Page 46 of No More Secrets
Summer hurried off in search of the man who had been conspicuously absent from the day.
She found him taking soil samples of the cornfield.
“Are you hiding out here?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see Willa or the Berkowiczes today.”
“There’s others,” he paused and took a swig from his water bottle. “So what’s up? Are you done already?”
“No, we still have half an hour for pick-ups. But your mom wants you. She’s talking to Elvira about someone named Carson.”
“I heard he broke his leg.”
“How did you hear out here in the middle of a field?”
“I joined that stupid fucking Facebook group.”
Summer snickered. “Come on. You can walk back with me.”
“And set off the town rumor mill? By the way, since I took you for ice cream the other night, they’re predicting a November wedding. You’d better walk ten paces in front of me and pretend you don’t know me.”
They returned to the barn, and it took Carter a good five minutes to work his way through the greetings before he made it to his mother. “This is why I don’t do pick-up day,” he muttered to Summer.
“There’s my favorite son,” Phoebe grinned, tucking her arm through Carter’s. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Blue Moon residents mobilized as fast as, if not faster than, the National Guard. They converged on Carson’s property in droves Sunday morning.
Those with strong backs and a working knowledge of farming equipment broke off with the Pierce brothers to tackle the winter wheat harvest. The rest descended on the house. Carson, who was indeed 81 and adorable in a John Deere hat and suspenders, was put in a seat of honor under the great oak in his front yard and waited on hand and foot while his house was cleaned top to bottom.
Summer washed windows and weeded the flowerbeds. She even helped Joey finish cleaning the gutters that Carson had started.
A pack of teenagers mowed the vast expanse of lawn while broken fence posts and loose shingles were replaced. Freezer meals aplenty arrived and were safely tucked away in the kitchen and the basement chest freezer.
Elvira stopped by with eight gallons of lemonade and six pairs of sweatpants with one leg cut off at the knee to accommodate Carson’s cast.
Rainbow Berkowicz popped in to lend a hand with his bill paying for the month while her husband Gordon cheerfully edged the flowerbeds and watered plants. Children chased the barn cats around the front yard and played on the tire swing that had seen more than one generation in its time.
By evening, everyone was tired, dirty, and happy. And Carson was speechless.
Franklin left his restaurant early and showed up on the farm with an SUV full of Italian catering, paper plates, and plastic utensils. A gentleman named Julius drove up in a ying-yang painted delivery van and dropped off a keg, several cases of soda, and even a few boxes of wine “for the ladies.”
A full-blown, town-wide picnic was being set up on the lawn when Carter and the rest of the harvesting crew ambled out of the barn to give Carson an update.
“You’re all set,” Carter said, clapping the farmer on the shoulder. “It’s all in the bins and we’ll come out and check the moisture levels.”
Summer watched Carson’s throat work as he blinked back tears. “I thank ya. I just can’t thank everyone enough.”
He was immediately surrounded by women of all ages fussing over him. Someone brought out a guitar and someone else a harmonica and in no time there was music.
Summer found Beckett sitting on the tailgate of a truck eating a plate full of pasta.
“That’s Franklin’s baked ziti you’re inhaling there,” she warned him.
“Damn it.” Beckett paused. He frowned at his plate, shrugged, and went back to devouring it. “Maybe he’s not totally a horrible human being.”
