Chapter 31
Harvest
Renée
The rest of the week passes much the same as previous ones, but every evening after the girls go down, I sneak out to find Jonah on my back patio, sweeping leaves and waiting for a goodnight kiss.
Sometimes we talk for a bit, and sometimes nothing is more important than making out like horny teens.
Can you blame me? There are nights he comes home wearing tiny rugby shorts and a cut-off shirt.
I’m only human.
On Saturday the girls and I attend another one of his games.
I still don’t know the rules of rugby, but my body knows it likes his.
And his long, thick legs with that slutty team crest tattoo on his mid-thigh.
.. Mmm. It’s so trite, but his athleticism turns me on.
The incredible speed at which he can run the ball and the way he can just get up from a tackle like it’s no sweat off his back. ..
For completely unrelated reasons, it pleases me to know he has a high pain tolerance.
Amber leaves after breakfast to work the club’s Sunday brunch service, and the girls and I make plans for the day. They promise to help me harvest the rest of my garden in exchange for play time with the animals. Fine by me, I didn’t even have to propose that idea.
The early autumn morning is warm, but there’s an undeniable crispness creeping in, a tender reminder that change can be sweet. Baskets in hand, I open the garden gate and let the girls in, giving them each a pair of sheers and gloves with instructions to cut all flowers.
“Uh-ohhh,” Delta says a few rows back. “Mom?”
I pull a beet. “Yeah? Do you need a different pair of gloves?”
“No, look at the pumpkins!”
I just saw them two days ago and they were fine, but I stride back to check them out.
My jaw drops when half a garden bed of pumpkin carcasses come into view.
“What on earth?” The jarrahdales, pie pumpkins, heirlooms—all of them have been gnawed open.
“How did this happen?” I ask myself aloud.
I check on the rest of the beds but nothing else has been touched.
“Was it a squirrel?” Delta asks. “They’ve eaten our jack-o-lanters before.”
“Sweetie, these teeth marks are not from a squirrel. And there’s too much wreckage.
” That’s when my eye catches on the back fence where it meets the ground.
My steps are slow and careful when I step up to the massive dirt hole that’s been dug under the fence.
But it looks like whatever broke in didn’t get that idea first and tried mawling the fence.
“Oh noooo,” Delta gasps, and Lo joins us to stare at the hole, the size of which both of them could fit through.
“It’s okay,” I tell them, although I’m already thinking of how much it’s going to cost to replace this part of the fence. “The good news is we’re harvesting everything that’s left today, so no more stuff can be eaten.”
“But what are we gonna use for Halloween?”
I huff a laugh and redirect their shoulders. “Sweetie, it’s late September. There are pumpkins at every store and farm stand across the country. Why don’t you both pick up any pumpkin seeds you find and we’ll save them for next year?”
Pleased with my idea, they use their little fingers to comb through everything like little archeologists. For the next hour, I pull the rest of the beets, butternut squash, cabbage, and Brussels sprouts while wracking my brain with what could have possibly done this to my fence and pumpkins.
And seriously? Only the pumpkins?
The familiar sound of Jonah’s returning SUV rumbles up the road, and I peer up to wave. I can hear his engine turn off and in minutes, he’s knocking at the gate. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Hi Jonah!” Delta cheers, and the girls race to let him in before I can.
That’s when I see Yogi next to him, all one hundred and eighty pounds of slightly discolored white fluff, with bandages on his front paws. The puzzle piece clicks into place.
“What happened to Yogi?” Delta asks, and both boys step in.
“I’m not sure, but I found him this morning in the barn with all these cuts on his feet and a dew claw gone. We just got back from the vet.”
Both girls wrap their arms around the dog and he wags his tail. “Poor buddy,” Delta coos.
My heart does break for the big guy, far worse than any of the damage to the garden. I can’t help rubbing his ears and pouting over him too.
But I sigh and catch Jonah’s eye. “I think I know what happened. Follow me.”
Jonah has to cover his mouth when I show him the damning evidence. “I’m so sorry, Renée. I’ll get this fixed, I promise.” He apologizes so sincerely—like this is my property, not his.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” I look down at the dog who has followed us with his ears tucked and head low. “But I would like to know what the heck is so special about our pumpkins, Yogi.”
“Hey I know I just left,” Jonah says into the phone he’s now holding to his ear. “But it looks like he tore up Renée’s garden. Yeah, he climbed under the fence and ate all their pumpkins. Is he going to be okay?” He scans the graveyard of gourds. “He ate... a lot of them.”
We all stand by waiting for a sign of relief, but he chews on his bottom lip and inspects the bits and pieces left. "Doesn't look like it,” he replies. “Okay. Thanks bro. Love you. I said I love you, Dane! Say it back,” he says petulantly, and eventually smiles. “That’s better. I’ll see you later.”
“Is he gonna be okay?” I ask.
He pockets his phone and sighs. “He should be fine. It doesn’t look like he ate the stems or leaves, which is good.
If he doesn't poop for a while I’ll have to bring him in.
But he should be fine once his paws heal.
” He claps his hands and turns his sunshine on the girls.
“Okay, who wants to help me make a little recovery center in the barn for this goober?”
They both raise their hands as if there’s an entire audience behind them hoping to be picked.
I chuckle and nod to Jonah. “Go ahead. I’m gonna finish up here and I’ll be right over.”
The girls race out of the garden and beeline for the barn, with the dog limping behind them.
I shake my head watching him walk off. “Poor guy.”
“I’m sorry he ate your pumpkins,” Jonah repeats. “I’ll get the fence repaired before the snow falls.”
I could argue with him. I could stand my ground and reject his offer. But I remember his words that night after the bluegrass festival, as he knelt before me with my hands in his. I’d very much like to take care of you, and that might be hard for you to accept. I just want you to be happy.
Greg promised me that same thing in a manner of speaking. As a twenty-two year old, what did I know? I questioned nothing. I had no reason to believe he’d lie to me, or that anything bad would ever happen.
Jonah on the other hand... he’s nothing like my ex-husband.
Generational differences aside, their personalities and demeanor are night and day.
I don’t think Jonah’s even capable of saying harsh words.
I mean what kind of man cares for old, sickly, and unwanted animals because he feels bad for them?
Because he wants his dogs to have friends?
That’s a four hundred-level class in Good Boy Behavior.
So no, I’m not going to argue with him about who will pay for the fence repair. I’m going to brush my hands of the task and he’s going to handle it.
“Okay,” I say, and temporarily lose myself in his gaze. “Thank you for taking care of it.”
He sneaks a glance over his shoulder toward the barn where the girls have run inside and when he turns back, a grin crawls over his face and he eyes me head to toe.
“You look so pretty today,” he says, before sectioning off a long length of my hair and combing his fingers down to the ends.
“I like when your hair is kinda... half-up, half-down like this.”
I’m wearing jeans and an embroidered short sleeve blouse that has seen better days—but I don’t think I have. “Thank you. Now give me a kiss before they come out looking for you.”
I’m caught off guard when he lays one on me so fast it takes a second for me to catch up.
Then he peppers me with a dozen more in rapid succession all over my face.
Giggling like a school girl, I’m left standing there in a cloud of his sage and citrus as he runs away to make a recovery bed for his dog.
Once everything’s harvested, I take it all inside for a good scrub.
Every vase, pitcher, and jar I own are suddenly filled with flowers, and the scent takes over our home.
When I’m finished, I head back to Jonah’s and place one of the arrangements on his outdoor table before checking on their progress in the barn.
Sure enough, they’ve essentially made Yogi a pillow fort in the hay. The girls have made signs featuring a giant red cross and another that says Shhh! There’s even a first aid kit nearby with all his medical supplies. Of course Yogi simply lays there, soaking up every ounce of affection he’s given.
On his porch, the four of us have a late lunch of simple sandwiches and apple slices. Blind as she is, Ginger—with her super-horse powers—can smell the apples all the way from her paddock and neighs until the girls bring her a special delivery.
Jonah and I clean up, and he hands me a couple beers for the porch and directs me to relax. “I’ll be right back,” he says, before dashing back into the house and reappearing a minute later with his guitar and mandolin. He’s already staring at me with a mischievous grin like he knows the outcome.
I don’t argue.1
I take another sip and set my beer on the wooden porch next to a couple ducks and an adorable snoozing German Shepherd.
Pleased as punch, Jonah hands over the instrument and pick, and I sit back.
He takes the other chair, waiting patiently for me to tune.
Mandolins are temperamental and require constant tuning, but Jonah looks like he could listen to me pluck the same open string a million times.