Chapter Twenty-One
Marigold
S eptember bled into October, painting the landscape in a riot of vibrant hues. Ghost Mountain stood majestically in the distance, its foliage shifting from green to a tapestry of autumn shades, interspersed with evergreen patches peeking through the crinkled leaves. The orchard peaches were picked or fell to the ground in sticky puddles. The cornfield had transformed into a maze. Families came to the farm to drink hot apple cider, eat warm donuts, play outdoor games, or pet the farm animals.
The air transitioned from muggy to balmy before settling into the perfect temperature for wearing a cozy sweater and ankle boots. As nature embraced change, so did I; attempting to immerse myself in my new life and forget Levi. The seasons were moving on faster than I was.
A bucket of candy sat on the kitchen counter, waiting for the trick-or-treaters to visit. Ezra assured me only a few kids would show, but I wanted to wear a costume anyway. I found a velvet dress at the thrift store and borrowed a bow and arrow from Ezra to complete my costume as Princess Merida. My fiery red hair was perfect for the role.
“Who are you dressing as?” I asked over breakfast. I’d ditched Ezra’s bland cereal for a more vibrant, fruity O-shaped version.
He took a sip of coffee. “I’m not.”
Milk dripped down my chin as I talked with my mouth full. “Ez, we talked about this. You’ve got to dress up.”
He wiped the milk away with his thumb. “What goes with your thing?”
I almost suggested a bear. But in the movie, the bear was Merida’s mother, so that would be weird. “Nothing goes with my outfit. Do you have anything here?”
“I could be a farmer.” He jabbed his finger in the air. “Or a hunter. You’re using the bow. I’ll carry a gun.”
I dropped my spoon into the cereal. “Think about what you’re suggesting.”
He pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling. “That I may scare the children away?”
“I don’t think answering the door with a firearm on a holiday intended for childhood enjoyment is appropriate.”
“Hmm. You might be right,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Farmer it is. Simply because I don’t have another costume. You know how I feel about farming.”
In the almost two months since I’d lived here, I had discovered that Ezra didn’t belong in a small town. With each new story of Italy and the places he’d been, I found it harder to see him in the context of Ghost Mountain Farm.
The problem was, I loved Sutton. The little map-dot town had seeped into my skin. I loved visiting Donner—who still palmed his rifle every time a car entered his driveway—and going to the grocery store, gazing at the mountain, watching the sunset, and participating in the slow way of life.
I ate the last few scoops of cereal and then lifted the bowl to drink the sweet fruity milk. I still missed pancakes. Although I attempted to recreate them a few times, it never felt quite right without Finn’s presence under the table and Levi’s guitar leaning against the wall near the sliding glass doors leading to the porch.
“Do you need me to get anything from the store?” I asked. I brought my bowl to the sink, rinsed it out, and set it in the dishwasher.
“When are you leaving?”
“Now.”
He finished his coffee and met me at the sink. “Are you sure?” He set both hands on my waist and leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose.
His lips were warm and soft. I pulled away to look at him. “Yes. I need to get Donner’s milk before they run out again. I have no idea who keeps buying all the whole milk.”
“Donner can wait.” Leaning closer, he tempted me with another kiss, causing my lower back to press lightly against the counter’s edge. I lifted my face to meet his, tasting the coffee on his breath.
We’d been sharing kisses for over a month, and his closeness still made my pulse race. He’d never pushed me away. Not once.
We eased back on an exhale. After a few more seconds, we breathed in together and deepened the kiss.
And then his phone buzzed.
“Should you get that?”
He nudged my nose with his and then murmured against my lips, “It can’t be as important as this.” His hands moved up my arms to my shoulders.
He tipped my head back and pressed his lips against mine again, his fingers gently tightening their hold as I clutched the fabric of his shirt.
The phone stopped ringing and then vibrated with a text.
Groaning, he released me and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. His eyes widened before he ran for the door.
I clutched the edge of the counter to process his sudden shift. “Is everything okay?” What could be so urgent he’d leave me?
He slipped into his shoes without answering.
Rushing toward him, I shouted, “Ez!”
“Gotta go. Sorry. Urgent farm matter.”
And then he was gone.
Unease settled over me like humidity as I cleaned the kitchen and anxiously waited for his return. After fifteen minutes passed, I slipped on my shoes and headed to the store. He’d be back home by the time I returned.
Ezra
Once outside, I quickened my pace without running. The lingering warmth from kissing Mari faded as I read the text I received:
Jake: MADAY! Fred is at the barn. Get over here ASAP.
The plants flourished under my care. We didn’t have any run-ins with Fred since the day he’d bashed my skull with the butt of his gun.
This visit was unannounced—the worst kind. Any meeting with Fred was a nightmare.
Me: Be there in a sec.
Passing the last of the farmhouses, I cast a cautious glance behind me to ensure Marigold wasn’t following. Then I broke into a run.
The farm was eerily quiet, devoid of even a whisper of breeze stirring the fall foliage. Dead leaves drifted from branches in lazy spirals before settling on the ground in haphazard piles. The chill in the air didn’t bother me as I sprinted.
Gasping for breath, I finally reached the old wooden barn and spotted Fred’s truck parked in front of the doors. An unfamiliar truck.
Barreling inside, I found Fred leaning against a rugged beam, cigarette dangling between his fingers and gun holstered at his hip. His disheveled appearance—messy hair, soiled clothes, and repulsive smell—suggested he’d spent nights roughing it outdoors.
Jake stood nearby. When he saw me glaring, he shrugged and pointed toward Fred as if to say, don’t shoot the messenger. It was his idea.
“Look who showed up,” Fred drawled.
I straightened my posture and crossed my arms. “You’re an idiot for coming. Anyone might spot your truck and investigate. It’s like you want to be arrested.”
Fred pushed off the beam. “Don’t talk like that to the hand that feeds you, boy. I can come when I please.”
That’s where he was wrong. Very wrong. This was my farm, and I chose who came and who went. “No, you can’t. You’re not welcome here. Ever.”
Jake slid onto the dusty floor, his fingers digging into his hair as he perhaps mentally calculated the potential prison time for a felony conviction.
Fred exhaled a cloud of smoke, a malevolent smirk twisting his features. “Boy, this is why I came. You’re a flight risk. You don’t respect me. And if you don’t respect me then you don’t respect my bosses, and they aren’t men to anger.” He tossed his cigarette butt on the hay-strewn floor. “I’m not someone you wanna mess with.”
The ember briefly ignited on a piece of straw before extinguishing. “I could burn this place to the ground, and you’d haveta let me,” Fred said, approaching. “Because you don’t want anyone to find out what you’ve got going on here. I own you.”
A list of indiscretions flickered through my mind.
My first mistake was to run to the barn. Running had a way of accelerating one’s heartbeat, and if mine sped any faster then I might explode.
My second mistake was arriving unarmed, because I swear, if I had a gun on me, I'd shoot Fred Tanner right then and there, disposing his body in Atlanta without leaving a trace. The thought didn’t alarm me as much as it should.
My third mistake was deciding to come to this meeting in the first place. Rage burned through my body like an out-of-control virus.
“Fred, get out of here. And don’t come back unless I invite you.” My words remained steady and calm, even as my temper roared within.
His fingers rested on his gun.
“Don’t try it,” I said, arms still crossed.
He unclipped the safety on the holster.
Wrong move.
I would not lose everything I had sacrificed for. This farm was all I had. This marijuana was my gold mine. The only thing— person —keeping me from reaching my freedom was Fred.
White-hot rage exploded in my brain as I lurched forward. I didn’t register pain as I smashed my fist into Fred’s face faster than he could palm the gun. His body recoiled as I held his arm to keep him from stumbling. I needed him right here. I landed another blow against the side of his ribcage. After that, I’m not sure where I hit him or the number of times. Jake’s voice reached me through the haze of my violent outburst.
“You’re gonna kill him,” he shouted.
When I regained control, I found Fred lying in a puddle of his blood on the floor. His gun remained strapped to his waist, his eyes were closed, and his arms lay limp at his sides. He didn’t move, groan, or protest. I couldn’t tell if he was alive.
At the same time that I registered Fred’s body, I felt a slight discomfort in my knuckles.
Jake knelt by his father and checked his neck for a pulse. “He’s breathing,” he said, and then he swore. “You coulda killed him. I wouldnta minded losing him, but if we wanna get paid, we need him.”
He was right. I’d just beat our drug runner unconscious. My rage felt both justified and stupid. Blood dripped onto the floor from my knuckles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“I get it, man, all right? Just let me think.” Jake stood. “Help me get him into the truck. I’ll drive him home. If you’re anywhere near him when he comes to, he’ll kill you.”
“Not if he doesn’t have this.” I unholstered his gun and shoved it into the back of my waistband. “He’s all talk without it.”
“Whatever, man. Keep that thing away from me and help me get him into the truck.”
We hauled Fred to the passenger seat, and then Jake ran around to hold him so I could slam the door. Fred didn’t stir as his body sagged against the glass.
“You good?” I asked as Jake started the truck.
He rested his arm against the open window. “No, man. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this."
“Tell him to stay off my land. He’ll get the plants when they’re ready. I don’t want to see him again.”
Jake looked at his lolling father. “I just don’t know, man. This is bad.”
Setting my hands on the door, I leaned in. “It’ll be okay. They need us. And they need the pot. They won’t get a payday without what we got in that barn. Get him home and take the rest of the day off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jake set his forehead against the steering wheel. “You don’t realize what it’s like. What these guys are capable of. You haven’t been on the inside.”
“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have lost control, but you heard how he goaded me. He had it coming.” In truth, I didn’t know what the men from Atlanta would do. I didn’t know how deep Fred was in with them. Did they think of him as a sewer rat or a brilliant drug trafficker?
Jake slammed his palm on the truck door. “Get it together. You’re crazier than me.” With that, he shifted into drive and rumbled down the driveway. With luck, nobody saw him.
I stood there until my rage cooled. Growing pot was one of the dumbest things I’d ever done, but what other choice did I have?
None.
The loan payments for the farm were due monthly, and I needed a financial cushion to get out of here. I didn’t have any other options.
I set the padlock on the door then made sure the chains were secure before leaving.
Blood drip, drip, dripped from my hand as I ambled home.
Fred was a no-good hustler, so lousy at running his own operation that he had to work as a go-between for real thugs. I just beat the crap out of the middleman. What would the thugs do? I hoped they didn’t care what kind of trouble Fred got himself into. Just as long as it didn’t involve them.
Mari’s truck was absent when I arrived at the house, clomping up the wooden stairs.
Exhaustion weighed heavy on my limbs as I considered my hand. What would I tell her when she saw the broken skin on my knuckles?
I hated lying to her, but I couldn’t share the truth. There’s no way a smart girl like Mari would stay with a guy like me if she knew about the pot. I hated that her nearness to me might put her in danger. What else could I do? Send her back to Levi? No way. I couldn’t bear the thought of him welcoming her home. She and I belonged together. I loved her.
The front door slammed behind me as the words repeated in my mind.
I love her.
Yes, I did. When did that happen?
I went to the bathroom to clean my hand. The wounds weren’t as bad as the last time. I must’ve gotten the deepest cut from punching Fred’s holster or belt buckle.
With the gauze wound around my hand, I paused by the doorway of Mari’s bedroom. I loved how she was tidy, but not as much as me. The room reflected her organized chaos: a flannel button-up was draped over the foot of the bed. The sheets weren’t tucked in as neatly as mine, and her closet door was left wide open. The dresser was a colorful mess with a brush and various pairs of earrings scattered haphazardly across its surface.
She embodied beauty and honesty, while I was shrouded in darkness and deceit.
I couldn’t love her.
But I did.
She deserved someone better than me.
The creak of the downstairs door broke my reverie. “Hello?” she called out. “Ez, are you home?”
“Up here.”
I heard the rustle of a plastic bag followed by her footsteps ascending the stairs. “I picked up a box of brownie mix for later when the kids are gone. I was thinking we could watch a movie.” She stopped at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing?” Her gaze fell on my bandaged hand. “What happened?”
“I just missed you,” I said, unsure if I should confess what plagued my thoughts.
“What happened to your hand?”
Feeling the weight of guilt, I raised it for her to see. “This? Sorry, had to rush out earlier. Mother needed help. She thought she lost her wedding ring in the garbage disposal. I had to dig it out. Ended up scratching myself trying to retrieve it.”
She stood still. “I thought you said there was an urgent farm matter.”
If I loved her, I shouldn’t lie to her—but what other choice did I have? “Lost wedding rings are urgent farm matters.” Mother and Mari didn’t talk, so she’d never corroborate the story.
“Ouch.”
I didn’t deserve her trust. “I’ve got to do a few things at the office today. Will you be okay here until dinner?”
“Yes. I’ll whip up some brownies and finish the book that Beth let me borrow. I had just reached an exciting part.”
I lied. There was no urgent work waiting for me at the office. But I couldn’t stay in her presence after lying. I felt like the sewer rat I’d scorned Fred as. Scum. Vomit. Dung. I didn’t want this life. I wanted my vineyard and trust and beauty. And I wanted her to share it with me.
With a quick kiss on the cheek, I left her to hide in my office.
When I emerged at four, Levi’s truck was parked in Beth’s drive. The aroma of warm chocolate enveloped my home as I stepped inside.
“Hey,” Mari said, walking out of the kitchen. “I couldn’t resist trying out those brownies. They’ll be perfect with some ice cream.”
“Did you happen to sample the candy?”
She grinned. “Only one piece.”
“I’ve had more than that,” I admitted.
She furrowed her brow upon noticing Levi’s truck. “He comes every Halloween to help Beth hand out candy,” I explained.
She looked away and said, “Are you hungry? I tried making the chicken casserole your mom makes, but mine didn’t quite measure up.”
Was this what domestic life looked like? A woman who made brownies and casseroles while you went to work? She didn’t have to do these things. I could’ve survived on sandwiches, pizza, and the blessing of Mother’s home-cooked meals for years before she arrived, but I still loved it. Loved that she wanted to do these things for me. For us.
If only I could give her something in return.
“I’ll eat when you tell me it’s ready,” I said.
She turned toward the kitchen and then back to me. “Let’s give it time to cool down.”
We went through the motions of routine: I took a shower while she finished dinner. Then we sat at the kitchen island in front of a flickering caramel and vanilla-scented candle. After that, we changed clothes and waited for the children to visit.
Most of the kids arrived before eight. The subdivisions in town might be busy until after dark, but only a few families came to the farm.
Mari’s smile lit up the overcast night as she talked to the kids, commented on the costumes, and helped them choose the candies.
As darkness settled outside and only a faint gray hue colored the sky, we shut the door. Mari unhooked the bow from her shoulder. Even in the dimly lit living room, I noticed that her green velvet dress hugged her in all the right places.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”
I shrugged. “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about the lies I’d told her.
The room lay in darkness, save for the warm glow emanating from above the stove. Mari’s delicate hands found my forearms as she asked, “Are you sure?”
Why did she have to be so perfect? I freed my right hand, caressing her velvety cheek before tracing my thumb along her jawline. “I want to give you the world,” I whispered.
She leaned into my touch, her breath mingling with mine. “What makes you think I want the world?”
Our voices barely above a whisper, I clarified, “I never said you wanted it. I said I wanted to give it to you.”
“I want a life brimming with memories and joy. You’ve provided both, and for that, I’m grateful.”
She was so close I could smell the pine shampoo on her hair. When she first moved in, I couldn’t figure out why she’d smelled so earthy. Then I found her shampoo in the shower caddy next to mine. A bottle of men’s pine-scented shampoo. At first, I wanted to buy something feminine for her. But then I realized that I liked the aroma on her.
“But Mari,” I said. “I want to give you more. You deserve a life of exploration and excitement beyond what this farm and I can offer. Trust me. I’ve seen what’s out there, and you belong in a place of beauty with someone who—” I stopped myself from saying, someone you can trust.
Gently guiding my hand to her neck as she tilted her head upwards, she said, “Stop trying to fix something that’s not broken.”
My mouth opened as she pressed her parted lips to mine. Dropping my hands to her sides, I drew her in, holding her tight against me. Though our mouths moved in unison, it wasn’t enough. I had to share something with her.
“Mari,” I said, breathless, setting my forehead against hers. “I love you.”
Her eyes snapped open, searching mine in the darkness. “What?”
“I love you,” I whispered. “You don’t have to say it back. But I had to tell you.”
I felt her body melt against mine. Taking her in my arms, I carried her up the narrow staircase. Once upstairs, I set her on the landing to kiss her.
She wrapped her arms around me, holding so tightly that I lifted her again and carried her to my bedroom. We held hands as I closed the front curtains and then turned on a soft bedside light.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She touched my healed temple. “Will you tell me how you were hurt?”
“Maybe later.”
“Will later ever come?”
I kissed her cheekbone, her eyebrow, and her lips. No, if it were up to me, later would never arrive. “Do you think you could belong with me?” I whispered in her ear.
She shivered. “I can’t think straight when you’re kissing me like that.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
She held the front of my shirt as she responded in a breathy whisper, “No.”
Levi
Daddy’s deep voice rang through the house. Momma turned on the CD player in the living room, playing the album that always hurt my heart.
Whenever I needed to hear his voice, I’d play a cherished voicemail on my phone, but Momma preferred to immerse herself in his music. “It’s good for you to hear him this way,” she said, taking a seat beside me on the porch. “He loved to sing.”
It was the last day of October, and just like the past two years, I spent the day with Mom, distributing candy to trick-or-treaters before indulging in her extensive collection of Hallmark Christmas movies.
The aroma of chicken noodle soup simmering in the Crock-Pot wafted from the kitchen into the living room where Dad’s melodies lingered, drifting outside to where we sat on the porch.
A colorful array of chocolates and lollipops adorned a bowl placed between us as we waited for the children to arrive. Momma loved seeing the kids dressed as princesses and superheroes.
At the next house over, Courtney King sat on her own porch with a friend from church, waving as we settled in. She and Momma both handed out treats so that every child could showcase their costumes to multiple neighbors. Against my will, I inspected Ezra’s house every few minutes, searching for a glimpse of Marigold. I knew she was inside. I’d seen her shadow pass the windows in a green dress. She was the type of girl to dress up for the kids.
She and Ezra weren’t on the porch. They must be waiting indoors behind their screen. Or maybe they were avoiding me. If so, I didn’t blame them.
I hadn’t seen her since the day I came to ask Momma about the letter. She didn’t text me, so I did as Donner suggested and left her alone. Sometimes I thought she might truly be a ghost because her memory haunted me at the cabin. In my mind’s eye, I saw her seated at the kitchen table, wandering through the hillside in search of flowers, or perched on the porch with Finn nestled at her feet.
Donner insisted that the sacrifice was made out of love, but how could love endure when the person you cherished was so far away? How could you love from a distance?
I felt a mixture of longing and apprehension at the thought of seeing her again. Did her smile radiate now more brightly since she had moved in with Ezra? Did she think of me as much as I thought of her? What would she say if she saw me?
“You haven’t told me what happened,” Momma said.
“How is she?” I asked. I didn’t want to explain to her about how I wrote about a girl and then she came to life. Or about how, when I told her the truth, she ran into the arms of the man I hated most.
The porch planks protested as Momma rocked in her chair. “She’s happy. She and Ezra have been holding hands and even kissin’ some.”
“Momma.” I groaned.
She tsked me. “If you didn’t want to hear then you shouldn’t have asked.”
I slouched in the rocker. “I didn’t really wanna know. I was just diverting the conversation.”
“From telling me why you two broke up?”
“We weren’t together.”
“You’re sulking as if you were.”
“It’s complicated.” Would now be a good time to tell her about the magic? Perhaps she knew more than I thought.
I glanced at Ezra’s house again and kept quiet. It was too late. Marigold was gone. I’d tell Momma more when the pain of losing her ebbed.
“All right, Levi, I’ll wait until you’re ready, but I’m patient,” she said, reading my mind in a way that only a mother could. "I'll be here when you want to talk."
I pretended to be cheerful as we passed out candy to my cousin’s children and a few families from church. My thoughts were consumed by Marigold. I saw her head peek out of the house to welcome kids. A few times she stepped onto the porch to talk to them. But she never looked at me.
When the sun began to set, Momma and I retreated to the kitchen. She ladled steaming soup into bowls while I warmed up cornbread muffins. We savored our meal while listening to Daddy’s soothing voice in the background.
“I’ll clean up,” I said. “Go relax. Turn on a movie. I’ll be along soon.”
The familiar album stopped as Momma switched off the CD player and then turned on the TV.
The kitchen window above Momma’s sink overlooked the side of Ezra’s house. Dusk made it easy to see that there weren’t any lights on. There were no signs of life on the inside.
I finished the dishes, turned off the kitchen light, then moved to sit with Momma. We watched a Hallmark Christmas movie.
My brain was fuzzy from the cotton-candy storyline when Momma said, “Can you refill my water?”
“Sure thing.” Grabbing a glass off the coaster, I shuffled to the sink. Ezra’s house was no longer dark. From the kitchen I could see the side of Ezra's house. His upstairs bedroom light was on and I could see inside.
Flipping on the faucet, I searched the window for a sign of Marigold. The glass almost slipped as I saw the side of her body. Ezra held her waist and kissed her, his hands traveling down, down, down . I knew I should turn away, but my legs wouldn’t move.
She wore a medieval green dress with her hair cascading past her shoulders.
They fell onto his bed. She pulled his face to hers. They spoke to each other before he began the slow process of taking off her dress. Inch by torturous inch. The glass in my hand overflowed with water, but still, I couldn’t force myself away.
As their intimate moment escalated, I nearly threw the glass through the window. His hands traveled to places I’d never touched. She didn’t push him off. Instead, she only drew him closer.
My eyes were filmed with tears of anger. I contemplated storming over there and beating Ezra until the only bed he ever slept in was six feet underground. But killing Ezra would change nothing. Marigold had chosen this. She’d chosen him, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Only when she began undressing him did I force myself away. I should have stopped watching much sooner, but the shock of seeing the woman I loved with my enemy paralyzed me. How could she choose him over me? What did Ezra possess that I didn't?
I wiped the glass dry and dumped out an inch of water. “Here you are, Momma,” I said as I placed it in her outstretched hand. “I’m heading home.”
“Sure you don’t want to finish this?”
“No,” I said, keeping my voice level. “I gotta go.”
She didn’t argue. “I love you. Don’t be a stranger.”
I kissed her cheek. “I won’t. Love you, too.”
Crisp October air cooled the blood burning through my veins as I stepped outside. I forced myself not to look at his house as I drove away.
For the past few weeks, I’d held a thin sliver of hope that Marigold would come back to me. That somehow this backward love, this letting her go , would work. Now I knew it hadn’t.
Loving someone who didn’t return your affections was bad, sure. But seeing the one you loved entangled with another—someone who had the potential to hurt them—was torture. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to rescue her, but that would force my love on her, and I didn’t want that either.
The shadow of the mountain loomed in front of me as I turned onto the main road and left Marigold behind. With him.
The problem?
I still didn’t love her any less.