Chapter 9
By the time they arrived back at the farm, fields bathed in the early evening’s peach glow, most of the samples were gone.
Struan was used to long days out hiking, but even he was ready to sit down and fill his stomach with something other than the pizza slices and pastries they’d snacked on during their venture around Main Street.
Just as he was about to point out as much, the two of them still seated in his car, Rae pulled out a notebook from the otherwise empty tote bag on her lap, focus pinching her features as she sliced a tick through her endearingly neat handwriting.
‘Okay. Samples are done; festival fliers have been handed out…’ She tapped her pen against the pad in a frantic chorus of clicks. ‘I should go see if the fields are in shape. Summer season starts this weekend and visitors will—’
Struan covered her restless hand with his own, if only because the sharp mechanical sound was driving him mad.
Rae stilled, round eyes searing a question into his skin.
She was unfairly beautiful like this, sunlight painting half of her face amber, lips pink from anxiously biting them, plait slowly unravelling around her face – but she was something else, too.
Stressed. It had gotten worse through the day, until she was no longer responding to his silly quips, instead speaking over them with updates of where they had to go next.
He supposed it made sense: that unwavering determination had no doubt got her to where she was now.
But, Jesus, the woman didn’t pause for breath, and it was dinner time.
‘Tomorrow’s problem. How about we go and grab something to eat?’
‘I could throw something together, I suppose…’
He wanted to press the wrinkle between her brows until it smoothed away.
‘As nice as it is to sample your dishes, I was thinking you deserve somebody else to do the work tonight.’ His knee bounced, hitting the steering wheel like it was trying to match Rae’s speed.
‘There’s a restaurant by Loch Eil that’s supposed to do braw steaks. What do you think? My treat.’
Finally, Rae’s grip on the notepad loosened, but it didn’t give him cause to celebrate.
When she tugged back, he knew that he’d crossed an invisible line.
He hadn’t necessarily meant the invitation as a date…
he didn’t think. Just two friends enjoying a well-earned meal together after a busy day.
If he happened to enjoy looking at her, listening to her, making her laugh, was that such a problem?
‘I think…’ Rae stuttered for a moment. ‘I think I still have work to do, but thank you for all your help today, Struan. Really. I appreciate it.’
‘Rae…’ It was the only protest he could utter out. She had every right to dismiss him. She was probably sick of him and ready to wind down.
Only, she leaned in, thigh hitting the gear stick, and a burst of adrenaline rushed through him in response. He’d felt that tether between them all day, tightening around every part of him, and so he didn’t think as he followed suit, mouth already tingling with the idea of her.
It was their foreheads that met first, a cracking of skulls that had him groaning in pain.
She did the same, cradling the spot just above her right eyebrow. ‘I was going in for a hug!’
Shite.
‘Aye, me too,’ he lied, every atom cringing. He wondered if dying from embarrassment wasn’t just a melodramatic metaphor, but actually possible.
This was why he’d given up on dating. He always misread the signs, always assumed people were on the same page as him.
There was chemistry between them. Even if it wasn’t right, even if it was the first time they’d connected in years.
Maybe he’d been alone too long in that wee shack of his, or maybe he was imagining something that wasn’t really there, but he’d spent the entire day searching for excuses to draw closer, planning ways he might see her again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, rubbing the throb away with one eye shut.
‘I will be when my brain stops rattling around my skull,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t think we should try to hug each other anymore. It never works.’
His chuckle sounded more like an old engine failing to start, though she certainly had a point. Maybe they’d be better off not coming into contact at all.
Except he wanted to, even if it usually left him and his ego bruised.
Rae tucked her notepad close to her chest, opening the car door with a grimace. ‘You’re… er, welcome to have a brew with my dad if you want. And I saw a tower of microwave meals in the freezer, though I’m sure Gran’s reclaimed her kitchen.’
By the time he could form a protest, she was already dashing into the farm shop.
Struan raked a hand through his thickening stubble, lids fluttering closed in an attempt to block the memory of his blunder.
He was still there minutes later when Rae headed down to the fruit fields with the dogs trailing behind, trainers swapped for wellies and baskets piled in her hands. She really did never stop.
His stomach grumbled, a reminder of how empty it was. Hers must have been, too. If she wasn’t going to take care of herself, surely someone else had to do it for her.
And since nobody else appeared to be volunteering for the job, he figured it would have to be him.
He found her forty minutes later, hidden among the thorny tayberry shrubs with half a basket already filled in her gloved hands. At the sound of his boots squishing through the soft mud, she shaded her eyes from the sun to look at him.
The sigh she let out was humbling, to say the least. ‘You’re still here.’
‘And I can tell how happy you are about it.’ He set down the picnic basket and folded blanket, all courtesy of Audrey, who also hadn’t been happy to hear that Rae was skipping dinner to work.
She’d dolloped out a big bowl of pasta salad for them to share, muttering something about that stubborn wee lass being too good for her cooking.
‘If you won’t come to dinner with me, I’ll bring dinner to you. ’
She dropped a handful of vibrant pink berries into her collection, then warily lifted the straw lid of the picnic basket to examine the food inside.
The pasta was accompanied by homemade shortbread and more of Audrey’s beloved strawberry wine – the latter, he’d had to work for a little.
It was supposed to be going to the shop, but she hadn’t been able to resist his batting lashes and charming wink in the end.
At least someone saw him as more than just a numpty who didn’t know when to shut it.
‘You’re very persistent,’ she noted.
‘That’s because I’m hungry, and so are you. I know you’re all stressed at the minute, but I don’t think keeling over from starvation is going to help.’
‘I think I’ll survive just fine.’
He hummed, assessing the berries. ‘Is there a reason they couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘They’re overripe, so I’m going to can them ready for weekend visitors.
Leave them unplucked too long, and they go to waste.
’ Maybe she did share too many qualities with berries.
‘At least this way, we have something to stock the farm shop with.’ She went back to plucking the fruit off their stems with the same amount of focus she’d displayed while cooking last night.
She seemed to treat everything like that, as though she could only work if she was pouring all of herself into the task: the opposite of Struan and his goldfish-like tendencies to become distracted.
The alternative seemed even more exhausting.
‘Your dad isn’t happy with you,’ he couldn’t help but confess, helping her harvest in the hopes that she’d finally eat with him afterwards.
His first attempt was too rough, causing the berry to burst all over his thumb.
He licked the juice, tried again, carefully manoeuvring around the overgrown thorns.
‘He told me to tell you to stop faffing around and come inside.’
‘He doesn’t like admitting he needs help.’ Rae watched his poor technique without much approval. ‘It’s better to use two hands, and keep a little bit of the stem. If they resist, they’re probably not ready enough yet. The darkest berries are the ripest.’
‘Yes, chef.’ He took her advice, saving the pale pink berries in favour of the ones deeper in colour.
Maybe Rae was right to take over the farm.
It seemed like some of the shrubs hadn’t been tended to in a long time, branches extending their gnarled limbs towards the fence and jade leaves drooping towards the ground.
‘So, what are you planning to make with these?’
‘Gran will probably take some for her wines, and I’ll make jam out of the rest, though I was thinking of sorbets, too.
’ She hesitated, and he stayed quiet, an invitation to say whatever it was that had her worrying at her lip.
‘My mum used to make ice cream back when she lived here. It might be nice to start doing that again, if only for the fair.’
‘Sounds like a great idea to me.’ He didn’t know much about her mum. Couldn’t remember if he’d ever met her. ‘Is she planning on visiting?’
The freckles on her nose folded together in an adorable, albeit begrudging, wrinkle.
‘She’d never set foot here again. She tried the whole farmer’s wife thing, but she just resented how difficult it was in the end.
She’s much happier away from all this, and honestly, the rest of us prefer it that way, too. ’
‘You don’t get on?’
A shrug. ‘Once she left, she stopped making the effort. It was hard not to feel abandoned, even if she gave me the choice to go with her. This is my home, y’know? It didn’t feel fair that I had to decide between the two of them, especially when one of them expected me to give up my entire life.’
He wondered if that was why she’d spent so much time at his house growing up. Mum and Dad had bickered occasionally, but they’d always been solid. He couldn’t imagine watching his parents grow so estranged, nor how uncomfortable it would have been to get caught in the crossfire.
Yet Rae had left, too, in the end. Did she regret her decision to stay at Sweetbriar as a kid?
How long before she got tired and took off again?
‘Are you glad you stayed?’ he enquired gently.
She nodded. ‘I don’t think my mum really wanted either of us. She’s happy now. Retired early, travels a lot, dates random blokes. A lot of them are called Gavin, for some reason.’
He snorted, though it was dulled by sadness. Mum had waited until they’d been adults to move away. She’d given them everything they needed to get by. She wasn’t perfect, but she’d been there, the way a parent was supposed to be. Rae should never have gone without that same love.
‘Who’ll take care of the farm when Doug eventually retires?’
She shuffled along to the next shrub, obviously avoiding him.
He kept his distance, finding a calming pattern in the picking and dropping, even as he acquired a few scratches.
It was the same way he felt on the mountains, the reason why he spent so much of his life outside.
With the wind bracing through him and his body in constant motion, it was more difficult for his busy mind to catch up.
Being stuck in a classroom for hours on end all day, every day, had made him miserable and restless and suffocated.
He’d still tried the nine-to-five like Martha and Mum after graduating: in a warehouse, a local supermarket, had even trained to be a bus driver.
In the end, he’d felt wrung out and imprisoned, all his energy wasted on gruelling, repetitive tasks he didn’t enjoy.
Quitting had felt like admitting defeat, especially with an ADHD diagnosis.
Everybody expected it, and he’d so badly wanted to prove them wrong.
Mum was disappointed that he’d never found the success and stability Martha had – but he got to do the thing he loved now, even if it would never get him a mortgage, so he supposed that meant he wasn’t a failure. Just walking a different path.
‘I don’t know.’ Rae’s voice trembled slightly. ‘Me, maybe.’
‘And your kids, I bet.’
‘I don’t want them. I can barely look after myself.’
It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who didn’t plan on settling down.
Most of the people he’d gone to school with were married with children now, and while they looked happy, it wasn’t the life Struan had ever longed for.
He wanted to find someone, but he’d much rather raise a few cows and chickens than wee bairns.
‘My uncle has kids now,’ Rae continued. ‘Like my mum, he fancied something different. They barely even visit.’
‘Must be difficult for your gran and your dad,’ Struan said. ‘I’m sure it’ll end up in good hands, though.’
‘Not if it carries on like this.’
He wanted to ask what she meant, but had a feeling he already knew: no shop stock, no pickers, no eager successors. No wonder Rae was so determined to help out while she was here.
‘You know, it’s not your responsibility to carry it on if you don’t want to,’ he offered, because the downturned curve of her lips made his chest ache.
‘It’s a great farm, but sometimes creating the life you want means disappointing a few people.
If your heart is in the chef thing, don’t let it go. God knows you’ve worked hard for it.’
She stopped, eyes flickering with surprise. He kept waiting for them to settle on him, but they didn’t. Maybe it was only him who felt the tug. Wasn’t that always the case?
And then, quietly, she murmured, ‘I don’t know where my heart is anymore.’
‘I know that feeling.’ His knuckle brushed her arm, the only attempt at comfort he was brave enough to offer. Despite the sunrays bleeding through the trees bordering the farm, goosebumps dotted her skin. ‘If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.’
She stepped closer, gaze catching on something on its journey up.
It took him a moment to realise it was his lips, and a sweat broke across his hairline.
His empty stomach suddenly felt like a knot.
All of him did. Like a craving, his body had decided it wanted her without explanation, without reason.
Her hunger made itself known with a loud grumble, and she turned away. He couldn’t decide if he’d imagined the shake of her head as she looked around. ‘I know a better spot, if you still want to eat together.’
He smiled softly. ‘Lead the way, Little Rae.’