Chapter 14
chapter
fourteen
Farrah was in deep with Darren, and she knew it. So deep she really had to stop kissing him and start talking. But kissing was so much more fun, and safe, and she was desperate to keep him in her life.
And if he knew certain things, she wasn’t sure he’d stick around. Although the way he kissed her, held her tightly and softly at the same time, maybe he would.
“I have to go.” He ducked his head, his breathing ragged. “I have to get the fields ready for mowing tomorrow.”
She nodded and bit her lip. She had work to do as well, and if he left, she’d have a few more hours where she could call him her boyfriend.
“What did you want to tell me?” He lifted his gaze to look right into hers, piercing her with those dark eyes, that even temper.
“Oh, it’s—” She couldn’t bring herself to say “nothing.” Because it was something. At least she thought it was.
He waited, his patience seemingly endless. She knew that wasn’t true, and when the muscle in his jaw started twitching, she knew he was working hard to keep waiting.
She’d imagined this moment since the second she’d started dating him, almost a year ago now. He already knew her last name was different, and the rumors around town were that she’d been married and divorced.
They were sort of right, and Farrah had done nothing to correct them.
“I—” She swallowed, the ham and cheese sandwich she’d eaten for lunch threatening to come back up. Farrah stepped back to get some air that wasn’t filled with the hay-scented quality of his skin, the touch of sunshine he infused into her life.
“When I lived in California, I dated a man named Garrett Irvine.”
Darren settled his weight on his back foot and shoved his hands in his pocket, the picture of sexiest cowboy alive. “Ah, so there’s the Irvine. You got married?”
Why he asked like he couldn’t believe it, she wasn’t sure. She shook her head, the ends of her hair brushing her forearms. “We didn’t actually get married. I was—” She pressed her eyes closed. “I got pregnant, and I didn’t want to have the baby alone, so I told everyone we were married.”
She heard him suck in a breath, but she wasn’t brave enough to open her eyes and look at him.
“I’ve seen your driver’s license,” he said. “It says Farrah Irvine.”
“I legally changed it after he—after we ended things. He didn’t know about the baby at the time, but when he found out, he wanted me to end the pregnancy.” Her vision began to spin, and she had to open her eyes so she wouldn’t fall down.
She hadn’t explained things very well, but Darren didn’t usually need long explanations. Garrett had broken up with her before she’d discovered she was pregnant. When she told him, he’d texted back to say Well, then take care of it.
And he didn’t mean have the baby and mother it.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything to hurt the child, so she’d changed her name, moved to a new apartment, and started telling people her husband was overseas serving in the military.
The number of lies she’d told swallowed her whole, even now, and she couldn’t believe she’d come back to the light from such a place of darkness.
Darren’s fingertips brushed her forearm. “So you were never married.”
She focused on the skin he’d touched. “No.”
“But you told people you were.”
“Yes.”
“And you changed your name.”
“Yes.”
“And you had a baby.”
She shook her head, her bottom lip trembling along with the motion. “No.”
He slid two fingers under her chin and lifted her face so she’d look at him. “No?”
“I was pregnant for eighty-nine days. I lost the baby.”
He wrapped his arms around her without another word, and she let him comfort her for something that had happened four years ago.
How the pain was still there seemed ridiculous, especially because she had never felt so lost, so isolated, so utterly forgotten by God, than she had in that period of her life.
“After that,” she whispered into his shirt. “I started coming back to church. I met a pastor in Los Angeles that helped me for two solid years to rebuild my faith and find my way through the repentance process.”
Darren said nothing. Most of the time she didn’t need him to. Now, though, she wanted to hear him whisper that everything was okay, that she was fine, that he still loved her.
The moment lengthened, and all of Farrah’s memories streamed through her mind. She’d kept them boxed up, vowing never to let them out. But she hadn’t anticipated meeting someone as wonderful as Darren. Honestly, she hadn’t planned on dating anyone ever again.
And maybe that’s why you broke up with him over a parade. The thought sprang into her mind, unbidden but there nonetheless. Maybe it was. Everything about Darren scared her, and though she liked being with him, she wasn’t sure she could ever be comfortable with him.
Now that she’d confessed a few of her secrets to him, it was easier to be with him. She just couldn’t believe he still wanted to be with her.
He cleared his throat. “I really do have to go.”
She stepped back and nodded, a tear threatening to escape. She wasn’t even sure why. He hadn’t broken up with her. He hadn’t condemned her. But he was walking away from her, and he didn’t look back.
She almost called after him to come to her place for dinner, but if she’d been told that the man she loved had almost had a child with someone he wasn’t married to, she’d need some time to process.
And while Darren hadn’t usually needed much time to know what he wanted, she suspected that this time he would.
By the weekend, Farrah had spoken on the phone with Darren a couple of times, but he wasn’t a great conversationalist, so she’d resorted back to texting.
He seemed to do that just fine, mostly because he rarely responded immediately.
He was overthinking things, and she suspected that he was typing and re-typing his responses before sending them.
Friday night—date night—came, and Farrah did not have a date. “What are you doing tonight?” she asked Meagan, more to make conversation than anything else.
“Bunko night,” she said, glancing up from the raft where she worked. She did a double-take before straightening. She scanned Farrah from head to toe. “Do you play? Because Hannah texted about an hour ago and said she’s sick and can’t come. We need another player.”
“I’ve never played bunko.”
“It’s my month to host, so it’s at my place.” Meagan rushed toward her. “It’s so easy, and there’s dinner provided, and I’ll even pay your five dollars for the prize pot.” Her eyes lit up, and Farrah couldn’t help laughing.
“I don’t have any plans,” she said, and Meagan engulfed her in a hug, her tiny baby bump solid against Farrah’s stomach. She sobered quickly then and stepped back. “So what time?”
“Six. Don’t eat before. There’s tons of food and Rae brings her mother’s secret recipe almond punch every month. This month’s theme is the fall harvest, and I’ve been baking with pumpkin and apples and maple syrup all week.”
Farrah was sure she’d just gotten in way over her head, but she thought anything was better than sitting home alone on a Friday night. “Is there usually a monthly theme?”
“Oh, yeah,” Meagan said. “Hannah did a whole maple syrup shindig in April, and before Layla moved—wow. She’d plan her month perfectly, and it was the best party of the year.
” She sighed wistfully. “Rae always has good food, because she caters from La Ferrovia.” Meagan grinned.
“I’m so glad you’re joining us. You’ll love it. ”
Farrah wasn’t so sure of that. She’d avoided spending time with the women in LA, because no one could be trusted. Everyone was out for themselves.
You’re not in LA anymore, she told herself as she went back to planting cilantro seeds.
And maybe it’s time you started making more friends in Island Park.
She’d probably know every woman there, especially if they were Meagan’s friends.
As they finished work, and Farrah headed home, she decided that having some friends in town wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
She spent an hour in her yard in the cooling fall temperatures, watching the clock on her phone tick closer and closer to six.
She wasn’t sure if bunko was the type of party one could show up fashionably late for, so she fed Bolt, showered quickly, and tied her damp hair into a knot on the top of her head before slipping into a casual pair of khaki capris and a blouse the color of watermelon rinds.
When she arrived at Meagan’s, it was clear she should’ve come earlier.
The door opened to a wall of sound, from music, to chatter, to laughter, to a dog barking somewhere beyond the party.
It seemed like fifty women had packed themselves inside her living room and kitchen, but upon further inspection, Farrah counted eleven others besides herself.
Three tables filled the area, with colorful signs on red, brown, and white plaid paper that said high, medium, and low. She had no idea what they meant but instinctively hoped she wouldn’t be put at the low table.
“Come in, come in.” Meagan grinned at her like she was the Queen of England. “Guys, Farrah’s here.”
Every eye turned toward her, and sure enough, Farrah recognized almost every face.
Missy and Rae were the friendliest, and they came over to her.
Rae had recovered decently well from her car accident, and she wore a full leg brace as she hobbled closer.
“Look at you.” She grinned and glanced at Missy. “I didn’t think this was your scene.”
The scent of freshly baked pie crust filled the air, along with something sweet and cidery. With this many women, and this much noise, Farrah could easily say, “Oh, it’s not. But Meagan needed a sub, and well.” She shrugged, not wanting to admit she didn’t have anything else to do that night.
“Glad you came.” Missy gave her shoulders a squeeze and turned back to the crowd. “Okay, so you have to watch out for April. She works at the rec center with Rae, and they cannot be partners.”
“It’s a game of chance,” Rae said, a note of defensiveness in her tone.
“Still.” Missy gave her a look that spoke of how much time they’d spent together. “They’re like a luck charm when they’re on the same team.”
“There’s teams?” Farrah asked, letting herself get swept toward the crowd.
“You’ll be partnered with someone different in every game,” Missy said. “You know Logan’s wife? Well, Aria and Hazel still work at Layla’s clinic.”
Farrah said hello to them, glad for another connection between her and a couple of the women.
“You know Audra and Meagan from the farm,” Missy continued.
“And Meredith works at the rec too. Michelle and Cheryl—” Two women turned, punch cups in hand and wide smiles on their faces.
“Work at the elementary school. They’re friends of Bonnie’s.
” Missy gestured to Farrah. “She’s dating Darren Buttars. ”
The way she said it so casually made Farrah’s insides dance. The way Michelle and Cheryl’s faces lit up, as if they had nothing but mad respect for Darren, helped Farrah feel more at ease.
“And this is Toby,” Missy said, indicating the last woman. She sported bleached hair no longer than an inch. “She runs the yoga studio by the bookstore, and I think…Meredith goes there.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at Toby.
“That’s right.” She smiled and shook Farrah’s hand. Out of all of the women, Toby hadn’t grown up here in Island Park, and Farrah found herself wanting to be her partner.
A cowbell rang, nearly deafening Farrah, and she spun to find Meagan holding it gleefully. “Come get your scorecards and pencils,” she announced into the resulting silence. “And game one begins in sixty seconds!”
Panic flooded Farrah. “I don’t know how to play,” she blurted, hoping one of the women making a mad dash for the scorecards and pencils would stop and teach her. They didn’t.
Missy returned and handed her a card with a big blue M in the corner. “You’re at the medium table, and it looks like there’s only one spot left. You’ll be Aria’s partner.”
Aria, Aria. Farrah had met so many women in such a short time, but she managed to locate the medium table and the woman sitting across from the open space. Farrah took her scorecard and pencil and headed over.
She sat and smiled at Aria, who grinned back. “I’ve never played,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Aria tipped her head back and laughed. She waved her hand. “Honey, it’s rolling dice. You can handle it.”
“Can she?” Michelle asked. “Because Audra and I were a team last month, and we killed it.” She high-fived Audra across the table.
Farrah blinked, completely unprepared for smack talk from grown women at bunko night. A smile spread her lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.