21. Chapter Twenty-One
When I pull up to the Taylor Family farm, and the fresh scent of apple blossoms hits me like a welcome from an old friend. Today’s the day I set things right with Rose. My stomach’s all knotted up, but I’ve got a pocketful of apologies and a heart full of hope.
I knock on the Taylor’s front door, and Rose’s mom answers. “Morning, Jane.” There’s a softness in my voice I didn’t plan for. Maybe it’s nerves or just that talking to any part of Rose’s world makes me soft around the edges.
“Henry! What a surprise!” Jane says me with a smile. She’s wearing her apron covered in apples and roosters and looking every bit like a woman who knows her way around a kitchen. “Come on in.”
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to Rose.” I shuffle awkwardly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that’s starting to tug at my gut. “Is she around?”
Jane’s smile fades into something more sympathetic, and she gently touches my arm. “Oh, Henry... Rose isn’t here. She left for Los Angeles on Friday.”
“Los Angeles?” The words come out strained, like they’ve just been put through the wash, and I feel my hopes for forgiveness turn to dust.
“Is she coming back soon?” I ask, unsure I’m ready to hear the answer.
“She’ll be back in a week, but I don’t know for how long,” she says with a worrisome look. “Rose has always been one to chase her dreams, Henry. But I guess you already knew that. She got a job offer that could be a big change for her.”
I nod, trying to mask the disappointment that’s undoubtedly written all over my face. I came here to fix things, and now it feels like I might’ve waited too long. My heart sinks down into my boots as I think about Rose, out there in LA, probably not giving me a second thought.
“You… could always try calling her, you know?” she says. “I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
“Yeah, I suppose I could do that,” I respond, hoping Rose isn’t too busy to take my call. “Do you mind if I call her now?”
“Go right on ahead, honey. I’ll just be right inside.” Jane steps inside and closes the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my faded Levi’s, and the screen lights up with a photo of Gemma and Asher on their wedding day. I swipe to Rose’s contact and press call, my thumb feeling like it weighs a ton.
“Come on, Rose...” I mutter under my breath. I listen as the line rings once, twice... but then the dreaded voicemail kicks in.
“Hi, this is Rose. Sorry, I missed your call. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can!”
The beep sounds, and all the words in my head are a jumbled mess. None of them feel good enough to leave in a message. “Hey, Rose, it’s Henry. I just wanted to talk,” is all that comes out before I end the call.
Great, Henry. Just great.
Just then, Jane opens the front door, and Toby comes barreling outside. At first, he sniffs me with a wagging tail, then bolts down the porch steps to find the closest tree.
“No luck,” Jane says when she sees my sullen expression.
“It went straight to voicemail,” I say, sliding the phone into my back pocket.
Jane sighs and steps out onto the porch. “I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed that she missed your call.”
“Probably,” I agree, though my gut tells me she’s probably avoiding me.
“Come on back inside, Henry. I’ve got a buttermilk pie cooling on the counter. I bet that and a fresh cup of coffee will cheer you up in no time,” she says warmly, holding the door open for me.
“Thanks, Jane. I appreciate that.” I follow her inside, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest.
Once I’m settled at the kitchen table, she serves up two generous slices of pie and pours me a cup of coffee. The combination is comforting, and I take a bite, letting the tangy sweetness of the pie distract me from my thoughts.
“Rose mentioned she’s working with a matchmaking firm in LA,” she says casually. “Elite Encounters or something?”
My fork stops midway to my mouth. “Elite Encounters?” I repeat the name, then file it away to memory.
“Yes, I believe that’s what she said. And I know she’s staying at some fancy place downtown. Celeste—something or another—Hotel, I think.”
I nod, and my mind races. Jane’s being casual about it, but I recognize a lifeline when it’s thrown to me. Celeste Hotel. Elite Encounters. Suddenly, the pie taste even sweeter.
As I polish off the last crumb of pie, the back door creaks open, and Rose’s father walks in. His overalls are dusted with the signs of honest work, and his hands are covered in dirt as he washes them under the sink.
“Frank,” I greet him with a nod.
“Morning, Henry.” He dries his hands on a dishtowel and then looks me straight in the eye. “I take you stopped by to see Rose?”
I swallow hard. “Yes, sir. Seems I’ve got my wires crossed.”
“Walk you out?” Frank asks, and I can’t help but feel like there’s more to his invitation than simple courtesy.
“Sure thing.”
We step outside into the day’s heat, walking side by side until we reach my truck. Frank leans against the passenger door, crossing his arms as he looks up at me.
“Henry, Rose is a good woman,” he says. “She’s got a heart of gold, but she’s never known what it’s like to have a man fight for her.”
His words hit me hard, and I’m at a loss for words. I think of Rose’s smile and the way her eyes light up when she talks about her dreams, and something inside me clenches.
“When you talk to her, be honest with her about your feelings. She deserves a second chance at love, but she needs to know she’s not the only one who wants it.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say with a lump in my throat that makes it hard to swallow. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” He claps me on the shoulder before stepping back. “Don’t let her slip through your fingers.”
I climb into my truck, but before I can start the engine, Frank adds, “You know that job she’s looking at right now is for a permanent position. If she takes it, she’d be moving to California. Just something to think about.”
The thought of Rose moving to LA—far from Sugar Plum and far from me—sparks a fear I haven’t felt since I had to say goodbye to Camille.
“Guess I shouldn’t wait around then. Thanks for the heads-up.” I force a smile, hoping it hides the sudden urgency coursing through my veins.
“Go get her, Henry,” he says knowingly.
I wave goodbye and pull away, watching the Taylor farm grow smaller in my rearview mirror. If there’s any chance Rose will have her mind made up before she comes home, I can’t afford to waste another minute of time. I’ve got to face my fears, take to the skies, and fight for her heart. Because Frank’s right—Rose does deserve a second chance at love, and I’ll be darned if I let her slip away without a fight.
***
The moment I hit the open road, I pull out my phone and dial Gemma’s cell. She answers on the second ring, her voice gushing with enthusiasm.
“Hey, Daddy, what’s up? Got any good news for me?”
“Gemma, I need a favor,” I say, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I need you to book me the first flight out to Los Angeles?”
“Wait… Los Angeles? Why?” There’s a pause, and I can almost see her green eyes widening in surprise. “Did something happen?”
“It’s Rose. She got a job offer and flew out Friday. Can you help me out?”
There’s a short gasp from the other end of the line, followed by a squeal that almost busts out my eardrum. “Oh my gosh, it’s the grand gesture! Ugh, how romantic! Honestly, Dad, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Guess I’m full of surprises.” I attempt a chuckle, but it comes out strained. “So, will you help me?”
“Of course I’ll help!” she exclaims. “I’ll get you on the next flight out, and I’ll text you all the details as soon as it’s booked.”
“Thanks, Peanut. I owe you one.”
“Owe me? Please. This is the best news I’ve heard all month. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do, okay?”
“Alright. And thanks again, Gemma. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Go get her, Daddy! I’m rooting for you!”
When I hang up, I feel a mix of nerves and determination. I can’t recall the last time I chased after something that didn’t have four legs, but Rose has sparked something in me that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.
As I drive back to the ranch, my mind races with thoughts of Rose—her smile, her laugh, and the way she looks at me like I’m the only man in the world who can calm her storms. I’m not just fighting for her love. I’m fighting for a future that suddenly seems incomplete without her.
Once I pull up to the house, I’m out of the truck and up the porch steps quicker than a hen on a June bug. The only problem is I have no idea what kind of clothes to pack.
“Okay, Henry, think,” I say to myself.
I’m standing in front of a closet stuffed with denim, plaid, and pairs of boots that have never set foot on city concrete. What does a man wear to win back the heart of a woman like Rose? Especially when he’s trying to compete with the big city lights. The last thing I want to do is roll into town looking like a Beverly Hillbilly.
Something a little less...red-neck, I conclude with a frown. My hands dive into the depths of my wardrobe, shuffling through shirts that smell like a mix of fresh-cut grass and Tide laundry detergent. I remind myself that LA won’t be anything like Sugar Plum. I bet they don’t take kindly to dust on your jeans or hay in your hair.
“Shoot,” I mutter. “I might as well be packing for the moon.”
My fingers finally land on the least-worn shirt I can find, the only one that doesn’t scream ‘cattle,’ and I lay it out with a pair of slacks that Camille insisted I buy for special occasions that never came—until now.
“Could’ve used your eye for this, Camille,” I say, hoping she’d understand. She must have always known I was bound to move on someday—I just wish I would’ve gotten the memo.
The suitcase looks sad with so little in it, but I’m not planning to stay long. All I need to do is find Rose, tell her how I feel, and pray she forgives me enough to stay in Sugar Plum long enough to see if this could be something more than a friendship.
I always hated planes—and heights. I groan as I zip up the bag. Why couldn’t she have gone somewhere close, like Oklahoma or Colorado?
Just as I’m wrestling with the thought of hurtling through the sky in a metal tube, my phone pings with a text.
Gemma: Flight is booked for 7:20 from Lubbock to LAX on United. Sending over the itinerary now. You got this, Dad!
I stare at the screen for a good minute or two. Los Angeles—a city that probably doesn’t know the first thing about smoking brisket or dancing the two-step.
But it has Rose—or at least, it does for now.