CHAPTER ELEVEN
Saturday morning, Henry stood on a street corner in downtown Berry Patch with the three Wheeler kids in tow, wishing he were anywhere but there.
Portland, Prague, Paris. Paramus would be an improvement.
But no, he was on a guided tour of a small town with an eleven-year-old who didn’t want to be there either, an eight-year-old who knew too much about everything, and a four-year-old who had to go to the bathroom in every building they passed.
It served Henry right for kissing their sister.
All he’d wanted was a taste of Elisabeth, one kiss to kill his growing curiosity, not fuel his fantasies and make him want another and another.
Henry blew out a puff of air.
He waited for one of the two traffic signals in town to turn green and fought the urge to hit the crosswalk button again.
Once he crossed Main Street, his tour would be over.
He was tempted to run, not walk, across the street and straight out of town.
That would be the only way to make the adage out of sight, out of mind come true.
He had to get the constant thoughts of Elisabeth out of his head, or he would go crazy.
The light changed to green, and the Walk symbol illuminated. Caitlin slipped her small hand into his and glanced up at him. “I’m not supposed to cross the street without holding hands.”
Abby grabbed his other hand. “Me either.”
Sam sneered. “I’m too old to hold hands.”
“You’re never too old to hold hands,” Henry said, wishing that was all he’d done with Elisabeth last night. He thought the farm work would kill him. He’d been wrong. Elisabeth was the one who would do him in.
Her and her kisses.
What was happening to him?
His reaction made zero sense. He’d kissed women before. More than he wanted to remember. But none had ever had a rock-his-world effect. He didn’t like that she had, and he wanted it to stop.
“That covers downtown Berry Patch,” Abby said with tour-guide hospitality after they crossed the street and stopped in front of the bistro. “Of course, the zip code covers approximately thirty miles of acreage surrounding the town, but it’s mainly farms and vineyards.”
“Where’s Elisabeth?” Caitlin asked.
Abby glanced around. “I don’t see her, so she must still be meeting with Mr. Jackson.”
Sam scuffed his toe against the concrete. “She’s never going to sell the farm to him.”
The kids had been mumbling about that all morning, but Henry didn’t know the backstory. “Then why is she meeting with him?”
Abby shrugged. “Elisabeth is too nice to say no when he calls.”
Nice? Elisabeth wasn’t nice. Did nice girls kiss as perfectly as she had?
“Maybe Elisabeth wants to marry him,” Caitlin said.
The idea of Elisabeth marrying anyone left Henry feeling strangely unsettled, but then he saw a silver lining that might be a solution to his problem.
If Elisabeth were kissing another man, she wouldn’t be kissing him.
If she weren’t kissing him, Henry wouldn’t be wondering when he’d get another kiss.
He would be able to concentrate on farming and making life better for the Wheelers.
Sure he would. But anything was worth a try, and he was known for his matchmaking ability. “Do you think Elisabeth likes Mr. Jackson?”
“No one likes Mr. Jackson,” Abby said.
“He’s a mean old man,” Sam explained.
Old was a relative term when it came to kids. “How old?”
“Fifty, sixty,” Sam said. “You know, old.”
Oh, that was too old for Elisabeth. An odd feeling of relief stole through Henry, given he'd been thinking about how he wanted her to be interested in someone else so she wouldn’t distract him.
Still, playing matchmaker wasn’t such a bad idea.
In fact, he tried mustering some enthusiasm. It was a good idea.
Look at his success with his friends. With the right man in the picture, Henry wouldn’t feel so bad about leaving Elisabeth and her family once his month on the farm was up.
What kind of man would be good enough for her?
Someone the opposite of him.
The realization made him feel oddly hollow, but he knew what she needed.
Someone with lots of husband potential who loved kids. Someone who was handy and knew how to farm. And could love her the way she deserved to be loved.
“Can we do something while we wait?” Caitlin asked, sounding bored.
“Mrs. Showalter is having a yard sale.” Abby adjusted her glasses. “It’s only two blocks away.”
Caitlin beamed. “I want to go.”
“Like we need any more junk.” Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of baggy pants. “Or have money to spend.”
Henry remembered Laurel Matthews often found items for her interior decorating business at garage and yard sales, but this was a new experience for him.
“I have a little money.” Twenty dollars.
Chump change to what he was used to spending.
Surely, that could buy something at a yard sale. “Let’s go.”
“If we have to,” Sam said.
At Mrs. Showalter’s house, the kids ran to a table full of toys. Piles and stacks of stuff lay everywhere.
Henry didn’t know where to start. He caught a glimpse of something white sitting on the grass and found a porch swing. The paint was peeling, but it looked sturdy. He checked the slats on the back. They were all there, and so were the chains to hang it with. The Wheelers’ porch needed a swing.
Caitlin carried an old, naked baby doll in her arms. A sticker read twenty-five cents. “Can I have this?”
Ink marks covered the doll’s arms and legs. A smiley-face sticker was plastered on the back of the doll’s head. Talk about ugly. Not even a mother could love that hideous thing.
“Are you sure you want that doll?” he asked.
She cradled it against her chest. “I love my baby. Her name is Flower. Isn’t she pretty?”
“Not as pretty as you, but you can have her.”
“Thank you.” Caitlin pointed at the swing. “What’s that?”
“A swing for a porch.”
“May I have this, please?” Abby held a science book, then noticed what they were discussing. “We used to have a porch swing. My mommy used to sit on it with us, and we’d wait for Daddy to come in from the fields.”
“What happened to the swing?” Henry asked.
“It fell apart after our parents went to heaven,” Abby said. “Elisabeth was so sad.”
Elisabeth always seemed a little sad, even when she smiled. Henry would fix that. She needed more in her life than working, cooking, and cleaning. She needed happiness, love, and a porch swing. “Do you think she would like this?”
Abby nodded.
Sam walked up with a comic book. “Can I get this?”
Caitlin grinned. “Henry’s buying a new porch swing.”
“That doesn’t look new to me.” Sam frowned. “It’s too old and beat up.”
“That will make it cheaper to buy.” Henry hoped the swing and the items the kids picked out were less than twenty dollars.
He had his paycheck in his pocket, but he needed Elisabeth to cash it for him since he didn’t have his cell phone nor his bank card.
“We can fix the swing so it looks brand new.”
Sam raised a brow. “Do you know how to do that?”
“No,” Henry admitted. “But between all of us, we can figure it out and surprise Elisabeth with it.”
The wariness in Sam’s eyes reminded Henry of Elisabeth. “Why would you buy her a swing?”
“Because it might make her smile.” He picked up the swing. “Let’s see if we can afford all this.”
They made their way to an older lady who the kids called Mrs. Showalter. Gray curls stuck out from the bright yellow bandanna she wore on her head. Big beaded earrings dangled from her ears. She wore a multicolored muumuu with large flowers on the fabric.
“How much is the porch swing, the doll, book, and comic?” Henry asked.
“We’re going to paint the swing and give it to my sister,” Caitlin added.
“That’s thoughtful, dear.” Mrs. Showalter added up the items on a small calculator. “Thirty dollars will cover everything.”
Too much. Henry had never bargained before. This was his first time looking at a price tag. But he didn’t want to disappoint the kids. “Fifteen.”
Mrs. Showalter narrowed her brown eyes. “Twenty-five.”
Still too high. He had one last shot. “Twenty.”
She nodded once. “Sold.”
The girls cheered. Sam mumbled, “Whatever,” but he grabbed his comic.
Henry handed over his twenty.
“You drive a hard bargain, young man,” Mrs. Showalter said.
Satisfaction flowed through him. He’d never felt so good buying gifts. “Thanks.”
Mrs. Showalter smiled. “No, thank you.”
The four of them stood around the newly purchased swing. Henry wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Now we have to figure out how to get the swing back to the farm and refinish it without Elisabeth finding out.”
Animation lit Sam’s usually sullen face, and he pointed to an open gate. “Gabe will help us.”
Gabe Logan pushed a wheelbarrow full of old bricks from what must be the backyard. He reminded Henry of a modern-day knight, except he used an electric drill instead of a sword for his rescues. “What have you got there?”
Sam pointed at the swing. “Can you tell us how to fix the porch swing Henry bought for Elisabeth?”
Mr. Fix-it Man set the wheelbarrow down and studied Henry. “You bought this for her?”
Henry nodded, wishing he’d watched a few of those home-improvement shows he’d glimpsed while channel surfing.
Gabe kneeled and checked out the swing as the girls gave him hugs. “It won’t take long to get this back in shape. I’d be happy to help. Anything for my Bess.”
His Bess? Gabe spoke with such affection, and his eyes softened.
Something clicked in Henry’s mind. He didn’t know anything about farms or building things or fixing machinery, but there was a man in Berry Patch who did. A man who wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. A man who liked kids, too.
Gabe Logan might be the perfect man for Elisabeth and the Wheeler family.