MICA WAS IN the process of programming a microcontroller on a voice-activated circuit board when his iPhone rang. He ignored the phone and plugged the input supply into a 12-volt battery. Though the microphone that came with the unit was adequate, he wondered if using a more highly sensitive piece would be better.
With the plethora of commands needed to operate a tractor, his invention would require a highly sensitive microphone that shut out all other machinery sounds and featured voice-recognition software that could understand a variety of accents and dialects. And Mica was not a coding expert. He needed a partner or corporation that could provide the software he needed to create a final product. He was using a voice-recognition app for his prototype, but until he could find a coding expert, Mica was stuck. Still, it felt good to be back in the workshop, bringing his ideas to life. His conversation with Rafe at the New Year’s party had lit a fire under Mica, and he was grateful for that spark.
The iPhone quit ringing. Then it beeped. Someone had left a voice mail.
Mica carried the unit over to the tractor he’d parked inside the mechanics shed. Earlier, he’d raised the hood on the engine, propped it up with a sturdy rod and placed a very bright work light inside. Painstakingly, he’d pried off the dashboard and exposed the wires and dials inside the tractor’s operator cabin—such as it was. This was a 1982 Allis-Chalmers 8050 and Mica’s favorite. He called it the Red Angel. Painted glossy, tomato red, this old tractor had an enclosed cabin that allowed farmers to drive in the windiest of spring planting weather or through October’s icy rains.
Mica had recently realized the enclosed cabin offered even more advantages, especially for his accessible designs.
Voice activation would help people with mobility issues, but what about those with asthma or other breathing difficulties who still wanted to work the fields? Mica added an air-filtration system to his mental list of features for his invention.
He hooked the output supply connector to the ignition wires, trying not to get frustrated that it took him more than double the time it used to when he’d had the use of both hands. He was determined.
The phone rang again and he ignored it; if Rafe or his mother wanted him, they knew where to find him.
Mica plugged in the microphone. He’d set up the system to require two commands within a certain time frame in order to activate the unit.
“Ignition on,” he said. After a second he added, “Ignition stay.”
The LED light number lit up, indicating the presence of his voice. For another second, nothing happened.
Then the tractor roared to life.
“Eureka!” He shot his good arm up in the air, grinned widely and did a little jig, his boots smacking against the cement floor.
“I did it!”
He stopped and his face fell as he stared at the tractor. His victory was small. Crude and rudimentary. In the scheme of things, getting the tractor to start was inconsequential. Mica was eager to move to the next phase, when he could command all the gears, brakes, speed and steering. He also wanted to install handgrips on the vertical walls on either side of the entrances about three feet above the running boards. He envisioned drop-down steps that would make it easier for a person with limited leg movement to climb into the cabin. One of the things that he’d noticed about farm equipment was that a person with any kind of hip, knee or even back issue often needed a hydro-lift to get into the vehicle. Mica had come up with ideas to change that.
Programming and turning on the tractor was the first thing he’d accomplished on his own since the accident. But he still had a long way to go. “For now, I need to take this baby out for a test drive.”
Mica hit the garage-door button. As the door moved upward, Mica sucked in his breath.
“What in the world?”
He stared out at a gorgeous snowfall. Fat, white flakes the size of feathers floated to the ground. Mica had lost track of time since he’d come to the shed shortly after breakfast. He’s been so deeply focused on his work that he hadn’t thought about the time. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly two o’clock.
“Beautiful.” He smiled. “So beautiful.”
A series of rings interrupted his thoughts again. Mica strode over to the worktable. “What can be so important that—” He lifted his phone and read the caller ID.
Grace? He tapped the screen and took the call. “Grace.”
“Oh, you’re there,” she said. She sounded a little out of breath, as if she’d been running. “Mica. I’m so glad. I know you told Mrs. Beabots you’d come for dinner tonight, but I need a really big favor.”
“A favor?” He couldn’t stop the surge of irritation that rose inside him. She had kept Jules from him for six months, then shown up unannounced, expecting Mica to take over on a moment’s notice. What bigger favor could there be? As much as his love for his baby boy was growing, he didn’t appreciate the way Grace was playing on his emotions. Since she’d arrived in Indian Lake, he’d felt like he was in a pinball machine, his emotions being batted all over the place. No wonder he liked working on machines. Much less angst.
He ran his tongue over his lips, then glanced at his tractor as he considered giving her an excuse.
“Mica, I need you,” she said in that soft, breathy voice he remembered from those haunting nights when he’d held her so close he could smell her French perfume... “Please. It’s about Jules.”
That did it. “What is it? Is he okay?”
“Yes. Well, er, he’s a bit cranky. It’s my team in Paris. We have a Skype conference this afternoon, and Mrs. Beabots is making a fabulous soup for us tonight. I can’t possibly interrupt her and ask her to watch Jules. It wouldn’t be fair—she’s done so much. And I’m—”
“You sound frazzled.”
“I’m at my wits’ end, Mica. I was up all night with Jules. I think being sick and then the party and the wedding...it was too much for him.”
“You want me to come over and take care of him while you conduct business. That about it?”
He could hear her intake of breath. It hit him that she had been afraid to call him. That she was truly worried he would turn her down. Part of him wanted to. But she’d come here to help him learn how to be Jules’s father. And now when she was presenting him with an opportunity to bond with his son, he was tempted to turn it down out of spite.
As aloof as he could sometimes be, Mica didn’t consider himself to be self-centered. Maybe he was.
For so long, keeping his life simple and uncomplicated, avoiding relationships and all their drama had seemed like a wise choice. He kept busy with the farm and his machines. Then, the accident had made withdrawal seem like his only option. The upheaval that Grace had brought with Jules had changed everything. Already, he’d needed to call his brothers for help. He’d sought their advice. He’d found value in their family friends’ interest in Jules. They cared about Grace and the baby. It was even possible they cared about him. And that had been the greatest revelation of all.
Mica wanted to be the kind of guy who people liked and wanted to be friends with. He wanted Grace to be his friend. Besides, if he couldn’t even get along with her, how could he expect her to marry him?
“How soon?”
“How soon can you get here?”
“I need to clean up. I’ve been in the shed all morning and I’m kinda...” He looked down at his old, grease-covered jeans and his faded Purdue sweatshirt. “I’m a mess. Give me an hour.”
“See you later, Mica.”
He hung up and went back to the tractor and said, “Ignition off. Ignition stay.”
The tractor turned off.
Grace had come here expecting Mica to take over his share of the parenting. Since last night, he’d been hoping she would call soon. Or he was going to call her. He needed to spend time with Jules and learn as much as he could about his son and his care.
Yet he realized his need to work all morning had come from the understanding that he was no longer a selfish, singular man in this world. He had obligations and responsibilities now. He had Jules, and he didn’t want his son to grow up and be any less proud of him than Mica had been of his father.
If he was to examine his dreams the way he dissected a tractor engine, Mica would see that his goals hadn’t changed since he’d gone to college. He’d always wanted to create a better way to farm. A better harvester. A more finely tuned combine. Conveyors that more accurately planted tomato plants. He had wanted to improve farm life through machinery.
But now he saw the needs of others in a different light and that illumination gave rise to his new inventions.
Jules had given him the motivation he’d been lacking to take those ideas to the next level. Given Mica new hope and a new vision. He would do anything for his son.
* * *
GRACE WATCHED OUT the upstairs window as Mica drove his truck into the driveway below. The snow was falling in fluffy flakes, and on any other day, she’d be tempted to take Jules outside, even for a few minutes so he could feel snowflakes on his little face and look at her through snow-covered eyelashes.
She would have liked to put him on a wooden sled and pull him down the sidewalk, but she couldn’t. She had to work.
Grace knew she wasn’t alone in feeling guilt as a working mother, but it seemed to be weighing heavier on her these days. She should have taken Jules to see the Christmas lights around the Eiffel Tower. She should have walked down the stunning Champs-Élysées with him even if he was too young to remember it in the future. She had read in a parenting magazine once that babies actually did benefit from delightful, beautiful things. Their minds were enhanced by classical music, and babies who were exposed to art early on were better able to think and process their world.
Being an artist, Grace believed this. Her mother had often told her that she’d taken Grace to museums before she was christened. Of course, Grace’s mother never missed a gallery opening or a new art exhibit in Chicago. Grace couldn’t remember a time when art, beautiful clothes, colorful flowers and stunning architecture didn’t fill her with a sense of awe. Grace hoped to instill that kind of passion and appreciation in her son.
He was only six months old and already she wanted so much for him. All mothers probably thought their baby was the most intelligent, most beautiful and gifted child on the planet, but Grace knew Jules was different. When Mica told her that Rafe had walked and talked at eight months, she believed him. Jules was trying to say words. Jules was smart and intuitive and her friends in Paris saw it.
With how much her work had ramped up even in the past few days, Grace was feeling worse and worse about not giving Jules the attention he needed. She just hoped that bringing him here, leaving him with Mica, was the solution. That Mica and his family and all their friends in Indian Lake would continue to nurture her exceptional son.
The knock on the apartment door shattered her thoughts and caused a dozing Jules to jump awake. He let out a bellowing cry.
“Oh, sweetie.” She lifted him out of his carrier. “Maybe Daddy and I should go shopping for you,” she said.
“Da,” Jules said and touched her cheek as she walked to the door.
Mica was wearing his camel-colored leather jacket with sheepskin lining. He had a soft brown scarf around his neck and his jeans were washed denim. Snow covered his raven-black hair.
“It’s really coming down out there.” He smiled as he brushed snow off his head, some of it falling on Jules’s face.
Jules scrunched his nose and then his eyes widened. He smiled broadly and reached for Mica.
Grace’s emotions swung from guilt to love, admiration, concern, fear and finally love again. Jules acted as if he understood Mica was his father. Was that possible? And if it was, why would she be wary of it? Jules looked so much like Mica; no wonder she’d continued to pine for him the whole time they’d been apart.
She’d longed for Mica. But she’d also known she could never have him. Her life could never be his life. She knew it as she knew the stars would never fall from the sky.
But as Mica’s blue eyes fell on her face, wonder and delight filling them, causing them to brim with tears, she thought that maybe, possibly, somehow, she could make Mica love her.