Chapter 30 Ethan
Ethan
It was the morning of opening day, and they were just about ready. His hands were busy stacking buckets, but his eyes kept drifting to where Honey was trimming back a bush. The sight of her—hair tied up, shirt a little rumpled from the morning’s work—pulled at something deep in him.
The last few days had been something else entirely.
In his mind, the bells tolled over and over, each chime marking the moments he fell for her again.
Every brush of her hand, every lingering glance, every breath caught between them only pulled him deeper.
Waking with her beside him, stealing touches in the kitchen, trading quiet smiles over the girls’ heads.
He couldn’t remember the last time life had felt that easy.
For the first time in years, he let himself pretend.
“People! We open in ten minutes!” Brooke’s voice rang out.
Ethan’s heart gave a proud twist as she marched toward them, clipboard in hand, Melly trailing behind like a pint-sized assistant manager. Both girls wore matching Petals and Thorns shirts and very serious expressions.
“Pick-your-own-fruit?” Brooke called out.
“Check,” Melly said.
“Petting zoo?”
They all looked over toward the barn where Ethan had built a small pen for the goats and alpacas Marlene had loaned them.
“Delilah, don’t you dare sit in that mud,” Marlene scolded, stomping across the hay toward an alpaca that only blinked at her. “You are representing my name today.”
She turned to the other. “And Lucille, I swear on my best Tupperware, if you spit on a single child, there will be no watermelon for a week.”
“I think Marlene has it handled,” Ethan said.
“Check,” Brooke said, making a decisive mark. She turned briskly on her heel.
“Wait!” Melly said, scrambling to dig something out of her little purse. She pulled out a disposable camera and squinted up at them. “Can you take our picture? I wanna show it to Mom.”
Ethan froze. Melly’s hope was so bright, that for a moment, all he could do was stand there with his arms slack at his sides. He wanted to promise her that picture would find its way into her mother’s hands, but the lie caught in his throat.
Honey moved first. Gently, she took the camera from Melly’s outstretched hands while Ethan stood there feeling useless and guilty.
No one said anything as Brooke and Melly lined up in front of the freshly painted sign. Ethan couldn’t look at the words too long, because if he did, he’d start imagining a life where this wasn’t temporary. Where the girls had roots here and Honey wasn’t packing her things in a borrowed room.
“Smile, girls,” Honey said as she raised the camera up and clicked the shutter.
“Okay, let’s go,” Brooke said. “We still haven’t checked the handwashing station.”
Ethan watched the girls dart off, then glanced back toward Honey. “Melly says that every once in a while. She’s got a whole little shoebox of things she plans to show Leticia when she comes back. I’ve told her I don’t know when that’ll happen, but she does it anyway.”
“Oh.” Honey folded her arms. “So the clue from Clover didn’t work out?”
Ethan’s jaw tensed. “I haven’t had a chance to check.”
Of course he hadn’t. He’d been too busy stealing time he shouldn’t have with Honey.
He’d spent the last few nights with her, kissing her in the dark, and touching her like she was already his.
For a few precious days, he’d let himself forget that there was still a woman out there he was supposed to be searching for.
He hadn’t just pulled himself away from the search. He’d let himself pretend there wasn’t a search at all.
Part of him thought maybe it was for the best. Even if Leticia walked back in right then, he couldn’t imagine what it would look like. There was no going back to how things were. As much as he wanted the girls to have their mom, he had no idea what she was like now.
“I will, though,” he added. “After all this is over.”
Honey nodded, and the way she didn’t push stung worse than if she had.
They fell into step again, walking past the orchard rows where the morning sun filtered through the branches.
The trees were full and ripe, their apples glowing red and gold in the light.
At the farm stand, Brody Fitch in an apron restocked crates with jars of peach preserves, hand pies, caramel apples, and bundles of cookies tied with twine.
Pickles bleated lazily from the petting zoo pen nearby.
“You really pulled it off,” she said, nudging his side.
Ethan gave her a look. “We did.”
“Did you end up passing out flyers in town?”
“Nope. But I told Poppy.” He crossed his arms and gave her a lopsided grin.
As if on cue, a rumble rose up from the gravel road.
A battered white church bus crested the hill and rolled to a stop by the orchard gate.
The doors hissed open, Poppy stepped down first, and people began to pour out.
Dozens of them. Poppy waved them on. Clover Marrow followed, arm in arm with Juniper.
Clover was in a sunflower-yellow sweater beneath her black overalls, and Juniper had a book tucked under one arm like a handbag.
Lucky the mechanic helped down Ms. Opal, the librarian, who wore a scarf the size of a picnic blanket.
A group of teenagers he recognized from their toddler days clambered down after them.
And then came more. Parents with strollers. A trio of older women in matching sweatshirts. Two men in flannel with guitar cases slung over their backs. A little girl in sparkly boots who shrieked at the sight of the goats and tore across the grass.
Ethan swallowed hard. These weren’t just people showing up to pick apples. They were his people—his town—arriving for him, like they always had, even when he was too proud to admit he needed them.
The girls came barreling out from behind the barn. Brooke made a beeline for a group of little girls, her clipboard forgotten in the dirt. Melly raced from person to person, offering hugs and toothy smiles.
Even Emma, who had hardly spoken to anyone since she’d caught Honey packing, was smiling as she handed out buckets for apple picking and pointed kids toward the hay maze.
It was better than he imagined. Laughter rose into the air like bubbles. The sweet tang of cider drifted from the farm stand. The sounds of a slow banjo shuffle spilled across the orchard. The wind tugged gently at the bunting strung between trees.
Ethan’s throat burned as he watched it all unfold. For the first time in a long while, the orchard didn’t feel like something he was carrying on his back. It felt like something bigger. Something held together by everyone who’d just stepped off that bus.
And he welcomed it.
Ethan let out a long, slow breath. Honey’s hand found his, and she laced her fingers through his. She gave a quick squeeze, and though neither of them spoke, he understood. They both knew what this was—a farewell dressed in the colors of a harvest festival.
He tried to memorize every second. The laughter, the music, the smell of cider, the girls running wild with sticky hands and pink cheeks. He’d built this day like a goodbye gift—for them, for the town, maybe even for himself. And if he was being honest, for her too.
“Someone’s here!” Melly’s voice rang out, high and sharp as she sprinted past the hay bales.
“Who?” Honey asked.
Ethan glanced toward the road, brows pulling together when he spotted the cab driver who’d first dropped Honey at the farm.
The driver climbed out of the cab, stretched like a man clocking out for the day, and ambled toward the nearest row of trees like he fully intended to help himself to a few apples while he waited.
For a second, Ethan thought that was it.
But then the back door of the cab flew open.
A woman came hurtling out, crossbody bag bouncing against her hip as she tore across the field. Honey barely had time to drop his hand before the woman slammed into her with a hug that nearly knocked them both to the ground.
“Hello, Ruby,” Honey said, voice muffled against the wild hair of her friend.
“Look at you!” Ruby cried, drawing back just far enough to examine her. “Country woman! It looks good on you.”
Honey laughed, breathless and teary-eyed all at once. “You came.”
Ruby beamed. “Of course I came. You didn’t think I’d let you gallivant off to the Land of Oz without me, did you?”
“I should have guessed.”
“And you must be the hot farmer?” Ruby released Honey to acknowledge Ethan.
“Ruby,” Honey chastised.
Ethan laughed good-naturedly, all the weight and worry of the moment tucked away neatly.
He was used to deflecting attention, to keeping himself in the background, but Honey glowed beside him.
Her eyes bright with excitement. Ruby was someone Honey trusted, someone who could make her laugh like that, and that made Ethan want to stand a little straighter.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” he said.
He walked away, taking in the smell of the orchard, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the sight of Honey laughing freely. It struck him how much he wanted to protect this peace.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Ruby lean closer. “Tell me everything,” she said as he walked away.