Chapter 12 #2
Beth laughed at the names, kneeling to greet Marmalade, who was munching at the straw. “You really went all in.”
“Absolutely. My father always said that if you’re going to raise animals, they’re going to have personalities.
Besides, their names make me laugh every time I call them,” he said, watching her light up with each new introduction.
“Oh, and that’s Nutmeg. She thinks she’s a guard dog, but she’s mostly just fluffy.
” He pointed at old dog who had barely moved from her spot on the back deck.
“She was my dad’s,” he said softly. “She just hit her seventeenth birthday last month.”
By the time they finished with introductions in the barnyard, Beth’s cheeks were pink with laughter, and Aaron couldn’t stop grinning at how wonderful it was to see her enjoying herself. “You’ve got quite the crew here,” she said, brushing hay from her jeans.
“Only the best,” Aaron replied. “And now, the pièce de résistance.” He motioned to the house.
“This is all so amazing.” She looked around. “Like something out of a movie or a magazine.”
He laughed as he led her towards the house. The sunlight was glinting off the white paint and highlighting the wide wraparound porch. “Sometimes it’s a horror movie. Last winter I had two pipes break and had to replace a toilet.” He visibly shivered.
“The perks of being a homeowner, I suppose,” she joked.
“Welcome to my home base,” he said as he opened the front door. “There are four bedrooms, all upstairs; three baths, two upstairs, one down; and plenty of space for me to stretch out and, obviously, clean.” He chuckled.
Beth’s eyes widened as she stepped inside.
The cozy living room came first, bathed in sunlight from the large picture windows that framed the fields, the distant tree line, and the wildflowers that his mother had loved.
“Wow,” she said under her breath. “You can see everything from here.” She motioned to the windows.
“Yeah. My parents told me the windows were small and all broken before they had these picture windows installed. My mother wanted to feel as if she was living in the outdoors, without actually being outside.” He smiled, nodding towards the dining room just beyond the living room.
“And this is where I try to eat something other than fast food. It’s big enough to host a family.
I have at least a dozen cousins who visit regularly, along with friends… or anyone who wanders by.”
He guided her past the dining room to the kitchen, where an eating nook sat against another bank of windows.
The island, with its bar stools, gleamed under the light, and as she looked around, he leaned against it casually.
“My mom loved having people over. Every corner of this house is built for that. Even the kitchen was meant for gathering.”
He looked around and remembered the last time his parents had hosted one of the family reunions. They had crammed almost fifty people inside, since it had been pouring rain outside.
He still hosted the reunions, but a lot fewer people attended since his parents’ passing.
Beth’s gaze drifted out the windows again. “All those trees… and flowers. How do you maintain it all?”
“My parents planted most of them before I was born. There are fruit trees, flowering shrubs, shade trees. They really had a thing for color and texture. I try to keep up with it, but I’ll admit, they had a green thumb that I’ll never be able to match.
” He motioned towards the back deck. “That’s our fire pit, where we used to roast marshmallows and make those famous s’mores you love.
We’d tell stories and watch for shooting stars.
There’s a creek that runs through most of the land.
It’s perfect for watering the animals and for summer swims, too. ”
Beth smiled, watching him gesture at the landscape with pride. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “I can see why you love it here.”
Aaron followed her gaze, letting the moment linger. “It’s home,” he said simply, remembering a time when he’d thought about selling it since it had been too much for a twenty-year-old to handle. After a beat, he added with a grin, “I can show you upstairs if you want?”
“No,” she answered a little nervously. “It’s okay, this has been plenty for now.”
“How about we sit outside and have something cold to drink?”
She nodded quickly, so he took her hand and led her through the door, down the back steps, and into the backyard, where the ancient oak stretched its moss-draped limbs high into the sky.
When they got to his picnic spot, she knelt to smooth the blanket before sitting down. Then she glanced around at the shade and the dappled sunlight. “Wow, this is incredible.”
“I’ll go grab the drinks and the picnic I’ve arranged.” He disappeared to let her relax for a moment.
When he returned, he set the full basket down beside her, then poured them each a glass of lemonade before sitting beside her.
“I thought we could eat out here. You know, enjoy the fresh air, with zero distractions. Well, except for the occasional horse bugging us,” he added smoothly after Pickles let out a very loud neigh.
Beth laughed, then helped him unpack the lunch of sandwiches, chips, some fresh fruit, and, of course, the cookies. The air was filled with the faint hum of insects and the soft rustle of leaves overhead, the perfect soundtrack for the quiet intimacy of the moment.
They settled side by side on the blanket, sharing bites and conversation, laughing when Pickles came over to the fence like he expected to get treats for being good.
Each moment, from the animals to the food to the easy closeness, felt like a small victory, a tangible reminder that trust and patience could lead to the kind of comfort neither of them had thought possible.
Once they were both done eating, he piled the dishes in the picnic basket and settled beside her, leaning against the thick tree trunk.
When he reached over to brush that stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingered for a heartbeat. “I’m glad you came today,” he admitted softly.
“Me too,” she whispered back. And in that simple exchange, Aaron felt the morning solidify into something more than just a picnic. It was the beginning of something he wanted to protect, nurture, and explore with her.