“Let me help you with that.” He leaned in close and tried to reach into her basket while keeping the pile of groceries balanced in his arms.
He failed.
The eggs were the first to go. Then the cinnamon.
The old woman startled and put a hand to her chest. “Oh my.”
He let the rest of the pile tumble onto the grocery belt, not caring if his butter got mixed up with her yogurt, then surveyed the damage. The carton of eggs had landed on its side so that the eggs not only cracked open but also rolled onto the floor. The cinnamon landed on its feet, unscathed.
He pulled a Pepsi from the cooler, twisted off the cap, and took a swig.
DAISY WAS NOT impressed when Gerrit finally opened the passenger side door and set his grocery bags on the floor in front of her. That was more than five minutes, she seemed to say.
He slammed the door. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He went to walk around the front of the truck to the driver’s side but then stopped short. A tall man in a bright blue windbreaker was stumbling down the sidewalk, his back to Gerrit. And Gerrit knew only one person in Greenville who would be wandering around in a blue jacket, drunk before four in the afternoon.
“Jakob.”
The man came to a swaying halt. No good could come of this. Gerrit was not prepared to face his younger brother, and Jakob was clearly not prepared to have a coherent conversation. But the image of that blue-and-white suitcase taunted Gerrit, and he held his ground.
Jakob turned to look at him, blinking against the brightness of the sun. Gerrit gestured at the empty sidewalk next to him. Inebriated as he was, Jakob took the hint and staggered over, suspicion trembling all over his haggard face.
“I see you’re putting the farm money to good use.”
Jakob’s eyes narrowed. “Iss my money.”
“That I worked for.”
“I worked.”
“When did you ever—?” A young mom pushing a stroller along the sidewalk turned to look when Gerrit’s voice rose, so he cut himself off. He scrubbed a hand over his face, lowering his voice. “You didn’t deserve a penny of that payout.”
A fire lit in Jakob’s glazed-over eyes. He shook his head. “You don’t know nothin’ ’bout it.”
Gerrit’s own words. Their father’s words. His chest burned.
“I know I kept the farm going after Luke died. After Dad died.”
“You mean after you killed him?”
Something snapped in Gerrit’s brain. He pushed Jakob up against the truck and held him there with a forearm to the throat. “Don’t you talk about him.”
“Get offa me!” Jakob struggled against Gerrit’s arm, adrenaline shaking some of the fuzziness from his speech. “’Less you want another assault charge.”
Jakob had been sixteen that time Gerrit punctured his thigh with a hay hook. Criminal assault on a minor. He’d just returned home from college and found Jakob napping on a haystack while Luke and their father broke their backs in the summer heat trying to keep the corn from dying in record high temperatures. Jakob ran crying to their father, just like he always did. Gerrit escaped with a two-thousand-dollar fine after pleading guilty.
He took a step back, releasing his brother. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Jakob glared and jabbed a finger in his face. “Fine by me.”
He hobbled away. Gerrit watched him go, fists balled up tight. Then he got in the Dodge and slowly, deliberately pulled on his seat belt and started the truck. He sat like that, engine idling, staring out the windshield for a long minute.
Well.
He’d promised Hannie he’d talk to Jakob, and he had.
Beside him, Daisy whined.
He finally stopped staring out the window and forced his shoulders down. He glanced at the dog.
“I won’t tell her if you won’t.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
That must be Bernard.” Evi nodded at the rooster, strutting down the driveway as if he were the grand marshal of a parade. “Mom told me about him.”
Gerrit cut his eyes toward the creature. “Bernard the Terrible.”
“Is he that bad?”
He shrugged and tried to smile. “He’s growing on me.”
Hannie would be rushing out of the house to greet their daughter any minute. Meanwhile, Gerrit stood awkwardly in front of Evi, unable to move. The sight of her pulling into the driveway had been like the sun rising on a winter morning, bringing light and life to an otherwise dreary world. But when she’d climbed out of her car and looked at him, he’d barely been able to think, much less speak.
“Can I take your bag?”
She looked down at the small duffel in her hand. “No. Thanks.”
Another car turned in, and relief flashed across Evi’s smooth, fair face. Noah. Finally, Hannie came bursting from the house, grinning from ear to ear.
“Why didn’t you tell me they were here?” She shot Gerrit an accusatory glance.
“I—”
She grabbed Evi in a hug, then held her at arm’s length and took her in. “I love your haircut. It’s adorable.”
Before Evi could respond, Noah was out of his car. A greeting stuck in Gerrit’s throat as he fidgeted with his hands, unsure whether to offer a handshake or what. But Hannie didn’t hesitate.
“Speaking of haircuts, looks like you need one,” she chided their son as she opened her arms.
Noah accepted Hannie’s hug, then ran a hand through his shaggy locks. “I like it like this.”
Gerrit grunted. Noah looked like a hippie, but he could hardly say anything. His own hair was brushing the back of his neck and curling into his ears. He should’ve gotten it trimmed up before the kids came. He glanced at Evi from the corner of his eye to see if she was surprised by Noah’s hair, but she was staring at the pony barn
