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

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Ellis

By the time Wylie and Olivia return from their two-week honeymoon at Big Sur, I manage to have Olivia’s car buffed out and the damaged front hedge removed and replaced with hydrangeas, per Louisa’s request.

Louisa said, "Hydrangeas will always remind me of the first time I felt hopeful about my new life. When I was dancing with you at Olivia and Wylie’s wedding."

I fixate on her use of the word "always."

Louisa gives me hope that she sees this arrangement as forever, the same way that I see it.

So does the way she approaches her ideas for the farm. We need fewer animals, but a bigger variety. We need to think about making cheese, yogurt, and kefir, whatever the heck that is. Along with resuscitating the flower farm, she thinks we need to take a class on raising bees and making our own honey. She thinks I’m leaving money on the table by not making a go of the strawberry patch because we could sell jam and preserves all year round.

I like the way she’s thinking long-term about everything. I just plain love her, everything about her.

Tonight, we’re sitting on the porch in our rocking chairs like two old married people, her with her books and me writing up business plans and filling in budget spreadsheets when a car pulls up into the driveway. Olivia comes bounding around the corner a minute later, with Wylie following behind her.

Louisa lets out a loud whoop at seeing her friend, and the women embrace. I shake Wylie’s hand, happy to see my neighbor again.

“How’s married life?”

“Really good,” Wylie says. “How’s things with you? Any trouble?”

“None yet.”

“No news on that Orlyn guy’s whereabouts?”

“Nope. Louisa thought she might have seen him the other night, but it was dark. Something spooked her."

Wylie's energy shifts, and he looks ready to mount up.

"Look," I say. "It might not have been him. And there's nothing to do at this point. We just have to be vigilant. Louisa says the men from the compound are assimilating into the community. She thinks they're going to try to normalize all their...bullshit.”

Wylie scoffs. “Ain’t anything normal about any of it.”

“You can say that again.” I scrub my left hand over my short-cropped hair, and Wylie peers at me strangely.

“What’s that on your hand, son?”

Wylie’s got less than ten years on me, and I laugh. “What this? I guess you could say married life has been working on me, too.”

“Holy shit.”

At the same time, Olivia squeals, grabbing Louisa’s hand. “You naughty girl! You actually did that?”

“Well, hell,” Wylie says. “We need to celebrate.”

I shrug. “I stole some sparking apple cider from your wedding if you want to bust it open.”

Olivia stomps her foot. “Absolutely not. We’re having a huge dinner tomorrow night at our house. And Curly can’t argue because I’m making a roast.”

It feels good to know my neighbors are happy for us. It feels like together, our two little families are starting to build a wall of protection, fending off the danger on the other side of the valley.

Together, I think we can do it.