Lightning flashed and almost immediately thunder rumbled overhead. Amy ran to the front window of the farmhouse and stared, Why a storm now? She’d prayed the rain would hold off until roofers finished their work.
The sky darkened and the huge evergreen in the front yard bent low and leaves from the other trees swirled in a sudden wind.
Pounding hammered from overhead. Dear God, was someone on the roof in this downpour?
She ran outside and looked up. A blue tarp whipped in the gusts, but someone held on to one end preventing it from flying away. Did the contractors send a guy to cover the hole? If he wasn’t careful the plastic would act like a sail and he’d be dragged off the roof and crash to the ground.
As the gusts became stronger she pushed her hair from her eyes and watched. The man fought to keep a hold on the tarp and the hammer and still stay in place.
He crouched down with his face against the squall. She wanted to yell at him to tell him to come down before he got killed. But would her interference take his attention away from his concentration and cause him to lose his footing?
Frozen in the yard and unable to turn away, she prayed the man would get down safely. As the fabric was hammered in place he became easier to see.
Wyatt. She wanted to screech his name, but if he heard and turned to look low down, he might fall.
With her eyes squeezed tightly closed, she listened to the rhythmic beat of the hammer. Strong, Wyatt’s strength and determination drew her to him, but against the forces of nature and without a safety line…
She couldn’t stand this. “Wyatt, for God’s sake come down!”
If he heard her, he gave no indication. The drumbeat of her heart matched the sounds of the mallet. Unconsciously, she held her hand to her chest.
With the tarp in place, he moved toward the open attic window and disappeared into the house.
Thank God.
She ran inside and without stopping took the stairs to the second floor as he came out from the attic.
“Wyatt, what the hell were you thinking? You might have died.”
“Calm down. I’m fine. I had to do something to stop the leak.” He shook the water from his hair and stripped off his wet shirt. “The storm’s going to last a few of days, if this thunderstorm is as bad as the weather reports say, the attic would be ruined.” He reached for her and she turned away from him.
“You still upset, Amy?”
“That doesn’t begin to cover it. Damn, I thought you would fall and I’d have a perfect view of your death.”
“It’s not dangerous.”
“So, you say.” She poked her finger at his chest. “Are you crazy?” She poked him again. “I’m depending on you to stay alive. It’s bad enough you risk your neck on the back of a horse most days, I don’t need you taking extra chances.”
He flinched and said, “It’s not my first time on a rooftop. In high school, I spent summers helping a one of the local contractors…”
“I don’t care. If you ever frighten me like that again…
“Hush.” His strong arms pulled her to him. She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow as she let her head rest against his bare chest and listened to his heart’s steady beat.
“I’m okay,” he said as he stroked her hair and then kissed the top of her head as if she were a panicked child.
With her face tilted upward, he met her open mouth with his. She sighed, tensed, and stepped away. “Don’t. I’m mad. You gave me a heart attack.”
Despite her words, she smiled. He kissed her again and heat ran through her igniting a desire only he could satisfy.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You do care.” He grinned.
“Too much for my own good.”
“Mommy, I’m home.”
“I’m upstairs.” She ran a gentle hand over Wyatt’s full lips and kissed him. He brought her to him again until they touched body to body.
“Bobby’s home.” She tried to move away, but he held her firmly against him.
“He understands we’re going to be married. It’s good for a kid to realize his parents love each other. I never saw anything but bickering and hatred when I was growing up.”
“Daddy, why don’t you have a shirt on?” Bobby had run to the second floor and stood staring.
“Uh, I got caught in the storm. Looks like you got drenched too,” Wyatt said.
“Take off your wet coat and I’ll hang it in the laundry room to dry.” Amy took her son’s hand and walked down the hall.
“Hey you two, I’m going to the cottage for a clean shirt. Why don’t you meet me downstairs and we’ll get a snack?”
“Okay,” Amy and Bobby said in unison.”
***
Three days later Wyatt was gone, back on the circuit. Amy woke to the sound of people walking on the roof of the farmhouse. Men shouted, presumably giving instructions to one and another.
She grabbed her robe and glanced out of the window. The driveway was full of trucks and roofing material.
“Mommy, people are pounding on my ceiling.” Bobby stood in the doorway, an alarmed look on his young face.
“They’re here to mend the leak. We’ve been waiting for them. Now I can remove the pail from the attic.” She put her arm over his shoulder. “There’ll be no more water dripping into the house—you better get ready for school. Your lunch is on the kitchen table. When you’re ready, I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
Later the pounding increased and if she hadn’t already checked the weather, she’d swear a thunderstorm reigned overhead. She turned back to the computer screen and tried to concentrate on her research.
What kind of apple sold best? If they planted the new orchard it might as well be with a popular apple, other than Red Delicious of course as the older trees were Delicious.
China and Australia dumped tons of apples on the United States Market. But Granny’s farm grew organic ones. Amy believed people wanted to buy local whenever possible and that gave her the edge.
Would parents want to feed their families apples shipped from thousands of miles away or ones grown on a nearby farm? She knew her choice.
Red Delicious was the most popular, Golden Delicious second. Gala would be next according to the research she’d done. She loved those, but she was in business to make money. Her farm needed another choice.
She rubbed her chin and tried not jump every time the thunder of hammers and men shouting interrupted her thoughts. How long would it take to get the job done?
Back to the decision for the bottom line, a sensible choice needed. Golden Delicious seemed right, but McIntosh, the green and red apple found originally in Eastern Canada might be good too. It was a little tart for her pallet, but it could be made into juice, cider, and pies. The downside, it didn’t keep in storage as long as other apples and had to be picked first and sent to market before they got mushy. They’d have to be harvested first and then go for the other apples which kept longer. McIntosh might increase her market share and open up new venues for Granny’s farm.
Decision made, she took her smart phone and texted Manny to let him know which trees to order. Many people didn’t know apples were still harvested by hand. Arrangements would be made for his crew to pick the crop as well.
That was one item off her “to do” list. Before she could feel too good about it, snail mail she had ignored for the last few days loomed on her desk. If she didn’t open something, it threatened to slide off onto the floor. What if something important hid in that pile?
As she moved the correspondence closer she discovered a small box under the magazines. Bobby probably brought it into the house and forgotten to tell her? Maybe Wyatt’s ring? The craftsman lived nearby but…
Too well packed, she’d better use a paring knife from the kitchen to cut the tape. She tore open the top and pulled back the tissue.
“Wow!” The gold wedding ring she’d ordered sparkled from the box. The small package might have been pushed to the floor. She held it to her heart. Be more careful.
Though platinum and white gold was the most popular choices right now, she’d chosen the yellow metal to go with the ring he’d designed for her. Gold from the Mother Lode of California had been used to make her ring.
She had to tell him about the band. Gone so much these days, he’d suggested she take care of the details for the wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but with his job, traveling and now promoting the rodeo, there just didn’t seem to be enough time for everything. He’d kissed her and said, “I trust you, Amy. Do it and I’ll be happy.”
Even on her thumb, his ring was way too big. They’d never talked about him wearing it. He didn’t wear any ornamentation, Still, she believed most modern men wanted a band. If only he found the ring as amazing as she did.
She imagined placing it on his finger during the ceremony. Thinking of his powerful hands, large but gentle, her breath quickened recalling his caressing strokes.
The mail sat in front of her and she willed her mind to stop daydreaming and get back to work. She carefully sorted through the correspondence and stacked the letters by importance: read now, open later, or throw out. With her foot, she moved the waste basket nearer and pitched in most of the letters.
Not feng shui, but it felt better clearing some of the clutter. The top of the old wooden desk peeked out. Granny’s regulator clock sounded the hour. Only one in the afternoon, she had plenty of time to finish before Bobby returned home.
Every day she met him at the bus stop. She smiled thinking how proud he was being old enough to take the bus from school with the other kids in the neighborhood. They were a little older and she’d been worried about letting him do it at his age. His teacher was a friend of Vanna’s. She’d promised to make sure he got on the bus after school, though she’d manage it without making a fuss. Bobby wouldn’t be singled out as a kid that needed help from the teacher. Amy took a deep breath and remembered how important things like that seemed to kids in elementary school.
A letter in the pile had the logo of the biggest newspaper in Sacramento. She almost didn’t open it. With her budget, nothing was for left for a daily paper and used the online sites for news. Still, she tore the envelope open, glanced through it, and then examined it again.
“Well, I’ll be,” she whispered into the empty room. The lifestyle’s editor wanted her to write a column for the weekend section of the newspaper, discussing organic farming, apple recipes, and natural crafts. “I don’t believe…” she said a little louder. There’d been an email from the newspaper, but she’d sent it to her spam folder and deleted it. Maybe she should have read it.
Last year, she’d struggled to get the apples to market. Worked to sell from the pumpkin patch and make it a success and to have the Christmas crafts fair not to mention selling the Christmas trees at the farm to bring in money. All went well and the she’d received more than expected, though not enough to make it until next year’s harvest.
She’d done her best to advertise, but hadn’t thought anyone in Sacramento cared about the farm in Sierra Creek. Now the newspaper wanted her to write a column. According to the letter it paid a pittance, but the free publicity for Granny’s Organic Farm products, with the newspaper’s large circulation, irresistible. With a phone number in the letter, she should call and say she might be interested. She grasped her smart phone. When they answered, she’d say yes.
Things were going well; why was she nervous?
***
Wyatt was back. In the kitchen, she sat at the table and with her smart phone and searched the web looking for recipes. Planning dinner got harder every day, difficult to find new courses for Bobby to eat with celiac. In a rut, she too often fell back on the same dinners. Though no one ever complained, Wyatt and Bobby must be tired of the same meals.
“Amy, pack a bag,” Wyatt shouted as he rushed into the kitchen from the backdoor. He slid out of his jacket and tossed it onto a hook and plopped his Stetson on top of it.
“You’re home early.” She hugged him. “What do you mean pack?”
“You feel good.” He held her tighter then released her. “Get going.”
“Where?”
“We’ve been working hard; don’t you think we deserve a mini vacation?”
“Well, I—”
“Do you realize we’ve never dated? After Granny died, one thing or another had to be done. It didn’t seem right to go out.”
“I—oh don’t stop,” she said as he nibbled on her ear lobe and then sent warm kisses down the nape of her neck.
“We’ve never gone for a walk and held hands or gone to a movie and kissed in the dark. I haven’t wined and dined you. You’ve seen how charming I can be,” he said between kisses.
She giggled and relaxed in his arms. “You have no idea how wonderful that sounds—what about Bobby?”
“Taken care of. He’ll stay with Sophie and after school he’ll help Vanna at the preschool.”
“But...”
“It’ll be fun. I’ve booked a hotel in San Francisco and you can show me around the city.” He grinned.
“Now I’m excited.” Would it be right to act as an engaged couple, free from care and responsibility even for a couple of days?
Starved for downtime with the man she loved, did she dare?