Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
George
Standing in the back end of my truck, I shift the produce crates to make room for the overflowing buckets of flowers.
The sound of tires on the gravel makes me pause, and I lift my eyes to see Kip Johnson round the corner in his shiny black truck.
Grimacing, I keep my head low and wonder why he’s here.
It’s the weekend, when all the farmhands are supposed to be off.
“Hey,” Kip greets cordially.
I ignore him and continue to work.
“I said, hey,” Kip repeats in a louder tone.
Sighing, I stand tall in the truck bed and focus on my nemesis. I actually enjoy the feeling of being up high and literally looking down on him.
Kip is wearing running shorts and athletic shoes, his skin-tight workout shirt clinging to his bulging muscles. In all his years working with me on the farm, I’ve never seen Kip out of his standard farm clothes, the absence of his jeans, boots, and wide-brimmed hat perplexing.
“Hey,” I mumble.
Kip nods and comes closer. He hoists his body onto the open lift gate and sits, patting the empty space next to him. “I’d like to talk to you about something. Have a seat.”
I feel my stomach lurch with nerves. This can’t be good.
“What is it?” I stand there, frozen in place, unsure what to do.
“Sit down, okay? You can spare a minute of your time, can’t you?”
I think about it for a few seconds before I relent and ease my body next to his.
“Atta boy.” Kip grins.
I keep my focus on the ground, too nervous to engage.
Kip coming to the farm on his day off is an anomaly.
There has to be a hidden agenda. What could it be this time?
Is his AC at home on the fritz and he needs a handyman?
Did I forget to fulfill a Friday order and I’m about to get reprimanded for the millionth time?
However, sacrificing his Saturday morning would’ve been out of character for the man since he usually loves to humiliate me in front of his crew during regular business hours.
“Why are you here on a Saturday?” I finally ask.
Kip exhales a deep breath through his nose. “I came here today to apologize.”
I jerk my head to look right at him. “Apologize? For what?”
“Ralph told me the news. He told me about his cancer diagnosis.”
Immediately, I feel sick to my stomach. I shelved the news of Pop’s terminal diagnosis, forbidding myself to think about it.
The thought of losing him is too terrible to conceive.
That my grandfather shared something so personal leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
This is a family matter. And Kip Johnson is in no way part of my family.
“I’m so sorry, buddy.”
He slaps his hand against my denim-covered thigh. I stare at it, unsure what to say or do.
“I want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll do everything I can to help you keep this farm running. You have my word.”
“Your word?” My voice comes out thick with emotion, my eyes welling with tears. Gritting my teeth, I grip the edge of the lift gate and will myself to keep it together.
“Yes. This place is thriving, and I believe we can keep things going to honor your grandfather. It’s what he would want.”
“You’ve talked to him about this?”
Kip pauses. “Not yet. But I know you and I can make things easier on him if we show him we can work as a team. You and I need to find a way to make that happen.” He points at me, then at himself.
“I know I’ve been hard on you sometimes.”
I harrumph.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve seen the error of my ways.”
“What do you want, Kip? Just come out and say it.”
He hops off the truck and stands before me with his right hand shoved out, fingers splayed, and ready to shake. “I want to call a truce. I want us to be more than coworkers. I want us to be… friends.”
Friends?
I could never imagine being friends with someone like Kip Johnson. The guy has made my life a living nightmare for decades. He’s either on a runner’s high or has a hidden agenda. I know it’s probably the latter.
“Fine,” I say, hopping off the truck and grabbing his hand.
Kip laughs as we shake. He even takes it a step further and pulls me in for a bear hug. I stiffen immediately.
“I got your back, my friend. Don’t worry about anything.”
I watch him happily trot to his shiny truck before he gets in. Revving the engine, his smile is broad as he slips sunglasses over his eyes and waves a final time. Through his rolled-down window, he yells, “See you later, buddy!”
I don’t wave or reply. As Kip drives away, I stand there and watch the dust settle through the sunbeams. The entire exchange perplexes me. There is a lot to unpack.
But I don’t want to dwell on Kip and his empty promises. I want to think about Madison. And what better way to think about her than to load up my gorgeous flowers and pray she’ll drive by my roadside stand. Even though it’s been a solid week, it could happen, right?
Hours later, I’ve completely shoved Kip’s Saturday visit and empty promises to the back of my mind.
Thankful for the respite of the shady shanty, I sit on an empty, flipped-over crate and stare out at the road.
Most Saturdays are bustling with tourists in the summertime.
But for some odd reason, today is a ghost town with only a few folks stopping by.
I scroll my phone and look up the weather.
There are no impending storms on the radar, and the regular heat and humidity of the day are topping off at ninety-two.
Shrugging, I tuck my phone into my back pocket and pick up my water bottle.
Taking a hefty swig, I allow my mind to go blank again.
It’s easy to do. I can easily stare into space for hours. It’s something I’m good at.
I’m unsure how long I’ve been sitting in the shade when the sound of an approaching vehicle pulls me out of my vacant stare. I do a double take when I realize who it is.
“Madison,” I whisper to myself.
I clumsily stand, my heart hammering in my chest. The bold grin on my face can’t be helped as I watch her exit the car.
The dimple on her left cheek is prominent as the summer breeze blows a strand of her hair across her lips. Fascinated, I watch her tuck the piece behind her ear.
“Hi, George. Long time no see.”
My smile diminishes as I try to figure out what she means. She immediately explains. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
I nod. “Six days and about…” I look at my watch, “...five hours.”
She laughs. “Have you been keeping track?”
“Kind of,” I honestly reply. My cheeks are suddenly warmer than the sunshine beating down on me.
What is it about Madison that gives me this boldness? To speak my mind in front of anyone but my grandfather is rare. For her to bring this out of me is puzzling.
“You still want a private tour of the lavender fields?” I ask.
“Of course. You were my first stop.”
I stand tall, chest thrusting with pride. The fact that she stopped to see me first fills me with immense joy.
“Give me a few minutes to close up shop, and then you can follow me to the farm.”
“You need any help?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve got it. You can keep me company while I load.” I start to bend over to hoist two vegetable crates in my arms.
“Wait. George?”
I stop what I’m doing and stand tall. “Yeah?”
“I'm glad to see you again.”
My face splits into an enormous grin. “I’m glad to see you too, Madison.”