27. Remi

Chapter 27

Remi

I pushed the wooden farmhouse door open and stepped into the foyer. The lamp on the side table illuminated the piles of stacked mail, its green lampshade casting a garish hue on the papers. Without central air, the house had begun to warm with the rising afternoon temperatures.

Dust gathered in the corners, and seldom-used coats fell from the overloaded hooks onto the white shoe bench. Shoes, which had been stuffed under the bench spilled into the walkway, the dirt clods clinging to irrigation boots haphazardly dropped on the floor. Opposite the professionally cleaned house I’d grown up in, as sterile emotionally as it’d been clean, this place had become more of a home for me than the big house.

Voices echoed down the hall to me. Tony and Nora must not have heard the door. I tiptoed closer to better hear what they were saying.

“… should speak to him …” Nora’s worry carried into her voice.

“Out of options … Angie … love won’t …” Tony’s words rose and fell in and out of my hearing.

“What about Angie?”

“She’ll have to accept his offer,” Tony said, more adamantly this time, making it easy for me to hear him.

They both fell silent. The mantle clock next to the lamp ticked in the quiet.

Offer? What offer?

My mind immediately went to the conversation Smoot had with me about his plans for proposing. Plus, he kept showing up in the evenings and watching movies with her late into the night. Had she slept with him?

After the way she’d kissed me, how could she be placated by Smoot? I couldn’t stop thinking about our escapade in the mountains. It came with me everywhere—the shower, the grocery store. Memories of our kiss edged their way into my mind even when I was hanging out with the guys.

Myles hadn’t asked about the bike ride, and I hadn’t offered any information to him. How could I tell him I was screwing up our dreams by screwing around with the farmer’s daughter?

I threaded a hand through my hair. Smoot must have proposed. Angie had been working for a serious, committed partner, what I promised to help her accomplish. I should be elated. This meant I was one step closer to the freedom I’d fought for, yet it made me about as comfortable as a pimp at confession.

Tony apparently didn’t think she loved Smoot, but in the end it didn’t matter. Obviously, her parents thought she needed someone to take care of her after Tony was gone. Both monetarily and emotionally.

But they both underestimated their daughter. While it’d be nice for her to have companionship after her parents passed, she didn’t need anyone. Even if she got stuck in hell, she’d kick the devil out and tell him what was what.

Sneaking back to the front door, I opened it and closed it, loudly this time.

“I’m back,” I called into the home, a bit less enthusiastic than usual after overhearing their conversation.

“We’re still in the kitchen.” Nora’s voice echoed down the hall into the entryway. “Did the hardware store have all the parts we need?”

“Yep,” I called.

The pipes under the kitchen sink had started leaking, and under Tony’s guidance, I was fixing them.

The scent of fresh bread drew me down the hallway, through the living room, and on into the kitchen. Two hours had passed since lunch, and with my new workload, that meant I needed another meal. The heat of the ovens made the back of the house more unbearable than the front.

Papers, opened envelopes, Farm Frenzy and Skip-Bo playing cards piled on the table in front of Tony, where he’d parked his wheelchair. He scanned a piece of mail as I passed him, heading to the sink. Though he tried to disguise his discouragement, it was clear what he read wasn’t good news.

“You know anything about this Smoot fellow who keeps coming around here?” Tony asked.

Bitter gall burned my throat. They really had been talking about Smoot and Angie. “Not really,” I lied. I knew far too much about him. “He comes to our guys’ nights sometimes. Nice enough, I guess, but I don’t really trust him.”

For some reason, my answer had both Tony and Nora fighting smiles.

“Well, she seems mighty fond of him.” Nora let her lips split wide into a grin and opened the oven to check on the bread.

My mind spiraled. Angie marrying Smoot? After the way she responded to my kiss, she couldn’t be this sure about another man. The thought sliced through my peace of mind, and I swallowed the bile burning my throat. Yet, I wasn’t exactly a fan of until death do you part. Was I?

More and more, I’d begun to yearn for something … different. Something like what Tony and Nora had. But a relationship like theirs was as likely as a cowboy riding a bucking unicorn.

With her face glistening, Nora fumbled the full bread pans while I got things situated under the sink. The metal pans clanked on the speckled, cream laminate counter, golden-topped loafs tipping onto their sides.

“Ah! Fart nuggets!” She shoved her oven-mitted hands on her hips, then set about righting the loaves and flipping them onto the cooling racks.

I couldn’t stop my short snort of laughter. Like mother, like daughter. Nora didn’t react to my laughter and continued to fuss over the dent in her freshly baked loaves. I lost sight of her as I maneuvered into the cramped space under the sink. Cleaning supplies and odds and ends littered the floor around me.

I’d thought about convincing them to call a plumber since I had absolutely no experience, but then fixing a sink sounded way more appealing than spending the afternoon in the fields.

“Don’t forget to put the crimp ring on the pipe before you connect it!” Tony yelled from the table; his voice less boisterous than it’d been a week ago. “Also, shut off the water supply before you start removing the broken fitting.”

“And when you’re ready for a break, I’ll have hot, buttered bread and jam waiting for you.” Nora ducked to look at me as she wiped her hands on her apron, which had a picture of two eggs as eyes and a slice of bacon for a smile on it.

“Hey, Papa. How’re you feeling today?” Angie’s voice reached me.

My hands stilled with the pipe cutters clutched in them. Hidden by the bar counter, I remained tucked under the sink, unabashedly eavesdropping.

I missed Tony’s response but hung on Angie’s. “Don’t worry over these bills. I have a good feeling about this harvest. We’ll manage like we always have.”

Maybe Smoot had only asked for permission to marry her and hadn’t popped the question.

“It’s sure been nice with Remi’s help around here.” Nora giggled and tapped my foot with hers.

I briefly closed my eyes and then returned to what I was doing.

The fridge door opened and closed. “He’s about as helpful as a foxtail in my sock.”

The hell I was. I did everything she asked me and more. This was the appreciation I got … she compared me to a sticker weed in her shoe? Infuriating woman. Whatever, Angie. Be my guest. Marry Smoot and pop out a gaggle of Smoot babies for all I cared. I clamped the pipe between the cutter.

“But I wouldn’t be able to manage without him. He’s turned into a decent farmer.”

What? She said something positive about me? Doubters, mainly my family, could keep hating on me, but Angie believed I made a good farmer. Bolstered by her admission, I snipped the blue plastic pipe clear through, releasing the water it’d contained. A lot of water. It sprayed at my face, onto my shirt, and flooded the floor. I’d expected a few drops to come out of the pipe, not this deluge.

“Oh, shh—” I cut off my expletive, not wanting to curse around Angie’s parents. I’d forgotten to shut off the main valve. I blocked the pressurized stream with one hand and twisted the valve closed with the other. Relaxing my head and upper back on the bottom of the cabinet, I took a couple of breaths.

Way to go, Remi. I ducked out from the cabinet and sat in the puddle around my waist.

Angie stood above me with her eyes wide. She’d dressed in her work jeans and a ratty Nirvana T-shirt. She must not be on shift at the hospital tonight. Two golden ringlets slipped free of her elastic band and framed her face.

“Hey, Angie,” I said, likely looking like a drowned rat. I rubbed at the water on my face and flicked it to the ground.

“Hi.” She chuckled once … twice … then let her laughter flowed down on me as fast as the water stream.

“What happened?” Tony asked from the table. “He forgot to shut off the water supply, didn’t he?” Though I couldn’t see him, I imagined him doing a solid facepalm.

“Oh dear. I’m gonna go get a bath towel.” Nora rushed from the room.

I should be humiliated, but hearing Angie’s laugh again satisfied me immensely. “I’ve got everything under control.”

“Sure, you do.” She tilted the glass of lemonade in her hand to her smile, and I couldn’t help but follow this movement with my eyes. The glass pressed against her full lips as she drew in the liquid, licking the leftover droplets after she swallowed.

Did it get hotter in here? Nora returned and dropped the towel on me. Grateful I had it to cover my flushed cheeks, I wiped the water off my face and neck, then used it to sop up the mess I’d made.

It’d been two weeks since Angie and I’d kissed. Sightings of her had become rare. Instead of giving a rundown of what she expected throughout the day, she’d taken to leaving lists of things needing to be done on the counter for me to find, with instructions if I had any questions to ask Tony. My time with her had been limited to watching her do tractor work from a distance.

I stood and padded at the water on my ass, sending Angie into another fit of giggles.

Her creative ways of torturing me had increased tenfold since the day on the trail. Though I still had access to Oscar, she never gave me a job where I could use him. Instead, I’d spent the last two weeks hoeing miles of burs in the beet and bean fields. It took me a week to finish the beets and then another to tackle the beans. Sunup to sundown, I took out weeds that’d grown up to my armpits, only to have the ones in the first field already grown back as if I hadn’t done any of it.

It was psychological anguish.

There had to be a more efficient way to farm. Maybe they didn’t have the money to pay for weed killer, or they were going for certified organic produce. Either way, I tried to flag down the crop duster planes whenever they buzzed overhead.

Please drop some of your magic dust from the sky and put an end to my misery.

Even with the intensity of the monotonous mind-mushing chore, that kiss had been worth it. I’d go back and do it all over again. The true agony came from the long hours spent in the fields where I had nothing to distract me from reliving it. Her delicate skin, the feel of her body under me, her response which had totally undone me.

I’d never lost control like that, and I couldn’t think of the last time a simple kiss took over my senses so completely.

It’d crossed a boundary, a turning point in our relationship, and Angie had made it clear she wasn’t interested in any sort of intimacy where I was concerned. With this deal hinging on Angie’s acceptance, sleeping with her would make buying her land trickier than bagging flies—nearly impossible.

Therefore, the only way forward was backward. If only I could get Angie to go back to the teasing, argumentative, talkative women I enjoyed sparing with, maybe I could forge a friendship between us.

Anything was better than this awkward silence.

“Well, as fun as this has been, the tractor’s waitin’ on me.” Walking to the dining table, she crouched next to Tony and placed a kiss on his forehead, resting her hands on his bony ones. Tony’s weight loss had snowballed the past couple of weeks.

“Bye, Papa. I’ll come back and finish our round of Skip-Bo in a couple of hours.” Knocking two stacks of mail together that her father had been sorting, she moved swiftly toward the front door.

Not caring what her parents thought, I jogged after her. As I passed the table, a bright-red foreclosure notice caught my eye, along with a couple of past dues stamped on the bottom of what looked like medical bills.

If the Johnsons weren’t so stubborn, I could make all that go away.

“Wait.”

“I don’t have time right now. That hay’s not going to bale itself.”

Much of farming was repetitive. Alfalfa growth, followed by cutting, letting it dry, raking, then baling and stacking. It felt like we’d barely finished that job and now we were well into the second go ’round.

I lowered my voice. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

She tilted her head. “Hmm … actually I can.”

She retrieved her truck keys from the dish and went to open the doorknob.

I caught her elbow and turned her around to face me. “Look … about the kiss.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We need to—”

“No, we don’t.” She cut me off. “All I need to do right now is get back in the tractor. And you …” She looked me up and down. “… need to go change your shirt.” She smirked.

“Fine,” I conceded. We wouldn’t talk about the obvious energy snapping between us, but I wouldn’t let her out of my sight until I got one promise out of her. “You can’t go dirt biking with Smoot. You’ll hurt yourself. Do something else, like go-carting. Something in a controlled environment.”

“Are you trying to act like my father now? My brother?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I can handle myself.”

“Please, Angie.” I dropped my gaze to study the wood grains in the floor. Slowly releasing my breath, I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt.”

The smirk dropped from her face. Her brief glance down at my mouth told me I wasn’t the only one thinking about our time under the tree. She gave me a short nod. “Okay. I’ll ask him if we can do something else. He rescheduled anyway. Something came up.”

Code for ‘I forgot about my daughter’s recital, and now I have to spend time with my wife and kids.’ Or code for ‘my girlfriend surprised me with a weekend away.’ Being a player myself, I spoke their language, and this guy was playing Angie hardcore. I wish I could make her see it. Smoot didn’t give off the cheater vibes, but his over-the-top use of climbing lingo made me think he was a pretender.

I pressed my lips into a flat line. This wasn’t exactly the assurance I wanted, but it was better than I expected.

“You bale that hay like it’s never been baled before. Give that field hell.” My attempted banter came out of left field. Awkward and gangly. It didn’t fit with the tense emotions I kept in check.

Still, Angie rewarded me with a grin. I returned her smile, then headed back toward the kitchen and my half-assed attempt at plumbing.

“Um, Remi?”

I stopped midstride and faced her again, my hopes rising slightly. Why? I didn’t know. I’d already gone over the reasons why getting involved with Angie was the worst idea ever. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering …” She tucked the loose strand of her wavy hair behind her ear.

My hope ballooned.

“What’s a burble? Dan mentioned when he was talking about a sky-dive he went on. He also said whirlie. I couldn’t remember either from the vocab sheet you gave me.”

Insert pin to inflated hopes. “Whirlie is a newbie climber.”

“Oh. Huh.” Her brows furrowed together, and her mouth puckered and tucked to one side.

If only I could decipher the look on her face. Was it good or bad? Had Smoot insulted her? “Burble is essentially dead air,” I continued. “It happens when you fly directly over another skydiver. You become unstable and sometimes drop.”

This was exactly how she’d made me feel. Unstable like I’d freefallen over twenty feet. She took the rules I’d established from childhood, almost infancy, and jumbled them until I couldn’t decipher the code I lived by.

Marriage to one woman. Kids. White picket fence. Maybe a cow or two. Mae even fit in the picture I painted in my mind of life with Angie. But it wouldn’t last. Just like paint faded and cracked, inevitably we’d grow bored of each other and end up divorced or like my parents, glorified roommates living two separate lives.

I couldn’t marry Angie, but I still wanted to revel in the nirvana I’d gotten a taste of in the mountains. Blake’s warning came back to me. ‘Get your feelings solidly in the “I love you zone” before you make a move on her …’

Well, shucks, I hadn’t listened to him. Love. Such an overinflated term that got in the way of good times. A feeling which took a rational woman and turned her into a she-cat.

I didn’t have any interest in it.

“Thanks, Remi.” She offered me a half-hearted wave, already focused on her phone as she texted her way out the door.

I nearly ran over Nora when I turned the corner into the kitchen.

“Oh, my stars. Sorry.” She fiddled with her apron. “I was just … uhh … straightening this picture.”

Bullshit. She’d been caught listening to our conversation. I didn’t openly call her out on it. Instead, I reached over and tapped the indicated picture until it was level, smiling at her the whole time.

“Okay. Fine. My ears are as hot as a chili pepper. You caught me.” She walked to Tony’s side.

He’d also moved more toward the entrance to the living room, where our voices would have easily echoed to them.

“Look.” Tony grimaced up at me. “Angie’s been real cagey with us lately. She’s usually not too good at lying to us, but …” He straightened. “You’ve been taking her on some sort of dangerous adventures, haven’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say dangerous …”

“She had a cut on her eye. And bruises on her arms.” Nora pointed her finger at me.

“The cut was from her hitting it on the bathroom counter. I—”

“You keepin’ our girl safe?” Tony grilled me.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then carry-on doing whatever you’re doing,” he continued.

“We’ve never seen Angie more alive. After Tony’s cancer came back, she kind of withdrew from life. Until you came along.”

“We want to thank you. And …” Tony wheeled himself back to his stack of papers. “I want you to take me whitewater rafting before I die.”

“Antonio Marcus Johnson.” Nora turned her attention away from me and glared at Tony. “Are you determined to leave me sooner than the good Lord says? You know I was just reading that article about how Idaho has the most deaths on our rivers. More than any—”

“Call it my final wish. I want to do something more exciting than bumping over rocks in a tractor. I dreamed of going to the Highlands, but that’s not going to be possible, so the least I can do is float down the river on a raft.”

Nora’s rigid posture relaxed the more Tony went on. “Fine, you old goat.” Her voice got all wobbly and she wiped at the base of her eyes.

“So, what do you say?” Tony asked.

It wasn’t enough; I had to keep their rather clutzy daughter alive after she’d basically forced me into helping her. No, now I’d either have to say no to a dying man’s wish or take on the responsibility of getting him on and off a raft without further damaging him.

Why the hell not? “Let’s do it.”

Tony let out the cutest old man whoop at my answer.

“But you have to finish helping me get these pipes put back together.”

“Lead the way.” Tony gestured with his hand toward the sink. “You better be better at white water rafting than plumbing, or we’re all gonna die.”