A Man's Heart (11 page)

A
dan spotted smoke mid-morning. Stepping out of his truck, he studied the rising black fumes, deciding it was somewhere near the Matias place. Getting back in the cab, he spun off.

When he pulled into the farm lot, smoke poured out of the tool shed. He grabbed a hose and raced to the outbuilding, shooting water on flames creeping up the side wall. Another ten minutes, and the whole shed would have been up in flames.

Crystal moseyed out of the house, carrying Olivia on her hip. When she spotted the flames, she squealed.

“It's okay! I've got it under control!” Adan drenched the building, hitting every ember twice. Dragging the hose back to the well house, he frowned. “Did you call for help?”

“I wasn't aware anything was wrong.” Her features sobered. “Jules's potato plants — are they okay?”

Adan stepped in the shed to check. A moment later he returned. “No harm done. Just smoked up the walls a little.”

“How did it start?”

Adan focused on Ethan, who was standing next to Crystal
holding a box of stick matches in his hand. “Know anything about that, buddy?”

Ethan shifted the matches behind his back. “No.”

“Ethan?”

“No.”

Crystal reached for the matchbox. “I've taken these away from him twice this morning.”

Rolling up the hose, Adan grinned and winked at Crystal. “Reminds me of the time I tried to burn off a potato field without Dad's supervision. My backsides stung for a week.” He glanced at the smoldering shed. “Why is Jules growing potatoes in the shed? Isn't two hundred acres enough for her?”

“They're another one of her experiments.” Crystal fell into step as Adan prepared to leave. “She's out here piddling into the wee hours of the morning. I've never known anyone so fascinated with a tuber.”

His eyes skimmed her. “You're looking great.”

“Thanks. So are you.” Color tinged her tan features. He'd forgotten just how pretty she was. When she'd left she'd been a kid, one he liked to tease. This woman barely resembled the young girl he'd known. She'd cornered the market on looks, but she had a knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Guess you're anxious to get back to Florida.”

“Not really.” She took a messy cookie away from Olivia and pitched it to the dogs. The little girl set up a wail and reached out for Adan. He took her and carried her to the truck.

“Thought you hated potato farming.”

She flashed a grin. “I don't like potatoes, but I'm enjoying my stay. I miss the beach, but it feels rather nice to be home.”
She said the word “home” with a possessive emphasis, but Adan knew Fred had left her out of the will. Pretty rotten deal in his opinion. Why would Matias want to split the girls further?

Reaching the truck, he playfully tossed Olivia above his head, eliciting giggles. “Time for me to go, Cricket.”

The little girl shook her head. “Stay.”

“Nope, have to go.” He lowered her, ruffled her hair, and then handed her back to Crystal. Meeting the blonde's eyes, he grinned. “See if you can keep from burning the place down.”

Flushed cheeks darkened. “I will. Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

Climbing into the cab, he rolled down the window. “No. Thanks to you. What you're doing for Sophie is real nice.”

“It's nothing, really. The shell shop is doing fine without me, and with the economy in recession, I don't expect a big season.” Olivia reached out to grab him around the neck for another hug. He returned the sticky sentiment.

“Sorry.” Crystal drew the child back. “Livvy, your hands are sticky from cookie.”

As he backed up, Adan focused on the two. Crystal might be a throw back from a love child, but she was going to make some lucky kid a good mom one of these days.

He adjusted the side mirrors, keeping an eye on the young woman and child as he drove off.

Darn straight,
she would.

Sophie wasn't in high spirits for someone who was beating cancer. When Jules took the banana bread to her late that afternoon, the young mother was resting. She wasn't wearing the
scarf around her hair today. When Sophie didn't care about her appearance, she was mighty sick. The stagnant situation hit Jules like a baseball bat. In spite of her family and friends' optimism, Sophie was still fighting a grave battle. Swallowing a knot in her throat, Jules sat the bread on the bedside table. “This will keep for a while. When you feel better and the tube comes out it will be waiting for you.”

With a wan smile, Sophie closed her eyes. “That might be awhile.”

Jules's eyes traveled her body, outlined by the sheet. Her small frame had withered to nothing. Sophie was never heavy, but this stage worried Jules. She'd have to fatten her up with fried chicken and hot fudge sundaes when she got home.

Pulling the chair closer to the bed, Jules reached for Sophie's hand, paper thin now. “Has the doctor been in today?”

Sophie nodded. “Early this morning.”

“And?”

“He says stay the course. I need to be patient—sometimes complications happen.”

Relieved, Jules patted her hand. “I saw Cruz and Livvy at the store earlier.”

Sophie shook her head. “I bet that was a riot.”

“They were in hand-to-hand combat over a package of marshmallow cookies.”

Another smile broke across Sophie's pale features. “And Livvy won.”

“Nope. Aunt Jube rode to the rescue.”

“My hero,” Sophie teased, then sobered. “How are you and Cruz getting along?”

“We're not. We're on speaking terms, but barely.” After a moment she added, “How I wish I could turn back time.”

Sophie's voice caught. “Yeah, I've been wishing the same thing. What would you do differently?”

“Hire a good psychiatrist, one that could help me figure out why I walked away from Cruz, not once, but twice.”

“No need to hire a professional. I could tell you that.”

“Then why haven't you. You know what? The other night at the rodeo, I think God spoke to me.”

“Literally?”

“In my head. All of a sudden, I knew what I wanted, Soph. I want your brother and his children.”

“You've thought that twice before.”

“I've always loved him; but that night, it hit home how much and how my life will never be complete without him. Heck of a spot to be in — especially when he runs from me like I'm a rabid skunk.”

Sophie struggled with the nose tube. “God and I have had a few moments together like that. And I didn't say anything because Cruz warned me to stay out of his business.”

“I didn't warn you to stay out of mine.” Jules scooted onto the bed and held her. “So, Doctor, why do you think I am clueless to know why I do the things I do when supposedly I'm quite bright for my age?”

“You've got commitment issues.”

“No kidding. The Amazing Doctor Freud.”

“Serious commitment issues. I, on the other hand, have committed twice to two losers, so that makes me what?”

“Certainly without commitment issues.”

“True.”

Jules released her and slid off the bed. “I suppose you'll use the same tired excuse for my behavior. Pop and Mom instilled the fear of failed marriage into me.”

“See. You know more than you let on.”

“I refuse to blame my parents for my problems. I'm a grown woman, capable of making choices. Admittedly, I doubt myself more than I should, but honestly, Sophie, I have no idea why I've backed out on Cruz twice. I love the man —” She caught her admission, then figured Sophie knew anyway. “Idolize the man. Why would I fear him?”

“You don't fear him, you fear yourself. You think love will fall by the wayside if you marry him—or worse that he would cheat on you like your mom did on Pop. But that wouldn't happen, Jules. I know Cruz. He's solid as they come, and he has a deep love and respect for God's teachings.”

“I couldn't stand to marry Cruz and then lose him.” The admission slipped out in a whisper.

“There you go, doubting yourself. You're not your mom or your pop. And who knows the issues they had between them that caused the continual battles.”

Oh, she knew the issue; Mom had cheated on Pop once and Pop wouldn't let her forget it. Everything set them off. Arguments and accusations were a way of life. It is said there's a fine line between love and hate, and that line was even narrower between the Matiases. The only reason they stayed together as long as they did was for the kids. “Regardless, I pray that Cruz will find someone and be happy.”

“You do not.”

“I do — sometimes.”

“Then forget the shrink. You're nuts. He might be my brother, but he's one good-looking hombre, plus the fact that he has values and morals, Jules. Do you know how hard that is to find these days?”

“I have a date with Haute Saturday night.” Men didn't come any more honorable than Haute.

“Really? You guys seem to have fun together.” “We do. He's good-looking, a deacon, prize catch.” “But he's not Cruz.”

Resting her head on the side of Sophie's mattress, Jules reached for Sophie's hand and tightened her hold. Sophie was her anchor. Without her she'd fall apart; at times her failures drowned her. “He's not Cruz.”

“No. He's not my big brother.”

When Jules left the hospital later, Cruz was coming in the front door. He held it open for her, briefly acknowledging her presence.

“Sorry about the cookie thing.” The incident weighed heavily on her mind. She'd smashed his cookies. How could she do such a childish thing?

“There were a couple still whole.”

“I'll buy you a new package.”

“No thanks. I buy my own cookies.”

She exited the entrance, and he walked to the elevator and pushed the button. The scent of his after shave filled her senses long after she got into her car and drove off.

Why didn't she offer to
bake
him cookies? Bet he didn't do that on his own.

S
aturday evening Haute picked Jules up at six. She flipped down the visor to shade her eyes from the orange ball in the west on the drive to Pasco. “I've made reservations at an Italian place. Hope that's okay.”

“Spaghetti sounds good.”

Jules sat back and relaxed, letting the air conditioner wash over her. She'd spent ten hours in the fields, and temperatures had warmed today.

Her thoughts drifted to the shed fire. She'd come home yesterday and found the singed building. She'd frantically checked her experimental plants and the potato lying beneath the heat lamp, but there'd been no damage. She couldn't believe Crystal had let Ethan near a box of matches. It was an act of grace that he hadn't burnt the shed down, and the experimental plant with it. If Crystal only knew how close Jules was to growing a miracle, she'd take her supervisory responsibilities more seriously, but she didn't know, and Jules had no intention of telling anybody until she produced the actual plant. Another week and she'd know how quickly, or if the potato would rot. So far it showed no evidence of decay. It was
still a perfectly shaped, flawless skinned baker. Jules was making history, and Crystal couldn't keep track of a five-year-old.

Over plates of spaghetti, Jules caught up with Haute's life. Admittedly nothing happened in the community other than an occasional church function. There wasn't much to catch up on.

Later they took in a “chick flick” as Haute bemoaned good-naturedly. In general, the date was comfortable.

When Haute walked her to her front door, he kissed her. Returning the friendly gesture, she realized that she felt nothing. Funny thing was she could sense he experienced the same non-responsive emotion.

“This has been fun. Let's do it more often.”

“I'd love that. Thanks, Haute.”

And that was that.