Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
E lbert Davies was the kind of guy Jenny wished she’d had for a father. Or grandfather, for that matter. With his lean, weather-beaten face, Elbert exuded gentle wisdom as he walked the freshly churned north field of her grove on this chilly, misty morning.
He hunkered down to lift a handful of soil, squeezing and releasing it in his palm. “You’ve got good drainage here,” he said. “See how the soil sticks for a few seconds, then crumbles apart? That’s what you want. I’ll mix a batch of custom fertilizer to stand up to your drainage, but I want to do a little liming of the soil first. Pretty soon you’ll have thousands of saplings planted on this land, and I want a perfect romance between the saplings and the soil. A little chemical engineering will set the stage for it.”
It was hard not to smile as she soaked up Elbert’s folksy wisdom. Her grandfather mistrusted Elbert because he was a sales rep from United Phosphate, but Jenny sensed a kindred spirit in the gentlemanly old man. Elbert was famous for making house calls to people’s property to help with fertilizing. Yes, he was the sales rep responsible for selling her the right blend of fertilizer, but what her paranoid grandfather never understood was that Elbert’s success rode on her success. Elbert wanted the grove to thrive, and she loved having an older, wiser person to guide her through the challenging months ahead.
“A little lime mixed into the soil will get the earthworms excited,” Elbert said. “An excited earthworm is a hungry worm, and that nice, aerated soil is going to feel good on the roots of your new saplings. Got me?”
“I got you,” she agreed. Elbert brought the right spreader attachment to hook up to her tractor, but she didn’t know how to adjust the spinner disks.
“Can you help me calibrate it?” she asked. “I’ve never used lime before and don’t know what I’m doing.”
Elbert clapped her on the shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, Jenny.”
Why did she suddenly feel the urge to cry? Elbert was just doing his job, but it had been a long time since someone she barely knew had been so purely nice to her. She drove the tractor out of the garage while Elbert waited at the industrial-sized spreader he’d brought from the fertilizer plant. It looked like a big metal dumpster on a trailer hitch. It was already topped off with chalky granules of lime, and ready to be dragged behind the tractor while the disks spun out a perfectly calibrated release of the grains.
From her position atop the tractor she could see all the way to the end of the drive, including the pickup truck that had just arrived outside the closed gate. It was Wyatt’s truck, and his presence sapped her brief surge of happiness.
Wyatt gave two quick taps on his horn to get her attention. He’d probably think her a coward if she refused to see him.
Elbert was still adjusting the spinner disks, and she assured him she’d be back in a few minutes. He cast a critical eye at the gathering clouds.
“It’s best to get this lime added ahead of the rain,” he said.
“I promise I’ll be back before you need me,” she answered, then jogged down to the end of the drive. By the time she arrived, Wyatt had his forearms casually braced atop the metal gate. He looked tense and uncomfortable, and there was no need for the scary sunglasses.
“What now?” she asked, a little breathless from the run. “Was there something nasty you forgot to say the last time you were out here?”
“No!” Wyatt said, surprising her with the urgency in his voice. He yanked the sunglasses off, piercing her with a look brimming with such aching regret that it made her take a step back.
“Jenny, I came to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every mean, rotten, small-minded thing I ever said to you. I’m sorry for disappearing during the past eighteen months. Nineteen months, now. I thought it was best for both of us, but I never considered how badly you must have been hurting because of the way people treated you. Are still treating you. I should have been there for you to lean on. You were as much a victim of what happened that night as me, and I’m sorry for bailing on you.”
It sounded like the Wyatt she used to know, a man of kindness and open-hearted honesty. “What’s gotten into you?” she said, almost afraid to ask.
He clasped the top rung of the gate, looking at her through sorrowful eyes. “I don’t like the way things ended between us. I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened, and I wish you nothing but the best. You’re one of the finest people I’ve ever met, and I want you to know that.”
She swallowed hard. “This is starting to sound like one of those ‘have a good life’ talks before the hero disappears forever. Is it?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled in a hint of humor. “Yeah, probably,” he said, not even bothering to hide the affection in his tone. “My mother isn’t ever going to get past what happened. I wish things were different, but everything is just . . . too complicated.”
“You’re probably right,” she said as regret swelled inside.
“You’ve been a lot more gracious than I deserve,” he said. “The last nineteen months have been the hardest of my life.”
“Mine too,” she whispered.
He gazed over her shoulder, scanning the barren fields with wistful eyes. “I hope you can get this grove up and running again. If anyone can make it happen, it’s you.”
She turned around to see what he was looking at. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but churned-up fields of dirt. To the untutored eye it probably looked dreary and depressing, but she’d worked hard to get it looking this good. The soil had been tilled, aerated, and graded. New irrigation lines had been laid. Soon she would have lime churned into the soil and happy worms tunneling around.
“Someday this field of dirt is going to blossom again,” she said. “It hasn’t been easy, but it will be beautiful again.”
His smile was tender and sad. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished here. I’m proud of you.”
There was that lump in her throat again. This was becoming a lot harder than she expected. The warm support coming from him was an achingly familiar echo from the past, a strange combination of comfort and sorrow.
“We’re adding lime today,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Then another round of liquid fertilizer before we plant the saplings. The folks at the state agency have been really great about helping me get back on my feet again.”
“Let me know if you have any troubles. I can pound on a few doors if the bureaucracy slows down.”
She managed a nod. “Thanks, Wyatt. I’ll be rooting for you in the election.”
A bit of humor lightened his face. “Are you going to vote for me?”
“What are my alternatives?”
“A career politician from Cape Canaveral who’s never gotten her hands dirty.”
She laughed at that. “Then I’ll definitely vote for you.”
They locked eyes as their laughter faded. A cool wind swept down from above, and it might rain soon. Elbert was waiting for her, but all she wanted to do was keep gazing at Wyatt because at long last they were friends again. She had a few more seconds to bask in the sensation before he was going to get back in his truck and drive away from her forever.
“I need to head back to town,” he said slowly but made no move to leave.
“And I need to get the field limed before it rains.” She didn’t move either.
He sighed, then reached across the gate to touch her shoulder, sending a shiver racing through her, because this was goodbye.
“Jenny, what happened between you and me will always be my biggest regret.”
She didn’t say anything as he returned to his truck, started the engine, and pulled away. Was this really going to be how they ended? Wyatt lifted a hand outside the truck’s window to wave goodbye as he got back on the road.
She smiled and lifted her hand high in return, but inside her heart was breaking.