by Terri Osburn
Unwilling to chance it, she searched for an escape. “I’ll go through the window,” she said, sliding the back glass to one side.
“Are you craz—” Noah started, but Carrie was already through to her hips. At which point, she got stuck.
“Open the window more,” she yelled.
Noah had the nerve to laugh. “That’s all the farther it goes, babe. I tried to tell you.”
Too angry to be mortified, she said, “Then climb up here and pull me through.”
“Just scoot back into the cab and I’ll get you.”
Balancing with her hands in the truck bed, Carrie yelled over her shoulder. “I’m not getting down there with the snakes.”
“All right then,” he said, amusement in every word. “You asked for it.”
Instead of climbing into the truck bed to pull her through, Noah shoved her from behind, remembering at the last moment to grab her ankles before she could land on her head. With what little dignity she had left, Carrie crawled forward on her hands until her toes touched down in the truck bed.
Peering through the window, he said, “That would have been a lot easier my way.”
Carrie clapped the dirt off her hands, refusing to meet his eye. “I told you. I don’t like snakes.”
Noah exited the truck, closing the door and then jumping over the side with the blanket. “Scoot over so I can spread this out.”
As if the blanket mattered now that her dress had dusted the bottom of the bed. She took a seat on the tire well, examining the ground behind her. “Can they climb up here?”
“Snakes can go anywhere they want,” he said, straightening out the last corner.
Wrong answer.
Carrie jumped to her feet, hopping into the middle of the blanket. “I want to go home.”
Pulling her against him, Noah said, “You are home.”
“What?”
He pointed over the ridge, to the left of the big willow. “The farmhouse is seventy acres that way.”
“Oh.” Surveying the area, she said, “That’s the tree I can see out my back window.”
“That’s the one. My great-great-grandfather planted it in 1928. That part of the farm would turn into a marsh every time it rained, so he planted the willow to soak up the water.”
She hadn’t realized the farm had been in his family for so long. “How many acres do you have?”
“About one sixty, give or take.” He shrugged, staring out over the field. “The back forty got sold off years ago. It’s perfect pasture land, so it’s good for cows and horses. Seemed a shame for it to go to waste.”
While Noah watched the willow sway in the wind, Carrie watched him. She could see the pride in his eyes. Feel his body relax against her.
“You love this place,” she said.
His lashes lowered as he looked down. “I thought that coming back here, to the farm, would quiet the voices. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.”
“They might fade in time.”
“They might,” he agreed, but looked doubtful. “This is where Granddaddy taught Zeke and me how to fish. We spent entire summers on these banks, getting burned to a crisp, eaten up with chiggers, and dodging copperheads.” Carrie shivered at the reminder that they weren’t alone. “I should have left off that last one.” Shifting her backward, he said, “Time to have a seat.”
Carrie remained obstinate. “I don’t know.”
Noah settled below the window and pulled her onto his lap. “I can protect you better from down here.” When he wrapped his arms around her, letting her head rest on his shoulder, Carrie gave up the fight. “There now. Isn’t that better?”
She nodded, taking in the view. “You’re right,” she said. “This is beautiful.”
“The second-prettiest thing I’ve seen today.”
A breeze kicked up, but she stayed warm, surrounded by his body heat. “Thanks for going to the wedding with me.”
“Thanks for ditching your date and taking me instead.”
Cringing, she said, “I still feel bad about that.”
Noah squeezed her tighter. “I don’t. Fancy Pants can get his own girl. This one’s mine.”
Too emotional to respond, Carrie nestled into his arms and enjoyed the brilliant work of art forming on the horizon.
Chapter 16
Noah had taken up the habit of making grocery runs on Sunday mornings after realizing that church services meant empty aisles and no lines. The day after the wedding, as he carried a case of soda, lunch meat, bread, and a gallon of milk to his car, a flier caught his eye on the bulletin board near the exit, and an idea brewed to life. He ripped a slip from the bottom that included a contact phone number with the plan of calling from his truck. Before he could make that happen, his cell rang in his back pocket, requiring him to hurl the Coke and plastic bags into the truck bed to free up his hands.
The ID showed his mother’s number. He hadn’t called her in weeks.
“Well, hell,” he said before answering. “Hey, Ma.”
“So you do remember you have a mother.” Sarcasm was his mother’s first language.
“Yeah. Been busy.”
“I would say, ‘Too busy for your mother?’ but then I’d sound like an old nag. And speaking of old, you do remember what’s coming up this week, don’t you?”
Noah leaned his back against the truck. “It’s your birthday, Ma.”
“And you haven’t been home for my birthday in more years than I can count,” she said, as if Noah didn’t remember spending five years in hell. “Because I clearly need a reason to get you over here, I’m throwing a little get-together on Saturday. And before you tactlessly point it out, yes, I’m throwing my own birthday party. The only gift I want is you sitting beside me while I blow out my candles. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, Ma. I’ll be there.”
“Good. Now I hear you attended the Pratchett/Boyd wedding last weekend.” How had he forgotten the gossip lines in this town? “Rumor has it you were with Patch’s wife. Is that true?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Noah suppressed an expletive. “It’s true.”
“Was that doing a kindness for an old friend’s widow or something else?”
Lying would be pointless. “Something else,” he said.
A weighted pause hung on the line. “Then you need to bring her to the party.”
“Ma, there’s—”
“Three o’clock. Don’t be late. Love you, buddy.”
The line went dead, and Noah stared at the phone in his hand. How had he not seen that one coming? At the risk of pissing off dear old mother, he’d ask Carrie if she wanted to attend the party, but if she said no, which any intelligent person would, he’d show up alone and deal with the consequences. A force of nature with a generous heart and a no-bullshit attitude, Lydia Winchester could intimidate a four-star general without breaking a sweat. Carrie wouldn’t stand a chance if Ma decided she wasn’t the girl for his boy.
Not that Noah needed or cared about his mother’s approval. She’d rarely liked his previous choices, but that had never stopped him from doing whatever the hell he pleased.
Climbing behind the wheel, he dragged the wadded-up slip of paper from his pocket and dialed the number. When a woman answered, he explained where he’d seen the flier and asked if the item was still for sale. A minute later, he had an address and a plan to put into motion.
“Hey, Carrie,” said Dale, catching her in the fellowship hall contemplating the doughnut selections. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course,” she said, nervous about his intentions but aware that she owed him at least a real conversation. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Sure.” He seemed surprised by the offer, but led the way to a back table and pulled a chair out for her. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Carrie tucked her dress under her legs as she sat. When Dale took the seat next to her, she said, “I want to apologize for how I handled things ye
sterday. I’m surprised you’re willing to talk to me at all after the way I treated you.”
With a self-effacing shrug, he said, “You aren’t the first woman to dump me, Carrie. The first to bolt from my car at a sprint, but not the first to dump me.”
“I must have looked like a crazy person.”
“Just crazy in love.” A genuine smile softened his face. “Noah Winchester is a lucky guy. And not that I don’t see the obvious differences between us, but I thought you might tell me what went wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“In the end, I’d like to think that we’re still friends, right?”
If he didn’t hate her, she saw no reason that couldn’t be true. “I hope so.”
“Then as a friend, tell me where I messed up. Was there something I did or didn’t do? At the risk of sounding pathetic, you’re the fifth woman to break up with me in less than three years. I could continue on my clueless way, but I’ve decided to look at things from a more scientific angle. Gathering data, I guess you can say.”
Carrie looked around for a hidden camera. “Are you serious?”
Dale leaned forward in his chair. “Mya is the only other female friend I trust, and she says there’s nothing wrong with me. That it’s the women I choose.”
Trying not to be offended, she said, “I’m not sure it’s all one side or the other. Sometimes two people just aren’t right for each other.”
“Five, Carrie. And the common denominator is me.”
Choosing her words carefully, she toyed with the hem of her dress. “I don’t have any idea why the other four women didn’t work out, but I’ve thought a bit about why I couldn’t seem to find a spark between us, and it really has nothing to do with you as a person, Dale. You’re kind and sweet, and you’re going to make the right girl very happy someday.”
“But?” he said.
She glanced around to ensure no one would overhear. “The years I was with Patch, when neighbors would call the police, you were often the first one to show up.”
“I was doing my job.”
“And you were great. But you watched me make excuses while dabbing at a bloody lip. You witnessed the most humiliating moments of my life, and though you’ve never treated me with anything less than respect, the truth is, you know too much. I can’t be a different me with you. I can’t be a new version because you know the real story. You know the weak woman who stayed with a monster.”
Dale balanced his elbows on his knees. “You talk about it as if you were the monster. You weren’t weak, and you weren’t to blame for anything that happened to you. I see it all the time. The excuses, the hidden shame, when the jerk throwing the punches is the one with something to be ashamed of.”
Needing him to understand, she said, “Right or not, I carry that shame to this day. It’s the ugliest thing about me, and you know it better than anyone else. That’s what went wrong. Our history got in the way. And I’m sorry for that, because you really are a good man, Dale.”
Leaning back with a sigh, he shook his head. “I should be relieved to know it wasn’t anything I did, but this doesn’t help me figure out the other four dumpings.”
“You could call them up and ask them,” she offered with a smile.
“I don’t like any of them as much as I like you.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “I hope this Noah guy knows what he has. And if he ever gets out of line, call me. He’s bigger, but I can bring backup.”
Carrie laughed as a weight lifted off her heart. “Can I give you a little advice?” she asked.
“I’m all ears.”
“Sometimes when you look too hard for something, you don’t realize that it’s right under your nose.”
Dale narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a riddle.”
“Just think about it,” she said.
Noah hadn’t thought his plan through very well. When he arrived at the given address, the lady had taken his money and directed him to the backyard before closing the door in his face. Which meant he’d had to disassemble the thing himself and carry the pieces around to the truck, while attempting to memorize how to put them back together. Not sure he’d be able to finish the task before Carrie and Molly returned from church, he’d sent her a text suggesting she take her time, and, whatever she did, not to look into her backyard before Noah gave the okay.
By sheer will, or possibly a Sunday miracle, he’d screwed the last piece into place minutes before Carrie’s car pulled into the drive.
“Molly fell asleep in the baby room, so I let her finish the nap before coming home,” she said. “What in the world are you doing in my backyard?” Midway through unbuckling the child’s car seat, she popped out of the car and lowered her voice. “Please tell me you didn’t get her a pony.”
“No,” he said. “We’ll wait another year for that.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “You’re crazy.”
As soon as she lifted Molly from the seat, the baby reached for Noah, and as had become routine, he lifted her right up to his shoulders. “I’ve got an early birthday present for you, princess.”
“Her birthday is two months away,” Carrie reminded him, dropping the diaper bag on the bottom porch step before following him around the trailer. “We hardly ever go back here.”
“Watch for snakes,” Noah said, picking up his pace.
“Not funny!” she yelled. And then she stopped beside him, seeing what he’d done. “Oh my gosh. Noah. You got her a swing set.”
“It’s a starter,” he explained. “We’ll upgrade to one of those fancy wooden ones eventually, but for now this little plastic one will get her started.”
Molly kicked her feet. “Dow dow dow.”
“I’ll put you down.” Noah set her at the top of the blue slide and kept his hands close as she made her way to the ground, catching her before she got grass stains on her church clothes. “Let’s put you in a swing where you can’t get so dirty.” Used to being slotted into the walker, Molly straightened her legs and dropped into the special seat with no issues. “There you go,” he said, pushing her into motion.
To his surprise, Carrie remained at the corner of the house.
“What’s wrong?” he called.
She shook her head, staring at the giant toy.
Well, hellfire. Now he’d really screwed up. “I can take it back down,” he said, attempting to pry Molly out of the swing.
“No,” Carrie said, stepping close enough for him to see the tears. “It’s perfect.”
“If it’s perfect, why are you crying?” he asked.
“I just . . .” she started. “This is . . .” Running her hand along the edge of the slide, she said, “It’s silly, but I resigned myself to knowing that I couldn’t do stuff like this for her. That she’d have to go without a lot of the things that other kids get. But now she has this, and it’s beautiful. And you did it for her.”
Understanding the sentiment, Noah said, “I did it for both of you.” When she swiped at a tear, he added, “I’m serious. Get your ass on that slide and show her how it’s done.”
Carrie laughed, as he’d intended, and then grabbed Molly’s toes when she swung forward. “You won’t care about any other birthday presents after this one.”
“Speaking of birthdays,” he said, ready to get the asking over with. “My mom’s is coming up this week. She’s having a little party on Saturday, and I thought you might want to go.” Quickly, he added, “You don’t have to. My mom is kind of, well . . .” How to say this nicely? “She can be overwhelming when you don’t know her.” She could be overwhelming when you did know her, but Noah kept that fact to himself.
“Oh, um . . .” Carrie hedged.
“Forget about it. I’ll go alone.”
“I just don’t know if I can get a babysitter.”
“Why would you need a babysitter?”
“Because I have a baby?”
Noah gave Molly another push. “We’ll take her with us.”
“We
will?”
“It’s a family gathering at three in the afternoon. My mom doesn’t let anyone smoke in her house, and she’d probably make us come back and get her if we didn’t bring Molly.”
“Oh.” Carrie hugged her denim jacket tight over her chest. “Meeting the family, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You okay with that.”
“Nervous,” she replied. “I’m not going to lie. But sure. I’m okay with it.”
“Good,” Noah said, tweaking Molly’s nose as she passed him. “Good.”
“Of all times for Lorelei to be out of town,” Carrie said, examining the bakery options behind the glass.
“Yes,” Haleigh said. “How dare she go on a honeymoon.”
“You don’t have to make me feel any stupider for saying that. But still. I’m meeting Noah’s mother. I need Lorelei’s cupcakes.” Motioning toward the display, she said, “These might as well be sawdust next to hers.”
Smiling at the woman behind the counter, Haleigh said, “She means that in the nicest way,” before dragging Carrie down to the bread display. “I told you to ask Rosie. Where do you think Lorelei got all those recipes?”
“If I do that, I have to tell her why I need them, and we both know how that would go. She’d have a wedding announcement in the paper within a week.”
“Lorelei does come by her hopeless romantic streak honestly. Though she’d never admit to having one at all.”
Carrie checked her shopping list. “She might now that she’s officially settled into her happily ever after.”
“That really doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“I need bananas,” she replied, turning her buggy. “Not at all. If anything, it’s a relief. She always should have been his wife.”
Haleigh sidestepped a runaway toddler. “That’s very mature of you.”
“I spent a lot of years being immature about that situation. Didn’t make me or Spencer very happy.”
“And now look at you. He’s blissfully married to the love of his life, and you’re about to meet a potential mother-in-law.”
Anxiety braided up her spine. “Don’t call her that.”
