32
Amy waved as Tess stopped her truck in front of the cottage gate the next day. Ignoring her aching back and leg muscles, she hurried around to the passenger’s side, set her picnic basket on the floor, and climbed in.
“This is so much fun,” she said as she fastened her seat belt. “Thanks for asking me.”
“Glad you could come along,” Tess said. “But I didn’t mean for you to bring anything. I only thought you’d like to see what goes on in the fields.”
“I do.” Amy wanted to bounce up and down on the seat, she felt so giddy. The feeling was strange, especially given its reason. Even a month ago, she couldn’t have cared less what the farmers were doing, let alone want to have lunch with them. Strange things were happening to her, as if she were being drawn into a warm and comfortable place and away from darkness.
“What did you bring?” Tess asked.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Amy said mischievously. “And of course you’re right. I don’t often cook. But I promised Gabe I’d make him a lemon meringue pie. Gran’s recipe. So that’s what I made.”
Tess looked impressed. “I remember Joyanna’s pie. It took all kinds of ribbons at the county fair. Are you going to enter this year?”
The question took Amy by surprise. “I never thought about it. I wouldn’t even know how.”
“Easy-peasy. You just fill out an entry form.”
“I guess I can do that,” she said doubtfully.
Tess chuckled. “The fair is still a couple of weeks away. You’ve got time to decide.”
“I don’t know. It’s Gran’s recipe, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I’m not Gran.”
Tess shot her an amused glance. “As lovely a person as Joyanna was, God didn’t need for there to be two of her. So he only made one.”
“I suppose you and Gran visited a lot. Living as close as you did.”
“We did sometimes. Though of course we were both busy with our own lives. I had the stables, and she had a fairly active social life until she took that turn.”
“Did she ever talk about me?”
Tess didn’t answer at first, and Amy stared out the passenger window. It was a question she shouldn’t have asked, but something had compelled her.
“She was very proud of you,” Tess finally said. “Proud of your accomplishments—graduating from that prestigious college with all those honors, how you got to rub elbows with all those important people you’ve met.”
“Gran didn’t really care about those people. She thought they were too full of themselves.”
“Was she right?”
“I suppose so.” Amy studied her fingernails. The French manicure needed professional attention, but she’d canceled her appointment after Tess invited her to go to the fields. “Did she ever say she was disappointed in me?”
“She worried about you. About all three of you. But that’s what grandparents do. They worry.”
“We gave her enough reasons.”
They rode in silence for a moment, then Tess spoke. “I think she’s smiling down on you, Amy. She would want you to be happy and to be healthy. I’ve seen a difference in you just in the short time you’ve been at the cottage.”
“Do you mean that?”
“You have a glow and a sparkle instead of a surly frown. It’s good to see.”
“Maybe I have more reason to smile these days.”
“Gabe?”
“I so hope he likes the pie.”
Tess laughed. “I’m sure he will.” She maneuvered the truck down the long lane leading to the field where Gabe and AJ were helping Jason harvest his wheat. As she parked beside Cassie’s van, the men headed their way. Amy helped arrange the food on the tailgate of Tess’s pickup—fried chicken, green beans kept warm in a penguin pot, and homemade rolls.
“Looks like you’re about to pop,” Tess said to Cassie. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your feet up?”
“I feel great except for the cramps and the heat and the swollen ankles,” Cassie said. “I’m ready whenever she is.”
Amy felt a touch of envy when Jason arrived and greeted Cassie with a kiss. His love for her shone in his eyes, and he obviously thought she was beautiful despite her bulge and awkward posture.
After handing Jason a plastic cup filled with sweet tea, Amy gazed toward the field, shading her eyes against the glare of the sun. Gabe walked toward her. Dusty. Sweaty. And more attractive than anyone she’d ever seen.
Gabe took the basket Amy held out to him. “What do you have in there?” he asked.
“What have I been promising you?”
He gave her a knowing look and licked his lips. “The elusive lemon meringue pie.”
Amy nodded and laughed.
“Sorry, guys,” Gabe said over his shoulder. “The dessert is all mine.”
“I don’t think so,” AJ said. “I’ve been craving Gran’s lemon meringue for months now.”
“You’ll get a slice,” Amy said. “I made one pie for Gabe and one for the rest of you.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” AJ said. “Better a little than none, I guess.”
Gabe removed his Stetson and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Did you really bake me a pie all my own?”
“I did,” she said. “The catch is, you have to eat it all—whether you like it or not.”
“That’s not going to be a problem.” Gabe set the basket on the tailgate with the rest of the spread. They filled their plates, and he and Amy sat a little off to themselves.
“I was surprised to see you arrive with Tess,” he said. “Even more surprised about the pie.”
“She called me this morning to see if I wanted to tag along. And then I scurried into the kitchen and got busy.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Amy bent her head and slightly lifted the brim of his Stetson so their eyes met. “Me too,” she said quietly.
If he’d been used to kissing her, he would have kissed her now. But he was still holding out for that special moment. Him sweaty from the fields while she was fresh as a daisy after a spring rain—this wasn’t that moment. As the hopeful gleam in her eyes dimmed, he wished he could tell her that. But he didn’t know the words.
On the drive home, Tess unconsciously gripped the steering wheel as she neared the cottage. She’d been up late last night and early this morning since two more horses had taken ill. While she tended them, her thoughts had been troubled by what Amy had said about her dad’s last conversation with Rusty. Once Tess had returned to the house, she’d written about what she should do in her prayer journal. Now she prayed for wisdom.
“Would you mind coming in for a few minutes?” Amy asked as Tess slowed before the cottage. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Guess that’s a sign.
“Great minds,” Tess said. “I have something I want to talk to you about too.”
“Is it okay if I go first? I have a great idea,” Amy said mysteriously. “And I wanted to see what you thought about it.”
Tess couldn’t get anything else out of Amy until they were inside the cottage with tall glasses of chilled blackberry lemonade.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” Amy said. “All I know is that I can’t have Dylan building a subdivision north of this property.”
Tess wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. “Believe me, Amy. I don’t want to sell. But I have to think of the future.”
“So do I.” Amy’s tone was firm. “Gran’s great-grandchildren should be able to enjoy this cottage as much as Brett and AJ and I did when we were kids. Elizabeth and Tabby should have their names on the engagement tree without staring at a bunch of backyard fences.”
“What are you saying?”
“I want to buy your property on this side of the road.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. It’s the only way to protect the cottage and what AJ and Shelby still own of the Misty Willow property.”
“Have you talked to AJ about this?”
“I plan to. Actually, it would be helpful if he bought the land back near the creek. Then I’d only have to purchase the frontage.”
Tess inwardly sighed as she considered Amy’s idea. At first glance, it seemed a win-win for both of them. But in reality, for Tess, it was only a short-term solution. Tapley might not buy the property on the west side of the road if he couldn’t have the property on the east side too. She needed his money to have enough for a fresh start after the mortgage was paid.
Feeling Amy staring at her, Tess met the young woman’s gaze. A light shone in her eyes that Tess hadn’t seen since she was a girl. “I didn’t know you were sentimental about the land.”
“Neither did I until Logan told me about Dylan’s plans.” She momentarily lowered her eyes. “I know now why Shelby feels the way she does about her grandparents’ legacy. I feel that way about Gran’s. This cottage may not have the same sense of history and grandeur as Misty Willow. But Gran loved it here. I’ll sacrifice anything to keep Dylan or anyone else from spoiling it.”
“I wish I could say yes, Amy. I really do. But—”
“There’s more.” Amy retrieved a folder from the kitchen counter, pulled out a brochure, and handed it to Tess.
“Is this the clinic you went to?” Tess asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” Amy took the brochure and opened it. “Look at this. They offer equine therapy.”
“Did you participate in this?” Tess asked in surprise.
“No. I couldn’t . . . not then.” She sat on the edge of her chair and leaned close to Tess. “Don’t you see? There are all kinds of equine therapy these days. For eating disorders, for kids with autism, for speech problems. And it’s all great. But what about the kids who just want to ride but never have a chance? Kids from the city whose parents can’t afford lessons and boarding fees. Wouldn’t it be great if they had opportunities to ride too?”
“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting. To start anything like that would take money I don’t have. And it wouldn’t generate any income.”
“Don’t you see? A foundation protected Misty Willow. Why can’t a nonprofit save Whisper Lane?”
“But I don’t know anything about running a nonprofit.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I would.”
“Amy, you can’t be serious.”
“Why not? I have connections. I know how to raise money.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “True, I didn’t help much with the Heritage Celebration, but that’s only because I was still being a brat. But I’ve planned major events before. I’m organized and—”
Tess laughed and held up her hands. “Enough already. I get the picture,” she said gently. “And I saw you handling the crowd at the Heritage Celebration. You’re a poised, sophisticated, and intelligent woman.”
“Then you agree we can do this?”
Tess shook her head in resignation. “A group wanting to do something like this would look for donated land. I can’t do that.”
“This would not be a shoestring operation,” Amy said, her voice pleading. “Even if we couldn’t outright buy your property, we could lease it. You’d stay at the house, help train the horses, oversee the activities. And get a steady salary. Please tell me you’ll think about it.”
“Have you talked to Gabe about this?”
“I haven’t discussed it with anyone. There’s too much to do, too many details to work out. I want to be able to answer every single question, address every single objection, before we go public. So for now, it’s just between us.”
“I’d like it to stay that way till I make a decision. And I promise. I will consider it.”
“That’s all I ask.” Amy’s gleeful expression lit up her face. “I know we can do this, Tess. I just know it.”
She sat back in her chair, tucking her feet beneath her. “Your turn. What did you want to talk about?”
Tess gazed out the long row of windows, whether for guidance or inspiration or assurance she was doing the right thing, she couldn’t say. Puffs of clouds accented a brilliant blue sky and the trio of silver birches gracefully swayed in the gentlest of breezes. “Something that might seem difficult to hear at first. But I hope you’ll be glad to know.”
“You’ve got my attention. What is it?”
“Yesterday you mentioned a conversation your dad had with Rusty.”
“You mean about Marigold?”
Tess barely nodded as she prayed for the right words. “I’m sorry, Amy. That’s not what they were talking about.”
“They had to be. What else could it have been?”
“They were talking about forgiveness. And about grace.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your dad was tired and broken, both emotionally and spiritually. He didn’t want to fight with your mom anymore, but he felt like they were trapped on some strange kind of merry-go-round. Having the same arguments again and again.”
“You’re telling me Dad was asking Rusty for marital advice?” Amy’s tone bordered on skepticism. “They’d gone to counseling and it never helped.”
“He wanted to try again.” Tess bit her lip, then glanced out the window. The day’s quiet serenity soothed her spirit and gave her the courage to go on. “That’s why he was on that plane, Amy. He and your mom were taking the first tentative steps toward a reconciliation.”
As Tess spoke, Amy’s expression lost its skepticism. Now she was aloof, almost detached.
“Why didn’t he say anything?” she asked, her voice so quiet that Tess could barely hear her.
“You and Brett had already been hurt so much by their animosity. They didn’t want you to get your hopes up in case they couldn’t work things out.”
“But what about Gran? They would have told her, and she never said anything.” Her voice rose an octave, and she pressed her lips together.
“To the best of my knowledge, the only people who knew were Rusty and me. And their counselors.”
“So,” Amy said haltingly as her eyes reddened, “if they had come back, we might have been a family?”
“I’d like to think so.”
Neither of them spoke for several moments. Tess listened for God’s voice in the silence as she prayed for Amy’s heart to find comfort in what might have been.
In the dusk of the evening, as fireflies flitted around the sloping yard, Amy told Brett what Tess had told her earlier that day.
“Do you think it’s true?” she asked him.
He sat in a lawn chair, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I do.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Otherwise, why did he go?” Brett leaned back in frustration and tapped the chair arm with his thumb. “Why fly to New York with your ex-wife, her brother, and his wife? I never understood it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon,” Amy said. “I finally admitted to myself how mad I was at him for not coming back.” More than that. She practically hated him for breaking his promise, and his death had been a final rejection. Irrational thoughts, yes, but she couldn’t get past them. They were so strong, so real, that she scarcely tried.
Those weren’t thoughts she could share with Brett or anyone else. Instead she had kept them buried, even during therapy sessions at the clinic.
“Are you glad Tess told you?” Brett asked.
“Yes. I think I am.” Dad’s effort to make amends with Mom gave Amy a reason to forgive him. Perhaps she should have forgiven him anyway, without a reason except that she loved him, but that had proven too hard when grief threatened to swallow her whole. As the months passed, her lack of forgiveness had become so deeply ingrained, she no longer recognized it for what it was.
Dusk turned to twilight while they talked. In the dim light, Brett’s features weren’t as discernible as they had been, and the blinking lights of the fireflies were even more noticeable.
“What about you?” she asked.
“It matters,” he said. “The pain. It seems a little less heavy.”
“I know what you mean.”
Even in the darkness, she could tell the instant he flashed his dimples at her. “Get packed. You’re spending the night with us.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Come on, Amy. Let’s have a game night. Celebrate the family we have instead of mourning the one we didn’t.”
The invitation did sound more appealing than being alone with thoughts that wouldn’t settle down. She absolutely didn’t want a repeat of the last time Brett had left her after a serious conversation.
“Can we play Settlers of Catan?”
“If we must.”
“Then I’ll come.”
“Great. I’ll call Dani and let her know.”
Amy started to rise but shifted toward him as she ran a strand of hair through her fingers. “I want to believe that Mom and Dad would have married again. That they would have been happy.”
“Do you think I’ll ever be happy? The way you are?”
“I think you could be.” He purposefully gazed across the road toward the stables. “That’s up to you.”
Not only up to her. But maybe, if her plan worked out, she’d find happiness again at the Hearth.