CHAPTER 13
Tally
My entire body is sore, and my arms feel like they are on fire.
I’ve never worked so hard in my life. Carrying one-hundred-pound sandbags from the meadows to the storage barn was more effort than I’d bargained for.
Dirt coats my hands and stains my fingernails.
It’ll take at least two showers to feel clean. Maybe three.
But I can’t help but smile.
The tarps are off, folded, and put away. The sandbags are organized. It barely looks like we’ve been here. Even though, for hours, we’ve worked to get the last of the blankets off the tulips. In two weeks, when they are fully bloomed, all this work will be worth it.
Eli and Fletcher, along with a few guys from the fire department they’d wrangled to help, all sit on the edge of our porch enjoying the iced tea, beers, and homemade sandwiches I’d provided. The sun is just dipping behind a bank of cotton candy clouds, leaving the entire farm in a hazy pink hue.
“So what’s the story with you and my best friend?” I ask Fletcher as he tosses a piece of his sandwich to his dog.
Eli perks up. “You and Rosie?” He waggles his brows. “Definitely didn’t see that coming.”
“There is no me and Rosie,” Fletcher replies, and for the first time today, he’s not smiling. I know there’s more to this story than either of them are willing to share.
“But you want there to be?” Eli asks.
Fletcher rolls his shoulders back and sets his sandwich down beside him. Brewer jumps up, setting his paws on his lap, and Fletcher finally smiles before pushing the dog down. “You’ve had enough, boy. Go lay down.”
He looks up to find us waiting for an answer before shaking his head and letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ve got my hands full enough with Henry.”
“And Rosie would definitely require two hands,” Eli says before tipping his beer back and taking a swig.
“Oh yeah, she would,” I agree. My best friend is more than a handful for sure, but she’s worth the effort, and I have a feeling Fletcher realizes that as well.
Though I don’t push him. Neither of them seem ready to deal with whatever is brewing beneath the surface, and Lord knows I have enough on my own plate to not try to play matchmaker.
We all laugh right as my mother’s car appears in the driveway.
Excited to show her our handiwork, I hop off the porch and pat down my dirty clothes, waiting for her to park.
Right as she’s getting out of her car, Walker’s Ford F-150 swings into the lane.
It’s an older model, obviously well loved, and it suits him.
The truck pulls up next to my mom’s car and Walker hops out, his movements slow, his body tense. Something about the way he peruses the entire area has nervous energy buzzing through me.
Shit.
His nephew leans out the window and waves. “Hi!”
His boyish charm settles my nerves. I smile and wave back.
“What’s going on?” Walker mumbles to my mother.
She shrugs. “I was just about to ask the same thing.”
Eli’s hand lands on my shoulder, and he squeezes me against his side. “Tally here had a great idea today. And she roped us all into helping.”
Nervously, I give him a closed-mouth smile. But before I can say anything, Walker speaks. “Roped you in to help with what?”
“We uncovered the rest of the tulip bulbs!” I say brightly. “Tada.” I do a little jig. I have no idea why—probably because I feel nervous about the way my mother and Walker are looking at me.
Walker’s brows pull together. “You what?” He takes a step closer, and even though he’s still ten feet away, I feel the itch to back up.
Instead, I straighten my back. “With the Daffodil Festival around the corner, the flowers need time to bloom.” I sound more sure of myself than I feel.
But this is how we always did it. The end of March meant the start of tulip season.
By mid-April, we’d be in full bloom. Despite knowing all of this, however, something doesn’t feel right.
It might be the panicked expression on my mother’s face.
Or the simple shift in Walker’s stance; the way his jaw ticks as he looks off to the fields.
He’s angry. As is my mother. Whatever his plan was, they’re clearly in this together.
Walker’s emotions pass quickly across his face, and soon, he’s his usual stoic self. Unreadable. He glances at the men surrounding me. “Thanks for the help. If you guys ever need anything—”
Fletcher holds up a hand. “It’s what neighbors do. I’ve actually got to go pick up Henry at my mother’s. You all good?” He directs the question at me. I think he can sense that something is off.
I give a quick nod and fake a smile. “Yes. Thank you again. If you ever need a sitter for Henry, I’m your girl.”
He smiles and then the rest of the guys begin to pack up, heading for their trucks.
Eli pauses next to me before leaving. “Walker doesn’t look happy.
I’m not making that up, right?” He mumbles it out of the side of his mouth, his focus on my mother and Walker, who are talking together in quiet tones.
I shake my head as Eli gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Want me to stick around?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
His blue eyes study me for a beat longer before he nods and carries on his way.
As he passes Walker and my mother, he stops to gives her a gentle squeeze and does some fist-bump thing in Walker’s direction, which Walker just stares at before Eli shrugs and gives up.
Then he seems to notice Billie’s son hanging out the back of the truck and walks up to say hello.
The way the little boy lights up, it’s clear he’s a big fan of the hockey player.
I stay where I am as everyone leaves, wondering what bombshell is about to be dropped. As soon as the last car pulls away, my mother spins on me. “Why would you uncover the flower beds?”
Confused, I look between her and Walker, searching for an answer to their concern.
“Why wouldn’t I? The festival is coming up. The flowers won’t have time to bloom if they’re covered.”
The sound of a car door slamming echoes as Walker’s sister comes around the truck. She gives me a nod of her head and an uneasy smile. “Hi, Tally.”
“Hi.” I suck in a lungful of air. “Will someone please tell me why you’re acting like I killed someone?”
Billie glances at her brother, but his gaze is focused on the uncovered tulip bulbs.
“Because,” my mother says slowly, pain evident in her every syllable, “Walker was trying to extend the season. By keeping them covered, they’d still be in bloom by the end of May, maybe even into June. We have two weddings booked right up ’til June sixth.”
“But we never have weddings that late,” I protest, even as the sick feeling grows in my stomach.
Walker clenches his teeth and finally looks at me. “Because we never have flowers for brides to take pictures with.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell me that? I asked you repeatedly why you weren’t uncovering them.
” I’m angry now. I tried to talk to him.
Tried to get him to open up. It all would have been so simple if the man had just used his damn words.
“And Penny and I found the letter from Frank Seymour in the fire-place.”
My mother sucks in a surprised breath. Ha! See! I knew Walker was up to no good.
Vindication has me stepping forward, my back straightening. “It was addressed to him,” I tell my mother.
Walker sighs, his demeanor not indicating that he’s the least bit concerned that I know about this.
My mother shakes her head. “Frank’s been after your father to sell for years, and Walker was here the last time he stopped by. He offered to take care of it so I didn’t have to deal with the guy. He’s pushy.”
“And I threw the letter in the fireplace because I’d already told him weeks ago your mother wasn’t interested.” Walker says before glancing at my mom. “I was annoyed that he did again. I thought I’d made it clear where you stand.”
Shit. “But the fireplace doesn’t even work,” I say weakly. I’m losing my fight. It seems Walker has an answer for everything and, more importantly, my mother knows every one of them.
“I fixed that a few weeks ago, too,” Walker grumbles.
“Oh.” My eyes fly to his, and where I expect to find anger, I find exhaustion.
“What will we do?” my mother addresses Walker. My heart pinches at the worry in her voice.
The way she looks at Walker makes me think things are even worse than I imagined. Is it possible that my daddy hired Walker because we are at real risk of losing the farm? Our home?
“I was just trying to help,” I say softly, though my words are lost in the wind.
A gust kicks up right as Walker’s nephew whines from the window. “Are we getting dinner? I’m hungry.”
Billie reaches for my mother’s hand and squeezes. “Why don’t you join us for dinner? We were just heading out. We can figure out a plan for those late weddings. Don’t you worry.”
Walker stares out at the uncovered flower beds, his breathing heavy. His head drops and he nods. “Yeah, Gail, come with us. We’ll figure it out.”
Loss settles deep in my bones as I feel the familiar clang of not only screwing up, but also of not belonging. It’s not me my mother needs; it’s Billie. I don’t know why I even came home. I just keep making everything worse.
“Want to join us, Tally?” Billie asks.
“I’m sure she’s got plans.” Walker’s tone is harsh enough. The way he won’t look at me, though? That stings. Creates this empty ache in my chest that I want to rub away.
Somehow I find my voice despite the utter devastation that sweeps through me. I hold up my dirty hands to Billie. “Yeah. I’ve got to shower. Enjoy your dinner.”
As I watch the four of them leave, I will my mother to turn back and look at me. To see how sorry I am. To tell me she forgives me.
But the truck disappears in the same direction it came from, and no one inside even looks my way.