She took a step back and turned away. “I’m going to work in the flower beds until it’s ready.”
His shoulders relaxed.
THE SAUCE WAS lumpy, the noodles mushy. Gerrit ate with his head down, occasionally sneaking a peek at Hannie’s plate out of the corner of his eye. She was eating it, as far as he could tell.
“The salmon’s good,” she said.
He sat up straighter. “I bought the freshest package I could find.”
She nodded, covering up another yawn. “I used to get it all the time. The kids loved it.”
He considered mentioning they could hardly be called kids anymore but took a drink of milk instead. Evi was, what, twenty-nine? No. She was thirty! When had that happened? And Noah was twenty-seven. The milk turned sour in his stomach. When was the last time he’d seen them? Spoken to them?
“We should invite the kids over for Memorial Day weekend.”
Hannie gaped. “Our kids?”
He swallowed. “I’ll cook.”
She set her fork down and opened her mouth twice before speaking. “They’re very busy.”
He gripped his own fork with unnecessary force, trying to picture Evi and Noah at the square wooden table, all of them eating together like they used to.
“They don’t want to see me.”
Hannie sighed. She sure did that a lot. “Can you blame them?”
Though her tone was gentle, the words hit him like a kick from the back hoof of a Holstein. “I did the best I could.”
The muscles in her jaw tightened. “Did you?”
“It was up to me.” Luke’s face flashed in his mind. “I was the only one left.”
Hannie stood and carried her plate over to the sink. She leaned against it, looking straight ahead out the window. He watched and waited.
Her voice sounded deflated. Resigned. “You loved your cows more than you ever loved our children.”
A shock shivered up his spine. No. That wasn’t true. He loved Evi and Noah more than anything. The farm just required a lot of attention. It was a relentless, demanding place. He thought they understood. But had he ever talked to them about it? Ever tried to explain?
“I’ll barbecue ribs.” It couldn’t be as bad as Hannie seemed to think. The kids would come. “And bake a pie.”
She dumped the water out of her glass and set it on the counter, then called for Daisy. “Come on, girl. Let’s go sit on the deck for a while.”
Gerrit watched them go, clearly not invited.
It took him hours to clean up the mess he’d made in the kitchen and scrub the noodles off the bottom of the pot. At least it felt like hours. And with each minute that passed, he thought of Evi and Noah. What did he know of them anymore? He scoured his mind for details Hannie might have shared during their brief moments together over the past year.
Evi was living in Everett, working at Boeing. But what did she do there? And was she seeing anyone? He shuddered. She was a grown woman. Who knew what she was up to in that department.
And Noah. Gerrit was sure Noah still lived in Seattle. He was not sure, however, whether Noah was still attending community college, because it seemed like his school status changed every time Hannie brought it up. Taking classes, taking a break. Taking classes, taking a break. That boy didn’t appreciate the opportunity he had for higher education, the way he was dragging it out like he had all the time in the world.
He stalked through the living room to the back deck to take his turn. Hannie and Daisy had gone to bed. The last light of dusk tinged the horizon, and the air was cool. Soon an evening mist would climb the hill and cover his backyard. He could smell it. He looked down at the farm.
He hadn’t appreciated his opportunity for higher education, either. Hadn’t respected the gift he’d been given when Luke said, “I’m not cut out for college life. Besides, you’re smarter than me.” Neither of those things had been true, but regardless, Gerrit had gone to college at Luke’s insistence. In Luke’s place. He’d even had the audacity to believe things would be different when he returned. That his father would see him in a different light. Maybe even respect him.
It wasn’t until after Luke died that Gerrit learned the college fund had not come from his father at all.
“You were such a fool, Luke.” He spoke to the falling darkness and the rising mist. “Such a fool.”
Back in his recliner, he squirmed in discomfort, searching for relief for his back. He hadn’t set a single foot on the farm, but his body still felt like he’d spent the day wrestling cows. He clicked the TV on. A man with wiry eyebrows and spiky hair was making a lemon meringue pie. He whipped the meringue until it was so fluffy it looked as if it might float away.
“Now, how did he do that?”
Gerrit leaned forward. If he was going to impress his kids with his cooking on Memorial Day, he’d better start paying attention.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Rae waited by Kylee’s locker with a grin on her face.
Kylee scowled as she walked up. “I hate it when you’re perky. Especially on Monday.”
Rae liked Mondays. She got a kick out of watching her classmates drag themselves around like zombies. She wasn’t like that. She had purpose and determination.
Kylee pulled a book from her locker and shoved it in her backpack. “Why do you always have so much energy?”
Rae flinched as Kylee slammed her locker shut. “Rough day?”
“The usual.”
Rae fell into step beside Kylee as they exited the high school. They’d been best friends since Kylee’s family moved to Greenville five years ago, and Rae couldn’t remember a school day Kylee hadn’t been thoroughly disgusted with. Rae had the
