Chapter 6 Roan
ROAN
Ihead up the tree-lined driveway to the farm the next afternoon with Meg beside me. I told Mom we’d bring groceries, and the back of the truck is full of them.
Sure, I’m leaving the lot closed during the late afternoon. But my parents have sacrificed for me all my life. So when Mom says she needs something I jump.
“It’s nice to come home before dark,” Meg observes with a little smile, her eyes on the fields of evergreens that line the hills.
That stings, but she’s right. Normally, she’s with me until I close up the lot, and that means we’re not home until after dark. I know it isn’t always the most fun way for a young girl to spend her time.
“Did you want to just hang out here tonight?” I ask her. Mom and Dad say they’re always happy to watch her. I don’t want to take advantage, but if Meg wants a break…
“No. We’re helping Taylor at the bookshop,” she reminds me excitedly. “She said I could help her organize the books.”
“Right,” I say, nodding.
I’m kind of looking forward to it too. Any excuse to spend time with Taylor sounds good to me, which probably means I’m letting my imagination get the better of me.
I shake my head at my own nonsense.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asks.
“Nothing,” I tell her. “When we get to Grandma’s, don’t forget we have to bring in the groceries.”
“I know,” she says. “I’ll help.”
She probably will. But half the time she’s so happy to see Foghorn, the wolfhound mix that’s roamed the house and tree farm since I was in high school, that she forgets to even greet her grandparents.
I pull up in front of my parents’ house. It’s a beautiful little rancher they built on the land back when Mom was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and the stairs in the old three-story farmhouse became a trial on her joints.
The doctor had told her to ease back on activities when she was flaring up. Of course, she said she was just fine.
Dad nodded and went along with her, but a week later, Chester Simmons was out here, measuring the outline of the rancher.
I remember getting up for a glass of water that night and overhearing Mom and Dad talking.
Mom was upset about spending so much on the new house, insisting that the money was supposed to be something to pass on to the kids.
My dad finally brought her around to the idea by telling her they would give us the old house and the farm instead, that it would be enough.
So that was exactly what they did, and it was more than enough. How many people can say they’ve inherited a house and farm while their parents are still living?
And knowing Mom can conserve her energy for the things she loves most makes all of us happy.
Dad designed the house with wide hallways and doorways and a ramp to the front door, so that she’ll always have as much freedom as possible, even if she sometimes needs to use a walker or even a wheelchair one day.
For now, she seems as active as ever, and for that we’re all grateful.
Dad still works with my brother and me, and we split our profits three ways. My goal is to do well enough to buy Buck out. He works hard and he’s an upbeat guy, but I know this isn’t the life he wants long-term.
For me, it’s all I can imagine. And Meg’s happy here with family around. If I have to be a single dad, I’m glad I can at least give her that.
We’ve just gotten out of the truck and loaded ourselves up with groceries when Foghorn comes bounding out from behind the house, moaning like he hasn’t seen us in years, even though I saw Meg giving him a good belly rub this morning.
“Hey, buddy,” she sings out. “Hi, old friend.”
Foghorn prances alongside her, smiling with his tongue lolling out. He rears up slightly on his back legs here and there to snuffle at the bags, which makes her giggle.
“There you are,” Mom’s happy voice rings through the cold air. “You brought me groceries.”
“Yes,” Meg tells her. “Wait till you see what we got.”
I know she’s excited about the candy canes. Meg loves them and so does her grandmother. And I can’t ever deny them a simple treat. I probably overdid it, but I got a couple of boxes so Mom can tuck a few of them in the cupboard.
“I can’t wait,” Mom replies.
“Is that my granddaughter?” Dad booms from the doorway.
They fuss over Meg, and it’s pretty clear that she loves it. Whenever I get stormy about Erica leaving her without a mom, I remember my parents and feel better. It may not be the traditional setup, but Meg’s got a good pack around her.
I follow them all into the house. It’s warm inside and it smells absolutely incredible—like cinnamon and spruce.
You’d think working on a tree farm would ruin the smell of evergreens, but I don’t think anything ever could for me.
We head down the center hall to the great room, and I set the bags on the counter in the open kitchen and then head back out for the rest.
“Need more help, Dad?” Meg asks from the floor, where she’s already lying with Foghorn sitting on her chest, industriously licking her from chin to forehead.
“Nope,” I tell her. “I’m good. Be right back.”
It’s only when I come in with the rest of the groceries that I notice Dad’s got an enormous spruce set up in the corner, with the Christmas bins from the shed lined up beside it.
“Dad,” Meg says, scampering over to me with a worried look on her face. “Grandma and Grandpa want to decorate the tree tonight.”
“Right,” I say. “I forgot too. But that’s great, since you’re home early.”
“What about Taylor?” she asks worriedly. “I told her I’d help with the books.”
“I can help her,” I offer. “If anyone comes for a tree, I’ll just run over and take care of them.”
“Really?” she asks, looking happier right away.
“Of course,” I tell her.
She grins and hugs me around the waist and my heart surges with love for this sweet kid of mine.
“Come on over,” Mom calls from the open kitchen. “I’ve got cider on the stove.”
“I need to get over to the lot,” I tell her regretfully. Cider’s my favorite. No wonder it smells like cinnamon in here.
“You can take a thermos with you,” she scolds me. “You need to stay warm and cheered up out there. Besides, I need someone to test out my new gingersnap recipe. Let me wrap some up for you.”
“Fine,” I say in surrender. I can’t resist her cookies and she knows it.
Dad is already putting away groceries with Meg’s help while Mom ladles steaming cider into my old metal thermos.
The back door crashes open and the dog is leaping over the couch, moaning again, by the time my brother Buck appears in the doorway.
He’s as big as I am, and his dirty blond hair hangs almost to his shoulders. He’s got the happiest smile as he crouches to greet Foghorn. He loves to remind me that he’s better looking than I am. I don’t know about that, but he’s definitely more fun-loving.
“Hey,” Buck says, straightening up from the dog with a smile. “Party in here, huh?”
“Not for long,” Mom tells him. “Your brother is going back to the tree lot.”
“I’ll come with you,” Buck offers. “If you can use a hand.”
I’m opening my mouth to turn him down when Meg’s head pops up from the lower cabinet she’s stocking with canned goods.
“You can run the lot while Dad helps Taylor,” she says happily.
“Your uncle worked the farm all day,” I tell Meg. “He doesn’t have to sell trees.”
“Taylor, huh?” Buck asks teasingly, quirking one brow up.
“Oh, that’s Jessie Greer’s niece. I was returning library books today and Maureen mentioned that she’d met her,” Mom says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Said she was adorable, and that she’s going to turn that shop around.”
“Adorable?” Buck echoes. “Interesting. I heard she was single.”
“How could you possibly have heard that?” Mom asks him.
“She’s practically a toddler,” I hear myself growl protectively at the same time.
“Too young for me, huh?” Buck says, grinning at me knowingly. “Then I guess she’s way too young for you.”
“She’s got enough on her plate,” I say firmly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of guys sniffing around.”
“Exactly right,” Mom says. “But see what she’s doing next weekend. You should take her to the Christmas Mingle if she doesn’t have plans, Roan.”
“That’s a great idea,” Meg says, before I can argue. “She’ll love it. Do you think she likes to sing?”
I’m in way over my head with my interfering family right now. And Buck is grinning at me like he’s loving every minute of it.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say firmly.
“Well, take your cookies,” Mom says, holding out a foil-covered packet. When I come close enough to take it, she pulls me close and whispers to me. “I put enough in there to share.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I say, bending to press a kiss to the top of her head.
I remember when she seemed as tall as a giant and used to scoop us up in her arms so we could pretend we were airplanes.
Some things change and some things don’t. She still smells like lilacs and baking spices, and she hugs me as tightly as ever.
“Be nice to Taylor,” Buck calls out to me, purely to start trouble, since he’s literally coming with me.
“Of course I’ll be nice,” I spit back, even though we both know he was baiting me.
“She sounds like a nice young lady,” Dad says thoughtfully. “Maybe just try not to be…”
“A grump?” I offer.
“I didn’t say it,” Dad replies, lifting his hands. But his eyes are twinkling.
“Dad is nice to Taylor,” Meg says loyally. “He’s helping her fix up her shop and she’s going to help decorate the tree lot.”
Mom and Dad exchange a pleased look that makes me want to yell that nothing is going on between Taylor and me.
But what’s the point? I may as well let them have hope for my love life, even if I don’t have any myself.
You’re about to spend the evening alone with her, the know-it-all voice in the back of my head whispers.
But I can handle that. I’ll just help her out. She’s a good tenant. I’d like to keep her around.
And if my heartbeat speeds up a little at the thought of seeing her tonight, so what?