Chapter 14
LANEY
Of all the times to visit my grandparents, I’m not sure whether this is the best or the worst.
I’m still shocked Burton is here, and I’ve probably glanced out the window his way more than once as he cuts down the trees. He makes it look easy, but I’ve held a chainsaw before. Those things buck hard if you don’t have the strength to control them.
Am I distracted by his toned arms a few times? Maybe, but I’m here to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday, not ogle my neighbor as he works.
I help Grammie unload the rest of the groceries, then pause, unsure what to do next. Part of me wants to go help outside. The other part wants to stay in and take care of her, especially today.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” I ask, opening the fridge and cabinets.
“Oh, we’ll just eat leftovers,” she says, waving a hand.
“Leftovers you cooked?” I ask.
“Well, we don’t want them to go bad.”
“Grandma, it’s your birthday. You should eat something delicious that you didn’t have to make.”
This has been an ongoing battle for as long as I can remember. I smile now, knowing that when I look back on it someday, I’ll miss this argument.
It took until I was sixteen before I had a birthday party with friends, and that involved pizza, which is definitely not the norm around here.
“What if I take you out to dinner?” I say. “I’ve got money saved from a car repair that didn’t end up happening.”
I pause. Burton somehow slipped the forty dollars from the coupon book back to me. Was that the reason he’d hugged me at his house that night? I tried to give it back to him during our “workouts,” but he refused to take it when I offered. Maybe I should invite him too.
And then we can tear up the coupon to the farm and call it a day.
“That sounds nice,” she says, “But I don’t want you spending your hard-earned money on me.”
“Actually, Marianne,” Grandpa adds, “we should take her up on it.”
“We’re not making her pay for us,” Grammie says.
“After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do,” I say, practically pleading now. I really don’t feel like cooking.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’ll go out to dinner on one condition.”
She lets the pause stretch, and for a moment, I’m wondering if time has stopped because she’s so still.
“Only if that young man who was in here earlier comes with us.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, curious.
“Because I want to see him squirm when I ask him some questions.” She looks innocent, but she’s a firecracker.
Shaking my head, I say, “Grammie, he’s outside working to make the yard look beautiful. Is that anyway to show your thanks?” Sometimes I feel like the roles have reversed, and now I’m the parent and they’re the kids.
Grammie blows out a breath and says, “I guess not. I still want him to come, anyway. My birthday, my rules.”
I laugh and nod. “We should probably ask him first.”
“I’ll let you do that. I’ve got laundry to do,” she says. “Let’s plan to leave around four or five. Go on. Get outside. I know you’re itching to help.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek. She always knows.
As the door closes behind me, she calls out, “Check on that baby goat of yours!”
Right. Pearl. My little attack goat.
The back door is only a dozen steps from the pen. Pearl is already bleating loudly, carrying on like the world is ending.
“Good to see you haven’t lost the drama,” I tell her.
She bounds over, and I rub her fur before turning to leave.
She lets out a heartrending bleat.
“I’m trying to help over there,” I say, pointing toward the trees.
She bleats again.
I sigh and lift her out of the pen, letting her trot along beside me. The other goats protest, but there’s no way I’m wrangling all of them later.
“Be good,” I tell her like she’s a toddler. “Stay out of the way. No noise.”
She immediately gets distracted by a bug in the grass.
I glance back toward the group as the chainsaw roars to life. It’s only when I turn to check on Pearl that I see she’s fainted.
“This is exactly why you weren’t invited,” I mutter, scooping her up.
She’s stiff as a board when I carry her back to the pen.
“Stay here,” I tell her. “I’ll bring you food later.”
I shut the gate and jog away before she can protest again.
There’s a large group around the trees now, but Burton makes it look like a piece of cake as he slices through the wood.
Man, he’s hot.
I grimace, surprised by my thought process. I don’t think I’ve ever referred, out loud or in my thoughts, to someone as being hot when it comes to looks.
His easy smile and good-natured teasing make me grin. Not that we’re anything but friends right now, but I’d be okay with a date. Or ten.
I have to lock back into reality as he looks over at me and smiles. I’m here to help, not gawk at the lacrosse-playing lumberjack.
Someone hands me a pair of gloves, and I try to help, but the men kind of push in front to get the bigger pieces.
Should I be mad about that? Probably. But I’m also grateful I don’t have to throw my back out for those thick slabs of tree trunk.
I work to pick up the smaller branches, gathering an armful before I walk over to the dumpster.
On the way back, I take in the land and smile at the help these people have given my grandparents.
This will make the spring that much easier for them to get their classes all put together and keep things tidy for the animals.
We’ve filled the entire dumpster, and the two trees have been taken down. The yard looks almost bare because all the weeds and overgrowth have been taken out. It’s nearly four thirty, and Grams is calling to me from the doorstep.
“Are we ready to go eat?” she asks.
“They’re finishing cleaning up this one section, and then we can head out. I have to tell Burton, though.”
She waves me away. “Well, get going then, girl. I know how long you take to talk to boys. Might as well do it now, before I die of starvation.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I don’t think it’s starvation at this point. Just gnawing hunger.”
She twists her lips to the side and says, “You’re probably right, but I’ve got to eat early enough that I don’t have problems at night, if you know what I mean.”
I don’t, but I won’t wait for an explanation.
The group has cleaned up the area, and everything is put away in the work truck that delivered all the tools.
“Well, thanks for letting me work on your property,” Burton says with an invisible hat tip.
I shake my head. “You should thank your sister. I’m just grateful to the group for helping with all of this.”
“It looks good. Hopefully, it’ll make it easier for your grandparents.”
I nod, my chest constricting as I know what I need to do but again feel dumb asking.
Well, not dumb, just nervous about the answer.
“I’m taking my grandparents out for my grandma’s birthday. Would you like to join us?”
He raises an eyebrow and says, “You want me to come to dinner?”
I open my mouth to give a response, panicking that he’s trying to be nice and turn me down.
“Sorry, I meant, I’m not really dressed for a nice dinner,” he says, gesturing at his dirty jeans and the t-shirt with drops of blood.
“You’ll be fine. We’ll just pretend you got in a fight or something.”
“If that’s fighting, I don’t want it,” he says with a lopsided smile.
I shake my head and try to keep a straight face, but that’s hard to do with Burton.
“Is that a yes or a no, sir?” I ask. “My grandma is going to be cranky if we don’t get her food soon.”
He nods. “That’s a yes. I’ve got to go tell the gal up front I won’t need a ride on the bus. That is, if you’re okay with my catching a ride in the car?”
“Of course. Then you can get some reward for helping to fix it.”
“I already got the coupon book.”
Something in his expression makes me warm, like I’ve been hugged or something.
“Okay, go tell the lady. I’ll get my grandparents so we can go.”
Is it weird that the two most important people in my life will probably interrogate him on this group dinner?
It’s like a first date, a double date, and a meet-the-parents’ situation all in one. I don’t know if that’s how Burton feels, but I hope this goes well.