Running to the Farmer (The Runaway Brides of Darling Creek #2)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ellis

Like hell I’m putting that girl on a bus tonight.

Or any night.

Louisa can try to run, but there’s too much haunting those eyes.

And sending her to California, or anywhere for that matter, is unthinkable.

As we drive into town, I tell her about my grandparents. But all the while, I feel chills when I think about how Louisa would fare in the wide world. Based on what she told me, I know she’d be taken advantage of. She’s too trusting. Too sweet.

I have to protect her.

I can’t stomach the idea of Louisa trusting the wrong person, accepting help from a predator, or worse. It makes me sick to my stomach.

The long highway into town is pitch black at 6 p.m., so I drive with my high beams on as I tell her the whole story.

“My grandmother was a woman who followed her heart. She wandered around and followed her favorite bands. The Stones, The Grateful Dead, basically did whatever she wanted. Then, one day, she was in Billings for a Phish concert, where she met my grandpa. They fell in love at first sight, and that was the beginning of their story. When she got sick, I dropped out of college to take care of her. She died a few years ago, and now this farm is mine. And I’ll be honest with you: I’m over my head. I’ve had to sell half the livestock to pay off her debts and funeral expenses.”

Louisa places her hand over mine, where it rests on the gear shift.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that by yourself.”

“I've thought about selling the whole thing and walking away. But imagine the thought of selling off your grandparents' final resting place? It’s unthinkable to me.”

I expect her to judge me, but the judgment never comes.

“Okay,” she says. “But is that the only reason? It sounds like a lot of stress?”

I glance at her, and the town’s streetlights make a halo effect around her face. “Listen, I’ve never said that aloud to anyone. So it’s not something I even considered until now.”

Louisa shifts toward me as I put the truck in park. “Listen. If you ever need someone to talk to, you can call me.”

“You have a phone?”

She smiles. “Not yet, but give me your number and…wait, this is not a bus station, is it?”

“Busted,” I say, glancing up at the neon sign advertising the Dairy Freeze. “I can’t let you leave Darling Creek without trying the world’s best brownie sundae.”

Louisa would have every right to kill me right now for deceiving her.

“I told you, I’m full from lunch.”

“There’s always room for ice cream. Come on.”

I don’t wait for an answer before I hop out and open her passenger side door.

Shaking her head, she accepts my hand as I help her out of the truck.

She hugs her cardigan around her frame as I hold open the door to the ice cream parlor, and I follow behind her.

“Who eats ice cream at 6 o’clock at night when it’s almost freezing temperatures?” Louisa mutters with a smile as we examine the tubs of brightly colored frozen desserts lined up like jewels inside the glass case.

The aroma of vanilla and chocolate has me rubbing my stomach, and I catch Louisa peeking at me, noticing the flush in her cheeks.

“What can I get you?” the owner, Joe, asks from behind the freezer case.

Louisa smiles and, to my surprise, orders two brownie sundaes.

She pays in cash before I can reach for my wallet. “No, Louisa.”

“Hush. It’s payday.”

She peeks at me as Joe hands her change, and winks. The look floods me with a feeling I can’t describe, but this must be what an inside joke with a friend feels like.

We take our orders to a corner booth.

No sooner does Louisa take her first spoonful, when her eyes widen in shock at the sight of something past my shoulder.

“Olivia!”

From behind me, a woman shouts, “Louisa!”

“What is happening?” I ask, but I’m drowned out by shrieks and shouts.

It takes a moment to register that these are noises of joy and relief and excitement as Louisa and a woman I don’t know are hugging and sobbing.

I can’t distinguish who is saying what, and I’m not totally clear on what’s happening, but I slowly piece it together.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

“Are you here with your mother?”

“No!”

“You got out?”

“Yes! I came to look for you, and you’re here!”

Somehow, I think the story of Louisa planning to leave the state was a lie.

I push down the offended feeling and consider the circumstances. After all, why would she trust me? We just met. Didn’t I just decide that I couldn’t let her leave town when she doesn’t know anybody out there but me?

I should be happy for her.

And I am.

It’s nice to see her smile.

Making her smile is the only thing that matters to me at the moment.