18. Jillian
JILLIAN
Jillian made her way through the next school day grateful for any distractions as her mind spun out about Tripp.
She patched up a boy who skinned his knee in gym, helped a student who needed to pick up meds from her refrigerator, another who needed a blood sugar stick, and handled a few more kids who came in with aching heads and bellies—some telling the truth, some who just needed a break.
At the end of her day, Jillian was filling out the usual mountain of daily forms, still preoccupied with Tripp Lawrence and his troubling reputation.
It seemed that all she had to do was appear to be publicly dating him and folks were coming out of the woodwork to warn her off. It was one thing for Jess Dansen to mention it—he was a colleague and they talked every day. But the lady at the store hadn’t said a word to her since high school.
It’s no big deal, she told herself. The only person I need to talk to about it is Tripp.
When she was finished, she grabbed her phone and saw that she had a message.
Tripp Lawrence
hey beautiful!
hope you’re having a good day
my family is dying to have you and the girls over
i guess i can’t keep you all to myself forever
would you guys want to come by for dinner tonight?
Jillian gazed down at the message for a long time, feeling almost teary-eyed with sweet relief.
Tripp wasn’t making things less serious, he was talking to his family about her and the girls, and wanting them to come and spend time on the farm.
She tapped out a quick reply.
We’d love to! What can we bring?
She busied herself packing up her bag before she got back to the phone and saw his reply.
not a thing
just yourselves
She smiled and tapped out a response.
They exchanged a few words about their days and nailed down a time for dinner.
All the while, Jillian was thanking her lucky stars that she hadn’t tried to start some awkward conversation with him. It was better for her to just take her cues from Tripp himself, and not the general public.
When they signed off, she headed out of the school, feeling better than she had all day. The cold air was brisk and sweet, and the swirl of clouds in the pale gray sky promised more snow.
“Jillian Johnson,” a familiar voice called out.
“Dale Stravinsky?” she replied, turning to see the star of the high school baseball team from back in her day.
“Yeah,” he said. “Great to see you. I heard you were back.”
“Sure am,” she said. “Are you working at the school too?”
“I coach baseball,” he told her. “And I teach social studies.”
It was just like the Dale she remembered to list his responsibilities in that order. They hadn’t exactly been friends—Dale was part of that popular crowd. But they’d had a class or two together and he was a friendly guy.
“That’s great,” she told him. “I’m the new nurse.”
“I heard,” he said. “The girls love you. I guess you’re the teen whisperer.”
“Oh,” Jillian said, surprised, but pleased. “I think they just need a few minutes away from class sometimes.”
“Plenty of people would shoo them off or send them to the guidance counselors,” Dale said, shrugging. “Sounds like you actually listen to them.”
“Sure,” Jillian said. “Their emotions are as important as their physical health, especially at this age. And I’m guessing it’s easier to talk to the nurse than the counselor. I don’t take notes.”
“I can see why Lawrence likes you,” Dale chuckled.
She smiled back, feeling good about this conversation.
“Maybe you’ll even break his streak,” Dale said, winking. “Though I doubt it.”
Not this again…
“What do you mean?” Jillian asked, pretty sure she already knew where this was going.
“Oh, we tease him a little,” Dale said. “He can get them on the hook, but he never seems to reel them in. He always says he’s just having a bad streak.”
“A bad streak?” Jillian echoed helplessly.
“Yeah,” Dale said, rolling his eyes. “One that’s gone on for years. But if anyone can break his streak, it’s Jillian Johnson. He always had such a thing for you—the original one that got away, I guess.”
“Oh,” Jillian said, unable to think of a single word of response.
“Anyway, see you around,” Dale said, heading up Maple Street.
Jill continued to the parking lot, trying not to get wrapped up in her worries again. Tripp had invited her to spend time with his family. That was more important than what some friend of his from high school had to say.
And besides, not everything Dale said was bad.
If anyone can break his streak, it’s Jillian Johnson…
Later that afternoon, she and the girls were ready to get in the car and head over to Lawrence Farm.
All the homework and chores were done, so they could just relax and enjoy an evening out of the house.
“You two don’t need anything?” Jillian asked Gram and Grampy on their way out the door.
“Oh, goodness no,” Gram chuckled.
“We love having you here,” Grampy said. “But we’ve been on our own for decades now. We’ll be fine for one night.”
“We’ll have a quiet evening,” Gram said, nodding.
Jillian thought about her grandparents as she drove the short distance on Fox Hollow, then pulled into the drive with the sign for Lawrence Farm. She couldn’t help wondering if maybe it was a little overwhelming to her grandparents to have three new family members in the house so suddenly.
Of course they were all enjoying their time together, but it couldn’t be easy to have the energy of two little girls and the constant din of home repairs happening, all while their granddaughter constantly wrung her hands and asked if they needed anything.
But the work would be done soon enough, and then Jillian and the girls would have their own sitting room upstairs. Her grandparents would get some of their privacy back.
“Whoa,” Mari breathed, breaking Jillian out of her tapestry of worries.
“That’s a lot of cows,” Posey chirped.
Jillian looked out over the meadow. She had grown up in the countryside, where there were cows and horses everywhere, and even she had to admit that the Lawrence cows were exceptionally beautiful.
Their thick coats shone in the dwindling daylight, and a few of them looked up in gentle curiosity as she drove past, their beautiful dark eyes calm and free of fear.
“They have a good life here,” Jillian told the girls. “I know Tripp and his family work very hard to take care of them.”
“Happy cows make sweeter cream,” Posey chimed. “That’s what Tripp says.”
“I think he’s right about that,” Jillian said.
She pulled up to the farmhouse and parked in the gravel area at the end of the driveway, where Tripp said he’d be waiting for her.
Sure enough, by the time she had the girls out of the car, and the tray of sliced zucchini bread Gram had sent over for Maggie out of the back, Tripp was standing on the front porch of the stone farmhouse, waving to them.
Her heart caught in her throat.
He was only a man. Maybe he was taller and more muscular than most, with the bone structure of a movie star.
And he wasn’t dressed sharply, or giving her any kind of smoldering look.
He was just Tripp, in his usual worn jeans and flannel shirt, with a warm smile of welcome on his face, so big that it crinkled his eyes.
But in that moment, he looked exactly like what Jillian’s mental image of a husband always had—relaxed, masculine, and oozing with confidence, like the world was at his feet.
She swallowed hard and watched her daughters fly up the porch steps to greet him, wrapping their arms around his waist and jumping up and down to tell him about their days.
“Hi,” Tripp said, pretending to sniff the air as Jillian joined them. “Whatcha got there?”
“Gram’s zucchini bread,” she said, smiling at his typical interest in food.
“Nice,” he purred. “Come on in. Everyone’s excited to see you guys.”
Mari’s eyes widened at that, and she hung back to hold Jillian’s hand.
“Do you want to carry the zucchini bread?” Jillian offered, thinking maybe it would make Mari feel better to have a job.
But Mari shook her head, apparently too shy to do anything but hold her mother’s hand and do her best to disappear.
That was just fine though, because the moment Tripp opened the door, they were all distracted by a chorus of voices from the back of the house yelling the word shoes.
Posey predictably cracked up.
“What’s that about?” Mari asked.
“We try to remember to take our shoes off when we come in,” Tripp said, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “It started when we were kids, and we just never stopped.”
Jillian knew that Tripp was the real reason for the reminder, and that he didn’t always love it, but she had to admit that it was actually kind of charming.
“It’s nice,” Jillian told him, slipping her shoes off and setting them on one of the trays.
The girls took their shoes off too, and Tripp removed his boots.
“Here we go,” he said when they were all ready.
Posey took his hand and they led the way, with Jillian and Mari pulling up the rear. The hallway was warm and she could smell something really delicious cooking.
Jillian had seen the farm from a distance a million times, but she had never set foot in the stone farmhouse, which was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside.
As they headed past a living room with a crackling fireplace, she noticed the framed photos on the walls of the center hall. There were pictures so old that the black and white images were yellowing in the frames, and photos that looked like they must be this year’s school pictures.
“So many children,” she couldn’t help saying out loud.
“Yes,” Tripp said with a smile. “I’ve got nine nieces and nephews right now, and another on the way soon.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jillian said, her heart tugging. She would have loved to have a big family like Tripp’s.
“That’s a lot,” Posey said, sounding impressed.
They passed a formal dining room and came out in a massive kitchen.