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“Lindy, you really do need to get a counseling degree. I think you have a knack for it!” Annie smiled at her.

  “I know!” Lindy threw her head down on the table in mock discouragement. “I can’t help myself. I love to know how people think.”

  “Was it? Difficult to relate to men?” It was Jake this time, serious and waiting for her answer.

  “You too?” Annie punched his arm. “I don’t know. I’ve made my share of relationship mistakes. Hopefully, I’ll get it right if there is a next time.”

  “With Woody?” Lindy asked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

  “Woody who?” Jake asked.

  “Maybe. He might be the one,” Annie said, teasing back.

  “Woody Patterson?” Jake said.

  Annie shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows, enjoying the look of alarm plastered all over Jake’s face.

  Annie hit the snooze button twice before finally throwing the blankets off. Stretching, she felt her sore muscles again. Maybe it was the fall off the front porch that did it this time, but it seemed every day a new set of muscles complained wildly that life had changed for her.

  She was pouring her first cup of coffee when the phone rang. Betty Gibson started talking as soon as Annie answered.

  “Missy’s high school graduation was yesterday. Can you believe she’ll be the first Gibson to go to college this fall? Anyway, up we went to Lexington for the ceremony, and it seemed like every high school in the city was having ceremonies. You couldn’t stir ‘em with a stick. After the pomp and circumstance, we said we’d take her to eat wherever she wanted to go. Law-zee! That was a mistake. Where do you think she took us?”

  “I have no idea,” Annie said, knowing Betty didn’t really want a guess.

  “Indian! And I’m not talking Shawnee. I’ve never seen such colorful food. Bright yellows and red, and spicy as all get-out. Don’t you know, Joe gobbled it up! Missy ordered him something with potatoes in it, and he ate like a pig. I think he was puttin’ on for Missy, but he swore to me he wasn’t. I liked it real well myself, but I was afraid all those foreign spices would tear me up and sure enough, they did. I was up all night with the hiatal. And that’s what I called to tell you this morning. I don’t usually take to sitting out on the porch at one in the morning, but there I was, not able to sleep and burping up some spice grown a half a world away.”

  “Yes …,” Annie said.

  “I saw headlights come down May Hollow Road. From the security light out by the garage, I could tell it was a small car, kind of silverylike, but I’m not sure of the exact color. It stopped in front of your driveway, and a woman got out. She carried something to Beulah’s mailbox and put it inside. Then she got back in the car and drove real slow to Gibson’s Creek. I know it’s a federal offense to go messin’ with another person’s mailbox, but I checked to see what she put in there, afraid it was some sort of bomb and I might need to call the ATF. But all it turned out to be was an empty casserole dish and a pie plate.” Betty sounded disappointed.

  “Thanks for telling me,” Annie said. “I’ll get them out before the mail runs.”

  Odd time to return dishes, she thought, but the woman seemed to want her privacy, so Annie shrugged it off and returned to her morning ritual of taking her cereal and coffee out to the back porch. It had become one of her favorite parts of the day. Since her grandmother had been gone, she used that time to pray. It was a nice place to eat breakfast or supper with the back of the house facing south. There was enough room for a table and chairs, even with the old pump and leaving space for the dinner bell. If her grandmother agreed, maybe she would purchase a set since they both enjoyed the outdoor space.

  In the meantime, Annie slid onto one of the cold metal chairs, content to eat her cereal amidst the freshness of the morning. She prayed for her grandmother to continue healing and for Jake as he was about to make such a drastic change. When she finished, she looked for Booger, who usually didn’t appear until later in the day. Then she watched as two cardinals chased each other in the mating dance, the male, bright red with a pointed head that almost looked like a lodge hat of some sort, and the female with brown feathers not nearly as majestic as the male’s.

  She pushed a strand of hair out of her mouth and tipped the cereal bowl up to drink the last of the milk. As she did, one of the barn cats grapevined in and out of her legs, meowing and purring, asking for leftover milk. She stopped drinking with a spoonful of milk still in the bowl and poured it out on the concrete. The cat lapped it up.

  Watching the cat reminded her of Stuart’s orange tabby. Was Chester snuggling in Beverly’s lap like he did with her? Had Stuart told her he came from a client, or had he told her the truth? Maybe Beverly was the kind of person he wouldn’t have to lie to. The thought of Stuart didn’t make her sad now—sorry she had been so vulnerable, sorry she hadn’t been wiser, but not sad. It had been a hard lesson learned, but one that had changed her for the better.

  The cardinals had flown away, but now a squirrel chattered in the maple tree next to the porch. Annie watched it ease down to the lowest branch, its beady eyes on the cat. The cat looked up once and blinked slowly. The squirrel turned, climbed a branch and disappeared in the leaves.

  Annie’s years in New York had been so exciting, yet she had drifted away from old friends, her faith and her family. It would be different when she went back. Living in Somerville the past month had shown her how important it was to have a community of people who cared.

  Bathed and dressed for the trip to the hospital, Annie remembered at the last minute to check on Nutmeg. From the back porch, she could see the horse standing in the exact same position as yesterday. Annie started to get in the car, but something told her to go out to the pasture. After all, with a large field, why would the horse be in the same place for an entire day and night?

  Nutmeg whinnied when she saw Annie coming to her. She stomped a hoof into a freshly made dirt spot. A pile of manure behind her tail told Annie the horse couldn’t move for some reason. Something was wrong.

  “Nutmeg, can’t you move?” Annie grabbed the halter and looked at Nutmeg’s head, examining it from her ears to the whiskers on her chin. There were no abrasions. The animal’s large eyes followed her movements, assuring her she could see.

  “Never trust a horse,” Woody had said. His words reminded Annie to take care in the examination. Gently, she worked her hands slowly down the front of her chest, and then her legs. She lifted up each front foot, as Woody taught her to do, and checked for something caught in her hoof. Both feet looked clean.

  Tenderly, her hands felt over the back, side and underbelly of the horse. Crossing in front of the horse, she went ’round to the other side and repeated the same move. Next she felt over the back haunches and down each back leg. The horse was standing too close to the fence for her to pick up the back hooves. She patted Nutmeg’s behind to try and move her out a foot or so. The horse stepped forward, and it was then that Annie saw the problem.

  A section of Nutmeg’s tail was caught in a deep fissure in the fence post. It was wedged so tight Annie was forced to climb the fence in order to pry it out from above. It would not budge. Nutmeg’s pulling against it had firmly embedded the hair deep into the crack.

  “Be right back, girl. Hold on!”

  Annie hopped off the fence and ran to the house. Since they had recently cleaned out the kitchen drawers, Annie knew right where to look for the scissors. A minute later, she was gnawing through the tough horse hair. Finally, the last strand was cut. She slapped Nutmeg again on the haunches, and the horse took off in a gallop, straight for the water tank.

  Annie watched the horse run, a sick feeling churning in her stomach. It was June, and the heat and humidity were not bad, but if this had happened a month later, it could have been a disaster. The horse might have died of dehydration right there, within sight of the house.

  Annie had feared Nutmeg at first, a powerful and unpredictable animal. But day after day, she spent time
with the horse, brushing her down, giving her carrots, and in the process they had formed a trust of sorts. Horses operated out of fear, she had read in one of the books in her grandmother’s library. She worked to show Nutmeg her intentions were good. Eventually, Nutmeg allowed Annie to lead her and Annie’s direction became more confident, her body more relaxed. But even this beautiful and strong horse was completely dependent on the care of the humans around her.

  Standing there in the field and watching Nutmeg drink, Annie saw this one incident as representative of everything about living on a farm: It’s interdependent with the humans who care for it. We need what it gives us and the farm needs us.

  Grandma was right, she thought. You needed to live on a farm or have someone living on it. There were too many things that could go wrong.

  “Would you look at that?”

  Annie watched her grandmother’s face light up as her eyes took in the paint job.

  “Who did this?”

  “Evelyn orchestrated it. Jim, Elbert and Ronnie from your church volunteered the labor. They just finished this morning.”

  “Land sakes, how nice. And what is this?” Beulah caught sight of the porch swing and the petunias.

  “Do you like it?”

  “The old swing broke around the time Fred died. I never got around to putting up another.”

  “We’ll drive around to the back where there’s only that one step.” Annie stopped the car in front of the step up to the back porch.

  “You don’t know how good it is to be home. I don’t care if I never spend another night away.”

  Annie laughed. “You weren’t exactly staying at the Ritz.”

  Annie remembered the instructions the nurse gave her at the hospital about how to support her grandmother and let her walk the few steps into the house with the walker.

  Inside, her grandmother stopped to look around.

  “If I could bend over, I would kiss the linoleum. This looks like heaven to me.”

  Annie let her stand there and look around as long as she wanted to. She could see joy splashed all over her grandmother’s face.

  “I guess I better rest a bit,” she said, and Annie followed her, holding onto her as her grandmother took small, slow steps toward her bedroom.

  “And look at this picture by my bed. I don’t know what to say.” Her grandmother’s voice choked, and Annie could feel her own throat tighten.

  Neither spoke as Annie settled her grandmother into bed. When she finished, Annie stepped back and put her hands on her hips.

  “As someone I know would say, ‘You look as snug as a bug in a rag!’ ”

  Her grandmother laughed, but Annie could see the effort had drained her. “Why don’t you get some rest this afternoon? Here’s your new cordless phone. If you need me, press these two keys and it will automatically dial my cell phone.” She showed her grandmother how to press the 1 followed by the star button. “That way, wherever I am on the farm, I can be reached.”

  “One and star. I’ve got it,” her grandmother said and leaned back on the pillow.

  “Here’s the remote if you want to watch television. I’ll get you a glass of water in case you get thirsty.”

  “Do we have any tea?” her grandmother asked, perking up a bit.

  “We do, although I made it, so it won’t be as good as yours.”

  Annie brought the sweet tea, and her grandmother took a drink of it before lying back again on the pillow.

  “It’s good!” she said.

  Annie smiled at the compliment. “You rest, and I’ll make you sausage and biscuits for supper.”

  Her grandma’s eyes were closed, but Annie was sure she saw a faint smile push up at the corners of her mouth before her face relaxed into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After vanilla ice cream with caramel topping and a final game of Rook where she and Joe barely beat Betty and Jake, Annie helped her grandmother to bed before joining Jake in the dark on the back porch.

  “I haven’t played Rook in years,” she said, sitting down next to him in the other metal chair. “I’m glad you suggested it.”

  “I used to play when I lived in Atlanta, but everybody in Cincinnati plays Euchre.”

  “Everybody in New York plays poker, according to Stuart,” Annie said, folding her legs up to her chest and hugging them.

  “I tried it a time or two, but I don’t like losing money.”

  “Neither do I! But with Stuart, everything was easy come, easy go.”

  “Did you ever visualize yourself growing old with him?” he asked.

  The question surprised her and she thought about the answer before responding. “I guess I never actually let my mind go that far. I thought love was enough to handle anything in the future. But now I know that sometimes what appears to be love for a person might really be love for an idea. I loved the idea of who I thought Stuart could be, not who he really was.”

  She turned to see his face, but he was looking up at the night sky, his profile lit by the moon and the faint light from the barn lot.

  “What about you,” she said gently.

  “With knowing Camille’s parents so well, it’s easy to think we’ll be like them. I like how they treat each other after almost forty years of marriage.”

  “We can’t always be judged by our parents, good or bad,” Annie said.

  “True. And that’s why it’s important for me to have her down here before we take the next step. I want to make sure I’m seeing who she is and not who I think.” He looked at her and grinned.

  “Perspective. Maybe that’s what has changed with me. I don’t know if it’s being out of the city or having more time on my hands, but I see things differently.”

  “Maybe you should stay,” he said, turning back to her and studying her face.

  “Stay here? Permanently?” Annie laughed. “I don’t know what I would do for a living.”

  “You could do lots of things. You’re great with people. You’re smart, kind and responsible. You could do something with your artwork or something in hospitality. Anything.”

  “I never thought of it as an option. And I haven’t done anything with art in a long time.” They were quiet for a moment, both watching as a sliver of cloud passed in front of the moon. Then she said, “It might be like one of those glass jars with the pretty scenery on the inside. You shake it up, and with the snow flying around, it’s magical. But when all the stuff settles down, it’s not that pretty. I’m in the magical place right now, but when things settle down and go back to normal, I’m afraid the magic will wear off.”

  “Maybe so, but the magic is still there. You just have to look harder for it. And sometimes it takes shaking things up.”

  Annie laughed. “Whatever it is, it came at just the right time, thanks partly to you,” she said, and then reached over and touched him on the arm. When she did, it was as if a spark of electricity passed from his body to hers. Annie looked at Jake, startled by the sensation, to see if he felt it too.

  Without looking at her, he said, “Feels like an electrical storm might be coming.”

  Annie was amazed at how creative she felt. She woke up the next day wanting to sketch everything in sight. Even sitting up in bed that morning, she had pulled her sketch pad on top of the covers and drawn the outside view from her bed with the old maple tree framed by her bedroom window. She hadn’t felt like this in years, since she first moved to New York and everything was so new and exciting.

  After making breakfast for her grandmother and herself, and making sure Beulah was comfortable, she packed a small knapsack with her art supplies, her camera and phone, and some water. The stone house beckoned, and the walk out there would be a good opportunity for time alone in nature for prayer.

  A storm had blown through in the night and the grass was wet, but she didn’t mind. After years of being so protected from nature, having her feet get wet from the rain was actually welcome. It made her feel alive.

  Annie settled
against a tree and studied the house from many yards away. What a shame to be surrounded by all this beauty and not allow it in the house. It seems a writer would take inspiration from nature, not keep it out.

  “She’s not a writer,” Annie voiced the thought aloud. But why lie? And that was where she was stuck. They had no basis to enter the house, she hadn’t broken any laws and there was no evidence of wrongdoing, but in her gut, she knew something wasn’t right with Stella’s story.

  Forcing her mind from the mystery inside the house to the outside, Annie began to sketch, slowly at first and then with more purpose until she fell into a rhythm. Three times she flipped the page over and began again, but the last time felt right. With birds calling to one another among the rustling leaves in the trees above and next to the trickling water beside her, the outline of the old stone house slowly took shape.

  It would be the perfect present for her grandmother before she left for New York. She would work on the sketch until it was right. With her digital camera, she took two pictures, one with her zoom and one without, so she could continue working back at the farmhouse.

  Annie gathered her things into the knapsack, a good feeling of accomplishment washing over her. As she stuffed the camera in, she remembered the cord and software to print pictures were still in New York. She would ask Janice to send it to her along with some other items she needed.

  Her cell phone rang just as she dropped it into the sack and she quickly fished it out, thinking it might be her grandmother.

  “Annie? It’s Vichy.”

  “Bob, what’s up?” Annie was surprised to hear from her boss and hoped it was not more bad news.

  “I worked a miracle and got you back in a week,” he spit out the words.

  “A week!” Annie leaned hard against a tree.

  “Monday, nine a.m. You have to go through Patriot’s orientation, like any other new employee, but after training, you’ll be in the skies again.”

  Annie felt her chest tighten as if she were wrapped in a rubber band from the waist up.