A Risk Worth Taking (25 page)

Ford

"Love is
that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your
own."
—Robert A. Heinlein
,
Stranger in a Strange Land

I was
leaving in four weeks. I needed to pack. To close up shop. To finalize plans to
Dakota and close out things with Dean. I’d spoken to him already. He knew my
departure date. It’s not like he thought I was staying. But the general feeling
I got from everyone—Dean included—was that not a single one expected me to
actually go through with it.

Hell,
there were moments I wasn’t sure I expected myself to go through with it. Like
anytime I looked at Summer or sensed her eyes on me. Or when I kissed her or
especially when we made love. Those moments were so amazing and full of
everything we had to offer each other I couldn’t imagine actually walking away
from that girl.

I’d
considered asking her to come with me, but had tossed the idea away almost
immediately. Asking her to leave her home, her family, it would’ve been too
much like asking her to sacrifice her dreams. She was happy here. She had a
life, friends, a mom she’d only recently reconciled with. She’d said more than
once how happy she was in choosing to move back here. And if I wasn’t willing
to do give up what was important to me, how could I ask it of her? The answer
was, I wouldn’t. I loved her too much for that.

Monday,
my dad called. I’d just parked the tractor for the night. My phone’s ring
echoed in the almost-darkness as I walked the path to my greenhouse.

“Hey,
old man,” I greeted.

“Who
you callin’ old?” he said. “I could still whip you.”

“If
I was blindfolded with both arms tied.”

“Shit,”
he said. We both chuckled.

“How
are you, Dad?”

“Not
too bad. Your mom’s throwing a fit you haven’t called lately. She asked me to
check on you, man to man. I think she wants us to have a heart to heart about
that farmer’s daughter of yours.”

I
sighed. Since that first phone call, I hadn’t gone into much detail about the
extent of my feelings for Summer, but I guess my mom assumed. She always had a
way of seeing more than I let her. “No heart to heart necessary, Dad. Things
are great with Summer and me.”

“Well,
that’s probably going to change when you leave. You are still going to Dakota,
right?”

“Yes.”
Something in my chest twisted on the word but I ignored it, just like I’d been
doing for months. “I have to.”

My
dad’s voice gentled as he said, “You don’t have to do anything except what makes
you happy, son.”

I
didn’t answer as I moved tools around inside my greenhouse. I didn’t need to be
here but I couldn’t concentrate on properly locking up and still dodge the real
meat of the conversation he was trying to have here.

“Does
she make you happy?” my dad asked.

I
stared at the spade in my hand like it was a foreign object while I tried to
figure out how to answer. “I’m not ready to be this kind of happy,” I said
finally.

The
sound of laughter filled the line. I waited while he repeated my words to my
mother and she laughed too. I scowled. The situation was a lot of things. Funny
wasn’t one of them. “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

“Haven’t
we taught you anything?” he asked. “The universe doesn’t give you a choice. It
decides when you’re ready. Not you.”

“Well,
it’s being a bitch about it,” I said.

My
dad chuckled again. I threw the spade down and stalked out of the greenhouse,
twisting the lock behind me. I didn’t want to look at my plants right now. Or
anything else that represented staying or going.

I
wanted easy. Simple. I’d already found that love was neither.

Summer

“If you don’t make the time to work on creating
the life you want, you’re eventually going to be forced to spend a LOT of time
dealing with a life you DON’T want.”

—Kevin Ngo

The
sound of a tractor turning over and then sputtering out drew me to the garage.
It was dusk and despite the late working hour, the farm hummed with activity.
The corn was ready. Wheat was finished. Corn harvesting began tomorrow. The
tractors were tuned, the machinery polished and inspected. No one wanted a
surprise technical issue at five AM.

My
dad and Casey bent over Goose’s innards, both wearing grease-stained jeans and
T-shirts that’d started off white but were now a haze of gray and black. I
waited while they finished talking strategy and discussed parts to order and
quick fixes to try.

“Whatever
gets us through the season,” Dad said. “After that, I can shop around.
Prices’ll be cheaper. If I have to buy now …” He shuddered and Casey nodded
emphatically.

“It
would be highway robbery. I’ll do what I can,” Casey said.

“Thanks,”
Dad said before heading for the open bay door where I stood.

“Hi,”
I said. “Got a minute?”

“Just
one,” he said. “Can we walk?”

“Sure.”
I fell into step beside him.

“What’s
up?”

“It’s
been so busy, we haven’t had a moment,” I said, already breathless at the pace
Dad set. “I just … I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Dad
stopped and faced me, his expression registering surprise. “Did I miss something?
Are we in a fight?”

“No,
no. It’s just … I’ve been thinking about everything Mom told me, about how you
two got together.”

“Yeah.”
He pulled his hat off and hit it against his thigh, loosening a cloud of dust.
“She told me about your conversation. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. She asked me
not to and—”

“It’s
fine, Dad. I understand.”

“You
do?” he asked, the skepticism clear.

“I
do,” I assured him. “Well, I understand why you didn’t tell me. Maybe not so
much the thought process that led you to it. I mean, an arranged marriage?”

“Pretty
unheard of anymore,” he agreed.

“Why
did you agree to it?”

His
mouth curved into a one-sided smile. “Because she made me laugh.”

“That’s
it?”

“That’s
it,” he agreed.

I
shook my head.

“When
we were first introduced, her mother said something stuffy. I can’t even
remember what it was. Something about proper dress code and being a lady and
behind their back, she rolled her eyes. I cracked up, refusing to give up the
joke to the rest of them. From that day, I knew I would be happy with her.”

“And
that was enough for you?”

“To
be happy? Yes. Back then, that was enough.”

“And
now?”

“Now
… I’m having a ball trying to figure it out.”

“It’s
the journey,” I said, repeating something Ford had said once.

“And
a pretty crazy one at that,” he agreed.

We
stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the corn sway in the breeze. Above us, the
sky was streaked with clouds outlined in purple and pink from the sunset.

“It’s
good you aren’t angry anymore,” he said finally, still staring out over the
horizon.

“I’m
done being mad. It was sort of exhausting.” We shared a wry smile.

“I’m
glad you two worked things out,” he said. “I hate seeing you unhappy.”

“I
should’ve given you the space to handle it however you needed. Instead, I
thought you were weak for just accepting her behavior. I was angry at you for
not being angry. Wow, that sounds really dumb saying it out loud now.”

“Not
dumb. Protective. But, Summer, you don’t need to protect me. That’s my job.”

“I
know. Which is why I’m sorry. It wasn’t about me, not really. It was about you
and her, and instead I made it my issue. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“I
will always forgive you, even before you’ve uttered the apology. We’re still a
family. Always will be. I’m just glad we can act like it again.”

I
smiled and threw my arms around him. “Me too.”

He
held me tight and then patted my shoulder as I pulled away. “As for the rest of
the conversation, I think a medicine man is a fine choice.”

“A
medicine … ? Dad, he’s not a choice,” I began, my cheeks reddening. This was a
conversation I’d managed to avoid with him until this point. And not only
because I didn’t want to talk about Ford leaving. How was I supposed to explain
what Ford and I were without making it sound like sex? And what girl wanted to
talk to her dad about sex?

“You
could’ve walked away to minimalize the hurt. And you didn’t.” He shrugged.
“Seems like a choice to me.”

“Right,
but he’s not choosing the same.”

He
turned to look out over the expanse of corn fields to our left, his hat still
clutched in his hands. “Seems to me he might be.”

“How’s
that?”

“He’s
choosing to hurt as well, just to avoid confronting his fears.”

“What
fear?” I couldn’t help but scoff. Ford wasn’t afraid. He was positive what he
wanted and pursued it no matter the distraction. He was sure. And he was clear.
And he was content with his path. Despite the fact that it would take him away,
I envied his unwavering certainty.

Without
hesitation he said, “He’s afraid of changing his dream. He’s afraid of you.”

August
flew by despite all my intentions to slow it down. Hay was harvested and
shipped out. Corn came next, and both tractors managed to remain running thanks
to Casey’s expertise. Work days began early and ended late.

I
saw Ford most afternoons when all hands reported for field work. We didn’t get
a chance to talk much—harvest was always about work first, play second—but I
appreciated the view of his arm and back muscles rippling and flexing as he
worked shirtless, his skin layered with a heavy sheen of perspiration that made
me want to find out if it felt as slick as it looked.

We
made up for it by spending our weekends together. We’d eaten more than a few
sunset dinners out of a picnic basket, opting for privacy instead of public
places. Our favorite was still that hillside overlook that spanned the edge of
Heritage Plantation. There, I managed to put aside the stark reality that in a
few shorts weeks, Ford would pack up and leave and this would all be a sweet
memory. In that tiny spot of woods, I was able to pretend what we shared was
lasting.

My
dad’s theory about Ford being afraid weighed on me but soon even that faded. I
forced myself to concentrate on the present. On the moments I had left. I
didn’t want to think about October or Ford leaving or any of the reasons why.
Not yet. Not when I still had “now.”

The
first Saturday in September brought a temperature change that made me cringe. I
dreaded the coolness that signaled the end of summer. But it was inevitable.
And it was happening so much faster than I’d prepared for.

When
the sun dipped behind the horizon, taking the last of the heat, I shivered
where I lay on the blanket. Beside me, Ford rolled from his back onto his side,
using his elbow to prop his head. With his other hand, he pulled me closer against
his chest.

“Cold?”
he asked.

“A
little.”

“It’s
getting chilly,” he agreed. “Good thing you have me to warm you up,” he added,
his breath tickling my ear as he kissed my neck.

I
smiled and turned my head, offering him my lips. “In that case, my nipples are
freezing,” I said between kisses. He laughed, his body shaking lightly against
mine, and kissed me harder.