Moonlight Kiss

right out of your life. Remember that, okay?”

“I will.”

“Hey, try to unwind and get a good night’s sleep before you start your adventure.”

When Addison returned to her condo to pack, she wasn’t quite sure what kind of adventure she’d find in a small town in Kentucky, a state she hadn’t visited unless you count going to the Kentucky Derby a few times. But, seriously, at this point maybe she should think about having an un-adventure.

She smiled softly. She’d witnessed strength from her mother and compassion from her father and only hoped that she had absorbed a little from each parent. They loved her unconditionally, and for that she would be forever grateful. After a determined lift of her chin Addison squared her shoulders. “No more whining,” she announced sternly. “Ah . . . and speaking of wine . . .” She searched her cabinet and found a bottle of merlot.

A few minutes later Addison sat down on the sofa and sipped the rich wine. Her mood was an odd combination of excitement and sadness mixed with a little bit of fear. It was an emotional cocktail that made her feel a bit off-kilter. She sipped and pondered about her life.

Her cell phone was sitting on the glass coffee table . . . silent. Addison stared at it for a moment and couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed that Garret hadn’t called and tried to smooth things over. Not that it would change her mind at this point, but it stung a bit that she was so easily dismissed without a real fight. Was Garret at a bar right this minute, hitting on women, or home alone, missing her? But when Addison envisioned his sad face she leaned forward, set her glass down, and almost picked up the phone with the intention of calling him just to see if he was okay.

“Stop!” Addison said so loudly that her voice seemed to bounce off the walls and echo in the silence. “Garret’s well-being is no longer my concern!” Glaring at the phone as if it were somehow to blame, she sat back against the sofa so fast that she bounced against the cushion. Addison wished she had a girlfriend to confide in, but she’d lost contact with her high school friends after the move to LA and her college friends were now scattered all over the country, many of them married with a child or two.

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, she had the suspicion that laughter would dissolve into tears and so she simply sat there, looked around her condo, and frowned. While she paid rent, the building actually belonged to her mother and father. The furnishings were gorgeous but courtesy of an interior designer friend of her mother’s and not a reflection of Addison’s taste. But the decorating had been a birthday surprise, and her mother, who loved bold colors, gushed over the results while she tugged Addison in and out of every room. Addison didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that she would have preferred something lighter, softer, with a few antiques scattered here and there.

After another sip of wine, Addison picked up a jewel-toned pillow, hugged the silky material to her chest, and thought about, well . . . just about everything. She knew that in spite of the breakup she had a nice life. Loving parents, no financial worries, excellent health, and a solid education, and she really did enjoy working at Beauty and the Beat. On a daily basis life went smoothly. In fact, the broken engagements were the only traumas she really suffered and, like her father said, in truth were for the best. She had an even, easygoing temperament and avoided confrontation. She rarely cursed, drank socially but moderately, and her political views were pretty much middle-of-the-road. She just simply went with the flow. . . .

“Oh my God!” Addison suddenly tossed the pillow aside and put a hand to her chest. “I’m not nice. . . . I’m boring!” Oh, she listened, she laughed, and was entertained by others, but who did she entertain? No wonder Garret liked being with her: He wanted an audience and she was perfect. No one felt passionate about her because she wasn’t . . . exciting. And then another thought hit her: “Oh my God. I bet I suck in bed!” When Garret wanted to role-play one night Addison had simply laughed, but now she wished she had put on the maid’s outfit or whatever it was he had suggested. She didn’t even remember because she hadn’t considered his request and he’d never brought it up again.

I’d likely fit right in in a sleepy little river town like Cricket Creek, Kentucky, she thought with a snort before polishing off the rest of the wine in her glass. Seriously, what kind of excitement happened in a town named after water and an insect? Uncle Mitch said it was lovely, but she suddenly had her doubts. She pictured people sitting on front porches, rocking in big rockers, drinking sweet tea, and watching grass grow. She envisioned potbellied men wearing overalls and boots while spitting tobacco and sipping on moonshine.

“I’m sure not going to find Prince Charming in Cricket Creek, Kentucky,” she insisted, and decided she needed one more glass of merlot. Raising her glass she said, “Perfect. I’m done with men, anyway. Un-adventure, here I come.”

3 Amarillo Sky

AFTER WIPING SWEAT FROM HIS BROW, REID REACHED FOR another bale of hay and tossed it onto the flatbed trailer. Back in Lexington he’d gone to the gym on a regular basis, but this farmwork was kicking his butt. He flicked a glance at his sister, Sara, who stood there with her hands on her hips, staring at him. Then again, maybe it was frustration that was making him overheat.

“Stop ignoring me.” Sara flipped her long brown braid over her shoulder and took a step closer to him.

Reid threw the next bale onto the trailer with more force than necessary. It landed with a thud, sending straw flying. Sopping up more sweat with his sleeve, he turned to face her. “Weddings, Sara? Are you kidding me? First you turn the family farm into Old MacDonald’s for schoolkids, and now you want to host barn weddings? What’s next? A circus?”

“You have a lot of nerve.” Sara stepped closer and poked Reid in the chest. She was one of two people on earth who could get away with it. His mother was the other one. Reid braced himself for what was coming. “After back-to-back years of drought on top of the recession, we nearly lost everything. But you were off in Lexington, sitting in your fancy office.”

“I have a degree in finance. I thought it was important to use it, just like you used your degree in teaching.”

“Yeah, it was, until I was needed here!” Sara swung her arm in an arc. “Jeff put his music career on hold when times got tough. Braden came home from college, and I came back when the stress of it all gave Dad a heart attack and turned Mom into a worrywart. But oh no, you? You stayed in your . . . your ivory tower.”

“I was working hard, earning a living,” Reid responded tightly. “Sara, you gave up tenure, health benefits, and your retirement when you quit teaching third grade. Maybe not the smartest decision you could have made. This Old MacDonald’s thing is making money, but not enough. And for how long? Jeff making it as a country singer is a long shot at best. And Braden? In my opinion he should have finished college! Look, profitable farms are run by huge corporations. The days of family farms are numbered. It’s just the sad truth.”

“Oh, really?” Sara flipped her braid so hard that this time it came all the way around to smack her in the opposite cheek. “Tell that to the people of Cricket Creek. This entire town was going under until we banded together and turned things around. Some things, no matter how high the mountain, are worth the climb. Maybe you just don’t get it. Not everything has to add up nice and neat like your God almighty numbers.” She kicked her toe in the dirt sending dust flying. “Don’t you care, Reid?”

Guilt smacked Reid in the gut so hard that he took a physical step backward. “Numbers speak the truth, Sara. I saw Mom and Dad struggle year after year, working their fingers to the bone, only to barely keep their heads above water. The price of equipment soared. Interest rates were sky-high. Scientific methods in farming rapidly changed. And then the government swooped in with regulations that strangled family farms. Why would I want to live a life like that? Twelve-hour days but with very little profit? Uncertain future? No vacation?” Reid shook his head. “Look what it did to Dad! What’s the damned point?”

Sara tapped her own chest. “Because farming is in our blood. It has been for generations and so has this land.”

Reid sighed. “I understand. That’s why most farmers work other jobs just to support and hold on to the farm. And most of them are Dad’s age. It’s no wonder his health suffered. Sara, I’ve done my research. Did you