Then again, why wait until then to do something about this problem? And why only talk when action was required?
He took his time on the bushes. He even used the handheld pruning tool he found in the shed rather than the chainsaw and trimmed the bushes as naturally as possible. No sense in doing a hack job. He’d done plenty of those on the blackberry bushes constantly threatening to overtake the back forty on the farm, sometimes even driving the loader tractor out there to rip piles of briars out. But this job required more finesse.
Daisy trotted over occasionally to check on his progress, sniffing his pant leg and appearing to shrug her shoulders each time he told her to mind her own business. He was in no mood to be criticized by a dog. And a corgi at that. She hadn’t even been born back when George’s man-sized German shepherd, Pal, would leave cat-sized piles of poop at the end of their driveway that George refused to acknowledge as Pal’s.
What a punk.
After about an hour, Gerrit stepped back to admire his work. Much better. George might not even notice, but hopefully Hannie would when she saw how easy it was to pull out of the driveway tomorrow. She was going to be happy about this. He smiled to himself. He’d done her a favor, and she hadn’t even had to ask.
That was good, right?
Gerrit put the pruners back and wiped his hands on his crusty jeans.
Now what?
A cursory glance at the time revealed lunch was still over an hour away. He wandered the perimeter of the house, checking the outside seals on all the windows. Did he even deserve to eat if he didn’t put in a full day of work? They owned two acres in a part of the country where plants loved nothing more than to grow wild and free. Surely he could find a job to do.
What was Nicholsen up to on the farm? Had he remembered to check in with the breeder about next week’s AI appointments? Did he know the milk replacement formula was running low?
Gerrit shook his head. Didn’t matter. Wasn’t his problem anymore. He had other things to worry about now. There were other things to worry about, right?
With a spark of inspiration, Gerrit remembered Hannie once saying something about the dryer. It wasn’t getting clothes dry? Or did she say it was overheating? Better check it out.
Back inside, he walked with a renewed purpose now that he had a plan.
In the laundry room, he faced the dryer with his hands on his hips. “Well?”
The dryer exercised its right to remain silent. Gerrit pushed the start button and the dryer hummed to life, the drum smoothly spinning. It seemed fine. Why had Hannie complained? He put a hand on the side of the machine to feel for excessive shaking or heat and leaned closer when his fingers touched something stuck to the side.
He squinted. It was a service sticker from Frankie’s Appliance and Repair. When had she called them? He looked closer. Two years ago.
Oh.
He glared down at Daisy, who had followed him inside. “Don’t you say a word.”
She did not.
An hour passed with similar results. He either remembered or dreamed up something around the property that might need his loving care, then glared at Daisy when he found Hannie had been ten steps ahead of him. No wonder she’d been about to leave. She didn’t need him at all.
He paced back and forth in the kitchen, careful not to look out the deck window at the farm. Daisy joined him, her nails clicking on the laminate floor. Click, click, click.
“She spends a lot of time at her shop.” He rubbed his chin. “There must be something left undone at the house.”
Click, click, click.
He kicked at Daisy halfheartedly. “I can’t think with all that racket.”
She stopped.
He looked at her. “Wait a minute.” He knelt beside her. “Let me see your foot.”
Daisy whined.
“Okay, fine. Your paw.”
She lifted a paw and placed it in his outstretched hand. He ran his thumb over her nails.
“These could use a trim.”
Though his own personal hygiene regimen was nothing to write home about, he knew where the nail clippers were. In the small white cabinet above the sink. He slapped them against his palm as he surveyed the kitchen for the best light. If a man’s going to do a job well, he’s got to be able to see.
He pulled a chair from the kitchen table and swung it to rest beneath a light. “Come here, Daisy.”
She approached him, but not too close.
He waved a hand. “I said come.”
She scooted a little closer, her eyes never leaving the clippers in his hand. He huffed. How dare she distrust him?
He snagged one of her paws and studied it more closely. The nails were long, all right. She’d feel much better after he was through. With the confidence of a man long accustomed to working with animals, he slid her nail between the blades of the clippers and squeezed the lever.
A cow would never howl like that.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Rae narrowed her eyes at the bulletin board outside the counselor’s office and tapped the paper with her pen. Driver’s Ed. sign-ups. She’d waited until the last minute to add her name to the list, secretly hoping the spots would all fill up and she’d have no choice but to wait until the next session. But two blanks remained at the bottom of the page, and today was the deadline. She had no excuse.
Kylee nudged
