Chapter 7
Sleeping with a man changed everything in a relationship.
Gerard seemed closer yet more distant than before they’d made love.
It was as if he struggled with what he wanted and what he couldn’t have.
Because of what his father had done to him and his mother, he didn’t trust himself to always do the right thing.
He’d chosen to walk away from love rather than end up hurting those he cared about.
He’d push her away like he probably had every other woman he’d ever dated.
All Bernie knew was that this man was worth fighting for.
She didn’t need weeks of dating to figure that out.
Despite his upbringing, or maybe because of it, he was a good man who cared about people and didn’t want to hurt them.
He didn’t want to hurt her. Thus, the wall he was attempting to construct between them.
What he didn’t realize about her was that because she’d loved and lost, she was acutely aware that life was incredibly short. Shorter for some than others. She had to grab for happiness and hold on for as long as she could.
Though they were just beginning to know each other, Bernie knew in her heart this man was special. She didn’t want what they’d shared the night before and this morning to end.
She just had to convince him to stay.
However, first, they had a delivery to make. She needed the money from her watermelon sales to pay her property taxes, which were due in a couple of weeks.
After a few minutes more of snuggling, Gerard kissed her temple. “You’re thinking about the day ahead, aren’t you?”
She sighed. “Hard not to. So much depends on getting my melons to market.”
He kissed her temple again and rolled out of the bed. “Come on. We have a delivery to make, and we’re burning daylight.” He held out his hand.
She laughed, letting him pull her to her feet and into his arms. His naked skin against hers was amazing and far too tempting. Bernie slid her hands down his back to his bare ass and moaned. “Promise me we’ll make time for this later tonight.”
He hesitated a moment.
She thought he might say no, falling back on his vow to walk away from any commitment.
Bernie held her breath, waiting for him to say no.
“I promise,” he said and hugged her close.
She released the breath she’d been holding and hugged him back.
“I’ll make coffee while you get dressed.”
“Deal.” Bernie grabbed a bra and panties and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she leaned her back against the wall and smiled. After three long years alone, she’d slept with a man.
In the last few weeks of Ray’s life, they’d talked about what she should do after he was gone. He’d given her permission to sell the place and move on.
“You’re still young. There’s no reason you can’t fall in love with someone who can give you the children we wanted.” He’d held her hand in his, his grip weak, his skin stretched thin over his bones.
Tears had slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t know, Ray. That was our dream. I love you . I wanted children with you .”
He’d given her a tight smile. “And I wanted them with you. But that’s not how this story ends.
I’ll be gone. You have to keep living. There’s someone special out there for you.
He’ll love, protect and care for you. And he’ll give you babies to love.
You always wanted a house full of kids. Don’t give up on that dream.
You’ll make a terrific mother.” He squeezed her hand with a surprising strength.
“Promise me you’ll give yourself the chance. ”
He wouldn’t calm down and sleep until she’d made that promise. At the time, she’d had no intention of keeping it.
In the past three years, she’d worked so hard she hadn’t had time to date, nor had she wanted to. No man had pushed past the grief of her loss or awakened her desire.
Until Gerard.
There’s someone special out there for you.
Ray’s prediction echoed in her memory.
Gerard was special. He could be the one. Only he would be a work in progress to get past his own baggage instilled by an abusive father.
Bernie pushed away from the wall, stepped into a cool shower and quickly rinsed off. After she dried herself with a towel, she pulled on the panties and bra. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and winced. How had she attracted a man looking like something the cat had dragged in?
Quickly running a brush through her hair, she worked out the tangles, pulled it back and braided it into a thick plait that hung down the middle of her back.
Ray had loved her hair long. It was even longer than when he’d died, but only because she hadn’t taken the time to get it cut.
For a moment, she considered applying a little blush and mascara but ended up leaving the bathroom with her face bare. They’d be working in the field later. Any makeup would end up running down her face in sweat.
She left the bathroom, found a pair of jeans in her closet, pulled them up over her hips, and then found a clean, heather-gray T-shirt. She was a farmer, not a fashion model. After slipping into socks and her dingo boots, she made her way into the kitchen, following the rich aroma of coffee.
Gerard, fully dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and tennis shoes, handed her a travel mug full of steaming brew. “I didn’t know what you wanted in it. It’s black.”
“Perfect,” she said and sipped, careful not to burn her tongue. “I can whip up some eggs and bacon if you’d like.”
He nodded toward the counter, where a stack of toast lay on a paper towel. “I’m okay with toast if you’d like to hit the road as soon as possible.”
She nodded. “Sounds good.” She wrapped the toast in the paper towel and headed for the door, snagging her purse off a hook on the wall.
Once outside, she glanced right and then left at the porch. “That’s odd.”
“What’s odd?” he asked.
“Howey is usually asleep on the porch at this time.”
Gerard grinned. “Isn’t he usually asleep on the porch at all times, except when he’s guarding the watermelon patch from intruders?”
Bernie descended the steps, careful not to spill her coffee. “Exactly.” She glanced around the yard and looked toward the barn. “Howey!”
The dog didn’t respond.
She ducked and looked beneath the porch. “Sometimes, he likes to sleep beneath the porch. He hides all his treasures beneath the steps. I have to clean it out every so often when he drags a dead animal under there.” She frowned. “Howey?”
The dog didn’t come out. She straightened. “He came back from the watermelon patch last night, didn’t he?”
Gerard nodded, descending the stairs to stand beside Bernie. “I scratched behind his ear before I entered the house last night. He was sitting there by the door.”
“Maybe he’s out looking for more treasures,” Bernie said with a smile. “He’ll show up soon enough.”
She led the way to where they’d left the truck hooked to the trailer with its huge cardboard boxes filled with watermelons.
Bernie double-checked that the hitch was safely connected and the lights and brakes were plugged securely into the back of the truck.
When she turned to look at the boxes on the trailer, her brow dipped low.
The bottom of the cardboard boxes were dark, as if they’d somehow gotten wet.
Her heart skipped a beat. They’d been careful to pick them when they were dry and had loaded them carefully into the containers.
A sense of dread crushed her chest as she climbed over the rail into the trailer and peered down into one of the boxes. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Gerard asked.
“No, no, no.” This could not be happening. Bernie moved to the next box and repeated, “Son of a bitch.”
As Bernie continued to the next box, Gerard leaped onto the trailer and looked down into the cardboard container to see what she had seen.
The watermelons they’d stacked so carefully had been smashed into a wet, terrible mess.
“Are they all like this?” he asked.
Bernie glanced up for the last box, her face pale, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “All of them.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Who would do such a thing? And how did we not hear it happening?”
They had been in the shower and then the bedroom, where the air conditioning unit had been humming enough to mask the sound of someone smashing watermelons. But not loud enough she couldn’t hear a dog bark. Her eyes widened. “Howey.”
She jumped down from the trailer and ran around the front of the truck. “Check around the house,” she commanded. “I’ll look around the barn.”
Gerard ran for the house while Bernie made a circle around the exterior of the barn.
Gerard arrived back from his perusal, shaking his head. “I didn’t see him.”
Bernie opened the small barn door beside the larger double doors, which were only used when driving big equipment in and out or bringing horses into stalls. As she stepped inside, she reached to switch on the light and almost tripped over a lump on the floor.
As the lights blinked on, Bernie realized the lump on the floor was Howey.
“Oh, dear God,” she said and dropped to her knees beside him.
Gerard eased past her and the dog and knelt on the dirt floor. “Is he alive?”
Bernie laid her ear against the dog’s chest and listened for a long moment, desperate to hear the beat of his heart or feel the rise and fall of the animal’s chest as it filled with air.
She’d almost given up hope when she detected the faint rhythm of a pulse.
“I hear a heartbeat,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
She leaned back and checked the animal all over, lifting his paw to test for resistance but finding none.
“I don’t see any injuries. What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he moving?”
“We need to get him to a vet,” Gerard scooped his hands beneath Howey and lifted him.
“We’ll take the produce truck. I don’t have to unhitch it from a trailer. Go. I’ll be right there.”
Gerard carried Howey out of the barn.