May
The world had well and truly shut down. Andie had thrown herself into farm projects. Ones she’d put at the bottom of her extensive to-do list.
It kept her mind off worrying about her family in Italy.
Doc spent most of his time grumbling into a mug of coffee in front of his laptop. She didn’t know how much progress he’d made on his novel. Being in Scotland hadn’t seemed to break through his writer’s block like he’d hoped.
For all her initial concerns, Andie was grateful to have a companion who did more than wag his tail and bark at her when she spoke. Doc made early morning breakfasts and late evening suppers bearable. Less lonely than she would have otherwise felt.
“Easy, Rups.” Andie placed a hand on her excited dog’s head. He wiggled around her, wagging his tail wildly. “All right. We’ll walk down the lane to the gate. C’mon.”
Pushing the heavy-duty cart stacked with crates of fruit, Andie made her way down the long driveway leading to the gate by the road into the village. Each morning she set out the containers for pick up by the other local farms or the nearby brewery.
She couldn’t drive around to drop them off and have a natter like she used to do. So they’d worked out a system that kept all of them far apart. They often left supplies for her in return.
An odd sort of bartering system that made her chuckle and left her feeling grateful for her community.
There was a box waiting at the little drop-off point at the end of the lane. She’d built it with recycled lumber from an ongoing shed project. The small stand provided shelter from wind and rain while keeping the crates safe off the ground until they were picked up.
“We’ve got treats, Rups. Even one for you.” Andie grabbed the bag of biscuits off the top and tossed one to him. “Your auntie Mariah made them especially for you.”
Mariah ran a food shop in the village. They’d been best friends since primary school, so Andie was relieved to see a letter poking out from one side of the box.
“News from the outside world.” Andie carried the box back down the lane with Rupert barking madly beside her, clearly wanting a second of the home-baked treats. “You’re not a hobbit. You don’t get a second breakfast.”
Once they made it to the cottage, Andie checked out the contents of the package. Aside from the treats for Rupert, there were scones, a pot of jam, a couple books, the letter, and a packet of biscuits definitely meant for Doc. She decided to take them out to him.
“Why don’t we see how Doc’s writer’s block is going?” She laughed when Rupert immediately whipped around in a circle. “Yes, we’re going to see your best friend.”
The writer’s block wasn’t going well. She found Doc on the floor, on his back with his eyes closed. A pen and several crushed sheets of paper surrounded him.
“A very odd sort of a séance. Who are you attempting to contact? Hemmingway or Austen?” Andie nudged his leg gently with her foot. She snickered when Rupert pounced on him. She pulled her phone out and got a photo of him. “I call this A Vision of a Tormented Artist at Work. It’s a little long for a title, but it really encompasses the meaning.”
“Artist?”
“You paint with ink and paper. And words, some days. Maybe not recently,” Andie teased. She collected the crumpled balls and dropped them in the rubbish bin. “Marian sent a packet of your favourite biscuits.”
Doc opened one eye to see her waving the packet over his head. “I was communing with the blank page.”
“Right.”
“Attempting to flow with the emptiness.”
“Right.” Andie drew the word out. “Poetic way of saying you’ve written sod all?”
“Rude but accurate.” Doc covered his face with his arm. “Are you here to do more than laugh in the face of my failure?”
“Biscuit delivery.” She set the packet on the table out of reach of Rupert’s curious snout. “I’m clearing a section of the field at the northern end of the farm today. I want to get a head start on putting in new polytunnels and a proper greenhouse. So I’ll be there most of the day. Taking a sandwich and thermos for myself. The cottage is open if you get hungry. And I’ve got my phone.”
“I’ll be here. On the floor. Dramatically avoiding Microsoft Word and contemplating death by paper cut.” Doc opened both eyes and grinned up at her.
Andie flushed, looking away from the boyish grin, dimples, and the little wrinkles around his blue eyes. “I’ll… Well, I. Okay. See you later.”
Oh, yes.
Way to play it cool and collected. He’s definitely going to notice your absolute inability to be normal. Oh my god. Why am I so useless? Kill me now.
Preferably not with paper cuts.
She wanted to kiss him again. Being hopelessly in love with an old friend was almost a tragedy. She worried about losing his friendship.
She was worried about whether he’d understand kissing was all she’d ever be interested in.
That was a problem for another day.
In an ordinary world, Andie probably would’ve hired someone to come and clear out the portion of the paddock for the tunnels and greenhouse. She could manage it on her own. Unfortunately, it was going to take a lot longer. It had originally been home to her gran’s two horses, but there hadn’t been any on the farm in decades. Andie wanted to use the paddock for something better. A few rows of the arched tunnels would make much better use of the land.
“What do you think, Rupert?” Andie glanced at the skip she’d driven out to the site with her little tractor. She planned to spend the day filling it with the timbers and other refuse. “Think we can manage this by the end of the day?”
Rupert lay down in the grass and plopped his head down between his paws. A definite no. Andie set her bag with food on a nearby crate and got to work.
Time flew by while Andie worked. Finally, she clambered up onto a section of the old barn. It allowed her to toss pieces of wood and other trash into the skip.
“Fancy some help?” Doc’s voice startled her. She stumbled backward, only to be caught in his arms. “Hello.”
“Ciao.” She couldn’t help grinning up at him.
They were smiling. Then as if pulled by a magnet, their lips met. This kiss was no less meaningful than the first.
Andie couldn’t help sighing against his lips. “Please don’t run across the globe this time.”
“Can’t. We’re in a pandemic.” Doc chuckled before helping her stand up. “We should talk.”