by Vivi Holt
She’d always felt the things her Mother described as well – the desire to belong, to be known and loved, to make a difference, for her life to have some kind of meaning. All this time, her own mother shared those feelings … and she’d never realized that. Not fully.
It made sense that there was more to existence than what most people believed. How could all people share a common longing, a common need like that, if we came from nothing as she’d been taught her whole life? It didn’t make sense. And yet … a mysterious, intelligent Creator – how could that make sense?
She screamed inwardly at the crossroads. Which way was truth? Which direction made more sense? Perhaps Baker could help her – maybe he could explain it in a way that she could process. If he’d even talk to her after the way she’d treated him at the cafe. She put a hand over her eyes and groaned. She’d behaved like a child. It wasn’t likely he’d want to see her again, or at least not soon.
She sat up again and let the book fall open to the place she’d marked. The next entry was about a visit to the Hiltons for afternoon tea. Hubert and Martha Hilton were longtime friends of her parents and neighbours for thirty-odd years. Her mother noted that Sam had returned from the city to live with his folks due to Hubert’s failing health – he would run the farm and live in the detached unit on the property so his parents could retire. She’d been correct in her assumption – Sam had taken over the property.
Her mother expressed some concern that she didn’t believe Sam shared the community’s commitment to organic farming. Isabella remembered her father mentioning something months ago about a conflicting point of view with a neighbour, but at the time it hadn’t meant much to her.
She stuck a bookmark between the pages and stood, stretching her arms over her head and yawning widely. Time for a shower. Then she would muster up her courage and go see Baker. Maybe if she apologized, he’d at least hear her out.
But it wasn’t spiritual guidance she was looking for. She wanted to discover if he knew anything about Sam and the spray she’d seen him using on his crops. If he’d broken the agreement that existed between all the area farms to only use organic products, that could be what was affecting her bees. But she couldn’t accuse him of something like that without proof.
As Rose, perched on top of a small wooden chair, stirred the cake batter in the bowl, some flew over the side and splattered on the countertop.
“Whoa there!” exclaimed Baker, hurrying to Rose’s side. “Careful, sweetheart, you have to hold the side of the bowl – like this.” He grabbed hold of the rim of the bowl and Rose copied the gesture. “That’s the way.”
Abigail, standing beside Rose, stuck a finger in the spilled batter and scooped it into her mouth with a grin. “Yum.”
“Hey!” complained Rose, waving her away. “Don’t eat it yet – it’s not finished.”
“I can,” objected Abi, wrinkling her nose. “You’re not in charge of me.”
“Okay, okay, no fighting, please.” Baker ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. The girls had been at each other’s throats all day. Sundays were often like that – his work didn’t end when the church service did. He had school uniforms to wash and school bags to pack, and the girls helped him bake something for their lunch boxes for the week. They were all tired and arguments often broke out more than any other day.
A knock at the door interrupted them, and Baker wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You girls keep mixing, I’ll be right back.”
“It’s my turn.”
“No, it’s still my turn. I haven’t finished yet …”
He took a deep breath as their high-pitched voices followed him down the hall to the front door. When he opened it, he found Isabella standing there, and his heart jumped at the unexpected sight. “Issie, how nice to see you – come on in.”
She inched over the threshold, twisting her hands together in front of her. He longed to reach out and touch her, to run his hands down the sides of her arms and pull her close – she looked so alone and uncomfortable. But the last time he’d seen her, she’d made it pretty clear she didn’t want that from him.
“Is everything okay?” asked Baker as he shut the door behind her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting …” She was fidgeting, but her eyes were bright.
“No, not at all. The girls and I are just baking some chocolate cupcakes for their lunchboxes. But I’d better get back in there before there’s a food fight.” He chuckled and rubbed his chin.
She nodded, then tentatively smiled. “That sounds delicious. Actually, I just wanted to say something first, if that’s okay.”
He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Sure. What is it?”
Her eyes focused on the ground, then drifted back up to his face. “I wanted to apologize.”
“It’s fine –”
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was just upset and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.” She frowned and her cheeks flushed pink.
“Please, don’t worry about it. I’ve forgotten it already.” He smiled. “Want to lick the spatula? You may have to fight Abi for it, but I could probably make it happen if you want.”
She chuckled. “I couldn’t take it from sweet little Abi.”
He led her to the kitchen, where the girls were tugging back and forth on the empty bowl, and arguing over whose turn it was to scrape it. “Dad, Rose licked the bowl last time – it’s my turn!” whined Abi, pulling even harder on the edge of the bowl and almost toppling her sister off the chair.
Baker intervened and soon had both girls licking their share of cake batter in satisfaction. As he put the cupcake pans into the oven, he glanced up to see Isabella wandering out onto the porch. He closed the oven door and followed her outside.
“Your home is beautiful,” she exclaimed, hugging her thin frame.
He smiled. “Thanks. We love it.” He sat down on an outdoor sofa and patted the cushion beside him.
Isabella lowered herself onto it with a sigh. “It’s so nice out here. You’ve got an amazing view.”
Baker admired the subtropical rainforest that clothed the mountainside only a few hundred feet from his back porch. On either side, green fields sloped down toward the valley where Isabella’s house sat, low on a rolling hillside. “Yeah, it is pretty special.”
“Did you build this place yourself?”
“We built it a couple of years ago, right after we moved back here from Brisbane.”
“After … your wife died?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “Yep.”
She fingered the wicker arm of the chair. “Is that why you came back?”
“There was nothing left for us in Brisbane. I tried to go back to work, but it was all empty. I was so lost. We came back here and built this place. I decided to study theology online, and when the position opened up at the church I applied. I never thought I’d get it. But it just kind of happened and now I couldn’t be happier.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What did you do before?”
“I was in finance.”
She contemplated his words in silence for a moment. “I found my mother’s journals today.”
He raised an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on her face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about. I noticed our neighbour Sam Hilton spraying his crops when I was driving to town a few weeks ago. Do you know what he’s spraying with?”
He shook his head. “Why?”
“It’s probably nothing, but the farmers in the area signed an agreement about ten years ago, that they’d all go organic – no pesticides or chemicals of any kind can be used on the properties. Sam wasn’t around when they made the agreement …”
“And you’re wondering if he’s broken it?”
She nodded, squinting against the afternoon sun. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on with the bees. The hives are located right next to the field he was spraying – there’s only a few
feet of grass and a creek between them. If he’s using something toxic, maybe it’s having an impact on the hives.”
“Maybe,” he nodded in agreement. “I guess you’ll have to ask him.”
She chewed her bottom lip absently. “And … I wanted to ask you about God.” She froze for a second, as if she hadn’t been planning to say that.
“Oh?”
“Mum wrote in her journal that she found meaning through her faith. Is that what it’s like for you?”
He drew in a slow breath. “It is.”
“Did you always believe?”
“As long as I can remember. I was a Christian in high school, you know that. But when I went off to university, I stopped attending church and spent less time with God. Then life got really busy after I was married and the babies came. When my wife died, though, I cried out to God and He answered me. It was only because of Him that I was able to work through my grief and continue to be the father the girls needed.” He paused and leaned his elbows on his knees, gazing out over the pasture as he spoke.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
He looked down in surprise at her touch, then wrapped his other hand over hers. When he glanced up again, tears shimmered in her blue eyes. “Issie …” His heart leaped and his skin tingled.
“I shouldn’t have said the things I did …”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” He lifted her hand and softly kissed it.
“But it’s true, isn’t it? We don’t have anything in common. I mean, in high school, you looked down on me, and …”
He tipped his head to one side. “What? What do you mean I looked down on you?”
“You know, because you were so good. And I … wasn’t. I remember the way you watched me.” She tugged her hand from his and brushed a tear from her cheek.
He linked his hands together and rested his chin on them. “I don’t know what you mean. I never looked down on you. If I was watching you, it was because I had a gigantic crush on you.”
She blinked and swiped at another tear, her eyes growing redder by the second. “What?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. I was so in love with you back then. I’m sure you saw me stalking you at all your volleyball games.”
She laughed and rubbed her eyes with a sniffle. “You were stalking me?!”
He stood and walked to the kitchen, retrieved a box of tissues and set it on the table beside her, then resumed his seat.
She pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose into it, making a great honking sound. “So how about now?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
He laughed, then reached for her hand, cupping it lovingly between his. “Now I’m even more in love with you than ever.”
She gasped and frowned at him.
He leaned forward, letting the scent of her drift over him. He’d wanted her for as long as he could remember, and all those feelings of teenage desire flooded him. She was so beautiful, so real. She’d never pretended to be someone she wasn’t – she was genuine and kind, yet complicated and mysterious all at the same time. He knew her so well, yet felt as though there was so much more to learn.
As his lips found hers, a spark shot through him and his heart thundered so loud he was certain she heard it. He cradled her cheeks between his palms. She didn’t pull away as he thought she might, but threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer still.
“Daddy?”
Isabella jerked away, pressing her fingertips to her mouth, her cheeks flaming.
Baker stood and spun to face the voice. “Yes?”
Rose grinned, gap-toothed and blushing herself. “I think the cupcakes are ready.”
8
19 December
The phone ringing woke Isabella. She glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed – 8:59. She’d been sleeping later and later in the weeks since the funeral. She really should get her life back onto some kind of schedule.
She stumbled out into the kitchen and picked up the handset, then paused. What if it was Simon? Her parents had rarely embraced technology, so there was no caller ID on their old-fashioned cordless telephone. She frowned – Simon hadn’t called in at least a week. He seemed to have given up after she left a 2 a.m. message on his cell phone saying that she had no intention of returning to the city and he should stop calling her.
She pressed the button and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Isabella?” A man’s voice.
“Yes. Who am I speaking to?” She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. She expected it was a telemarketer – they never seemed to give up.
“This is Sam Hilton from next door. How are you holding up?”
“Sam, what a pleasant surprise. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to catch up since I got back. I hear you’ve moved back in with your folks, is that right?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and blinked at the bright light streaming through the kitchen windows.
“Yeah, it is. I was so sorry to hear about your parents – they were wonderful people. We didn’t get to the funeral, I’m afraid – Dad was having a bad day, so Mum and I had to take care of him.”
“Of course. I understand.” She waited as the silence between them grew. What did he want? Why was he calling? He’d always been the most taciturn fellow she’d ever met, not given to calling people on the phone just to chew the fat. He had a reason for contacting her; she’d only had to wait for him to share it.
“So I was wondering if you’ve decided what to do with the place?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, I haven’t made a final decision yet.”
“It’s just that, if you were going to sell, I’d like to buy the property. I know it isn’t worth much and it’s been running in the red for a while, but I’ve talked to Mum and Dad and they’d rather it didn’t go to someone we don’t know. Since I took over the farm, I’ve been looking at expanding – planting some extra crops, taking things to the next level. Dad never did, but I’ve always believed there’s plenty of potential here. If I could add your property to mine, it’d make the opportunities that much better for me. If you’re wanting to sell. Are you?”
“Well … I’m really not sure. I’ve been leaning toward keeping it.” That was true enough. Also true was that she’d never liked or trusted Sam. He was older than her and had already left high school by the time she started it, but she remembered him. He’d been cruel to the younger children and seemed to be in a perpetual bad mood.
“You know, it’s mighty expensive to keep a place like yours, and the house is pretty old. You’ll have rates and maintenance …”
“Thank you for your concern,” she interrupted. “I sure appreciate your call. I’ll let you know what I decide, okay?”
He muttered a response before hanging up.
Hmmm … why would Sam want her land so desperately? And how did he know the place hadn’t been profitable? He was up to something, she could sense it. Everything inside her screamed that she shouldn’t sell her parents’ farm to him. Something just didn’t feel right – and that was aside from still not knowing what he was spraying around his place, and how it was affecting her bees.
She was supposed to be meeting the girls in town at noon for lunch, and she had to feed the animals first, so she’d better get a move on. She grabbed a banana and munched it on her way to the barn. After tending to the livestock, she headed for the shower. The hot water on her neck and shoulders felt good, and she leaned against the shower wall as it blasted her skin.
Maybe she should take her mother’s journal with her to the restaurant. The girls would probably be interested, and she wanted to see what they thought about some of the entries, especially the ones about finding God. She knew Meg was a Christian, but Bindi and Kim weren’t. Maybe a bit of perspective from both sides would help her see straight. She felt as though she was losing her mind after everything that had happened over the past several weeks.
The drive into town gave her a chance to thin
k things through. She’d found paperwork on her parents’ estate in her mother’s files. It seemed they had a couple of investment properties on the Sunshine Coast they’d never mentioned to her, plus some stocks and savings. Between the income from the honey, their life insurance and the rent from the investment properties, it looked as though she could make ends meet even without her job in the city. At least for now. Which meant she could stay on the farm if she wanted.
But that was the question that lingered in her mind: did she want to? She’d always thought she’d stay in Sydney, be a career woman, wear suits and carry a laptop bag over her shoulder to work every day. She never imagined she’d give it all away to come back to Heartstone and raise bees.
She chuckled as she pulled her car into a parking space outside Tandy’s Restaurant – the only place in town that served a sit-down meal and had air conditioning. Things in her life sure had changed in a very short space of time.
As the hostess led her to the table, she saw that Meg, Bindi and Kim were already seated and laughing over something. They all stood to embrace her before returning to their seats. “How are you, kid?” asked Meg. Her two-year old daughter Evie sat in a high chair beside her, colouring a sheet of paper with crayons.
“I’m fine.” Isabella leaned over to kiss Evie on the cheek and the girl grinned up at her shyly. “Hey, Evie sweetie pie. Whatcha colouring?”
“Horsies,” she lisped.
Isabella tousled her hair, then set her elbows on the table and her chin into her hands with a sigh.
“What’s up?” asked Kim, taking a sip of her soda with lime. “You look a bit down.”
“Yeah. Just trying to decide what to do with the farm. Sam Hilton called me this morning and offered to buy it.”
“Oh yeah?” Bindi mused. “That might not be a bad idea.”
“I don’t know. He just seemed really creepy about it, you know? Something was off. Anyway, I still haven’t found out why the bees are dying. I have a feeling, but I don’t have any proof yet.” She stared gloomily at the red-and-white-checked tablecloth.
