His father had not been subtle about his desire for Luke to settle down, give him grandsons to carry on the family name, and run the farm. Hannie would’ve been the perfect match for him. A good churchgoing girl. Strong Dutch heritage. Just what his father wanted for Luke.
But Hannie had chosen him.
He looked out the window again. There she was. His stomach did a funny little swoop, and he ran a hand through his hair.
His wife was home.
“THESE ARE AMAZING.” Hannie took another bite and closed her eyes. “It’s like eating heaven.”
Gerrit nodded to himself. The leftover clam chowder had been uninspiring, but the éclairs were going over better than he’d hoped.
Hannie licked frosting from her lips. “If we had these at the shop, we’d have to turn customers away.”
Well now. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “They’re pretty good for my first try, I guess.”
She laughed. “They’re delicious. And you look like that rooster I saw when I was coming in, strutting around like that.”
A chuckle stalled out in his throat. He’d completely forgotten about Bernard. He hadn’t realized the psychotic creature had shown back up after running George off the property.
“Uh . . . rooster?”
“Yeah, he was sitting on the fence and acting like he owned the place. He must’ve escaped from somewhere.”
A small bead of frosting clung to her chin. He stared at it, struck by the smoothness of her skin and how it was the color of thick cream. How her dark rose blouse brought out the pink in her cheeks. Could she really be nearly sixty? Looking at her, it was almost as if they were in their twenties again, sneaking kisses in the barn and skinny-dipping in the river by moonlight.
Gerrit’s eyes moved from her chin to her lips, and something long forgotten twinged in his chest.
He stilled.
Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it.
The distraction brought a flood of both relief and disappointment. He shook himself free from the desire to kiss her.
“That’s strange.” Hannie indicated a text message on her phone. “Agatha seems to think that rooster is ours.”
Right. Bernard. He’d forgotten again. What would be the best way to break the news?
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Her crow’s feet appeared as she laid her phone on the table. “You have that look on your face.”
He had no idea what look that was, but he’d never get away with lying. She was way too smart for that, and he knew better than to mess with the crow’s feet.
“Tell me we don’t own a rooster, Gerrit.”
He picked up an éclair and studied it with great interest. “He needed a good home. He was free.”
She sank a little deeper in her chair. “And what are we going to do with him?”
“I don’t know yet. Rae found him.”
“Rae again, huh? So this is her fault?”
“Uh . . .”
“Is it true the rooster attacked George?”
Attacked was a strong word. The dumb fowl was in a panic, and George happened to be in the way. It wasn’t Bernard’s fault George had come over uninvited at precisely the wrong time.
“Not exactly.”
“What is it with you and George? This isn’t still about the money, is it?”
Gerrit’s jaw clenched.
“I can’t believe this.” Hannie huffed. “That was years ago. Why do you keep insisting on causing trouble?”
He blinked. He didn’t want to cause trouble. Did he? “I . . . uh . . .”
“Here.” She went and grabbed a paper plate from a drawer in the kitchen and placed the remaining éclairs on it. “You can bring the rest of these to him as a peace offering.”
Gerrit stared at the plate. No way was he going over there to grovel. George was the one who wouldn’t stop bragging about his grandbaby. George was the one who came running over without warning. He’d been trying to make Gerrit’s life miserable for years. Ever since . . .
“Fine.” Hannie sighed. “I’ll do it myself.”
Daisy followed Hannie out the back door, and Gerrit jumped when it slammed shut with a bang. Why did it feel like no matter what he did, he was letting someone down? He thought of his earlier conversation with Noah. “I don’t know, Dad,” he’d said. “But if Evi decides to go, I’ll try to make it.” When had he become someone who had to beg his own children to visit him? He would call his daughter again tomorrow.
A piece of paper on the counter caught his eye. The volunteer application for the Community Hope program. He snatched it up. The look that Morgan kid had given him, the one that said he’d given up expecting anything from anyone . . . it reminded him of Evi.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Hannie stood in the hall in a floral dress, her shoulder-length hair curled. Her red open-toed shoes matched her purse and made Gerrit wonder what she would think if she could see the state of his bare feet. He’d need a chisel to trim up his toenails. That was if his back was having a good day and he could even reach his toes.
She looked like one of the bouquets from her shop. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It’s Easter Sunday.”
He glanced down at the clothes he was wearing. Everything he owned looked disheveled and misshapen. She had mentioned they would need to go shopping if he was going to be out and about in public, but it hadn’t happened.
He shook his head. “I’ve got to read the paper yet.”
“You can read the newspaper anytime.” She stared at him with reproach. “It might do you some good to go back to church, you know.”
Ha. Little did she know he’d been in a church only two days ago. It certainly hadn’t done him any good.
She eyed his wrinkled shirt. “There’s got to be something decent in this house you could wear.”
There wasn’t.
