Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Mira
“Hey, Cathy,” I say, slowing to a stop in front of Hartley’s house. “I haven’t forgotten about the garden.”
“Sure, you haven’t.” She smiles, wiping her hands on a towel thrown over her shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re still in town. Is Lolly okay?”
Geez. “Yeah, she’s fine. I just …” I narrow my eyes to try to determine whether Hartley told her our news or not. By the concerned look on her face, I take it that he hasn’t. “I might be around for a while.”
“Oh, that’s great. Come by, one of these days, and I’ll make you a pie.”
Cathy, I fear that we’ll be seeing each other more days than not very soon.
“Where are you headed?” she asks from the porch.
“Hart said he’d be out at Betsy Barn most of the day, so I was planning on going out there. Unless he’s not there.”
She shakes her head. “As far as I know, that’s where he is. Tell him that I’m heading into town to grab some things for dinner and some apples for a new counter cake for the week. His lunch is in the oven.”
“Will do. See ya, Cathy.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
I press the gas and put some distance between myself and Cathy.
“Okay,” I say as I take the dirt road toward the back of the property. “This is getting real-er.” I pause. “More real. Real-er. Whatever.”
I didn’t fall asleep until the sun started to rise.
My brain needed at least two hours to replay my interaction with Hartley a hundred times, and then another two to rethink every word, breath, and insinuation that came from Lolly’s mouth.
By the time I finally closed my eyes, I’d talked myself into exhaustion.
Waking up was a wild ride. I jumped right back on the Ferris wheel of panic, although it was moving a little slower this time.
Betsy Barn stands in the distance, the weathervane at the top whipping in the wind. From the hay loft, you can see across the back acreage of Lolly’s land. Hartley and I used to sit up there to get away from Gray and his friends, and I’d almost always catch him looking forlornly over the creek.
I love the idea of helping him get it back.
That means a lot to me. But marriage? Marriage is a huge sacrifice to make.
It means … staying. Committing. Accepting that my wants, needs, and whims aren’t the only deciding factor in decisions.
That’s terrifying. I told Lolly that I wanted that eventually, but was that the actual truth?
I don’t know. The idea of giving myself to someone that fully—handing them the ability to leave me brokenhearted—makes it hard to breathe.
I’m not willing to set myself up for that level of loss again.
But if all it got was Hartley’s land back into his hands, I’d do it. God knows he’s done enough for me over the years.
“Hey,” I say once I’m stopped next to his truck. The breeze blows through my open windows, delivering the sweet smell of spring along with it.
He moves slowly from the barn toward me. “Hey to you.”
“Did you wake up this morning feeling like you had a hangover?” I ask, climbing out of my car. “Or was that just me?”
He removes a pair of brown gloves and tosses them on the hood of his truck. “I halfway didn’t expect to see you today.”
“You know, I get it. I’m not often here for many days in a row. But damn. Everyone acts like they’re surprised that I didn’t vaporize during the night.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” He softens the phrase with a little grin. “So how are ya? Hanging in there?”
I lean against his truck, the metal warmed by the bright sun. The heat feels good against my muscles as I ponder his question. It’s a loaded one that I don’t know how to answer. Replying with “I’m alive” seems a little dramatic, but it’s really all I know for sure.
“How about this?” I ask, grinning back at him. “How are you? Are you hanging in there?”
His chuckle rumbles through me. “I have been worse, and I have been better.”
“Dammit! That’s a good answer. Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shakes his head, running a finger around the side of his mouth. He’s amused. That’s good.
“How long did Lolly give us to make a decision?” I ask.
“A week.”
I groan. “You know, it’s so typical of her to just put our entire lives on her schedule. And it’s not like she’s asking us to Sunday dinner. She’s asking us to get married—and holding shit over our heads. It’s probably illegal.”
“So what are you going to do? Have Sheriff Kline arrest your seventy-eight-year-old grandmother?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
“She’d talk her way out of it before she ever got to the jail.”
“You’re right,” I say, laughing. “She would.”
He blows out a breath. “I want to be mad at her. But I can’t. She’s giving me an opportunity—a messed-up one, but an opportunity nonetheless—that I could never have afforded myself.”
I look past him, down the hill and across the creek to the tree line that separates the two properties.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I understand why she’s doing this.
I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish I could easily pack up and drive away, leave the manipulation behind, and not worry about it again.
Markie made a lot of sense in our conversation yesterday, and I’ve taken much of that to heart.
All Lolly has ever wanted is for us to be safe and loved.
And after all that she’s given me when she didn’t have to—including a house and land worth more than I’d make in a lifetime at the rate I’m going—I could at least give her a year in Sugar Creek. That’s fair.
And the Hartley piece—I get that, too. He’d never take charity. Not even from Lolly. But if he had to bleed a little for the land, if he had to earn it somehow, he’d let himself accept it.
I know she hopes that making me settle, even if only for a year, will put a taste in my mouth for that sort of life. It won’t. But I can respect her game.
Hartley runs a hand through his hair, watching me with his big, brown eyes.
It could absolutely be worse.
“So what do you think?” he asks. “Are we doing this? Because if you want to back out, I completely understand.”
“Do you want to back out?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No, but that’s what I’m asking,” I say. “Maybe you saw Lora this morning at Piper’s when you were picking up your daily sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich.”
He rolls his eyes. “Stop it.”
“I’m just being sure. I don’t want to marry a man who is secretly pining for another woman.”
He makes a face, trying hard not to laugh.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “Yes, I still think we should do this. It’s a little batshit crazy, but this will change our lives.
You’ll get the land, but I’ll get the house and a chunk of acreage, too.
If hell freezes over and I decide I want to stay, I’ll have a nice place to live.
But, if it doesn’t, I can sell it, maybe even to you, if you want it, and not have to save and scrimp for the rest of my life.
” I shrug. “I can pretend to be your wife for a year for that.”
A shadow crosses his expression before he smooths it away. “How do you want to do this?” he asks.
“Get married? I mean, I don’t know. I suppose we can go to the courthouse or something, right?”
He nods. “She said we have to tell her within a week, but did she say how fast we have to actually do it?”
“No,” I say, grabbing my phone from inside my car. “But I’m sure it’s an unspoken requirement. I’m going to text her.”
Me: Quick question. IF Hartley and I get married, how soon do we need to actually go through with it?
Lolly: A week.
Me: YOU WANT US MARRIED IN A WEEK?
Lolly: Don’t shout.
I roll my eyes as I look up at Hartley. “She said we have to get married in a week. That’s ridiculous.”
“A week?” He runs a hand over his jaw. “Lolly isn’t playing.”
“I don’t know, Hart. Maybe we just tell her that she’s gone too far this time and that she needs to let us take a breath.”
He considers this as his eyes search mine. “We could. Or we can look at it like this—the sooner we get married, the faster it’ll be over.”
True. I want to crack a joke that he’s trying to get rid of me before we’re even married, but he doesn’t seem to be very jokey. That’s understandable, given the circumstances.
Lolly: ATD. BFF. Talk to you soon.
I study her message but can’t make sense of her abbreviations. At the door? Best friends forever?
I hope she didn’t mix up her meds again. Although, that would make a lot of sense right about now …
Me: What’s that mean? ATD. BFF.
Lolly: At the doctor. Best friend fell.
I snort. Of course that’s what it means. Shaking my head, I type out a response.
Me: I hope she’s okay.
Lolly: She probably broke an arm. I need younger friends.
Me: So a week. You’re sticking by that?
Lolly: I have to ensure that you two won’t back out on me. With all due respect—I know you, Mira Mae. You could very well get cold feet by the weekend, bail out, and I’d have already turned down Beardsley. Even if I went back to him, he’d lower his price, and that would be a hell of a negotiation.
Me:
Lolly: There is a lot of money on the line, honey. I need proof that you’re serious about this, and this is the only way.
Lolly: And it could be worse. You’ll thank me, eventually.
I glance up at Hartley, and the look in his eye makes my knees weak.
Me: I know you don’t have to give me anything, and that you’ll give me and Markie so much—even if I have to jump through hoops to get mine—is very kind of you. Thank you, Lolly.
Lolly: I love you girls. Everything I have is yours. Even if I wind up selling the house and land, you and Markie would split it. But Markie doesn’t want the house, and I think you might someday. I’m trying to do what’s right by you.
My heart softens as I stare at her words.