Page 22 of A Field of Beauty

twelve

Love is like wildflowers; it’s often found in the most unlikely places.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tessa got back on her Vespa and started to drive south on 26, a route she’d intentionally avoided for over seven years. It hadn’t changed much—still two-laned and tree-lined with a few areas to pass when you got stuck behind a slow tourist who wasn’t used to the curves. Without even thinking, she slowed as she drove into Brevard. Sure enough, there was a police officer in a car, waiting to pounce. It made her smile. Some things, like speed traps, never changed.

She stopped at the Sunrise Café, her favorite local restaurant, wishing it were open so she could buy a bagel, but it closed in the early afternoon. That, too, hadn’t changed.

She checked the time on her phone. Nearly five o’clock. Sunsets came early in these mountains, so she got back on the road. She didn’t want to be driving a Vespa on Route 26 after dark. She drove on to Sapphire. From there the road began its twistydescent. She slowed as she approached the turnoff to Sunrise and headed into town.

As she stopped at the one red light in Sunrise, her heart started pounding, her palms started sweating. She felt as if she was going through a scrapbook in her mind and not all the pictures were good. What if the neighbor still lived there? What if she were to see him?

If the neighbor did still live here, she would leave Sunrise, right away. She couldn’t stay here, not even for five minutes. Not a chance. Too hard. Too full of regrets. Stupid choices.

Then she thought of Dawson’s remark. What teenager doesn’t make mistakes?

Was forgiveness really that easy? Especially forgiving yourself?

She drove along Main Street, past Rose’s Flower Shop, slowing to notice that it had been entirely rebuilt from the fire, though it looked pretty close to the original version. Then she drove out toward her parents’ old home, arriving at the driveway minutes later. Clearly, a young family lived there now, with bicycles and toys strewn all over the front yard. Slowly, she drove past her old home to the neighbor’s house, heart pounding. She had to see if the neighbor was still there. She cut the engine as she drew close to the last stand of trees and coasted for a few yards.

The neighbor’s fixer-upper looked the same, still in need of a fix-up. But it looked empty, deserted. No lights. No signs of life. And then in the gloaming, she saw a For Sale sign out front.

She sat there for a long while, looking at the house, thinking about how narrowly she’d escaped from consequences that might’ve altered her life forever. The path in the bushes that she had made going between the two houses that year was now grown over. The property looked completely neglected. She noticed a box attached to the For Sale sign and went over to see if there were any flyers inside. One was left, so she pulled it out. It was curled on the edges and faded, but she could make out the information:Foreclosure! Selling as-is. Three full acres!

The name and phone number on the bottom line belonged to a county foreclosure center.

Tessa walked around the entire house, twice. While she was no contractor, it was obvious that this house had been vacant for a long, long time. She peered in the windows and saw leaks from the roof, puddles on the floor. A disaster.

And then Dawson’s word circled around her again.Compost.

Compost. Compost.

An idea started to blossom.

She gazed around the yard. A level lot, few trees to block sunshine. She bent down and scratched up a handful of dirt, sniffing it, squeezing it. Not bad. Not good, but much better than the soil had been at her Mountain Blooms Farm before Dawson arrived, that much she knew was for sure.

She let the dirt drop from her hand. What if she bulldozed this house that held so many dark memories? What if she turned this acreage into a new flower farm? She’d done it once. She could do it again. Something good could come out of the mess she’d left behind. The one she had run from.

If she accepted the developer’s offer, which was a decent amount, she could afford to buy the property and turn it into a farm, just like she’d done at Mountain Blooms Farm. She could rent a mobile home and haul it here to live. Mobile homes were everywhere in Sunrise.

A breeze moved the trees along the property line, and she shivered, rubbing her arms. She should’ve thought to bring a coat. It would be a cold drive back over the mountain.

Could she really do this? Buy this property?

It would mean that she’d be returning to Sunrise. Returning to Jaime and Claire. To Chris. She would need to face Rose, to tell her everything that had happened that August night. To take responsibility for it. To clean up her mess.

What would her parents say? Probably that she was lucky shehad pocket change from her year as a farmer. Her sisters would say it was time to start a real career.

But growing flowerswasTessa’s career. She knew that now more than ever. She wasn’t going to give flowers up.

She took in a deep breath. Could she do this, all alone?

She wondered if Dawson would consider joining her in this venture. It would be asking a lot of him—a move from Asheville to a tiny town.

And then there was Lovey Mitchell. She winced. Lovey was so wrong for Dawson. How could he not see that? He needed someone more like ... Tessa.

She knew she depended on Dawson heavily, but she hadn’t realized how much her feelings had been changing for him until ... it was too late.

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