Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Somehow, I knew in my gut my dad would be happy and proud of what his land had become. And someday soon, I’d sit on the dock nearby and fish with my little boy, teaching him to bait a hook the same way my dad had taught me, with patience and with love.
“It looks like you have it all covered here. I’m going to stop at the market and then head home and get dinner started,” she said, leaning in and kissing me once more.
I nodded, smiling. “I’ll be home in an hour or so.” Home. The small house on the lakeshore in Pelion with the creaky hardwood floors and the original shiplap walls. The one where we whispered in bed in the quiet of night, words of love and tenderness, but also our fears and insecurities and the things we sometimes worried about. The one we’d need to add on to once our planned brood began materializing. I didn’t know a lot about what was involved in “adding on” to a structure, but I knew my brother would help me when the time arrived.
I watched as Haven walked away, stopping to fuss with the tiered arrangement momentarily, hesitating on a violet that had gone into a bit of shock at being moved. Her face wasn’t visible, but I knew for a fact she was whispering words of care and encouragement. It’s what she did. She loved, fully and wholeheartedly, until withered things that had the will to thrive found the strength to do so.
Like me.
Three years of loving her. Three miraculous years. We’d taken our time dating—after all, falling in love had been somewhat of a whirlwind. I’d courted her through all four seasons and fallen more deeply in love by the day, which was exhilarating but not surprising. As Bree had said, when you know, you know, and we’d known.
We’d married at sunrise in the orchard behind the barn, the air redolent with the scent of apple blossoms. Easton had walked Haven down an aisle of clover, delivering his sister to me, as he’d done in more ways than one. My eyes had burned when they’d reached the place where I’d waited, gripping his scarred hand in mine and promising to take care of her always.
As for Easton, he was moving up quickly in the firehouse that served three counties, but despite his busy schedule, he always made time to help at the nursery when asked. For the most part, he’d changed his wicked ways—the respect of the community was important to Easton and motivated him to act accordingly—but he was still very much a single man.
Only Bree, Archer, their children, and Easton had attended our marriage ceremony, but we’d thrown a big party that evening in the old red barn, decked out with twinkle lights and tables adorned with pots of sunflowers that we later planted along the fence. The sight of those grand, happy flowers still reminded me of that beautiful day filled with love and, thanks to the crew, plenty of homemade hooch.
I had arranged for Mrs. Kim to be there as a surprise, and when she’d arrived, she and Haven had sobbed and held on to each other until there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. She’d already been back once since then, to visit and help Haven plan and conceptualize the garden behind our home.
Clawdia limped over, breaking me from my reverie, rubbing her body against my leg. I leaned down, picking her up as I walked toward the barn where more heavy lifting awaited. Clawdia often spent her days at the nursery, lounging in the sunshine of the loft, far out of reach of potentially trampling feet.
“Do you two need help?” I called as Connor and Charlie walked by, each hefting a bale of hay.
“No, we’re good. Thanks, Uncle Travis,” Charlie called. I ran my hand over Clawdia’s fur, turning and watching as they added what they were carrying to the other bales that would be sold to customer’s seeding grass but also used as part of a display of vibrant red, yellow, orange, and white chrysanthemums. My eyes narrowed slightly as Connor gave a covert head nod to his brother, pointedly looking out to the dock where Juliette Moretti sat at the edge, legs dangling as she leaned forward, watching her feet swish in the water. Juliette’s mother did the accounting for the nursery and often brought her daughter with her if she was only working for an hour or two on a Saturday. Juliette was a pretty girl with a sweet disposition who enjoyed helping plant flowers and arrange displays. But in her innocent smile, I also caught the glint of mischief and perhaps just a dash of devilry. I understood the qualities well. After all, it took one to know one.