February
“I just want some bloody words on the paper. Screen. Whatever. They don’t have to be bloody. Regular ones would do.” Doc glowered at his laptop. More specifically, he wished harm on the blank document and the flashing cursor mocking him. “How many times can I type and delete ‘the’ before it becomes an actual compulsion?”
Why am I talking out loud and asking myself rhetorical questions?
The blank page didn’t respond, and the cursor continued to flash at him. Doc had been on the farm for a month already. He’d written maybe a thousand words in total—somehow managing to delete his progress the following day while editing.
Was it karmic retribution? He’d kissed and fled. Now all his words were running away on him.
There once was a man from….
Delete. Delete. Delete.
His agent and editor had both reached out to him, reminding him of his deadline. Not helpful. Words were already log-jammed in his mind, so focusing on a ticking clock wasn’t conducive to resolving the problem.
Executive dysfunction had reared its ugly head as well. It made following a schedule or keeping his deadline in mind impossible, adding to the brain fog. At this rate, his book might never be finished.
Think positively.
Those were the words his agent threw at him. Think positively. He wasn’t entirely sure how that might help. The page remained blank no matter how cheerfully he smiled at it.
“Doc? Can I come in?” Andie tapped on the window next to the front door. She waited until he waved her in to open the door. “I spoke with Mama.”
“And how are the Italians faring this morning?” Doc closed his laptop, not even bothering to save the file. Why bother with a blank page? “Anything new in the spaghetti?”
“I’m going to ignore the bad joke.” Andie grinned, but it seemed a little off to him. “The virus is picking up there faster than here.”
Doc had been avoiding the news, for the most part. It tended to cause him immense stress about things he had zero control over. “Tell them to avoid crowds. Wear a mask.”
“A mask?”
“I lived in Japan for a while. People wear masks to avoid spreading the flu. I can’t imagine it hurting them to wear some sort of mask.” Doc had appreciated the normalcy of it while he’d lived there. He wondered if he still had a few spare ones leftover from his last stay. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“We don’t know enough for me to worry.” Doc watched her pick at a loose button on her dungarees. “We’ll take it all a day at a time. Not much else we can do.”
“Want to walk some of the orchard and pasture by the road with me? I’m doing a check to see if the last storm did any damage to the hedges and fencing.” Andie shushed Rupert, who’d wagged his tail excitedly. “Maybe the fresh air will get your creative juices flowing.”
“Not sure there’s any left to flow.” Doc removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Rupert came over to rest his head on Doc’s knee. “Now, how can I refuse your scruffy face?”
The M & M Farm had a decent amount of land. Not the largest in the area, certainly, probably the smallest when Doc thought about it. But there was enough to make it a lot of work for one person to keep up with.
In the summer, Andie hired a few teenagers from the nearby village to help with the polytunnels. The farm did enough to sustain itself. A good thing, since she seemed to throw herself into the endeavour.
Grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door, Doc followed Andie outside into the beautiful, bright sunlight. A lovely, crisp February morning. The wind had finally died down. He chuckled when Rupert took off at a mad dash, racing around after nothing at all.
“What did you feed him this morning?”
“My Rups always loves days like this.” Andie shrugged. She peered over at him. “How goes the writing?”
“Shite.”
“That good?” Andie gave him what he thought might be a sympathetic smile. He wasn’t sure. “We’re not distracting you, are we?”
“A speck of dust is distracting at the moment. You’re the least of my worries when it comes to my writing,” Doc assured her quickly. He enjoyed her company, probably too much. “Inspiration has been a fleeting mistress in the past year. I’ve gone all over the world trying to hunt some down.”
“Maybe you have to let the inspiration find you?”
“Maybe.” Doc didn’t exactly know how inspiration would find him. It certainly hadn’t in the past twelve months. “I’m beating my head against my laptop at the moment.”
“Careful. You might hurt something important.”
“Not literally…. Ah. You were joking.” Doc shook his head and chuckled wryly. “I could bash my head against the wall, and I’m not sure it would make a difference.”
“Just don’t mess up your glasses. I like the way you look in them.” Andie sent another grin his way before picking up the pace to catch up to Rupert.
Watching the two playfully chase each other, Doc allowed the sun and crisp air to wake him up a little. He thought once the weather warmed up more, maybe he’d take his laptop outside to write. If nothing else, it would be a lovely view.
The farm was beautiful.
Andie was beautiful.
Stop thinking about Andie.
“Is the water tank that interesting?”
Doc jolted out of his thoughts when Andie called out to him. He realised he’d been staring at one of the farm’s rainwater collection systems. “Fascinating.”
“Sure. Maybe I should’ve pulled you away from the computer sooner?” she teased when he caught up to her. “Not much of a walk if you stand and admire the farm equipment for most of it.”
They meandered along the path that skirted the edges of the orchard. It was small in comparison to many he’d seen, but enough to have a good yield each year.
“Are you still trading with other local farms?”
“Don’t think I’ve bought much at the shops in ages. Trade my fruit for veggies, dairy, and even some meat. It’s not a bad way of doing business, since I sell the bulk of the fruit to Ainsley, who makes a variety of spreads with it.” Andie paused to check the base of one of the apple trees. “These go to the brewery across the county for their cider.”
“Clever.”
“I have my moments.” Andie moved on to a second tree. “Saves me from having to come up with ways to use them.”
Doc couldn’t help watching her intently while she inspected several trees in the orchard. She was so methodical in her care of the farm. And beautiful. It made his chest ache in a way that confused him.
There was a comfort to being home in Scotland. Doc had genuinely hoped the distance might dull his feelings. It hadn’t.
His connection to her hadn’t snapped in their absence. It had strengthened… in his heart, at least. He had no idea if she felt anything for him at all aside from maybe being hurt over his abrupt departure.
“You okay?” Andie was glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Fine.” He rubbed his fist over his chest a few times, trying to ease the weirdness away. “How are the roots?”
“Solid.”
Late in the afternoon, Doc sat outside with Andie. They’d built a little bonfire in one of the tilled fields. She’d made them a gourmet hot chocolate and fresh-baked fruit tartlets.
They sat on little seats made out of tree trunks. Doc sipped hot chocolate and watched the sunset. The day had been a glorious one.
The bright blue sky slowly grew darker. He watched the golden sun’s rays dip lower and lower before disappearing over the mountains in the distance. Clouds diffused some of the colours, creating a riot of shades of dark blue, purple, and pink.
“Not a bad life.”
Doc glanced over at Andie before turning back to the sunset. “No, not at all.”