Page 17 of No More Secrets
“You’re a smart boy. No wonder you’re my favorite. Now tell your mother what she wants to know.”
“I’m not overworking her. She’s playing with Dixie and Ham right now. Joey got her up on a horse this morning, too.”
“Good. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t working her into the ground.”
“There will be some actual farm labor in her future, but I promise not to do any permanent damage.”
His mother sighed. “Well, that’s all I can ask. This article could be a very good thing, you know. A little attention for the farm wouldn’t hurt.”
“I know, Mom.” He turned and spotted Summer on her knees petting both pigs at once. She laughed as Hamlet tried to shove Dixie out of the way. The light spring breeze teased Summer’s ponytail. Pretty as a picture.
“Listen, I gotta go, Mom. We’re going to have lunch before we tackle any real work. I’ll tell her you said hi.”
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Over leftover spaghetti, Summer’s inquisition began.
“Do you mind if I record this?” she asked, waving her phone.
Carter shrugged. Of course he minded. He minded this entire thing. A lot. “It’s fine.”
“It helps me stay focused on the conversation instead of trying to take notes. Plus I can eat,” she said, hitting record. “So let’s talk about why you went organic.”
He was relieved by the softball question. “We decided to make the switch a few years ago. Science and agriculture are constantly changing, and one of those variables is pesticides. Which ones are ‘safe’, which ones have been reclassified. We can’t predict the long-term effects of some of these chemicals. Throw in the unknown of genetically modified plants and it’s too big of a gamble to make. We’re all firm believers that the closer you can keep things to nature, the better.”
“Makes sense. Did you have any backlash from the rest of the farming community here?”
Carter laughed. “I’ll show you around Blue Moon and you’ll see what I mean when I say we don’t do backlash here.”
“I’m intrigued.” Summer took a bite of spaghetti and continued. “How do you believe growing and eating organic plays into the bigger picture of health?”
He expertly twirled pasta onto his fork. “Health isn’t just one big decision. It’s hundreds of smaller ones that add up to a way of living. Take what we’re eating right now. It’s a fast, easy lunch in the middle of the day. Some people would grab a frozen meal or go through a drive-thru. But how fast was it to reheat the spaghetti sauce made from homegrown vegetables and herbs and whole grain pasta? And which choice is better for you?”
“Do you think that organic produce and a plant-based diet can play a role in healing?” She was just toying with the pasta on her plate now, watching him closely.
She was fishing for something, he just wasn’t sure what. “I’m no doctor. But I do think between the sun and the fresh air, being that close to nature is a smart place to start. What you fuel your body with during any kind of recovery is going to play a role in how successful you are,” he continued. “You can’t fight an injury or a disease as efficiently on fast food and soda as you can with plants and healthy grains and water.”
She changed the topic to the horse program and Carter counted his lucky stars. He didn’t like talking about healing. It skirted territory that he had no intention of sharing with a stranger. Besides, he had spent a good year talking it to death with his family when he returned home. Dredging it all up again didn’t help.
CHAPTER FIVE
The lettuce field stretched out in front of her. Rows and rows of romaine stood at attention like perfect soldiers.
There were four of them against the legion of leafy greens.
Beckett, in jeans, a t-shirt, and boots nearly as worn as Carter’s, sighed. “I’ll start over there,” he gestured at the far row.
Colby took the middle, leaving Carter and Summer alone at the edge.
“This is a row crop knife,” Carter said, holding up an orange handled blade. “You grab the plant a few inches off the ground with one hand and cut with the other.” He leaned over, grasped the stalk, and swiped down with the blade. He freed the lettuce head from the earth and tossed it into a wooden crate on the ground. “Don’t hold too far down on the plant or you’ll be cutting your hand. Got it?”
Summer nodded. “Grab, slice, toss. Got it.”
“It’s hard work,” he warned.
She nodded again. If Carter was waiting for her to flake out, he could just keep waiting. She could spend an afternoon in the dirt and the story would be better for it. Besides, the monotonous work would help her brain sift through their lunch conversation. She knew there was so much Carter hadn’t said, and she had a feeling that that’s where the real story was. She would get him there. Trust grew slowly. She knew that for a fact. She had a week here to get him to open up.
“I’ll start here and work my way in,” she said, pointing at the outside row.
