CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Getting Sadie and Sam acclimated to the atmosphere of the farm is a lot easier than I was expecting it to be. She’s a natural with the animals, very gentle and kind, and open to learning about them. And Sam is learning to unwind. His favorite place is the meditation meadow. He’s spent almost every afternoon there since we arrived over a week ago.
Having both of them occupied to some degree has allowed Rose and me a chance to reconnect. Not only is she fully supportive of my budding relationship with Sam, she’s as patient with Sadie as her father is, even taking some time with her at the clinic to teach her about basic veterinary care. I’ve been able to slide right back into my routine of taking care of the farm’s animals with hardly a hitch. I hate to jinx things by being too positive about everything, but Sam and Sadie sure do fit in well here.
Sadie and I make our way between all the tents and around the gardens to join Sam in the meadow. We have a picnic basket with one of his favorite sandwiches inside.
“Why is Daddy out here again?” she asks.
“I think he likes it because it makes him feel peaceful inside.”
“Do you think he’s worried about my mommy?”
“I don’t know if he’s worried, but I know he thinks about her a lot. And he misses her.”
Sadie gives an exaggerated sigh. “I miss her too. Sometimes. But not all the time. Sometimes I’m too busy.”
“I’m glad you don’t miss her all the time, because it would be sad if that’s all you could do.”
“Yeah. I’m still sad. But sometimes I think about other things.”
“Like what other things?” I’m curious how a four-year-old girl gets over the loss of her mother. She seems to be adjusting pretty well, all things considered. I can’t imagine I’d do half as well.
“I think about the chickens. I think about Boris the pig a lot, because he likes me to scratch his back a special way, and so I haffa do that every day.” She says it like it’s a factory job and she’s been forced to work double overtime.
I try to take her seriously. “That’s something nice to think about. I’m sure Boris appreciates it.”
“And I haffa do it in a special way, and if I don’t do it like that, then he doesn’t get his special back scratch that is his very favorite. And he gets sad. And he cries. He really needs it.” She looks up at me with a pitiful expression.
I could be wrong, but it sounds like she’s angling for a longer stay. “You think so?” I don’t want to lead her into thinking that this is going to last forever. We’re doing really well right now, but that doesn’t mean Sam isn’t going to want to move on eventually. We haven’t talked about it, both of us trying really hard to appreciate what we have and not put undue pressure on things. He’s mourning Madison and I’m giving him the space to do that. And regardless of whether he wants to move on or not, the reality of his business deal with the band remains. He may not be able to stay here, as much as he might want to. The idea fills me with sadness because I’m having so much fun with him and Sadie. I’m to the point that I can’t imagine my life without them anymore.
Most days I spend with Sadie or at least have her nearby while Sam works on his music in the studio shed. But every night is for him and me alone, and we couldn’t be more perfectly suited to each other. Our bodies fit together like they were made from the same mold, two halves pulled apart and set down on opposite ends of the country to be brought back together again by fate.
“And you know Fleur?” Sadie asks.
“Yes, I know Fleur the chicken. What about her?”
“Well, she’s missing some feathers on her butt. I think we need to take her to see Rosie.”
“You may be right about that. Maybe she has mites.” Good thing I have Rose around to help me take care of those kinds of things, although unless I have a sick animal or a spare hour to help out at the clinic, I hardly see her. She’s taking all her meals out there now and sleeping there often, too. The best we’ve been able to do is a few midnight chats, but they’re good enough for me. I’d never demand that Rose spend time with me when she has patients who need her.
“Maybe we can go see her after we have our lunch,” Sadie suggests.
“Maybe.” I bend down and point out the man sitting under the tree she hasn’t yet noticed. “Look. There’s your dad.”
Sadie gets ready to run, but I grab her hand and hold her back. “Go softly. Maybe he’s meditating. We don’t want to interrupt his peaceful moment.”
She starts tiptoeing, making a big show of listening to me. It’s hilarious because she’s making such a ruckus, Sam has no hope of any peace now that his daughter is in the meadow.
When he turns around and sees her coming, a grin lights up his face. He stands and opens his arms. She runs right into them. I pause for a moment to enjoy the scene. He’s got a thick sweater on to protect against the coming winter, and the skin of his face and hands has a healthy glow from all the time he’s spent outside. As it turns out, Sam is pretty handy with a hammer. He’s been fixing fences all over the property. It’s made his hands rougher, but I like it. I feel like I’m in bed with a real workingman when he touches my skin with his callused hands.
When I get closer, I hear Sadie chattering on about the picnic basket’s contents. Sam acts as though he’s really excited about his ham-and-cheese sandwich.
“I’m sure it’ll be the best one I’ve ever had,” he says. He smiles at me. “I hear I’m in for a gourmet lunch today.”
“You bet.” I set the basket down and pull out the rolled-up blanket from inside, spreading it under the tree. Soon enough, I have the whole thing unpacked and we’re munching away. Sadie’s favorites are the tiny carrots dipped in ranch dressing.
“I think I’m ready to write some music,” Sam says. He’s staring out into the meadow.
“Really? That’s great.”
“I’ve been working out some things in my head.”
“I can’t wait to hear it.” So far I haven’t been privy to anything he’s been working on, but I have high hopes that he’ll let me do that one day.
He faces me. “I’m glad you said that, because I have a plan.”
“What is it?” Now I’m suspicious; he’s got an evil glint in his eye.
“We still have that bet, remember?”
“No, I don’t remember. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I look around, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Here’s the plan. We’re going to do it here. I play, you paint.”
I gesture around. “Here? No problem.”
He shakes his head. “No. In town.”
My sandwich gets caught in my throat, and I have to cough to release it. “What?”
“In town. At the farmers’ market.”
“You’re nuts.” He went to the market with me one time, and all he did was complain about how cold it was.
“Yeah, I was thinking we could get this bet out of the way, and then I could use the two hundred bucks I’ll win to buy a couple new T-shirts I saw.”
“Don’t tell me you’re into hemp now.” I saw him eyeing the things last week, but I can’t believe he’d actually buy one. Besides, he doesn’t need that bet money from me if he wants to change his wardrobe. I know he has some from the band. Amber made sure the deal was still solid between them, and he’s already gotten a percentage of his fee.
“Hey, it’s natural fibers, man. You gotta be friendly to the environment.” He holds out his hands and frowns at me. “Hello? Intentional-living community? Sound familiar?”
I laugh, totally charmed by his attempts to fit in. And those attempts are working. All the regulars have accepted him as one of the family, especially when they see how much effort he puts in. The only one who seems a little reticent is Smitty, but I don’t care what he thinks. He’s just bummed that he’s not going to be getting any booty calls from me. Not that he ever did.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Sam shrugs. “Or you could just forfeit the two hundred bucks. Save us both the humiliation.”
I shake my head. No way am I letting him get away with not performing his music. “Forget it. It’s on.”
He slaps his hands and laughs. “Yeah!”
“Why did you say, ‘Yeah,’ Daddy?” Sadie asks.
He jumps up and grabs Sadie, swinging her around in the air. “Because I’m happy!” he shouts.
She shrieks with glee.
“You don’t need to be that happy about it,” I say, trying to sound grouchy. Truth is, I’m a little nervous about painting in front of the people at the market. I know a lot of them, but I’d rather not expose that part of myself to them. I almost think it would be easier doing it in Central Park, a place full of strangers.
Sadie’s face is pink and she’s giggling her head off. “That makes my tummy tickle,” she says gaily.
“Oh, yeah?” He throws her high up into the air. “How about that? Does it make your tummy tickle too?”
A shriek is her answer. Her arms are spread like eagle wings. “Do it again, Daddy!”
I spend the rest of my lunch break watching the two of them be silly, running around the meadow, playing tag, spinning in circles, and falling exhausted to the cold ground. This trip has been so good for them. I really don’t want them to leave, but everyone is due back from Japan tomorrow, and I know our time together here is coming to a close. Sam will need to go to New York to work with the band. Ty and Amber have offered him and Sadie rooms in their apartment.
Neither of us has mentioned what comes next, and my upbringing tells me to just let things lie. Around here, we don’t do the commitment thing. People come and go as their moods and the weather change. It was easy for me to say all kinds of things about our future when I was temporarily living outside of my normal life, but now that we’re here and my world has mostly gone back to normal, it’s hard to be that “other” Emerald anymore. I belong here. I have no desire whatsoever to move to Manhattan.
My heart is heavy and aching over it. I don’t really see an easy solution to our dilemma. In order for Sam to write music for the band, he needs to be in New York with them pretty often. Sadie doesn’t do well there, but it’s not like he can leave her with me. I’m not her mother, and although I love her, I’m not ready to be a single mother to the child of a man I just met. Maybe that’s coldhearted of me, but I really believe she needs to be with her dad right now. She lost her mom, and although she’s doing okay, she still needs to talk about it and work her way through it. And she needs to do that with Sam, not me. She’s only four years old. She needs stability in her life. Her dad going back and forth and leaving her behind doesn’t fit in with that program. Maybe when he’s done working with them, he can think about living somewhere else . . . maybe somewhere close by. But then again, maybe not. There’s not much call for professional musicians out here in the middle of nowhere.
I sigh, collecting all of our picnic things. I wish the Universe would offer me a solution, but so far all it has done is show me how sad I’m going to be in about forty-eight hours.