Apple Orchard Bride
Jessica Keller
Hometown ReunionWhen Toby Holcomb becomes guardian to his cousin’s daughter, he goes from hard-living bachelor to father without a clue. One thing he can do is give Kasey a stable home. Returning to Goose Harbor, he takes a job at his childhood friend’s apple orchard. But Jenna Crest isn’t ready to forgive him for his past mistakes. Desperate for sweet Jenna’s help in raising his little girl, Toby vows to make amends to the woman he wronged so many years ago. Suddenly, he and Jenna and young Kasey are feeling more and more like a family. But convincing Jenna he’s a changed man will take all the love in his heart.
Hometown Reunion
When Toby Holcomb becomes guardian to his cousin’s daughter, he goes from hard-living bachelor to father without a clue. One thing he can do is give Kasey a stable home. Returning to Goose Harbor, he takes a job at his childhood friend’s apple orchard. But Jenna Crest isn’t ready to forgive him for his past mistakes. Desperate for sweet Jenna’s help in raising his little girl, Toby vows to make amends to the woman he wronged so many years ago. Suddenly, he and Jenna and young Kasey are feeling more and more like a family. But convincing Jenna he’s a changed man will take all the love in his heart.
“I care about you and your dad, and about the orchard,” Toby said.
“I always have, Jenna,” he continued. “You guys are a second family to me.”
Jenna turned away. “Don’t say stuff you don’t mean.”
He stood just inches from her, his gaze searching hers with an intensity she couldn’t look away from.
“I care, Jenna. I care. Tell me what I have to do to prove it and I will.”
Wrestling her racing heartbeat, Jenna fought the need to sag against him. To rest her head against his chest, cling to him and cry for all their lost years. But Toby didn’t love her. Never would. He’d made that fact crystal clear years ago—his friendship with her was a dirty secret he didn’t want anyone to know about. She wouldn’t fall for that again. For him and his ability to say the right thing.
Besides, even if he was a changed man…she had changed, too.
“I want things to be okay between us again,” he whispered with a gentleness that tore at her heart.
Could she ever trust him?
Dear Reader (#ulink_d7679933-13c5-51ca-b4d3-34cabc44198d),
Lies are the worst, aren’t they? Especially ones we tuck away in our hearts—ones we allow to begin to define us.
Sometimes we’re aware of the falsehoods we believe. We repeat them over and over to ourselves when we’re hurting. Because of what had happened in his life, Toby believed he was a failure. It stopped him from being able to grow in his relationship with God, and it kept him from understanding his value in the world.
Other times a lie can be buried so deep we don’t realize it’s there or how much it affects the way we view the world and ourselves. Jenna didn’t realize that she believed she wasn’t worthy of love, but everything about how she interacted with others showed this to be true. She believed this so much that it blinded her from seeing God was there beside her, fighting for her, loving her.
I’m so glad Toby and Jenna chose to be strong. They’re on their way to eradicating the lies that were so comfortable to cling to for so long. That’s hard work, friends. I pray you’re in the process of doing this, as well. The truth is that God’s love for you is not dependent on anything you can do to lose or gain His attention. He loves you. You can choose to believe that or not. That’s really all there is to it.
Thanks for walking through a part of Toby and Jenna’s love story with me. Make sure to read all the other books in the Goose Harbor series. I love connecting with readers! Look for me on my author Facebook page or on Twitter, or connect with me through my website and newsletter at www.JessicaKellerBooks.com (http://www.JessicaKellerBooks.com).
Dream big,
Jess Keller
JESSICA KELLER is a Starbucks drinker, avid reader and chocolate aficionado. Jessica holds degrees in communications and biblical studies. She is multipublished in both romance and young-adult fiction and loves to interact with readers through social media. Jessica lives in the Chicagoland suburbs with her amazing husband, beautiful daughter and two annoyingly outgoing cats who happen to be named after superheroes. Find all her contact information at jessicakellerbooks.com (http://www.jessicakellerbooks.com).
Apple Orchard Bride
Jessica Keller
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
and saves the crushed in spirit.
—Psalms 34:18
For Carol, who has never given up on me.
Not once. Not ever.
Thank you for being one of my heart sisters.
Contents
Cover (#u229fede0-cce9-52e6-9db3-86393c16c9b2)
Back Cover Text (#u7eb0e8e6-6862-518d-a248-5a5123464490)
Introduction (#uef307f77-46aa-5730-8ea3-1faaa0ecae6a)
Dear Reader (#ulink_658f8a89-b4c4-5509-9e70-2989f7367365)
About the Author (#u263cfe8e-9a53-515f-9a14-bb9dc9599edf)
Title Page (#ua6bb1efc-91b1-51dd-b4cd-94f4ca96a13f)
Bible Verse (#u28758fb4-8a13-5237-b9ae-36ae9d5edac6)
Dedication (#u78b4de47-3fdf-5389-be04-32b4511e0734)
Chapter One (#ulink_073aefda-29d0-5f4c-967e-26cef5a3b263)
Chapter Two (#ulink_1bcd31bf-6c2a-53ea-ae0f-2c49d8837c98)
Chapter Three (#ulink_cb2fe19c-ec9c-554a-9330-d5cff20d22b3)
Chapter Four (#ulink_fcada973-b81a-5f59-b61b-f4acf5e049ae)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_b6647c11-bb00-50a0-86d4-05217b97eea1)
“This can’t be happening.” Jenna Crest jogged toward the line of dwarf trees she’d planted at her family orchard when she’d first moved back in with her father.
Young branches were stripped bare, and chunks of bark had been peeled off at least eleven of her sixteen new Braeburn trees. With damp dirt between her fingers, Jenna scrambled from tree to tree, desperately trying to determine if any of them could be saved. Even though she knew the answer right away, she still examined each one closer. All were ruined.
Much like her.
She stood, rested her hands on her hips and kicked at the ground. “All that work. For what? Nothing.”
These new trees had cost her countless hours of care, attention and even love. She’d researched and chosen the breed of trees, despite her father suggesting they plant Pristine trees along the edge of their property. She’d tested the soil’s pH and had dug sulfur into the row until it reached the correct level.
Whole days during the hottest portion of the past summer had been devoted to training the branches to grow correctly—tying them together to help the tree maintain the best shape for bearing the most fruit in years to come. She’d pruned and encouraged the branches and made special trips out at dusk just to recheck them before nightfall—even though going out at night caused panic to tickle up her spine. Jenna had battled the codling moths to keep her baby trees safe and had worried for weeks as she treated other plants in the orchard for apple scab, knowing that if the tiny trees caught the common disease, they’d be wiped out.
None of it mattered. Despite her best efforts, deer had come in the night and destroyed any chance the trees had of one day bearing fruit. She’d done everything right, yet still they were damaged beyond repair.
Story of her life.
Jenna swiped at the burning tears waiting to fall. Tears wouldn’t bring back the dying trees and couldn’t help her situation. They hardly ever did. She’d cried herself dry over the years, and the practice had never healed her. For that matter, neither had God. Wasn’t He supposed to care about His followers? If not her, then He should at least care about her father. Dad had been a God-fearing man his whole life. He’d raised her to know God and had loved his wife fiercely until the moment her soul slipped beyond life. Yet all of her father’s devotion to God had led to his being diagnosed with a debilitating condition. It didn’t make sense.
Honestly, not much did.
Fairness in this life was a fantasy.
Jenna sighed. Move. Stop thinking. It doesn’t do any good anyway.
She might not be able to untangle the ways of God, but she could determine the cause of the damaged trees. Stepping away from the row of Braeburns, she crossed over to the fence that enclosed the orchard. They referred to it as a deer fence because even though it looked simply like two thin lines of metal, they were charged. With the entire orchard being made up of dwarf trees that stood between only six and eight feet high, an electric fence was the only way to keep their harvest safe from being picked clean by pests. The deer must have found a weak spot.
Crouching toward the nearest patch of fence, Jenna angled her head, trying to listen for the telltale hum of electricity. Nothing. She reached to touch the line.
“You know better than to touch that.” A familiar, honey-smooth voice caused her muscles to jolt. Jenna lost her crouched position, her knees dropping into the longer grass.
Toby. It was Toby Holcomb’s voice.
That couldn’t be right though. Toby lived clear across the country, all the way in Florida. One of the best things about coming back to Goose Harbor this time around was knowing she’d never run into him again. Not after his parents moved out of town. He had zero reason to ever return to Michigan.
Still, her pulse picked up as a thousand shared childhood memories collided in her mind. The kid from across the street. The boy she’d built a tree house with. They used to run through the orchard at night, playing flashlight tag. A best friend who... But it couldn’t be him. He’d left town—left her—at eighteen and never looked back.
Jenna craned her neck and spotted him, less than fifteen feet away, closing the distance quickly. That was Toby, all right. Her heart pounded up into her throat. She swallowed hard and rubbed her palms against the thighs of her jeans. He couldn’t be here. She didn’t want him nearby.
That didn’t fit with her plan.
She squinted against the glare of the rising autumn sun. Even as a teenager, Toby had been handsome, an all-American boy with a heaping dose of superhero good looks thrown in for good measure. His hair was the same as before, a mix of brown and blond, the kind of color women paid a lot of money in salons to achieve. From the way his T-shirt pulled across his frame, the past ten years had given him tighter arm muscles and firmer shoulders. Despite the upper bulk on his frame, the rest of him—strong legs, athletic stride—was built for speed. A reminder that he’d played running back for a Division I school. He’d been a shoo-in to be drafted onto a professional football team until his career-ending injury during his final season in college. His eyes were a refreshing, crisp blue, like a cloudless fall day in the height of harvest time.
For the space of a heartbeat, as memories and lost hopes crashed around in her mind, words left her.
The first man to ever betray her. She should have learned her lesson. He should have been the first and last to hurt her. If only. She couldn’t change the past, but going forward, Toby wouldn’t get another opportunity to cause her pain. Never again.
Recovering from the shock of seeing him, she gulped in a fortifying breath and then leaned forward, toward the fence. “You, of all people, don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.” She tapped the wire with her pointer finger, and a shudder of power surged through her arm. That part of the fencing was very much alive.
Toby stopped less than three feet away from her. He smirked, crossed his arms and shook his head in a mocking way. “See? I’m guessing that hurt.”
The fuzzy feeling of electricity hummed around her elbow. “I’m fine.” She’d brushed the fence countless times in her life; the charge was far too weak to actually cause pain, and the feeling would be gone in a few minutes. She started to rise. Toby grabbed her arm to help her up, but she shrugged away from his touch. Dealing with him close-up hurt far more than any electrical zap could.
A part of her wanted to shove his chest and yell at him. You ruined my life! You were the catalyst that started it all! But telling him that would only give him power because it would reveal how much he’d once meant to her. She’d been in love with a fool. A fool who had never given her a second thought.
Jenna took a step back, creating more distance between them. “Why are you here?”
His lips tugged to an almost smile, but his lowered brows betrayed his confusion. “It’s good to see you, too.”
She copied his cross-armed stance. “Answer the question.”
He dropped his arms to his sides, tilting his palms up to reveal the smallest of shrugs. “It was time to come home.”
Home? As in...he was staying in Goose Harbor for good? No. Jenna didn’t want to—couldn’t—deal with running into him all the time. Not when he reminded her of past hopes, the time before the bad, and also why everything went wrong in her life to begin with. How could she heal when the man who inflicted the first puncture wound to her soul was nearby?
“Your parents don’t live here anymore.” So why are you here? The Holcombs had sold their home five years ago. Toby had no reason to be in Goose Harbor.
He nodded. “They love that retirement community. Florida suits them well.”
Jenna pressed her fists into her armpits. “But not you?”
Toby scrubbed his palm against his jawline. “Even after almost ten years in the Sunshine State, it’s not my place. Goose Harbor’s the only place that wins the home label.”
Her mouth went dry, but she forced out the words anyway. “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of town, but you’re certainly not welcome on our property.”
Toby cocked his head. “He didn’t tell you?”
Her gaze finally connected with his. Which was a mistake. A huge one. She’d avoided looking him in the eye until now, but she’d have a hard time looking away. “You know I hate when you ask leading questions. Spit it out.”
“Your dad hired me. I work here now.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the farmhouse. “In fact, I’m living in the bunkhouse.”
“Since—” her voice faltered “—since when?”
“Moved in last night.” He studied her. Almost as if he was waiting for her to smile or be friendly. Then he sighed. “The lights were off at your place so I figured you guys were out.”
It felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs. An ache rocked through her chest. Do not have a panic attack. Not now. Not here. Not in front of him.
“No,” she whispered.
“Jenna.” Toby’s voice was soft and warm as he took a step closer. “Your dad needs help.”
“I’m here.” She narrowed her gaze and pressed her hand into her chest. “I help him.”
“And run this place, too?” He tossed out his hands, encompassing the whole orchard. “All by yourself? Why? I spent every summer during junior high and high school working for him, taking care of this place.”
“Yeah, and then you left on the back of a convertible, waving like a hero from the town parade, and never looked back.” She spun on her heels, determined to flee from the situation before an attack brought her to her knees. She needed to be alone and mentally review what had just happened. Figure out a plan for coping with seeing Toby again.
But Toby caught her arm. “You’re angry.” He said it like it was some huge revelation. As if he hadn’t been the one to pretend to be her friend when it was just the two of them but then made fun of her in public, causing the final two years of high school to be some of the most miserable of her life.
She shoved his hand off her arm and squared her shoulders. “I’d have to actually care to be angry, but when it comes to you and your life, hear this—I don’t care.”
* * *
Toby watched Jenna stalk through the grass away from him. A penny toad and a couple grasshoppers fled from her steps.
Oh. She was mad. She was so mad she couldn’t stand to look at him.
That was unexpected.
“Jen-na,” he groaned, dragging out the two syllables in her name, just like the old days.
She picked up her speed.
Despite the fact, or possibly because of the fact, that Jenna had been homeschooled for most of her childhood, she’d been Toby’s best friend. Toby’s entire childhood was a wash of his parents caring for his brother, trying to help Ben fight the leukemia that had eventually taken his life. It could have been lonely, but the Crest family—Jenna in particular—had made sure his days were full of laughter and friendship. She’d always been a beacon of hope in his life, just waiting across the street. Because she was homeschooled, he’d been able to make their friendship this safe and secret thing that was only for him. None of his friends at the public school knew about Jenna, and he’d liked it that way. She was his. Special. The one person he didn’t have to pretend with.
When her mother died during their junior year of high school, Jenna’s dad had to enroll her in the public high school. The school Toby attended. His school friends had consisted of other guys on the football team and the girls who trailed after that type. Jenna was always shy to the point of being silent in large groups and had worn outfits made out of pleated resale-shop jeans and flowery tops that were appropriate for grade school children. She’d had a braid that hung well past her lower back. A rumor had worked its way through school during her first week there that she was half-Amish. She had worn thick purple-rimmed glasses and had a mouth full of braces back then. His group would have ridiculed her every single day if they had known he and she were best friends.
They would have ridiculed him, too.
But he’d protected her by not letting his school friends know they were close. He’d saved her from so much grief and teasing that public knowledge of their friendship would have brought on her. At least, his actions had made sense back in high school. She knew that, right? Ten years had passed since graduation.
No one was stubborn enough to hang on to hurt for that long.
Then again, Jenna had once not spoken for two weeks when they were ten or eleven years old because he’d dared her that she wouldn’t be able to. Perhaps people could do anything they put their minds to, even if their minds were set on holding on to something toxic.
“Wait up!” He started after her at a jog. Leaves rustled, and a branch scraped against his arm as he cut through a row of trees in order to catch up.
She kept her eyes fixed on the barn and farmhouse in the distance. “Leave me alone, Toby.”
“I can’t. Not when I’m going to be living a stone’s throw from your house for the foreseeable future.” He tried to infuse his smile with a measure of warmth, hoping to thaw her mood. “That’s even closer than when we were across-the-street neighbors. Neither of us ever imagined that would happen one day, did we?”
“Stop chatting about the old days as if we’re still friends.”
“Aren’t we?” His voice squeaked. Why did his voice squeak?
Sure, he hadn’t called or written in ten years—but then, neither had she. His parents talked to her dad regularly, so she could have gotten Toby’s information if she had wanted it. Evidently, she hadn’t. Women were like that though, weren’t they? For them to consider someone a friend, it seemed as if they had to talk weekly and catch up. Come to think of it, Toby’s mom always bugged him about returning her calls. Men could not talk for twenty years, bump into an old buddy fishing and suddenly act like they hadn’t missed any time. Men didn’t need all the “Why didn’t you ever call?” nonsense.
Jenna stopped in her tracks and glared at him. “Listen, you might as well go pack your things because I’m going to talk to my father, and when I’m done, he’s going to un-offer you that position.”
Her hands were fisted at her sides. She looked like she might start yelling. Which wasn’t like the Jenna from his memories. She’d always been smiling, quick to tease him but also the first and most constant encourager in his life. For a long time, she’d been the only one who believed he was good enough to become a professional athlete.
Unfortunately, he’d ended up disappointing everyone. Especially Jenna.
Maybe returning to Goose Harbor had been a mistake. Even still, they both knew Mr. Crest would never toss him out after offering him a job and a place to stay. Jenna’s dad was a man of his word.
“You know that—”
“We don’t need more help on the orchard.” She lifted her chin. “I’m doing just fine on my own, and we always hire seasonal help once harvest gets into full swing anyway.”
Toby’s gaze raked over her. Frustration had always made her appealing, but there was something more that captured his attention today. Her pale cheeks became the color of sunset pink. Her dark blue eyes deepened, like the crashing waves of Lake Michigan right before a storm. Gone was his awkward once-best friend. She was replaced by a gorgeous woman with thick eyelashes and wavy golden curls. The pleated jeans were now dark-wash ones that accentuated the curve of her hips and the narrowing of her waist, and the Crest Orchard T-shirt she wore hugged her torso. Jenna had grown up to become a beautiful woman.
She leaned her head forward and arched her eyebrow. “You have nothing to say? Absolutely nothing?”
Right. He should have said something, but his mouth had gone dry. What was she asking if he had anything to say about? Was she referring to her threat to get her father to fire him, or was she trying to get him to talk about something...deeper? Knowing Jenna, it was the second.
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. For whatever it is I did to upset you, I’m sorry.”
“For whatever it is I did.” She mimicked his voice. “Nice, Toby. Real nice. I should have known you’d never own up to anything.”
“I’d be happy to own up to it if I knew what you were talking about.”
“So what happened? Huh?” She cocked her head to the side. “You finally messed up your life so badly down there in Florida that you had to come crawling back here to our podunk farm and beg for a job. Life is funny, isn’t it?” She lifted her hands, palms up, to indicate him. “Here you are...stuck in a place you openly scorned.”
Confusion tied his gut in a knot. “Jenna...”
“I suppose even a place and people you consider beneath you is better than jail though, right?”
Excellent. So she knew about his drunk-driving arrests, too. He had a huge hill to climb in order to convince people in Goose Harbor that he wasn’t that Toby anymore. “They don’t actually keep you in jail. You get out on bond,” he mumbled.
“You don’t remember, do you?” She laughed once, but the sound held no humor. “I guess something like spreading rumors about the poor, backward folk who lived across the street from you is an understandable slip of the mind. The great Toby Holcomb leaves a big wake and never looks back.”
At least she wasn’t focusing on his arrests. But...what was she talking about? “I’ve never said—”
“Don’t try to deny it. I heard you. More than once, I overheard you telling people about the orchard.” Jenna worked her tiny jaw back and forth. She cupped her hand over her forehead and released a long sigh. “None of that matters now. That was a long time ago. You’ve moved on. I’ve moved on. So...let’s keep with that notion and move you out of here.” She turned away and started for the farmhouse again.
Toby kept pace with her but didn’t say anything. What could he say? Nothing. Sometimes silence was the best option. He’d use the next few weeks to unravel the reasons Jenna was so upset with him, and then he’d spend the weeks after that making up for his wrongs, no matter if they were real or only perceived.
He couldn’t accept the fact that she might not forgive him or that things couldn’t go back to how they were before. They had to. He wanted to make her laugh again and suddenly longed to find their old haunts and set out on new adventures together. Dream about their futures, as they’d done before. Here at the orchard, they were somehow sheltered from the real world and the issues in their lives from the past years. He was able to breathe deeply here, and he felt more like himself than he’d felt...since he left. And Jenna was a part of that, wasn’t she? Even with ten years of distance between them, she knew him better than anyone else alive.
He’d make things right between them. He had to. Because as he walked beside her through the orchard again—even with the two of them at odds—his heart had never felt more at home. Perhaps that’s why his relationships in Florida had never worked, had never felt right.
His heart had been stuck in Goose Harbor all along.
Chapter Two (#ulink_f66aa359-75db-5712-9323-715b8941710d)
Jenna felt like she was going to throw up.
Why wouldn’t Toby go away? Just. Go. Away.
A charge buzzed over her skin as if she were still touching the electric fence. He was invading her safe place. Her escape. Her mind instantly flew to a darker place. To a date in college with a very different man, who had invaded not only her space but her body, taking her innocence and destroying her faith in other people in one night.
She’d survived the past eight years since then by carefully constructing a life that kept her safe and protected at all times. Only interacting with other people on her terms—like at church or the farmers’ market or at the Bible study she attended—and then spending the rest of her time locked away. Alone. Safe.
The only man she really trusted was her father. He was the only one she was okay with being near. Toby living on her dad’s property messed up her protected space. She couldn’t feel secure here if she had to worry about running into him all the time. Not that Toby would harm her physically—she didn’t believe that of her old friend for one second—but the feeling of invasion made her gasp for air all the same.
A line of sweat slipped down her spine. They were in for another hot day.
Her father didn’t know, would never know, about the assaults that happened to her during college. He wouldn’t be able to comprehend why Jenna was so vehemently opposed to Toby living in the bunkhouse. The only way to get Dad to agree would be to tell him about the horrible things she’d overheard Toby say about his beloved orchard all those years ago and hope it fired Dad up enough to tell Toby to take a hike. Although... Dad could be frustratingly full of grace and forgiveness. It was a trait she had admired and loved about him until this very moment.
When she rounded the edge of the last row of trees, her two-story white farmhouse came into view. Although, instead of the normal, peaceful feelings that the sight of her family home usually brought, she zeroed in on all that was wrong with it. The house hadn’t been painted in years, probably because Dad had been declining for longer than anyone—even he—realized. Huge chunks of white were missing from sections of the lower portion of the house, and both sets of stairs and the front and side overhangs drooped. The gray-green roof had seen better days. The state of the house resembled Toby’s high school statements about the Crests being podunk and backward.
“I want to stay.” Toby’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I want to help here.”
“We don’t need you.” She sped up her stride, making it to the back steps a moment later. She yanked open the screen door, and it shuttered on its ancient frame. “Dad!” she called. “We need to talk.”
A bowl of oatmeal sat untouched and cold at the kitchen table. She glanced at the digital numbers on the oven. Almost nine in the morning. She’d been out longer than she’d planned, but Dad should have finished eating by now.
Worry gnawing at the back of her mind, Jenna left the kitchen and made for the front of the house. Because it was built more than a hundred years ago, there was no such thing as an open floor plan in their farmhouse, just little divided areas.
“Dad!” Her voice grew louder. Why wasn’t he answering?
Jenna all but ran into the front sitting room and screamed when she saw her father lying, facedown, on the floor. Chunks of a broken mug were scattered near where one of his hands rested in a pool of coffee, but more concerning was the small puddle of red near where his forehead rested.
“Dad! No! No! No!” she yelled and fell to her knees beside him. She touched his shoulder. Still warm. Alive. Thank You, God.
“Toby!” she screamed. “Toby, help!” The infuriating man had followed her all over the orchard but hadn’t followed her into the farmhouse. He must have heard her call, though, because his echoing steps pounded into the house.
“Jenna?” His voice lifted in question.
“Front room!” She turned her attention back to her dad. “Daddy.” She tapped his shoulders again. “Please be okay. I need you to be okay.” She smoothed her hand over his back. Should she move him? Flip him over? She probably wasn’t strong enough to do it while still supporting his neck. That’s what a person was supposed to do when someone passed out, right? Turn them on their back and start chest compressions? Or would that harm him? If something was wrong with his neck or back, movement might further injure him. She didn’t want to make the decision on her own. “Toby!” she yelled again. Hurry up!
“Jen—” Toby’s face fell when he entered the room. “What happened?” He dropped down beside her.
“I don’t know. I found him like this.” Her words trembled as tears started to crash down toward her chin. “I can’t lose him, Tobe.” Her childhood name for him slipped out before she could rein it in. She pressed on. “Will you help me roll him over?”
Toby eased closer. “Call 9-1-1. If he needs it, I know CPR.”
“But—” Feeling completely out of control in the situation, she froze. She wanted to curl up in a ball and let Toby take care of everything. But Dad needed her.
“Now, Jenna. Call.” Toby looked back at her father. He gently cupped where the nape of Dad’s neck met his hair and flipped him onto his back. The line of blood on her dad’s temple shifted to run down the side of his face. He looked as if he had on fake paint for a monster costume. On the positive side, if the gash was still bleeding, then he couldn’t have been passed out long.
Toby grabbed her father’s wrist and leaned close to his chest. “He has a pulse and he’s breathing. Call, Jenna. Go call for help.”
Dial 9-1-1. Right. Her cell phone. She felt in her pockets. She hadn’t grabbed it earlier. Jenna started for the kitchen but stopped when she heard a quiet groan.
Toby smiled. “He’s awake.”
Her dad blinked a few times and then tried to sit up, but Toby stayed him with a hand to his shoulder. “Easy, now, Mr. Crest. You fell. We found you passed out. We’re going to call an ambulance for you.”
“No.” Her father pressed his eyes shut and groaned again. “No ambulance. I won’t leave my house that way.”
Toby sent Jenna a look that said “What now?” It was only an uneven lift of his eyebrows, but she knew him well enough to know what all his facial expressions meant.
“Daddy.” She slowly stepped back into the room, as if he might scare if she walked normally. “You’re bleeding. You were unconscious. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“Stop your worrying, the both of you.” Dad started to try to rise to a sitting position again, so Toby braced his back and helped him up. Toby pulled one of the chairs closer so her father could lean against it.
Dad gingerly touched his temple. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jenna arched her eyebrow. “Like your hands shaking were nothing this morning?”
“I tripped on the carpeting and knocked my head on the arm of that chair on the way down.” He pointed at the curled-over edge of their large rug and the wooden armrest on one of the two antique chairs that flagged the sitting area. “That’s all. It could happen to anyone. Even someone strong and fit like you or Toby.”
“Even still.” Toby exchanged another worried look with Jenna. “We’d like to get you to the hospital.”
Her father set his jaw. “I’m not climbing into an ambulance.”
“They help you into it—” Toby started to say.
Jenna shook her head. “That’s not what he means.” Dad could be more stubborn than dried tar. Which was probably where she got that particular trait from.
Jenna disappeared into the kitchen and grabbed her keys, her cell phone and a clean dish towel from the counter. She marched back into the sitting room and jangled the keys. “I’m driving you there.” She tossed the kitchen towel to Toby. “Press that to his cut.”
Toby did as instructed. And as if reading her mind, when they were ready to leave, Toby wrapped his arm around her father and helped him walk to the car.
“I’ll sit in back.” Dad motioned toward the backseat of her late-model Camry. “I may want to lie down.”
Toby made sure her dad was buckled in. “Try not to fall back to sleep. I’m sure they’ll want to check you for a concussion,” he instructed before claiming the passenger seat.
Jenna started up the car and backed out of their driveway without looking over at Toby. If he hadn’t been there...if she’d been all alone and something happened to her father...something worse...what would she have done? Would she have been able to clear her mind enough to call for help? She wanted the answer to that question to be yes, of course. But whenever panic clawed its way into her chest, it seemed to affect her ability to think, as well. What if something happened to her father and she couldn’t help him because she was in the middle of an anxiety attack?
Toby was right. She needed another person at the orchard. She needed help.
Now to taste humble pie.
“Thank you,” she whispered so only Toby could hear. No need to stress her father out in his condition; he didn’t need to know that she and Toby had been arguing.
“For?” Toby’s eyebrows rose.
“Coming when I called...even after...” She swallowed hard and tried to make her voice even. “After what I said to you.”
“Listen.” He angled his body so he was leaning over the middle control area and lowered his voice. “From what I’ve gathered, there’s some water under the bridge that you and I need to sort through. And we will. But no matter what—and hear me on this, Jenna—no matter what happens between us, I’ll always come if you call for me. Got that? Always.”
She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded. Toby wanted to deal with their issues? Was that even possible? And if they did sort through everything...then what? They weren’t kids running through the apple orchard any longer—they could never go back to those carefree days. After everything that had happened in both of their lives, they could never go back to their old, easy friendship.
She could accept his help on the orchard and with her father, but she couldn’t welcome him back as a friend. Not ever. Not after the way he—and every guy after him—had betrayed her.
“Mr. Crest.” Toby opened his visor and used the mirror on it to keep an eye on her father. “I’m going to ask you some questions to help you stay alert, okay?”
“Do your worst.” Her dad’s smile was soft, but his joking manner made Jenna ease her foot off the accelerator. It wouldn’t help them to get a speeding ticket on the way to the hospital.
“Favorite food?”
“Besides apple pie?”
“Sure.”
“Roast-beef sandwiches.”
“Who’s the best football team?” Toby asked with a grin.
Dad laughed. “Packers.”
“You know that makes you a state traitor, right?” Toby shook his head as his grin widened.
“Oh, please.” Her father crossed his arms. “Had they offered for you out of college, you would have accepted.”
“You’re...you’re not wrong.”
Had Toby flinched? Or had Jenna only imagined it?
Toby cleared his throat. “Did Kasey give you any trouble this morning?”
“Who’s Kasey?” Jenna glanced in Toby’s direction at the next stoplight. His pale blue eyes almost looked like they had a white electric circle in them. She forced herself to look back at the road.
Her dad leaned toward the front of the car. “She’s only the cutest little girl I’ve ever met. Present company excluded.” He tapped Jenna’s shoulder and then rested his other hand on Toby’s shoulder. “She was nervous about her first day of school and starting after everyone else, so she and I prayed together before she got on the bus.”
“Wait.” Jenna gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Who’s Kasey? She was at our house? I’m so confused.”
“I helped her get on the bus so Toby could start working on the orchard.”
Toby nodded and then pointed toward the entrance to the hospital parking lot. Like much of the Goose Harbor area, the small hospital was nestled in by the thick forest that lined much of the dune-covered areas of town. If there weren’t huge arrows and many signs for the hospital on the street leading up to the entryway, people would miss it all the time, especially when not thinking straight in an emergency.
Jenna would have never missed the entrance though. She’d driven Dad here for one too many appointments in the past six months. She could probably sleepwalk to the hospital with no problem. Which was a good thing, because Dad and Toby’s discussion had distracted her.
Did Toby have a daughter?
“Wait, is Kasey yours?” She parked near the doorway for the ER.
Toby unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door. “In a way, yes.” He closed the door and helped her father out of the back of the car. They made toward the hospital’s automatic front doors, leaving Jenna to trail behind them.
“How old is she—Kasey?”
“Seven,” Toby called back as he shuffled along with Dad.
Jenna tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Toby had a daughter—a daughter the same age as Jenna’s child would have been if she’d carried to full-term.
But she couldn’t process it all. Not right now. It was too much, the emotions that went with what she’d been through during college on top of her worries about her father.
Shaken, she slumped into a chair beside Toby and curled her trembling hands over her stomach as Toby and her father answered the admitting nurse’s questions.
* * *
Toby ushered Jenna to a waiting area outside the doctor’s office. Jenna dragged her feet, her tennis shoes thumping against the polished floor. Mr. Crest had stated he preferred they let him be alone with the hospital staff first, with the promise that he’d call for them once he was ready. Jenna had balked until Toby pressed his hand to the small of her back and steered her out the door. Initially, he was afraid she would fight him, but she’d seemed almost grateful to be redirected.
Now, if only she’d talk.
Jenna rocked in her chair. Her already pale skin had turned ashen. She had her eyes closed tightly and was breathing hard through her nose. Toby dropped into the seat next to hers. Instinctively, he reached to take her hand but stopped himself before he made contact and grabbed the armrest instead.
“Are you okay?”
It was probably a dumb question. Her father was being examined in an emergency room. She’d been sitting in the same waiting room when she learned her mother had passed. This place—the hospital—was woven deeply into both Jenna’s and Toby’s lives. Not in a good way. Then again, when hospitals were needed, it was hardly ever good news. This was the same emergency room his family had rushed to many times with his brother. Although Toby had usually been sent to the Crests’ home, where Mrs. Crest distracted him with apple turnovers and the family included him in their evening board-game tournaments. Toby had spent many nights bunking in their guest room as a child so his parents didn’t have to split their time between him and his brother.
“Water.” Jenna ran shaky hands down her cheeks. “Can you get water?”
“I’ll get you anything you want.”
Jenna finally stopped rocking. She tipped her head to the side and studied him for a moment. What did she see? An old friend she trusted? Or still the enemy she’d made him out to be in the orchard an hour ago? Toby feared the latter.
“Water’s fine.” She looked away.
Toby begged a plastic cup off the ladies at the nurses’ station, filled it at the water fountain and then located a vending machine at the end of the hall. Score. It had chocolate-covered peanuts, Jenna’s favorite. After getting a pack, he reclaimed his seat and eased the cup into her hands.
She took a long drag of water and then cradled the cup on her lap. “That helped. Thank you.” At some point during their dash to the hospital, some of her curls had worked their way out of her ponytail so that they hung around her face. It made her look vulnerable. Protectiveness flooded his heart. Unsure of how she’d respond, he fought the desire to offer her a hug like the old days.
“Here.” He passed the chocolate-covered peanuts her way.
Jenna looked up from the cup of water and accepted the bag of treats. “Oh. These are my favorite.”
“I know,” he said warmly.
“You remembered.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“I...” He reached over and tucked her loose curls behind her ear. “I remember almost everything about you.”
Her eyebrows pinched together, and she rubbed the heel of her palm against her collarbone.
Toby angled his body toward her. Now was probably the worst time to ask, but he had to know, had to understand why she wasn’t happy to see him. Why she’d wanted him off their property. He tried to find a diplomatic way to start. “What are you thinking right now?”
“Sorry.” She dropped her hand from her chest. “Sometimes it feels like I’m having a heart attack.”
Concern for her dad. Anger at him for taking a job at the orchard. He’d expected one of those answers. Not...heart attack. Wait. Was Jenna ill, too? His gut tightened. “Should I get you a doctor?”
“Please don’t. I’m fine.”
“Is that a real fine, or like when your dad said he was fine?”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Jenn-nna.” He dragged out her name, the way he used to when he was bugging her to tell him something when they were kids.
“I...” She sighed loudly. “You might as well know if you’re going to be sticking around...”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I have anxiety. It’s not terrible. And not all the time.” She continued, speaking rapidly, almost as if her words might vanish if she didn’t get them out fast enough. “But I have attacks—episodes.” She shrugged. “Sometimes they’re really bad. I’m okay though. Right now. I’m fine.”
“You said that.” Toby let her words sink in. Jenna hadn’t suffered from panic attacks in the past, that he knew of, anyway. Were these new? What caused them? He’d have to do some more research about anxiety before probing further. One thing he understood from having lived with his brother was that where health conditions were concerned, people could unknowingly hurt with poorly phrased questions or assumptions, even when they had good intentions. He wouldn’t do that to Jenna.
Jenna set the bag of peanuts in her lap so she could knit her fingers together. “I know it’s irrational. I know... It’s just, at the time, it’s very real.” Her gaze latched on to his. “Do you think that’s silly?”
“Not at all.”
“Seriously?”
“Listen, Jenna, we all have things we struggle with.” He took a deep breath. “You clearly already know, but I spiraled into depression after the reality set in that I’d never play professional ball. I had no clue who Toby Holcomb was without that trajectory for my life. Unlike you, I wasn’t brave though.”
“I’m not brave.” She sounded hoarse. “Feeling like the world is collapsing when nothing is actually wrong isn’t brave.”
“You just told someone. That’s brave.” Toby rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands together. “I was a coward. I didn’t tell anyone when I was low.” Even himself. He should have known, locked up in his apartment for days at a time. Staying in bed. Not showering. Depression. The mind sure had a strange way of protecting itself...lying. Telling him he was fine. Normal. That how he was acting was how a failure of a man should act. He’d lost his dream of being a professional athlete and then tanked the sporting goods business he’d started after that.
Toby Holcomb is a failure.
Toby shook his thoughts away and pressed on. “Instead, like a fool, I self-medicated.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Just say it. She already knew anyway. “Alcohol. Lots of it, I’m afraid. I’m ashamed to say that it took me almost five years to snap out of it.”
Silence. Say something. Tell me my past doesn’t make me a bad person now.
“What made you snap out of it?” Jenna quietly asked.
God. That was the simple—and complicated—answer. His mother’s constant prayers.
“I could really have hurt someone or myself, making poor choices like driving drunk. I thank God for both of those police officers who arrested me. If I hadn’t been caught...” He shook his head. “It’s more than that though. I was so busy focusing on what I lost—what I felt like was unfairly taken from me—” he tapped the knee that sometimes still gave him trouble, the one that had cost him his career “—that I lost sight of what God put me on this earth to accomplish.”
“Football?”
He snorted. “That was something I was good at a long time ago. Something I never used to glorify God. No.” He straightened in his seat. He’d never verbalized these thoughts to anyone—not even his parents—but it felt right sharing with Jenna. “I was put on earth for the same reason you were. I’m supposed to love people, Jenna—we’re supposed to share God’s love with people. No matter what situation I find myself in, I’m supposed to deal with it in a way that points people toward God. That’s my purpose.”
She pressed her hand into her forehead. “You make it sound like the easiest thing in the world. Dealing with situations that way—as if we’re on display for the sake of God.”
“Easy? Hardly. But, as Christians, isn’t that exactly what our life is supposed to do? At least...I think it is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The old Toby wouldn’t have said all this stuff.”
He sat up in his chair. Tapped his fingers on the armrest. “The old Toby wasn’t a Christian.”
“And now?” she whispered.
“I am. Thanks to my mother.”
A soft smile lightened Jenna’s face. “She never gave up on you.”
“I’d long given up on me, but she hadn’t. I’m thankful for that. For everyone who pointed me toward God in some way. You included.”
Jenna hugged her stomach, her shoulders hunching forward. “I’m not like that anymore. I have a really hard time with some of the things that have happened in my life. I feel like if people knew that I had the anxiety...why I had it...” She shook her head. “If showing people God’s love through how I handle my experiences is my purpose in life, then I’m failing.”
Toby nudged her arm gently with his elbow. “Good news. I don’t think God expects perfection from us. There are all those grace and mercy and forgiveness parts of the Bible to back me up.”
Toby looked away. He was a hypocrite, saying things he wanted to believe but wasn’t quite sure he really did. He should tell her—tell her that he struggled with wrapping his head around grace and second chances just as much as she seemed to—but the words lodged in his throat.
He glanced back at her. No...he couldn’t tell her that he failed at everything. That he was bound to fail in his fresh attempt at a relationship with God. That he’d end up failing her. Again. Like he’d failed her after her mom died. It was impossible to say something like that when she was looking at him for the first time in the old way she used to when they were kids, with her eyes large, lighting up, as if talking together was the best and safest thing in the world.
Jenna relaxed her arms. “That’s not the answer I thought you’d have.”
Toby swallowed hard. “What did you think I’d say?”
“I thought you’d say you changed for your daughter’s sake.”
“My—wait—my what?” He jerked his head toward her, trying to read Jenna’s face for any signs that she was kidding.
“Kasey...your daughter.”
Wait. She thought? No. “Kasey’s not my daughter.”
“You said earlier that you guessed she was yours.” Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I was named her guardian in the will.”
“Guardian? So who—?”
“You remember Sophia, my cousin, don’t you?”
“Sophia died? She was younger than us.” Jenna touched his wrist. “Tobe, I’m so sorry.” Her hold tightened. “Oh, poor Kasey. Losing her mom so young.”
“I hoped you could help her since...” your mom died when you were young, too. “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a little girl. When your dad found out, he called and offered the bunkhouse, a job. My parents live in a retirement community, no kids allowed. I’m all Kasey has now. If I hadn’t accepted guardianship, they’d have placed her into foster care. I couldn’t let that happen.” He shook his head.
“You did the right thing.” She laid her hand over his for a second, then cupped it back with her other in her lap.
“I can’t do it alone though. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He skirted his gaze to hers. Her deep blue eyes captured his, and he never wanted to look away. They could be friends again. Everything could go back to how it was before. “Will you help me?”
“Of course. However I can.”
And just like that, they were a united force. He still needed to get to the bottom of why Jenna had been so upset this morning, but that would come in time.
Chapter Three (#ulink_b649227a-3ddd-5007-a45a-23470ed50ba5)
Jenna tried to focus on the abstract watercolor in the doctor’s office at her father’s follow-up appointment the next day. Staring at the strange shapes was easier than looking at her dad or the doctor. Thankfully, Toby had stayed back at the orchard to tend to the work they’d missed yesterday and wouldn’t have accomplished today if he hadn’t been around. Busy fussing over her father the rest of yesterday, Jenna had missed her opportunity to meet Kasey but hoped to rectify that once she was home from school today.
But after this blow, who knew? A motorized wheelchair. Her father, who used to think nothing of working ten hours a day in the busy season—the man who had taught her to ride horseback, to swim and to race on her bike—was being told it was best for him not to walk on his own going forward.
“You’re telling me my father can’t walk anymore?” Jenna tried to modulate her voice. It wasn’t Dr. Karol’s fault—he was a messenger, tasked with delivering bad information. Still, worry simmered through her veins.
“Jenna.” Her father’s voice held a warning.
But she pressed on. “He fell. Doesn’t everyone fall sometimes?” She heard the desperation in her own voice. Tell me it’s all a cruel joke. Tell me Dad will just get better on his own.
“The type of MS your father has—”
“It’s PPMS, I know. I know it’s different from normal multiple sclerosis.” She didn’t mean to be rude, but she’d attended every one of Dad’s appointments for the past six months. She had already listened to Dr. Karol talk about Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis—PPMS—in detail on many occasions.
Dr. Karol nodded and leaned against the counter. “With primary progressive the legs lose power, and simple tasks, like going out to check the mail, can deplete all of a person’s energy.”
“And some days it sure does,” Dad agreed.
How could he be taking the news so easily?
Jenna clutched the brochure that broke down how much their insurance would cover toward each of their chair options. “But saying he’s not allowed to walk...that...that takes away his ability to live.” Once people weren’t mobile, didn’t they get pneumonia? And people could die of pneumonia. That’s what had happened to Mom.
The doctor set down his clipboard and opened the small laptop on the counter. “On the contrary. Using a motorized chair, especially with the technology that exists these days, gives back movement and strength. Right now, Richard expends all his energy by noon, just from being mobile in your house. But a chair allows you to store that energy—it gives back his life because there are reserves left to spend time with family or go outside. Think, during harvest your father can come out to the orchard and oversee your work.”
Jenna still wasn’t convinced as she helped her father into the car and started driving home. Not walking meant accepting defeat. It meant accepting that her father was ill. She wasn’t ready for that. Might never be. She tried to repeat what Toby had told her yesterday at the ER. That every situation was a chance to show love—to show God. But her heart had a hard time digesting that. Mom had died so quickly after becoming bedridden. While a motorized chair wasn’t the same thing, wasn’t it a step in that direction? Not my dad. I won’t let that happen to him, too.
Her knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel. She eased her grip.
Dad rolled down the window and braced his arm along the frame. Warm September air laced with dampness from Lake Michigan tumbled into the car. “I don’t like admitting I need a chair any more than you do, but it seems like the right choice.”
Jenna blinked, trying to get a clear view of the road. She needed to be strong for her father. No crying. No falling apart. “We can safety-proof the house. Take away all the rugs and anything that could cause you to trip.”
“Jenna.”
“And if you want to be part of the harvest, you can ride shotgun in the truck. We take the pickup down the rows anyway. Toby won’t mind.”
“Jenna.”
“And we could—”
“Honeybee, stop. I’m sick.” He fisted his hands, but not quickly enough to hide the shaking. From stress. She was causing that. Guilt punched at her heart.
He rested his head against the back of the seat. “My body’s failing me. Admitting that is part of being able to move forward and live with my disease.”
“Why?” Jenna whispered, so quietly she wasn’t sure if her father heard her. A part of her didn’t want him to. “Why is God doing this?”
He scrubbed his hand down his face. “He’s not doing this to me. It’s not a punishment. Our bodies fail us because we’re mortal. That’s all there is to it.”
God was perfectly fine with letting people who loved Him suffer? Was it like watching ants on a small anthill? Easy to feel no attachment?
The muscles in her shoulders bunched. She couldn’t deal with Dad’s train of logic right now. “But they’re not letting you walk. Your hands shake all the time. You—”
“It’s not a big deal, Jenna.”
“Not a big deal? How can you say that? I can’t believe—”
“Stop.” He drew his hands so they were in his lap, and his gentle blue eyes met hers when she braked at the intersection. “Jenna, sweetheart, the Lord gives and the Lord takes. In all of it let the name of the Lord be praised.” He referenced a verse that was written on a plaque that used to hang near the front entrance of their home. Years ago, after Mom’s death, Jenna had ripped the plaque down and stuffed it between books on her old childhood bookshelf.
Her father continued. “My hope will remain with my faith, no matter what happens to my body.”
No matter what happens to my body. Her throat tightened as if someone had shoved a bundle of itchy wool into her mouth and forced her to swallow. Dad didn’t know what those words meant to her, but they still felt like a slap.
“I don’t like it. I don’t like admitting that you’re not a superhero.” Her voice shook.
“Every superhero has their foil. I guess PPMS is mine.”
“I love you, Dad. You know that, right?”
“I love you, too, sweetheart. I love you very much.”
She had to lighten the mood, or else she’d dwell on her thoughts too much and start crying. Besides, she was stressing him out and she didn’t want to be the cause of any more issues for him. “So...what you’re saying is we should paint the Batman symbol on your motorized chair when they deliver it?”
“Ha! I don’t know if I’d go that far. Besides, we heroes like to be more covert.” He winked. “If you don’t mind.”
Her Camry kicked up a cloud of dust as they drove down the driveway. For her father’s sake, she parked as close to the house as she could. Just like yesterday, her eyes were drawn to the sagging and worn-down parts of their home. It had once been a beautiful place. Dad used to paint it a brilliant white every summer, even though the orchard demanded so much of his time during that season.
Now the house matched its owner.
“He’s changed.” Dad’s voice dragged her attention away from assessing the house.
Jenna followed the path of his vision to where Toby carried a basket of apples into their barn. He’d been out mending the fence when Jenna conducted her morning perimeter walk. Actually, after they’d arrived home from the ER yesterday afternoon, he must have headed back to her ruined Braeburns, because this morning the baby trees were encircled by plastic orange construction fencing. And two of the ones she’d thought were dead, he’d pruned and retied and was trying to save.
Dad kept talking. “Don’t get me wrong. I always liked him. But he’s different. I mean that in a good way.”
Jenna yanked the keys from the ignition. “I guess.”
She didn’t want to think of Toby in a good light. That was dangerous. Feeling anything about her old friend would only lead to hurt. They would never be buddies again. The carefree days of lying in the orchard counting stars were gone forever. He wouldn’t stay here, not indefinitely. Toby’s dreams were bigger than hers. So there was no reason to appreciate him or get attached. Not that she wanted to. Toby was a pest at best and a traitor at worst. She still leaned toward considering him the latter for now.
She rounded the car and helped her father out.
He squeezed her arm. “Whatever happened between the two of you? You used to be inseparable. I figured you’d be over the moon about him coming home, but perhaps I was wrong.”
He pretended not to know me. He made fun of your livelihood. Embarrassed me in front of the whole school. And broke my heart in the process. That didn’t feel like an appropriate answer, so instead she said, “We both grew up.”
“Now, I’m showing my age here, but bear with your old man. Was there ever anything romantic between the two of you?”
Not on Toby’s side. Nor would there ever be.
“We’re two kids who used to play together. That’s all. Nothing more.”
“Well, the fact that you’re taking a breath belies that. If you’re living, there’s always more. More to experience. More to know. More to laugh about. More is a gift that should be celebrated every day, honeybee. Toby’s back in our lives for a reason. That means he’s part of the more for both of us.”
Yeah, probably more pain.
Which was exactly what she was so worried about.
* * *
Toby set the crate full of apples on top of the old, rough table that ran the length of one side of the Crests’ barn. He scooped an armful of fruit, placed them in the large washbasin sink and started to scrub them.
The Crests weren’t farmers, at least not in the normal sense. There were no cows or chickens poking around their ten acres, just apple trees. The barn was separated into three sections—a storage area for equipment, an industrial kitchen area that was set to meet health codes so they could make items to sell and the little storefront in the front of the barn where they sold their goods from the end of September through November, though October was always the busiest time of year.
Perspiration dotted the space between his shoulder blades. He’d forgotten how much manual labor running the orchard could be. How had Mr. Crest managed the past few years? Toby leaned over the sink and cracked the window, letting in a stream of wind. He dragged in a deep breath of air through his nostrils. Sweet notes from the nearby Fuji, Red Delicious and Gravenstein trees flooded his senses. Those smells were home and happiness. Everything he longed for but could never have—not someone like him, not permanently.
Jenna and her mom, along with a team of hired seasonal workers, used to spend all of fall in the kitchen area baking pies, making apple-cider donuts and apple dumplings, loaves and muffins, canning applesauce, and cooking apple butter and jelly. Did Jenna do that all alone now? Did the Crests still run the store at all?
He should have been here. Should have helped them.
A heavy weight settled in his gut.
The Crests weren’t his family, not by blood. Even still, he’d spent so many years moping over dreams lost when he could have been of use here. But he could change that now. Toby would be here for them, and he would work hard.
Maybe his life would actually matter. He could finally prove he wasn’t a failure.
Okay, that might be asking too much.
Toby dropped more apples into the sink before turning on the faucet. They needed to be scrubbed and chopped; then he could put them in the apple press. Nothing went to waste at the orchard. They always used all the fallen apples to make cider. This would become a daily process once they opened for the season.
The side door creaked, drawing his gaze.
Jenna entered and glanced around. “My dad sent me in here to check on you.” She closed the door and moved a few feet closer. “Making cider?”
“I figured it was time for the first batch of the season.” He turned off the faucet and pulled the scrub brush off the counter. “You guys still run the store out of the front?”
“We’ll open next weekend. The pumpkins should be delivered on Wednesday.” She placed a dishtowel over her shoulder, selected a knife from the drawer, gathered a cutting board and joined him by the sink. “You wash, I’ll cut.”
For a few minutes the only sounds were water sloshing, the rhythmic chops of the knife going through the fleshy apples and a nest of birds outside. When he moved to refill the sink with more apples, Toby snuck another glance at Jenna. Even with her hair tucked back in a ponytail, golden waves framed her face. His eyes ran over her gentle curves. Jenna was beautiful. How had he missed that when he was young?
Even if he had noticed, he’d never have been worthy of her. She was innocent. Pure. He was...he was every mistake in the book, and then some. Someone like him could never deserve someone like Jenna Crest. Not in a million years. Not when he was in high school, and certainly not now.
She stopped cutting and looked over at him. “Need something?” She ran the back of her wrist over her forehead.
He’d been caught staring. Great. Toby cleared his throat as he picked up a few more apples. “How’d your dad’s appointment go?”
Her knife stilled over the board. “They said...” She took a breath and started again. “They said he should stop walking.” She cut into the apple but then straightened up and rolled her shoulders. “They’re making him get a motorized wheelchair.”
When Jenna’s mom had been unable to walk was when her health had really started to go downhill. Hearing the same news about her father had to have hit Jenna hard. “How bad is he?”
Her forehead wrinkled. She smoothed her fingers over it. “I might as well tell you. I don’t really tell anyone this stuff, or what I told you yesterday about my panic attacks, but I guess I will. It’s not like you wouldn’t figure stuff out, living on our property. Do you know what he has?”
He knew that look. The one that said “Please don’t make me explain something I don’t want to acknowledge exists.” He knew because he’d worn that expression many times himself. He’d spent his childhood pretending to be okay. Pretending his brother’s illness and death didn’t affect him. Pretending he was the perfect son, athlete, student—anything people wanted him to be—so that he didn’t have to answer questions or be honest about what he really felt. Didn’t have to tell them he hated it all, the death and the questions and trying to be the son who “deserved” to live. It was all an act. Ben had been a better person than him. Would have been a better man. He would have made his life matter. Toby was sure of that.
Toby knew that in the same way he knew that his own life was a waste.
But thoughts like that wouldn’t help Jenna. He needed to find a way to get her to talk more. Engage with him. Stop disliking him.
Toby ran his finger over a splintering crack in the counter. “Primary progressive MS. My mom told me.”
“Your mom. Of course.” She turned toward him, pressing her hip into the counter. “So how much do you know about us?”
He shrugged. His mom was a bit of a talker. Some would call her a gossip.
He wasn’t about to admit that he knew it’d taken her six years through correspondence courses to finally achieve her college degree. “You went to college for journalism. Did some freelance writing for a magazine and newspaper out of—” he held up a finger, thinking back over his conversations with his parents “—Grand Rapids. You lived there for a little bit, right?”
Her face clouded and she looked away. “Up until six months ago.”
Toby’s gut kicked a little. Had she left behind a life she loved back in Grand Rapids? A boyfriend? His chest felt tight. Why did that thought bother him so much?
“Do you miss it?”
She laughed softly. “I was writing a little, but mostly working at the coffee shop below my apartment. Not exactly earthshaking stuff. I was glad to come back. Relieved, actually. Does that make me a bad person?”
He was in a similar place—here because his cousin had passed. Something bad had brought him back, but he’d welcomed any sort of direction in his life. “I hope not, because I was happy to come back here, too.”
“I mean, I had to come back because my father was sick. And I was happy to have a reason to come back—not happy he’s sick, but...does that make sense?” Guilt made her face tense.
A part of him really wanted to open up his arms and offer her a hug, but she wouldn’t accept that. At least, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t and wasn’t brave enough to try without knowing he wouldn’t get shot down.
“Completely. You can say anything around me—you know that. We always functioned with the umbrella. What’d we call it?” He squinted, looking at her for the answer.
She sighed, and the tiniest trace of a smile pulled at her lips. “The Umbrella of Grace. Whenever we wanted to say something blunt or hard, we’d pretend to open an umbrella and both stand under it and call it the Umbrella of Grace. We could say whatever we wanted without judgment.”
“As long as the umbrella was up.” Warmth spread across his chest. How had he forgotten about that? More important, what else had he forgotten when it came to their friendship? He’d blocked most of it out when he left for college, too aware that if he held on to those memories, relived them, it would make him miss things he couldn’t have.
But was it possible for him and Jenna to pretend? To act like they did in the old days? As if life could exist simply on the orchard, and they could forget failures and pressure from the outside world? If Toby was excellent at anything, it was pretending.
Toby wiped his hands off on his shirt, then pretended to click an umbrella open and duck under it. “Want to come under here with me?”
She braced her free hand on the counter. “Those days are over. You and I both know that.” Her voice shook.
He dropped his hands from his imaginary umbrella. Why didn’t she trust him? “Jenna? What happened? What—?”
“I should go check on my dad.” She set down her knife and made to leave.
“Hey, stay.” Toby caught her arm and gently let his hand slide down to encircle her wrist. “Stay with me.”
She focused on where his fingers wrapped around her. For a moment, he thought she was going to shove away from him. Instead she studied his hand as if she were a scientist looking through a microscope at a new life-form.
Toby playfully swung her arm between them. “You okay?”
“That.” She licked her lips. “You grabbing me. It should bother me. Why doesn’t it bother me?”
He didn’t understand what she meant, but he was glad she wasn’t upset with him. Toby took a deep breath. “Tell me about your dad. That’s where we started before the conversation got derailed.”
She twisted to lean against the counter, lightly pulling out of his hold. “He has trouble sleeping. His hands tremble. Six months ago, I didn’t know much about MS, and now I feel like I’m an encyclopedia for it.”
“I’m sorry.” That her dad had an illness. That she was the only family he had, the only one who could shoulder taking care of him long-term. That she’d be alone someday after her dad passed. That her life had been upended by it all.
He was sorry for all of it. But he didn’t have to explain. She got it.
“He was diagnosed seven years ago.” Her shoulders sagged. “He kept that from me. From everyone. If he had told me when he started feeling bad, I would have left school. I could have left before my sophomore year. Before...” Her gaze sought his, desperate for encouragement. “He was suffering quietly that whole time, and I missed it. How did I miss it?”
“Hey.” He clamped his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this or made it worse. You have to believe that, or else questioning it will eat you alive.”
“You were so young.” She looked at the ground. “With Ben.”
Even fifteen years later, he couldn’t talk about Ben. Didn’t want to. Not even with Jenna.
Toby’s arm slacked. “Don’t worry about the motorized wheelchair. I get what it means to you...why it’s such a hard thing. But I’ll help. I’ll build a ramp into the house this weekend.”
Jenna’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t even think about that. I should probably move his bedroom downstairs, too.”
Toby mapped out their farmhouse in his mind. “Yes, the bedroom can go into his office. That’s a great idea.”
“And we’ll move out the rugs and install some handrails.” The first real smile lit up her face. It brought life to her blue eyes, along with the excitement and freedom he was used to seeing there. He’d counted on these expressions from her. She was his beacon of hope, his best friend. Back again. If only for the span of a few heartbeats.
Toby’s heart twisted. He’d do anything to get her to smile more around him. “We’ll make that place safe for him.”
“Thank you.” She eased away from the counter. “I really should head in and check on him. I’ll talk to him about moving his room downstairs.”
“I’ll finish the cider and head back out to the orchard.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tree line. “It looks like there’s going to be a great harvest. You’ve worked hard here, all on your own. You’re a strong woman, Jenna. I hope you know that.”
She tossed down the dishrag and muttered, “If only that was true.”
He opened his mouth to argue with her, but Jenna headed toward the door. She glanced over her shoulder as she exited. “Bring the cider to dinner. You’re welcome to join us around five.”
“I’ll have Kasey.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
“Kasey’s welcome, too. I want to meet her.”
“Then we’ll be there.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_98550ae5-a5f6-556f-b265-2354cf82ddd1)
Jenna dumped chunks of mushrooms into the skillet, followed by a chopped onion and a handful of fresh thyme, pressed garlic, and a dash of salt and pepper. The mixture popped and sizzled in the hot pan, and the earthy aroma from the blend of seasonings made her mouth water. She’d skipped lunch again, hadn’t she? Not intentionally. She’d just gotten busy. Jenna rolled her shoulders once. There was way too much to get done before their orchard opened to the public next weekend.
Dad clanked a cup with a plate as he set the table.
She pivoted to watch his movements. How long until he couldn’t move at all? Until he lost his sight? Until...?
She had to stop. Those thoughts weren’t helpful. More often than not, his gait was jerky and his arms volleyed between the extremes of shaky and stiff, robotic. He tried to hide it. Tried to quell her worries. But watching him made fear claw through her stomach all the same.
Jenna tightened her grip on the skillet’s handle.
Not my dad. Don’t do this to him. Why is this happening? Why don’t You care?
She absently scraped the spatula through the mushrooms. “You don’t have to do that,” she said to her father.
“I’m perfectly capable of setting a table.” He had four more glasses tucked between his arm and chest.
Another clank.
Jenna raised her eyebrows but then took in a deep breath. Even though she wanted to march across the kitchen and pull the cups from his hands, she forced her feet to stay by the oven. It didn’t do to argue with him. It just made his face fall, as if he thought she wanted to hurt him. He didn’t get it. She was trying to take care of him, make his life easier, and trying to tax him as little as possible so he’d live longer. Why couldn’t he see that?
“Jenna, I’m fine.”
He moved to set down the next cup and lost hold of it. The glass smacked the edge of the heavy butcher-block-style tabletop, rocketed toward the ground and shattered. He made a late move to try to catch the glass, which sent a second cup down the same path of destruction.
Shards shot around the room like a firecracker going off.
“Oh, dear.” Dad gripped the back of the chair and hung his head.
“I’ll get it. Don’t move.” Jenna lurched forward, but smoke curled from the skillet. She needed to take out the mushrooms and put the fillets in, or else dinner would be ruined. But Dad was barefoot and shouldn’t be near the glass. He couldn’t drop to his knees and clean the mess up either, because it would be too hard for him to get back up off the floor.
She’d have to do it. And figure out how to salvage dinner later.
Although truthfully, all she felt like doing was crying or screaming. Both at once didn’t sound so bad. Watching her father deteriorate piece by piece each day felt as if someone was slowly puncturing the deepest parts of her heart, creating holes where hope and faith leaked out of her life. Drip by drip. Never to return.
The back door opened. Toby’s gaze went from the pile of glass on the ground to Jenna’s face. He held up a hand to block the child following behind him and then the other one to Jenna so she wouldn’t move. He mouthed, “Let me,” as he set a jug of fresh cider on the counter. Jenna nodded. She quickly dumped the mushrooms onto a waiting plate but decided to hold off on adding the fillet medallions until the chaos in the kitchen subsided.
Toby smiled at Dad, an understanding passing between them, and then turned toward the small girl. What struck Jenna most was that Kasey looked like a carbon copy of Toby’s cousin, Sophia. Her family used to visit the Holcombs every summer. Sophia had even stayed at Jenna’s house for a few girls’-night sleepovers. Kasey and her mother shared identical long, dark hair and striking green eyes.
Toby dropped to one knee and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, Kase, I’m going to help Mr. Crest, but first I want you to meet a really good friend of mine.” He pointed toward Jenna. “This lady’s put up with me since she was younger than you are. Isn’t that wild?”
Kasey’s chin sank to her chest, and she inched closer to Toby.
He wrapped his arm around her. “It’s okay. These are good people. The best. So you don’t have to be afraid, all right? You already know Mr. Crest.” He gestured toward the man.
Dad waved, and despite the heap of glass at his feet, a genuine smile warmed his tanned face. “Hey there, pumpkin. I was wondering when you’d come and visit me again.”
Toby smiled a thank you and then moved so that he and Kasey were facing Jenna. Jenna got down to one knee, too, and summoned the warmest smile she had.
“This is Jenna. I know you’re going to love her.” Toby smoothed a hand down Kasey’s hair. “Because she’s my best friend in the whole world.”
Jenna’s breath caught, and it suddenly felt like everything in the room had turned and slammed into her chest. She’s my best friend in the whole world. Why would Toby say something like that? Of course, he was trying to make Kasey feel comfortable around her, Jenna got that. But he shouldn’t lie to her. Children were perceptive, more so than most people realized. She’d been older—fifteen—when Mom died, but people had lied to her to try to make her feel better, too. It never worked. Once the grieving kid figured out someone they trusted lied, then they started to question everything. Or learned to pull inward. Neither were good choices.
Kasey’s shy gaze met Jenna’s and then skittered away, back to Toby’s face. “She’s really pretty,” Kasey whispered to her guardian.
Toby rose to his feet, and his eyes found Jenna’s. “You’re right. She is.”
Jenna opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Why was Toby torturing her? He knew how to say the right things to get what he wanted. That’s all he was doing. If only she’d figured that out back when she was a teenager. From the age of nine or ten up until seventeen, Jenna had pictured herself marrying him. Toby had been her hero. Her everything, if she was being honest. Until he’d made a fool of her, led the school in mocking her and then left.
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t live near him. But their lives intertwined now. If she didn’t need help on the orchard and with Dad, and if Toby didn’t have Kasey and need a place to stay, she’d tell him to leave. Forever. But she did need help, and Kasey needed a home. Jenna was stuck.
As if someone had squeezed a corset around her waist, Jenna’s lungs felt tight and boxed in. She forced out a breath and held her hand toward Kasey. “I could really use help with dinner.”
Toby pressed on the child’s back, and she tiptoed over and slipped her fingers into Jenna’s. Kasey’s hand was so tiny it made Jenna’s heart constrict.
“Do you like to cook?” Jenna asked.
“Yes,” Kasey answered shyly.
Toby spared them a warm, soft smile and then turned toward her father.
“Hang tight, Mr. Crest. I’ll dig you out.”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t know how it happened. Sorry to burden you all.”
Toby crossed to the closet that held all the cleaning supplies. Evidently, even after ten years, he still remembered where they kept everything. “Not at all. Like all boys, I secretly wanted to be a fireman when I was younger, and you’re helping me live out my dream.” He pretended to push up sleeves, even though he was wearing a crisp navy blue T-shirt. “Commencing rescue mission.” He bent over and swept up the majority of the shards before moving onto his hands and knees with damp paper towels. “I think the glassware companies have some sort of conspiracy going. They need us to break their stuff so we buy more.” He moved the chair and hunted for pieces under the table.
Dad chuckled. “Of course. They implant them with invisible computer chips, and they’re programmed to jump out of our hands after a certain time of ownership passes.”
“Exactly.” Toby crawled toward the pantry and deposited more glass into the trash can.
Charm might as well have been Toby’s middle name, especially where her father was concerned. He’d always had a soft spot for her childhood friend, and their latest interaction reminded Jenna why. If she weren’t determined to dislike Toby, his tender kidding with Dad would have warmed her heart.
Too bad she didn’t care about anything having to do with Toby.
Jenna pulled a chair over and then fished a spare apron out of the linen drawer. She looped it over Kasey’s head. “I’ve got red potatoes in the Crock-Pot, and it’s just about time to mash them. Think you could do that?”
Kasey nodded. “I’m really good at mashing.”
“I thought you might be.” Jenna winked at her as she offered Kasey a hand to climb up onto the chair. She unplugged the Crock-Pot and pulled it closer. After she adjusted all the ingredients so they were within Kasey’s reach, she explained when to add the butter, cream and seasonings and told her to go ahead and mash away.
Toby finished cleaning the floor and had Dad settled around the same time that Jenna finished the steak medallions. She plated the mashed potatoes and meat, covering both with the mushroom cream sauce.
Toby moved Kasey to the table, then sidled up beside Jenna. “Smells great.” His arm brushed against hers. “I forgot what a good cook you are.”
She twisted, shoving two plates into his hands. “Try it before you rave about it.”
“Don’t need to.” Toby placed a plate in front of Dad and the other before Kasey. “The smell alone is better than anything I’ve had in years.”
Jenna rinsed off her hands before she brought the other two plates to the table. Toby was in the seat next to hers, his arm hooked over the back of her chair. She had to lean close to set a plate in his spot. He smelled clean—she caught a hint of cedar—and his hair was still a bit damp from a recent shower. She finally dropped down into her seat. They had shared many meals around this table, sitting in the same places, knees nudging whenever they needed to share a secret joke or convey something without her parents noticing.
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