Sugar Creek (23 page)

That’s when Amy said to Tessa, “What about Adam Becker? For you.”

Jenny gave her head a speculative tilt. “I could see that.” Jenny and Adam had been a couple in high school, so she should know. “He’s handsome, he has his own business, he’s a nice guy—the whole package.”

“Yeah,” Sue Ann agreed, “Adam is pretty prefect.”

Yet Tessa didn’t look overjoyed. “I know—he’s great. But count me out. I’m just not a big fan of the fix-up.”

And Amy scowled. “Just because it didn’t work out with Logan? I’ve been known to make at least
some
suggestions that have come to fruition, you know. Cara Collins and Tyler Fleet are going to the homecoming dance together thanks to me. And I also suggested Rachel and Mike would hit it off, and look how
that’s
going!”

“Yes,” Tessa said, shifting her gaze to Rachel, “how
is
that going?”

Just as Sue Ann screeched, “Rachel and
who
?
Mike
? As in Mike
Romo
?”

“Whoa,” Jenny said, lowering her chin—as Rachel kicked Sue Ann lightly under the table and said, “Quiet down. I don’t need the whole town to know.”

“Yep, Rachel had the most interesting plans of all this weekend,” Tessa informed the girls. “She went with Mike to Grandma Romo’s birthday party. And I’ve been dying to hear how it went, but Edna keeps her too busy to chat much these days, so she promised to give me the scoop here at lunch.”

Jenny and Sue Ann both appeared stunned. “You and Mike Romo, huh?” Jenny asked, at least keeping her voice appropriately low. “My dad thinks a lot of him—says he’s a good cop. But…he’s so surly.”

When Rachel had promised Tessa the scoop, it had been before she knew Sue Ann and Jenny were coming. And she loved them, she really did—but the situation seemed too complex to go into here, now, with all of them. And Sue Ann did have a big mouth. Talk about tongues wagging. So, to keep things simple, she boiled it all down to the main factor of the relationship. “It’s about sex,” she replied.

“Ah, you want to have it with him,” Sue Ann said matter-of-factly. “
That
I get.”

“No—she already did,” Amy informed them.

After which Sue Ann and Jenny both sat there with their mouths hanging open, Jenny appearing surprised and maybe a little entertained—while Sue Ann merely looked eager for more dirt. And then, like an angel sent from café heaven, Mabel arrived, her fluffy gray hair appearing bluish in the sunlight, to take their orders. Rachel made a note to leave the old woman a big tip.

Of course, as soon as Mabel departed, Sue Ann started her good-natured prying. But Rachel kept it simple, no details. Yes, he was good in bed—not that she’d ever done it with him there, but she didn’t mention that part. And yes, it really was just a sex thing—there were no pesky emotions involved. She stayed adamant about that, no matter how much Amy tried to beat her down and insist that surely she felt something more for a guy she’d been intimate with multiple times now.

And it was almost the truth, since anything she
had
felt for him had been…brief and temporary. Temporary insanity, she decided.

She’d never been so thankful in her life to see food show up, and was grateful when the girls turned their conversation to things like the café’s selection of pie, Sue Ann’s next grandma weekend, and Amy’s upcoming book club pick.

Yet as much as Rachel wanted not to be thinking about Mike, it gave her thoughts a chance to wander—back to him. Even if her insane little burst of emotions was over, she still felt bad about his past, and the scars he still carried inside—at least according to Amy. And she wished she could forget how strangely well they’d gotten along on the way home the other day. She still couldn’t
believe
he’d taken her to see a donkey. And that she’d liked it! Who
was
she? At moments, she almost didn’t know anymore.

“What are you smiling about?” Amy asked then—and when no one answered, Rachel realized they were all staring at
her
. And that she hadn’t touched her food.

“Sex with Mike Romo, obviously,” Sue Ann said in a loud whisper.

No, not just the sex. The other stuff, too.

But she didn’t tell them that. Because they’d get the wrong idea, especially Amy. She could have pleasant memories about the guy without it meaning she was all wrapped up in him.

As soon as the checks came, Amy paid hers, announcing she had to get back to the bookstore, so Rachel took the opportunity to leave with her. She would have enjoyed hanging out longer, but explained, “I really need to get back to Edna’s.” And besides, if she hung around, they’d just keep asking her more about Mike.

She walked back to Under the Covers with Amy since the closest parking spot she’d found was just past the store—fortunately not in front of a fire hydrant. After Amy unlocked the door, Rachel stepped inside—she’d agreed to go with the girls to some softball tournament this weekend at Creekside Park and Amy was going to look up the schedule in the
Destiny Gazette
.

Of course, as soon as she set foot in the store, Shakespeare was rubbing up against her ankles—all gazillion pounds of him. “Annoying cat,” she muttered. But she bent down to scratch behind his ears anyway.

Amy glanced up from turning newspaper pages. “That reminds me, did you ever ask Edna about him?”

“Oh, yeah, I did—I forgot to tell you.”

“And?”

Rachel hesitated, though, because something about the answer bothered her. Maybe she’d sort of forgotten to tell Amy on purpose. “She said she could take him off your hands as a barn cat.”

Amy’s eyes brightened. “Great.”

“But he would live…in the barn. Outdoors. On his own,” Rachel explained.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “So?”

Damn it, Rachel had been sure Amy would see her point without her actually having to make it. “Well, the thing is…what if he’s not used to that? He doesn’t seem…like the outdoorsy type.”

Amy shrugged. “Neither do you, but
you’re
getting by.”

Rachel just sighed. He was so fat. And pushy. Clearly used to getting what he wanted. And at the same time he struck her as sort of…innocent in a weird way. Defenseless. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” She bent down to heft the humongous cat into her arms, plopping him on the counter. Then she looked into his eyes, which she hated to admit were sort of sweet, and grimaced. “You seem too fat to catch mice anyway. One of them might catch
you
.”

Behind the counter, Amy rolled her eyes and let out a huff. “Great. Now
you’re
attached to Shakespeare, too. You’re supposed to be the unemotional voice of reason here who helps me get rid of him.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m
attached
,” Rachel quickly denied. Although she didn’t feel quite like the same unemotional woman who’d come speeding into town a few weeks ago, either. “It’s just that he’s a big fat blob and I’d worry about him a little. It’s…stressful being forced into new situations you’re not ready for.”

Like working in an apple orchard.

Or hearing about your grandmother’s sex life.

Or…fearing your all-about-sex relationship with a hot cop wasn’t really all about sex, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself. Ugh.

H
alf an hour later, Rachel had changed into apple-picking clothes and called Stan Harriman. Since Edna was out picking the first freshly ripened Jonathan apples, her parlor made as good an office for Rachel as anyplace.

Stan had seemed happy to hear from her, and they’d had an encouraging conversation—one that restored Rachel’s faith in herself. Not that she’d ever lost it, but…maybe knowing Pamela was considered her equal had started to chip away at her professional self-worth a little. Yet talking with Stan had shown her she still had the magic, just as Chase had promised.

Now, sitting on the same sofa where Mike Romo had stroked her to orgasm, she dialed Chase’s direct office number. Having enjoyed the flirting around the edges of their conversation at lunch had reassured Rachel that…well, maybe she didn’t have it as bad for Romo as she’d started to fear in certain fragile moments. Sure, she’d
gotten caught up in thinking about him before lunch—okay,
and
during lunch—but that didn’t mean anything. And it would be good to hear Chase’s voice—a nice reminder that she had plenty of wonderful things awaiting her back in Chicago.

And then—damn it—she got Chase’s voice mail. So much for hearing his voice—other than the message he left for callers.

“Hey, it’s Rachel,” she said, “and I’ve just had a great talk with Stan. He’s looking forward to seeing what we come up with and he sounds very positive. If we can put together a campaign that knocks his socks off, he’s ours.”

As Rachel disconnected, she felt energized by today’s work-related happenings. But…to her surprise, she realized she was eager to join Edna out in the orchard, too. The Jonathans and Red Delicious ripened at the same time, so they’d have their work cut out for them between now and the festival.

The Jonathan grove rested at the far end of the orchard, a considerable distance beyond the barn, and Rachel was glad to see Edna’s pickup gone, indicating she’d driven there rather than walked. Yet since the same bright, warm weather from the past weekend remained, Rachel didn’t mind the trek herself. And as was so often the case these days, simply meandering among the billowing trees amid a light autumn breeze lulled her into a pleasant relaxation. She remained ready for work, but she felt…well, as if Chicago was a world away. And she guessed it really was. She’d be back there soon, but she was beginning to see, despite herself, that this extended trip to Destiny was…refreshing her, reviving her, and forcing her to slow down, to stop and smell the roses—or maybe the apples—for a change.

Finally, she came upon a ladder—and two short legs in cotton pants extending from the greenery above. Just as
she was pondering how to let Edna know she was there without scaring her to death, two words echoed down through the branches. “’Bout time.”

Rachel just shook her head, smiling to herself. “Yes, I had a nice lunch with my friends, thanks for asking.”

“Well, I had me a nice time with some Jonathan apples, and now you can, too. Second ladder’s in the truck.”

As Rachel retrieved the easel-style ladder and set it up near Edna’s, she said, “So, what happened after Giovanni went back to Italy?”

“Well, that,” Edna said with a sigh, “is where things get mighty complicated.”

Everything had changed for Edna since Giovanni’s departure in August. Everything.

Although she and Giovanni had picked the first ripe apples together before that fated telegram had arrived, the bulk of the autumn harvest had happened after he’d gone—and she, Wally, Dell, and Eddie had handled the whole thing, selling bushel upon bushel to markets and produce stands all over the area. Edna had also spent many an hour sitting out across the bridge, next to the road, selling apples and grapes to folks driving by. The rest of the apples, along with the farm’s crops—corn, taters, green beans, peas—they’d stored for winter. It had taken Edna a week to can the beans and peas.

They’d written their parents to explain they couldn’t come home yet—and they’d sent money, the better part of their wages. Still, they knew Daddy wasn’t happy their absence had stretched beyond summer. He’d counted on their help to get the hay in and do their fall harvest—and it meant the younger children had been put to more work than anyone had counted on.

But all three siblings agreed it was the only thing to do. Giovanni had been good to them, so they could hardly abandon his farm while he was away. Eddie had offered
to oversee the place as best he could on his own, yet it was too much for one boy. They didn’t tell their folks about Edna’s engagement, but both of her brothers knew, and that was another big reason to care for the farm—Giovanni would soon be part of their family.

The good part about sitting out next to the mailbox those fall days had been being there when the mailman arrived. Edna had waited and watched for him to come rolling around the bend, just praying he carried a letter from Giovanni. And he had, three different times.

It had disappointed Edna that the letters were brief—that she’d waited so long to hear from him and yet saw all he had to say to her in only a few seconds. But she could forgive him. According to the letters, his mother’s illness was lingering, and he couldn’t leave. And in each, he’d told Edna he loved her and would be home to marry her soon. So even though the letters were short, she clung to those words, reading them over and over, even touching her fingertips to the page. It was as close as she could come to touching Giovanni.

Now, though, it was December, and the winter had brought illness—the worst of Edna’s life. The doctor feared it was a leftover case of the Asian flu that had come over the ocean and killed so many last winter.

Now Edna floated in and out of her head due to the fever—she’d never felt so lost or helpless. All she wanted was Giovanni, and at moments she grew aware that she was saying his name again and again. And then she would hear Eddie’s voice—not one of her brother’s, but Eddie’s—saying, “He’ll be home soon, Edna, but I’m here for ya now. Don’t you worry none—you’re gonna be right as rain real soon, I promise.”

It was hard to understand why Eddie was at her bedside, but he was, almost constantly as far as she could tell. When the fever was especially rough with chills and sweating, there he’d be, stroking her hair, and even sing
ing to her real quietly—that Everly Brothers song about dreaming. His voice wafted over her, soft and deep.

He brought her what little bit of food she could eat. And he crushed up ice and poured Coke over it, the same way her mama always did, promising it would settle the sickness in her stomach. He delivered cool washcloths, pressing them across her forehead, her neck, gliding them down her arms. Sometimes she’d burst out of some confusing fever-induced vision in the middle of the night, and there Eddie would be, sitting in a chair next to her bed, slumped over asleep.

“Am I gonna die?” she asked him one day. Even in lucid moments, she felt so weak, like she was slipping deeper and deeper into some invisible hole she couldn’t crawl out of.

“Shhh—no such thing, Edna. You think I’d let you die? No ma’am.”

And she wondered where her family was. The fact that her brothers weren’t there, nor her mother, frightened her all the more. “Where’s Wally and Dell? I miss ’em.”

“Doc told ’em they best stay away, honey, ’til you get over this thing.”

It made her all the more confused, because…“Well, what about you? Can’t you catch it, too?”

He simply shook his head and appeared…sure, strong. Stronger than she’d realized Eddie could be. “Not me, no sir. I’m tougher than I look.” And then he winked, and she felt it somewhere deep within. She understood he was there, risking himself, for her. And…he was the only person in the world at her side right now.

The realization startled her all the more and, in her depleted state, she couldn’t hold in her fears. “Don’t leave me, Eddie. Don’t leave me alone. I’m scared.”

And then Eddie squeezed her hand in his and leaned down over her, kissing her on the forehead. “Don’t worry, honey. I wouldn’t leave you for nothin’, and that’s a promise.”

They were the darkest days of Edna’s life. Time moved so slowly and she drifted in and out of sleep, barely able to make sense of what was happening around her. She felt that darkness closing in, stealing more and more of the light inside her, and she knew in her heart she wasn’t getting better.

Through tears one day, she asked Eddie, “Is Mama comin’?”

And he said yes. That Dell had driven down to Kentucky through a snowstorm to fetch her folks. And as much as it relieved her to hear her mother was on the way—she also knew she was right; she was dying.

“I don’t wanna die, Eddie.” She was so young. There was so much in life to see, to do. There was Giovanni. Although, now…well, sometimes he seemed almost like no more than a nice dream she’d had. She hadn’t seen him in so long.

Eddie just kept telling her she wasn’t going to die, that he wouldn’t let her.

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do to stop it if the Lord wills it,” she informed him weakly.

But, above her, he shook his head, looking almost angry. “The Lord ain’t gonna take you yet, Edna. I won’t let Him.”

And then…Eddie slowly drew back the blanket that covered her. And he gently climbed into bed, stretching out alongside her.

Edna was too ill to even think about how little separated their bodies, just vaguely aware that she wore only a thin white nightgown, damp with sweat. All she knew in those moments was the warmth of another human being. All she knew was the strong arms that wrapped around her, the tender kisses that rained gently across her cheek. All she knew was the sense of being cared for, loved.

And when she awoke the next morning, she felt…different. More…normal. Eddie was no longer beside
her and she wondered if it had been just one more fever dream. Yet what seemed more important just then was that she felt…alive. More alive, more in her right mind, than she’d felt for…she didn’t know how long.

“I feel better,” she whispered up into the air, to no one in particular.

But, of course, Eddie was right there with her—as always. A few seconds later, his sweet face smiled down on her. He looked exhausted, wrung out, but happy. “Fever broke,” he told her.

Oh. Oh Lord! The fever had broken. She was going to live. She was going to get well. Tears filled her eyes at the news, and when she met Eddie’s, his glistened with wetness, too.

“Your mama oughta get here today,” he said.

But she couldn’t even think about that right now. All she could think about was, “Why?”

“Well, we thought it was best to send for her—but she’ll be real relieved you’ve took a turn for the better.”

It required effort, but Edna shook her head softly against her pillow. “No—I mean why…did you stay with me? Why did you stay—when no one else would?”

For the first time since she’d gotten ill, Eddie looked a little shy. Yet then his expression changed, into something stronger, more stalwart, and she realized the boy she’d met last summer had somewhere along the way turned into a man. “Dell and Wally were both willin’—but…I said I’d do it.

She simply blinked at him, and asked again. “Why?”

“Edna,” he said softly, leaning down to cup her cheek in his hand, “I know you love Giovanni…and that I don’t stand a chance against a fella like him. But I reckon I stayed…’cause I’m in love with you.”

“You’re stopping
there
?” Rachel asked, gaping at Edna from her ladder.

“Gotta stop somewhere. And besides, you don’t pick
apples as fast when I’m tellin’ stories.” Edna didn’t even look over from her work.

“You’re evil, old woman.”

“And you’re impatient.”

Well, that much was true—always had been. But as she’d acknowledged to herself earlier, something about picking apples, and just being in the orchard with Edna, did more to relax her than most things. For a moment, she considered telling Edna the good news she’d gotten about her job, simply to make conversation, but just as quickly she decided against it. Since, again, out here in the trees, that stuff didn’t seem to matter as much. At least not as much as stories about Edna and Giovanni and Eddie.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her. “Wait—Eddie’s going to turn out to be Grandpa Farris, isn’t he?” She’d never heard her late grandfather referred to as Eddie, only Edward—but it only made sense.

In response, though, Edna simply rolled her eyes. “Impatient as the day is long.”

So Rachel said nothing more and got back to work. Yet she couldn’t quit thinking about the thickening plot of Edna’s youth. Was she going to eventually find out Edna had cheated on Giovanni? And maybe this meant Giovanni did come back for Edna as promised? How could she
not
be impatient?

“So about you and Mike,” Edna said a few minutes later.

Atop her ladder, Rachel just sighed. Edna and Giovanni seemed like much safer subjects. “What about us?”

“Have ya figured out yet that ya care for that fella?”

This time she let out an irritated huff. “No. In fact, I barely know him.”

“Sometimes it don’t take long,” Edna mused, sounding suddenly light and merry, like a woman with a secret.

“You were right the first time, Edna,” Rachel informed
her. “With me and Mike, it’s all about sex.” There, that should shut her up.

And it did—but it also made her smile.

Mike sat in his cruiser, just off Meadowview Highway, monitoring the road for speeders. It was a quiet afternoon, though—just the way he liked them—so maybe he wouldn’t have to pull anybody over.

He’d been thinking a lot about his conversation with Chief Tolliver a couple days ago. Mainly because…well, other than with Logan, he guessed he thought he kept his troubles pretty well hidden; he didn’t think other people realized he’d never gotten over Anna. It was only a picture on a desk, after all.