Chapter 24 Celine
Celine
Apple picking was serious business. At least the way my kids approached it was.
I’d avoided Josh all week, at a loss for where to go from here. It wasn’t all that difficult, actually. Between teaching, momming, and calls with my lawyer, who was preparing an objection statement for me to send to the Maine parole board, I’d barely had time to breathe.
After our incredible weekend, the kids were more at ease than ever, so I’d worked hard not to burst that bubble. But keeping all that anxiety to myself, not letting them experience even a hint of fear, was draining every ounce of energy I had.
Staying away from Josh like I had hurt. Warm, flannel-clad Josh, with his thick beard and kind eyes. So when he’d sent a group text last night, asking for help picking the last of the apples in his orchard, I couldn’t say no.
All around, the maple trees were exploding with color—burnt orange, crimson, and gold. The air was chilly but clean, recharging some of the energy I’d lost this week.
We trudged through the spongy grass of the orchard to the sound of laughter and the thudding of apples falling into crates.
My hands were cold, but the sun warmed my face.
It was the perfect October day. There had been a time in my life when this was my favorite month.
It always felt different from the rest. An invitation to slow down, to linger.
The last buffer of color and sun before the long winter.
“You’ve been busy.” Josh approached, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans. It was a good thing, since with one reminder of what those thick, strong hands could do, I’d probably spontaneous combust.
I nodded, scanning the area, noting Callie and Evie nearby, along with Jasper and Vincent, the little guy content in his dad’s arms, gumming on a giant red apple.
My kids were having a blast, Ellie currently lifting Julian so he could reach apples higher up one tree.
Jenn and Mel were here with their boys, and a few other folks from town joined in as well.
Including Stella, who was pretty heavily made up for nine a.m. on a Saturday. She was constantly looking around, probably hoping Gabe would show up.
I, on the other hand, was drinking cold coffee out of my mug and wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“Fun footwear,” Josh said, looking down at my feet.
Bristling, I followed his line of sight.
Shit. I was wearing two different Crocs. One blue, one pink glitter. Damn Ellie. Now that her feet were the same size as mine, my shoes disappeared randomly, sometimes only one at a time.
I’d been tearing the house apart looking for my left pink sparkle Croc but had just given up.
“Don’t hate the Crocs.” I stuck my tongue out. “So you invited us for the free labor, I assume?”
“Mostly for the company,” he said, his voice low.
I looked away, unable to meet his eye. Was he flirting with me again? God. Why couldn’t he just be an unapproachable grump all the time?
He wanted to talk. I could sense it, but I wasn’t ready. Not after the week I’d had. I was too wound up, too anxious, and I had too much on my mind. I’d say the wrong thing and destroy this lovely little thing between us.
Though maybe that would be a blessing. Chloe was right.
I didn’t have the luxury of distraction right now.
I couldn’t. But I wanted to sit with the warm memory of last weekend for a little longer.
The tiny glimmer of that good, real, fun moment was keeping me going while the world caught fire around me.
A series of wild screams and shouts stole our attention before he could say more.
I whipped around, searching for danger.
But it wasn’t danger. At least the kind I’d been concerned about.
It was Logan, the veterinarian who looked like a Viking, striding toward us with two small goats on leashes.
“Logan,” Josh growled as the kids sprinted toward him.
“I brought goats,” he said cheerfully.
I didn’t know him well, but between the man bun, the multiple earrings, the height, and the hoodie with a picture of a raccoon on it that said I choose violence, he certainly had, as Ellie would say, a vibe.
Wayne harumphed beside me like he was already over it.
Maggie pushed everyone out of the way, squealing with delight. “Can I pet them?”
“Sure,” Logan said. “Hold your hand out like you would for a dog.”
“Why did you bring baby goats?” Josh asked.
His friend gave him an unbothered smile. “They’re not babies. They’re dwarf Nigerian goats. Huge personalities in tiny bodies.”
“What are their names?” one of the other kids asked.
“This one’s Calvin.” Logan lifted the leash connected to the harness clipped around one goat’s body, then did the same with the other. “And this one’s Hobbes.”
Josh crossed his arms and glared at him. “You still haven’t explained why Calvin and Hobbes are here.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He crouched, showing the kids how to scratch the goats’ ears.
From what little I knew about him, he was some kind of animal whisperer.
A revered veterinarian with a quirky personality.
“They’re recovering from stress. Rescued them a few days ago from a place up north. They need environmental enrichment.”
The big, burly man beside me grunted. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“They need socialization and they’re super chill. Just don’t scream or startle them.”
Josh’s eye twitched, making me giggle. This was objectively funny. Especially because they were wearing colorful leashes and harnesses, like tiny, stocky dogs.
Wayne, who remained by my side, huffed, unimpressed.
With a smile, I patted his head. “It’s okay, boy. You’re still my favorite.”
He responded by tipping his head up and giving me a soulful look.
“Mama,” Julian said without looking away from the goats. “They have rectangle-shaped pupils.”
Logan held out a fist for a bump. “Very observant.”
My heart exploded just a little. Julian touching an animal he’d never encountered before, one that smelled and probably felt strange? His therapists would be impressed by this exposure exercise. Not that I could take any credit.
“Josh has a lot of space,” Maggie said. “And I’ll do all the necessary research for their care. We can adopt them.” She finished off the statement with a winning smile.
“No,” Josh said.
She spun around, a flash of fury on her face that reminded me of Ellie. “I will walk them every day.”
“Can’t keep goats.”
Arms crossed, she looked him up and down. “I will eventually persuade you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yup.” She popped the P, then whipped around again and went back to asking Logan questions about goat physiology and behavior.
Ellie said nothing, but by the way she was letting one of the animals chew on the string of her hoodie, she seemed on board with the new friends.
Eventually we got back to picking, but the kids all took turns walking the goats, who loved eating apples, tree branches, and also the apple crates. It turned out Calvin and Hobbes, like most goats, did not have discerning palates.
“You could offer an orchard experience,” Jenn said, mirth flashing in her eyes. “Apple picking with goats. Then maybe pressing cider like grandpa used to do.”
“I don’t provide experiences,” he said, bristling. “I run a damn farm.”
“Just saying.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “We’re trying to win back the tourists who have migrated to Birch Hollow. Goat yoga is huge. Maybe goat maple sugaring could be next.”
“They’d eat all the plastic tubing,” Josh groused.
“Oh, they definitely would.” Logan jogged up beside us. “They ate part of the water bucket I put out for them last night.”
The kids sorted the apples into two categories: those suitable for eating and those that would be better used for cider, with plans to take home several dozen. It had been a fun adventure, and Julian was already working to convince Josh to plant peach trees, since peaches were his favorite fruit.
“Hey,” Josh said, pulling me aside while the kids chattered about what they were going to make with all the apples. “Can you take a walk for a bit?”
Frowning, I waved at my kids. He knew better than that. I couldn’t just leave them unaccompanied.
Stella, the traitor, jumped in and immediately. “Who wants to make an apple pie with me?” she asked.
Naturally, all three of my kids cheered.
“Perfect. But we’ve got to make it here. I don’t have any butter at my house.”
“We have lots of butter,” Julian chirped.
“I’ll hang with them for a while,” Stella said, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Take a break. You deserve it.”
Despite my annoyance with her, she was a responsible adult and my kids were dancing around her like she was a goddamn fairy princess, so I’d let them have their fun.
As they wandered away, Josh held out an elbow.
“A walk?” I asked.
He nodded. “Want to show you something.”
We took off down the hill toward the big barn, but before we made it there, we headed off the road toward the far side of the farm I was mostly unfamiliar with.
“Seems like you’ve been having a tough week,” he said.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t know how he’d know that. We’d barely spoken, and I hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone.
“You didn’t have to say it,” he said, apparently a mind reader. “I could see the tension in your jaw, the way you hurried off to school every day. And even this morning.”
A knot formed in my stomach. I did not want to talk. I wasn’t ready for that. Couldn’t I just live in that little happy moment for a bit longer?
He pulled me by the arm toward a small shed. “But I want to help. And I’ve got an idea.” He stopped in front of the shed, and all I could see behind it was a bunch of debris. Wooden pallets and old crates and barrels. “You seem like you need to get a few things off your chest.”
A tired huff escaped me. “I’m not in the mood to talk, Josh.”
He crossed his thick arms and raised an eyebrow.
Dammit, why did he have to be so damn handsome?
“I figured,” he said. “But are you in the mood to break shit?” He grinned.