Page 33 of Make it Real
“Jed? Innocent?” June joined us and settled onto a couch. “I don’t buy it.”
“That ship sailed a long time ago.” Ty took his place at her side.
Wasn’t sure I’d seen them more than three feet apart since their engagement.
A few seconds later, the rest of the clan filed in and found seats. Pop and Marilyn had us over every couple of weeks, alternating with her two grown daughters and their families. Our newly blended clan’d had dinner together twice, but the house really wasn’t big enough for the full Brady Bunch experience.
“I’d defend myself, but I know how to pick my battles.” I hadn’t had much innocence about me in years.
Pop eased into his recliner, working one shoulder in circles and rubbing at his muscles. Speaking of picking battles.
I couldn’t say how long Pop spent in the orchards each day, but I always showed up early and still found him either out in the trees or doing walk-throughs at the roadside store. Today, I’d found him up a ladder picking fruit, right where I didn’t want him to be. He wasn’t infirm, but he sure did a lot of manual labor for a man who claimed he wanted to retire.
“Let me handle the harvesting, Pop. No sense you being out in the trees at seven in the morning.” We employed a couple of people, but we’d generally accounted for all of us pitching in to get through the season. As Pop stepped back, I figured we’d have to adjust. If he ever stepped back, that was.
He went on digging his fingers into his flesh as though a couple minutes of massage could undo years of repetitive stress on his shoulders. “That’s what happens when you only live steps from your job. You could have the same set-up if you wanted it.”
The hope in that man’s voice made my heart hurt.
On the opposite end of the orchards from Pop’s house lay a secluded parcel of land he and mom had set aside for the next generation to take over. Wade and June had gone off and done their thing, but I’d found my way back to the farm. Here I was, the next generation, and that land still waited. And now, Pop was waiting on me.
Some days, it was like I had the weight of the whole two acres sitting across my back, urging me to act. I’d never thought empty land could be the source of so much pressure.
“It’s pretty out there, but I’m not ready to think about house plans and sewer lines just yet.”
Building a house on that land meant forever, and I wasn’t sure yet I knew the definition of the word. I wanted to keep working on the farm, but living on it signaled an all-new commitment I didn’t know if I could keep.
“You’ll get there.”
Felt like unfounded optimism to me.
The boys slipped off my lap and flopped on their bellies to play with die cast cars. Maisie crawled across the floor to them, blowing raspberries at an impressive volume. Wait—no. Wrong end making that sound.
Wade and Annie exchanged a look. He tilted his head toward the baby, she lifted an eyebrow in return.
“All right, I’m on it.” He scooped Maisie up and tucked her beneath his arm. Seemed a dangerous position to be in, but he’d made his choices. Grabbing the diaper bag he’d left by the door, he disappeared upstairs.
Annie scooted closer to June on the couch. “How’s the whirlwind wedding planning?”
My cue to tune out.
They talked for a while, throwing out words likerustic,vintage, andlace, but it all washed over me like a bee buzzing in my ear. Or maybe that was just the tinnitus. I’d pitch in when they needed physical help, but nobody would turn to me for opinions on wedding decor or dress styles. Lord willing.
“Just tell me when you want to clear out your barn,” I said to Ty. Figured he wouldn’t be much needed in their conversation, either.
“I think closer to the wedding. I’ll nail something down with Booker and text you.”
“Text me about it, too, won’t you, Ty?” Marilyn said. “I’d still like to invite my daughter’s friend to help out.”
Her eyes cut to me. A sigh worked through my ribcage, emptying my lungs from the top down. At least she’d be easy to read if we ever played poker together.
“She’s a real nice woman,” Pop put in, no longer dancing around their goal. “She’d be worth meeting.”
June glanced from me to him, and understanding dawned. “Oh, Pop, I don’t think my wedding’s the time to try to find Jed’s true love. I want things to stay casual and low-stress.”
I appreciated that she had my back. “Kind of wish you’d said that sooner. I already got a date.”
It’d been a joke, a light-hearted way to let that cat out of the bag, but all five of them stared at me, mouths open. Might as well have declared I’d won the lottery. Or had leprosy.
