wyatt is a wild kid. The town’s folk say he’ll come to no good. I hope they’re wrong, but stay away from him,” Granny had said.

  If Amy had listened she wouldn’t be aching for his touch, desiring to be held in his arms and longing to be told he loved her. You’re a fool.

  A door opened and Wyatt, in a navy business suit and wearing a white dress shirt and a blue tie, stood on the cottage porch. She’d never seen him dressed in anything but casual shirts and jeans. He radiated power and was devastatingly handsome, the jerk.

  He tossed a huge duffel bag in the back of his truck and drove away. Where was he going? Was he moving out? Or was he meeting with the realtor, to sell the farm? Could she stop him?

  The dream of a relationship with him was over. She moaned. What she really needed now was a job to help her get money to keep the farm running and buy Wyatt out. It would take years to pay him, but if she could convince him to let her make payments… There had to be someplace in town that needed part time help.

  She hadn’t worn her gray wool suit with its two button jacket and pencil slim skirt since she lost her job at the bank. Her black leather pumps still fit, though they weren’t as comfortable as she remembered.

  She blinked to moisten her contact lens and then brushed her hair and twisted it into a tight bun at the back of her neck. She glanced in the mirror that hung over the dresser. A serious looking business woman stared back at her. Would it be enough to convince someone to give her a job?

  Downstairs in the kitchen, she saw Bobby sitting at the table. “Finish breakfast, big guy. You’ll be late for school.”

  “It’s Thanksgiving vacation. I don’t have school.” He smiled, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

  She resisted telling him not to talk with his mouth full. “Honey, you’re going to stay at Vanna’s school for a few hours today. Okay?”

  “It’s fun.”

  At the daycare center, she gave him a kiss and watched as he happily ran to the school’s front door. He threw her a kiss just before he entered the building. Her heart squeezed. She’d do whatever was necessary to keep the farm for him.

  A headache pounded over her right eye. She’d walked the main street and talked to every store owner in town. Hope there might be a job faded. The owners all said the same thing, “Business is slow. We just don’t need any help right now.” Though people were nice and promised to let her know if anything opened up, she saw in their eyes they wouldn’t call. Disappointed, she’d entered the Volvo and sat and stared out the windshield to the main street. She’d been sure there’d be a job for her.

  With a deep breath to calm her nerves, she drove into a parking space in the grocery store parking lot. If Mike, as manager of the store, didn’t give her a job she was lost.

  She smoothed her skirt, tucked a stray hair back into her bun, and entered the building.

  He hadn’t talked to her since their disastrous night out. She’d probably be the last person he’d want to see. But as the manager of the biggest retail outlet in town, he was more likely to have a position, part time or otherwise.

  Heat flushed her cheeks when
she thought of the night at the restaurant when Wes had called her a slut in front of everyone, much to Mike’s shock.

  She couldn’t blame Mike for not calling her again. And that night sure didn’t help her social standing in Sierra Creek. Of course he could have taken the view that it was Wes who was in the wrong, but he didn’t. Oh well, all she needed from Mike was a job. He didn’t even have to talk to her while she was working if he didn’t want to.

  A middle aged woman at the first cashier’s stand smiled.

  Amy grinned back. “Hi. I was wondering if there are any job openings at the store.”

  The woman thought for a moment her forehead wrinkling as she did. “Nothing full time, but we got a couple of part time jobs.”

  “That’s perfect. Is Mike here today?”

  “Let me check for you, honey.”

  The woman pressed the button of the intercom and called the office. “There’s a lady here wants to see Mike.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Amy heard Mike’s voice.

  “Amy Long.” Amy said loudly, so he could hear her.

  “Ask what she wants,” he said gruffly.

  “Here honey, why don’t you talk to him?” The woman allowed Amy to speak into the microphone.

  “Hi Mike. It’s Amy. I thought I could talk to you for just a moment.”

  “The store’s busy. I don’t have time for this.”

  She glanced around and saw the store seemed unusually quiet, but she didn’t contradict him. He might be busy in the office even though the store seemed slow. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

  “Cut to the chase Amy. I don’t have all day.”

  The woman in the check stand cringed, but didn’t speak.

  Amy flushed, but reminded herself any embarrassment was worth it if she could get a job and be able to buy the farm.

  “I’m looking for a job. I’ve got experience in retail and as a cashier and a part time job would be fine.”

  There was just the slightest hesitation and then he said, “Got nothing. No openings right now. You can go on the internet and fill out an application if you want. But I wouldn’t expect there’d be any openings in this part of California.”