Page 4 of A Field of Beauty

He wiped sweat off his brow and shook his head. “Not quite.”

The next morning, Dawson arrived at the farm and stood outside her screen door to ask for help to carry worms to the field. She didn’t believe him.

“Worms?” she said, studying his eyes to see if he was kidding. It was hard to tell with all the fur on his face, but she had learned to read his eyes. When there was a fan of crinkles on the edges of his eyes, she knew he was teasing her.

“See for yourself,” he said. “Thousands and thousands of worms. Maybe millions. They’re very successful reproducers.”

She winced, suddenly aware of a crawling sensation up her legs, inside her overalls.

“Worms are miracle workers. They eat through anything, then their castings enrich the soil.”

“Worms.”

“Don’t look so horrified. Worms are very underappreciated. Kinda like goats.”

“Where in the world did you find millions of worms?”

“Along the riverbed. Free for the taking. The government hasn’t figured out how to tax digging for worms yet.”

“Dawson! You went digging for worms? You hauled them to the farm in your truck?”

“In buckets. Not loose.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

It was a big deal. A very big deal. So sweet! She could havehugged him. He had done all this just to help her dirt be at its optimum. She was incredibly grateful to have his help. Dawson Greene was the difference between Mountain Blooms Farm surviving or thriving. Not a day went by when she didn’t thank her lucky stars for him.

Forcing her squeamishness aside, she put on gloves and boots and helped Dawson sprinkle wiggly worms all over the acre.

Finally, he was satisfied. “Now it’s ready to plant a cover crop.”

That was late August. Too late for sunflowers but just right for red clover, a type of legume. Dawson and Tessa spent a couple of days forming rows in the field for planting. Now and then she would stop and look over the tidy rows, delighted at how the field was finally starting to look like a farm that could support life.

Tessa had agreed to spend Labor Day weekend with Tyler’s family at their lake house, but when she saw Dawson arrive Saturday morning with bags of red clover seed in the bed of his truck, she couldn’t go. She hadn’t expected Dawson to work over the holiday weekend, though she should’ve known better. Farmers worked every day. At the last minute, she called Tyler to cancel, and quite frankly, she felt a little relieved to have a bona fide excuse. Spending an entire weekend with his family seemed premature for their relationship. After all, they’d only been dating a few months. And they hadn’t had a lot of dates—maybe once a week or so. Mostly, they just texted or called.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Tyler sounded nonplussed. “I was just walking out the door to head over and pick you up.”

“I’m sorry. I need to stay here and help sow seed.”

“But, Tessa, that’s why you hired the field hand. He’s getting paid to sow your seeds.”

“Farm manager, not field hand. And this is important, Tyler. We’ve worked hard to get the field ready to this point. The timing for planting is critical.”

“Honey, it’s important to me that we spend time together. Between my schedule and yours, we hardly see each other.”

“As soon as the field is planted, I’ll have more spare time. I promise.”

Tyler kept pressing. And pressing.

“Here’s an idea. You could stay and help Dawson and me sow the field.”

He coughed a laugh. “Ohhhh no. I’m no farmer. Besides, this whole weekend was about introducing you to my family. I know they’ll adore you like I do.” He wanted to show her his family’s lake house, to go canoeing and swimming and lounge on the dock, sipping iced tea. To sit around the kitchen table in the evenings and play cards and board games.

Tempting.She started to wobble. The temperature in Asheville this weekend was going to be in the midnineties, with unseasonable humidity that made it feel even hotter. The window air-conditioning unit in her carriage house had stopped working, and a weekend at a mountain lake did sound delightful. When he told her that his mother had planned a special dinner just for her, she opened her mouth to say yes.

But before the word left her mouth, in that brief pause, she happened to glance out her kitchen window. Dawson was pushing a wheelbarrow full of heavy seed bags from his truck to the field. She snapped her mouth shut. Nope. She couldn’t go. She wanted to be right here this weekend and nowhere else. “Please give your mother my apologies. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Tyler. I really am.” She braced herself, expecting him to keep up the pressure. Persistence was his middle name! It’s why she had no doubt he would have a successful life in politics.

To her surprise, Tyler backed down. “Well, darlin’, I guess this is the price a man has to pay when he’s fallen head over heels in love with a flower farmer. I’ll sure miss you. When I get back to town, we’ll go out for a nice dinner.”

She looked down at her cell phone. What just happened? Did Tyler tell her he loved her? He’d waxed poetic about destiny and lightning strikes, but he’d never mentioned love.

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