Hoping for Hawthorne
Tara Grace Ericson
Silver Fountain Press
This book is dedicated to those who have helped me push past my fears and embrace God’s plan for me.
You have made them a little lower than the angels
and crowned them with glory and honor.
You made them rulers over the works of your hands;
You put everything under their feet;
all flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild,
the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.
Psalm 8:5-8
Prologue
Laura Bloom stirred honey into her tea and looked absently out the window overlooking the rolling hills of Bloom’s Farm. In the fields within her view, neatly planted rows of vegetables had already been harvested. The chilly fall morning was made gloomier by the dense fog lingering in the valleys. It would burn off later in the day, but for now it obstructed her view of the rest of their property.
Her daughter, Poppy was doing a wonderful job with the crops, rapidly growing their organic produce business. Laura’s heart warmed at the thought of her seven children—six beautiful girls and one charming young man—each with a special role to play in the success of the family business. Oh, Hawthorne. More than the rest, her son laid heavy on her heart most mornings. Far outnumbered by his sisters, Hawthorne had never been content on the farm. What could she do though, but worry and pray?
Laura clicked her tongue thinking about Hawthorne and his resistance to anything resembling real responsibility. She tried to pin-point when Hawthorne had become this devil-may-care version of the positive and kind-hearted young man she remembered as a teenager. As the second oldest, Hawthorne stepped into the role of protective older brother early on. Then, somewhere along the way, he pushed back against the mantle of responsibility.
Hawthorne lived at the old house with his sister, Daisy, and kept himself busy during the days with whatever odd projects needed done around the property, never sitting still long enough to dwell on his own discontentedness. But Laura knew how he spent his evenings. What Hawthorne needed wasn’t a career or even a girlfriend. Hawthorne needed to realize the thing holding him back in life was himself and his so-called friends. Again, Laura lifted a prayer to God for Hawthorne’s faith to be strengthened.
Perhaps the right woman was exactly what Hawthorne needed to shake him from his routine. It couldn’t hurt to pray for his future wife, just as she had since he was born. Maybe God would give an answer this time.
1
Hawthorne shifted on his barstool, sipping his drink as his friend, Shayne, recounted a raucous story Hawthorne had heard a dozen times before. He resisted the urge to sigh. This was the third night this week they'd spent doing the same thing. There wasn’t much to do in Terre Haute, Indiana, but it was better than staying at the farm where he lived with his parents and sisters.
He pulled himself back into the conversation, ribbing Shayne on his over-embellished narrative about waiting too long for a date to be ready. "It was five minutes, not thirty. Don't be such a drama queen."
Shayne waved a hand, “Whatever. Either way, it took forever, and if I hadn't thought I'd get lucky after dinner, I never would have waited."
Roars of laughter erupted from the group of men before Craig chimed in with his own online dating experience.
Eager to feel less disconnected, Hawthorne followed it with a story of his own. Since dating apps never held his interest, it was one of the few he had.
As he described his date, doing some embellishing of his own, his friends jeered and cracked up. Hawthorne ignored the twinge of conscience and delivered his last joke with gusto. Holding up two fingers, he made eye contact with his enraptured listeners. “Two words, fellas. Woof, woof.” Howls of laughter rang out and the short, curvy waitress ducked between Shayne and Hawthorne, grabbing empty glasses and delivering chips and salsa.
Shayne flirted shamelessly with the waitress, rubbing a hand down her arm with a wink. "Thank you, sweetheart. Now, make sure you walk away nice and slow so we can enjoy the view."
With a shake of his head, Hawthorne laughed at his friend’s antics. Sure, sometimes Shayne got carried away, but he was a nice guy for the most part. The waitress ducked out of reach and gave a tight-lipped smile. "Can I get you guys anything else?"
"What are you offering?" Shayne asked with a leer.
"I can think of a few things I'd like," Craig added to Shayne's suggestive proposition.
Wendy tensed and looked toward the bartender. When she opened her mouth, Hawthorne was surprised to hear a strong, feminine voice coming from behind him instead.
"Leave the woman alone, jerks. Can’t you just let her do her job without harassing her?” The venom in the voice practically stung as it continued loudly above the music. “Believe it or not, not every girl wants you and your immature, demeaning views on women."
Shayne's mouth gaped and Hawthorne raised his eyebrows. Who did this girl think she was?
He turned around to look at her and saw a beautiful woman with a fierce, angry look. Momentarily, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, surprise crossing her features. Hawthorne racked his brain; did he know her? She looked familiar, but Hawthorne wasn't sure from where. Maybe he'd seen her here before. Was she on the dating app he'd downloaded and swiped through? Her gray eyes narrowed at him, flashing with irritation again. A colorful headband contrasted starkly with the pale, golden strands of her hair, tied back in a loose ponytail. Stunning.
Shayne was still sputtering his objections to the interruption. Wendy slipped away in the midst of the distraction and went to take care of her other tables.
"Hawthorne Bloom, your mama raised you better than this." Hawthorne's mouth dropped open. She knew his name? This girl was beautiful, why didn't he remember her?
"Look, lady. Mind your own-"
Hawthorne interrupted Craig and turned fully in his chair. "Do I know you?" The woman leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
"I guess not," she replied with a raised eyebrow. Then, leaving cash for her check, she grabbed her book and jacket and walked away from the table where she’d been sitting alone. After two steps, she turned back. "Your waitress is a person. Leave her alone or treat her with respect. All of you,” she waved a hand at the table of wide-eyed guys, “grow up. And you?” she pointed at Hawthorne, “Find some new friends. I would have thought you were better than this.”
With that parting shot, she weaved through tables and ducked around patrons of the bar.
Shayne jabbered about disrespect and how it was all innocent fun. But Hawthorne sat, frozen on his chair and staring at the path the stranger had taken on her way out. But she wasn't a stranger. Or was she? Somehow, she knew him, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he recognized her.
Swallowing the urge to chase after her, Hawthorne turned back to his friends and jumped into the conversation with a shake of his head. "That was weird."
"Yeah, man. Did you know her?" someone asked from across the table.
With a baffled shrug he said, "No. Not that I can remember,” still racking his brain for a name that wouldn’t come.
With that, Craig was off on a story of the time he ran into a one-night stand he didn't remember at all. Hawthorne laughed at the appropriate places, but his mind was on the gutsy blonde with familiar eyes. She'd been disappointed in him. Join the club, beautiful. It seemed someone was always disappointed in him at home. Why should it bother him now? He hadn't been the one flirting with the waitress. And even if he thought Shayne and Craig took it too far, Wendy was a good sport. They were just having a little fun. His eyes fe
ll closed and he tipped his head back at the ceiling when he realized what he had been saying before Shayne came on to Wendy.
Woof, woof. He winced at the thought of the woman overhearing the crude comment.
No wonder she thought he was scummy. Why did it matter, though? He didn’t know her. Still, she seemed to know him or, at least, his family, and her reaction rankled. He didn’t want to be a bad guy. Even before the mystery woman’s interruption, Hawthorne couldn't help but feel like this same old routine was nothing but emptiness parading as a life.
At least he wasn't living in his parents’ basement anymore; he'd moved into the old farmhouse with Daisy about eight months ago as they worked to fix it up. Daisy was determined to turn the old homestead into a bed and breakfast and while Hawthorne wasn't a contractor by any means, he was pretty handy and could help with smaller projects as he had time. It was still on the farm, though. Not exactly far from the nest.
Days at the farms. Nights at the bar. Saturday morning brunch at the main house.
Despite the loud country music and crowd of people at the bar, Hawthorne felt isolated. Even the constant presence of his family and the dozen other staff members at the farm couldn’t chase away the sense of loneliness.
He'd been friends with Shayne and Craig since high school, screwing around during shop class and sneaking chewing tobacco behind the bleachers at the football stadium. And after things with his company went south, they welcomed him back into the fold.
No expectations. No judgment.
He kept ignoring the feeling, but for the past six months, he found himself annoyed by the constant stream of short-term relationships and the same shallow conversations about nothing but girls, cars and weightlifting. Hawthorne dated, a week or two here and there, but nothing like his friends who had every dating and hook-up app on the market. They spent more time primping in the morning than any of Hawthorne's six sisters.
If he didn't have his friends, though, who did he have? Hawthorne loved his family and each of his sisters, especially. But there was only so much sisterly love a guy could take; six sisters meant an awful lot of estrogen. His parents were wonderful, but his dad was determined that his one-and-only son should take over the family business.
It was too much pressure.
Hawthorne enjoyed his current role as the wandering handyman. Whatever needed attention, he took care of it. No expectations. No drastic consequences. Then, at the end of the day, he could leave and have a good time with his buddies.
Work to live, not live to work.
His sisters all had such concrete goals. Daisy cared far too much about her bed and breakfast, as evidenced by the minor breakdown she'd had this morning when the lumberyard said the tiles she ordered wouldn't be in for two more weeks. Rose practically slept with her precious goats and Poppy was growing the organic produce business every season. When he thought of them, Hawthorne filled with pride at the accomplishments of his sisters, but it was tinged with envy. It was easy to feel aimless surrounded by a family so focused on purpose and so trusting in God's plan.
He just wanted to have a good time, and it didn’t seem like such a bad goal to have. However, with the last swallow of his watered-down drink, Hawthorne considered whether these nights with his friends could really count as such. If he was honest, the best part of the evening was the unexpected conversation with the fiery stranger. Hawthorne glanced toward the door again, hoping she'd walk back through it. He'd probably never see her again, and he wasn't sure exactly why that thought bothered him so much.
* * *
Avery Chase was vibrating. Confronting the obnoxious guys at the bar had been nearly instinctual. After years in a male-dominated workplace, she wasn’t afraid to hold her own—or come to the rescue of someone who thought they couldn’t speak up themselves.
When Hawthorne Bloom turned around, Avery had about dropped the drink in her hand. Thankfully, he hadn't recognized her. It had been over fifteen years, but her heart still jumped out of her chest in response to his presence. Careful to park straight, Avery pulled in front of her apartment building and grabbed her bag from the backseat.
Avery moved away from western Indiana with her parents fifteen years ago, heartbroken and convinced she would never return. By the time she was old enough, it seemed there was no point. All her friends had lost touch, including the friends she spent summers with at Bloom’s farm. And their out-of-her-league older brother, Hawthorne.
Avery dropped her canvas shoulder bag on the floor next to the small, secondhand sofa and collapsed into the floral cushion with a groan. Hawthorne Bloom had been her best friends' brother. Their cute and athletic, slightly older brother. While Avery spent time at the unofficial Bloom’s Farm Summer Camp with Daisy and Poppy, Hawthorne was always there making her increasingly aware of her clumsy and awkward fourteen-year-old self.
Back then, he'd at least known her name, unlike tonight. It was an especially timely ego check, as she celebrated her own success, to realize the boy she'd always considered her "one who got away" didn't even remember her. Perhaps even worse, she frowned, somewhere along the line he apparently turned into a jerk. With parents like Laura and Keith, how had Hawthorne ended up running in a circle of overgrown fraternity stereotypes?
It had been a bad idea to stop by the bar, but she’d wanted to celebrate. Her grant proposal had been accepted, and she would be working on a new sustainable battery technology with Dr. Elliot. That’s why she’d chosen academia—the chance to use her engineering degree to uncover something ground-breaking.
Avery opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling before glancing around her small apartment. For the first time, she had her own place and was slowly forging her path in academic circles, creating a solid reputation as a researcher and teaching professor. Foolishly, Avery had been hopeful God brought her here to reconnect with Hawthorne. Her embarrassingly thorough social media stalking of her old friends hadn't revealed any weddings in the Bloom family.
After tonight though, it couldn't be clearer that Hawthorne wasn't the guy for her. Avery had traveled that road early in college and she wouldn't be fooled by the carefree, impulsive attitude again. Avoiding Bloom’s Farm would be simple, and avoiding Hawthorne couldn't be that hard in a town the size of Terre Haute. Two days later, though, Avery discovered it wouldn't be quite as easy as she’d hoped.
2
"Avery Chase, is that you?"
Avery looked up from the handwritten grocery list in her hand and found the source of the overly loud question. The familiar face of Laura Bloom walked toward her down the pasta aisle, pushing her own grocery cart. Avery couldn't help but smile at the aged version of the woman who had been like a second mother to her. Until she was fourteen, Avery spent days during the summer at the farm while her own parents worked. Those days had been filled with hard work, endless exploration, and troublemaking. Then Avery moved to Colorado and had to say good-bye.
Avery tried to focus on the woman standing in front of her, instead of the thoughts of Hawthorne brought to the surface. "Hello Miss Laura," Avery replied cheerfully. It wasn't Laura's fault her son was a Grade A buffoon.
"I didn't know you were back in the area! Are your parents back as well? It would be so good to see them again."
Avery gave a small smile and shook her head. "No, they are still out in Freedom, Colorado. I don't think anything could get them to leave."
Laura gave a nod of understanding. "I'm sure it is beautiful. We were certainly sorry to see them leave; they were some of our closest friends back then. Goodness, what has it been? Ten years?"
"Nearly fifteen now, actually."
"Wow. Time flies! What brings you back?"
Avery straightened. "I got a new job at the University. I'm teaching and doing research in the chemical engineering department."
Laura grinned broadly in response. "I'm not at all surprised, Avery. You were always so smart and such a hard worker. Congratulations!"
Avery filled with pride. It h
ad always mattered to her what the Bloom family thought of her. She'd always wished she could be a part of it. While Daisy always joked that Laura and Keith would just adopt her, Avery had spent countless birthday wishes on marrying into the family. Unfortunately, with six girls and one boy, her odds were low—and they dropped all the way to non-existent after the other night.
"Thank you. It's nice to be back."
Laura stepped around her cart and opened her arms to wrap Avery in a hug. "Oh, you just have to come to the farm next week."
Avery shook her head. "You don't have to—"
Laura waved a hand and studied Avery with big, dark, eyes. "Nonsense. The girls will be thrilled to see you. Do any of them know you are back?"
Avery gave a guilty shake of her head. "It's been kind of crazy getting settled in." What Avery didn't say was how scared she was to try to rekindle those old friendships. Thirteen years was a long time to bridge. Hawthorne’s personality transplant was evidence of that. What if Daisy and Poppy were horrible? Or, what if she was so different, they no longer had anything in common? Avery hadn't come back to Terre Haute to recapture her friendships; she'd come back for the opportunity at the university. Anything else seemed like asking for too much.
"I'm sure it has, sweetie. But I insist. Everyone will be thrilled to have you visit occasionally. I know I would!" Laura gave Avery's arm a gentle squeeze. "It can't be easy to be so far away from your family. Why don't you come over next Saturday for brunch?"
Brunch sounded harmless; what could go wrong over pancakes? Finally, with a shrug, Avery responded, "Brunch sounds great, Miss Laura."
* * *
Hawthorne held the fence board up with a knee and hammered in two nails. This stupid fence was the bane of his existence. But Rose would probably cry if one of her precious goats ran off again, and he hated it when his sisters cried. Even when it wasn’t his fault, it made him feel guilty. His sisters, of course, had capitalized on that weakness repeatedly over the years.
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