Page 186 of Love in Riverbend
“Forget it. I’ll call someone else.”
“No. No. What can I do for you? Is this about the Dunn farm?”
“No.” I’d rather not think about that right now. “I need some advice.” Before he could make another asinine comment, I go on, “I want to take Devan away for the weekend. I want someplace special.”
“You’re asking me because Kandace has told you what a great romantic I am, right?”
“No, asshole. I’m asking you because Kandace seems to be putting up with you and your shit, so you must be doing something right.”
Dax laughs. “A few months ago, when we found out Kandace was pregnant, we went down to West Baden. It was a great weekend. Although, they book up fast, especially this time of year.”
West Baden Spring Hotel.
I hadn’t thought of it.
The hotel is famous and historic. Some even say it’s haunted.
“I’ll give them a shot,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Hey,” Dax says. “This caring about someone looks good on you. Don’t blow it.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I’m trying not to. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
As soon as I hang up and I pull into our farm near our garages, I look up West Baden Springs Hotel and click the website.
Chapter 31
Devan
Justin and I talk throughout the week, but we don’t see one another until Thursday’s softball game. I spend my week slammed with creating lesson plans and integrating the changes the science department has adopted. Instead of working at the school, I’ve taken full advantage of Mom’s old craft room—my new office. I have a beautiful view of the fields and a great breeze if I move out to the back patio.
Being a visual person, I outline the assignment, complete it, create and practice an associated hands-on experiment, and then type my notes in detail. I’m sure not everyone is putting this effort into their lesson plans, but it isn’t their first year of teaching either.
Justin has been busy too. While his fields are all planted, there is constant work with irrigation, fertilization, and fumigation. He told me a horror story about an infestation of seed-corn maggots not long after he graduated Purdue. From a science perspective, I’m fascinated with the fortitude of the seed-corn maggot. There are no treatments to rescue a corn crop after infestation. Their eggs hatch in two to four days with four to five generations per year. Their rapid regeneration would be a model if they weren’t so destructive. From a farming perspective, I remember when the last infestation happened. Since there’s no treatment, infected corn must be tilled over and replanted. The adding of beneficial nematodes has shown to be helpful, but this must be done at the time of planting.
I’m impressed with how much Justin knows about the land.
He says he’s not willing to lose another crop to the seed-corn maggots. Knowing that increased moisture can trigger the perfect environment for the devastating insects, and that our area had increased precipitation this past spring, Justin and his dad added the nematodes before planting.
The nematodes are basically worms that help to regulate the populations of other soil organisms. Some of the farms who didn’t add the beneficial worms are seeing the maggots.
Tilling entire fields, adding nematodes, and replanting is not only expensive, it delays the crop’s development, moving harvest to later in the year. That creates a whole new list of issues. The good news is that the Sheerses’ corn is healthy. Justin said Dad and Ricky’s crop is too. Justin may have taken credit for convincing Ricky to add the nematodes. It’s not something I plan to ask my brother.
At Thursday’s game, Justin makes the same climb, kissing me before the first pitch. It seems like there are fewer eyes upon us. Unfortunately, for Thursday’s game, the good-luck kisses don’t pay off. Trevor, a nearby town, wins by a score of seven to four.
Now it is Friday, and I’m excited for our weekend away.
All I know about where we’re going is to pack a few dresses for dinner, a bathing suit for the spa and pool, and…
Justin says no other clothing is required.
For the record, I pack more than he requested. I pack a nightgown that I picked up in a boutique in Indianapolis when Jill and I went to drop off some of her things off at Todd’s apartment one afternoon. I also pack underwear because of Justin’s fair warning about consequences in announcing I’m not wearing any.
After Justin informed me that we had reservations for a weekend away, I did the adult thing and told my mom the truth. To my surprise, she took it better than I anticipated. She said I’ve lived on my own—with Marilyn—for four years. She accepts that I’m not a child and to please let her know when we arrive safely.
It’s almost five thirty in the afternoon when through the living room windows, I see the dust cloud on our lane coming from Justin’s truck. To be honest, I’ve thought so much about this weekend, I’m about ready to jump out of my own skin.
My packed bags are waiting by the door, and I’m dressed in the same sundress I wore the night we went to the quarry.
