Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Kate
“Augustus Adams, I know you did not sneak a donut while I was at work.”
The late-afternoon sun skates across the covered porch at the perfect angle to shine directly through the farmhouse. From back to front, the entire place is lit with glorious sunshine.
Off shift a few hours earlier than expected, I was hoping to relax for a while.
Instead, I found the inside of the house a mess, dirty dishes in the sink, and a telltale bag in the trash from the Dime Store, Gus’s favorite haunt.
He didn’t even bother to hide it. Didn’t bother to lift a finger to take care of anything else in the house, for that matter.
Sunlight hits the bookcase that lines the far wall, showcasing the layer of dust on the tomes and picture frames.
When I first moved in, I studied them all, noting that even when his wife had been alive, Gus rarely smiled, even in photos.
The woman, though, showed love all over her face in every image, especially the ones with a young boy.
“Gus,” I shout because he’s ignoring me to be a pain in the ass.
“I heard you. Hush that caterwauling.” He shuffles in from his bedroom. If Sam Elliot had a crabby twin brother, it would be Gus Adams.
Despite my irritation, I can’t curb the laugh that escapes. “Gus, no one says that.”
“I do.” He scoots past me and lowers himself into his recliner like his bones are bothering him.
I like to imagine that back in the day, he was a strapping farmer.
But now his white hair stands on end, and he’s getting that elderly stoop to him.
His color isn’t great, either, once I take a closer look.
Not for the first time, I’m glad that his neighbor, Glori, got him to agree with me living with him.
He needs someone to take care of him as much as I needed an affordable place to live.
But as much as I see the benefit to us both, this situation feels overwhelming, and I don’t know how I’m going to handle taking care of Gus, this farm, and the animals once my classes start. This place needs more than I have to offer, and Gus by himself is a handful.
As it is, I’m only halfway taking care of the farm animals, something Glori says she and her husband don’t mind doing. But with a baby on the way, they don’t need to be spending time working on this land. It’s not fair to ask them to keep stopping by.
Gus is a tough old bird, but diabetes and AFib are taking their toll on his body. His absolute refusal to do what he knows he needs to do is only part of it. He’s too stubborn for his own good.
“How’re you feeling?” I ask, lowering the blinds so the sun isn’t shining directly into his eyes.
He drops his head back like simply walking to the chair was a chore. Definitely not having a great day.
“I’m fine. Just need to catch my breath for a minute.”
But he doesn’t sound fine, so I grab my jump bag and run through my normal checks. He grumbles the entire time, but aside from his sugar being elevated—no doubt from the donut he smuggled—his vitals aren’t alarming.
“Did you get a chance to make those calls I asked you to make?”
He grunts.
“Gus, you have to take care of this. They’re threatening to take your ranch.”
There’s a huff of disapproval as he kicks his feet up and reclines like he can’t be bothered with this discussion that we’ve had multiple times over the weeks I’ve been living here.
I’ve been hounding him about calling to make arrangements ever since I found the stack of unopened letters from the local tax office, and he’s been ignoring every bit of my nagging.
It’s two appointments—one with the attorney and one with the local tax office.
If they’d talk to me, I’d handle it myself.
“For the last durn time, it’s a farm, not a ranch. And they’ll take this land from my cold, dead hands. This farm has been in the family for generations. They won’t take it away.”
“That’s the thing. If you don’t sort this issue, they will absolutely sell your land for pennies on the dollar. And your house. They’ll make it public and sell it on the courthouse steps in an auction. What will you do then?”
The thing is, if he doesn’t settle this and they take his house, he’s putting both of us out with nowhere to go. It’s not like I can afford an apartment now that I’m essentially working for minimum wage for the next twelve weeks.
Not to mention that the moment I set foot on his three-hundred-acre sprawl—complete with rolling hills, a copse of trees lining a creek that runs along one side of the property line, and the dilapidated barns that speckle the nearest acre—I fell head over heels in love with the place.
As much as I don’t want Gus to lose this paradise, I would also hate to have to move. All this place needs is some TLC.
“’Sides, I don’t got the money to pay it all.”
Giving up on the tax argument for the moment, I make a mental note to at least call the attorney to see how far I can get without Gus’s participation. There’s no way I’m letting him lose this place, with the caveat that where he goes, I go.
I know he doesn’t want to sell, but if he doesn’t have the money… at the very least, I can help him get enough funds to relocate somewhere else. And if the timing works out, I should have enough saved up that I can afford a new place of my own.
A place like this, with the acreage he’s got, is bound to bring in a developer or something. I’m surprised he hasn’t already received offers. They’re probably buried in the stack of mail I haven’t made it through yet.
While I wash the dishes and tidy up the downstairs, Gus “rests his eyes,” and the sun fights its descent past the rolling hill beyond the window. After a power nap, he wakes with a snort, so I force-feed him a healthy dinner and then clean up once again.
“You wanna watch a movie?” I ask as I curl into the worn couch once all the farm chores are done.
“Yeah. One of them live-action flicks.”
I smother a chuckle. Who knew this curmudgeon would like Disney live-action movies? I pull up Beauty and the Beast because it’s my favorite. “This okay?”
“Yep.” He shifts in his recliner and gets comfy. We make it all the way to the scene where Gaston is singing in the tavern before he starts in with his critique.
“That Gastonia fella’s kinda purty, ain’t he?” Gus likes to chat about characters in all the shows we watch. It’s an adorable distraction.
“It’s Gaston, and that’s Luke Evans. And you’re right, he sure is pretty. Sings great too.”
“What’s he sing?”
I pause the movie, because I’ve spent enough time with Gus to know that he’s down this rabbit hole now and won’t be satisfied until he gets his curiosity appeased.
I pull up my music app and click into my Favorite Showtunes playlist and start “Bring Him Home” from Les Misérables. Gus falls silent, so I close my eyes and allow myself to get lost in the haunting lyrics. When it’s over, I glance over at my charge to find him wiping his grizzled face.
“Aw, Gus-Gus. Did that hit you in the feels?” I tease softly, trying to ease him out of whatever has made him so emotional. Truth is, I’m not great with other people’s emotions. Mine tend to roll over me like a freight train lately, so I respect that he might not like me broaching the subject.
“Just made me think of someone.”
“You wanna talk about it?” I have the sneaking suspicion he won’t. He’s not normally willing to discuss anything.
“Makes me think of my grandson.”
“That cutie in the photos? Where’s he now?” I ask as gently as possible, but holy shit. This could go either way; the grandson could be dead, which would be tragic. But if he’s not, what the hell is this guy doing, and why isn’t he here taking care of Gus instead of making him rely on strangers?
The woman I lost overnight flashes in my mind. The mental image of her sitting in her chair with a family photo next to her pricks my battered heart. At least she had family near her.
I don’t know exactly what happened in the past; I only know that, now, Gus is like me. Alone in the world.
“Haven’t seen nor heard from Vaughn in near on twenty years.
” A look I can’t decipher passes over his face, a touch of grief, a touch of anger.
He shakes his head like he’s warding off bad memories.
It’s concerning how much I relate to this man.
“Anyways, we ain’t talkin’ ’bout it.” Gus sniffs and lowers the footrest of his recliner. “Got no use for that asshole.”
My gaze snaps to Gus as he lumbers out of the room.