43. Angie

Chapter 43

Angie

W e hadn’t been allowed time to wallow in our grief. The farm auction had rolled ahead the day after the funeral. All my beloved animals, the equipment we’d struggled to make the massive monthly payments on, were bought and carted off.

I’d stayed inside that day, hiding from my animals’ calls and the auctioneer’s incessant droning. Immediately, we both dove into packing up the house. The hardest was going through Papa’s things. Touching his favorite shirt that he’d never wear again and smelling his aftershave and cologne; I could almost pretend he’d walk in the front door and holler at me to come help him change the water.

The insurmountable was surmounted. We packed everything we owned and hauled it to a storage unit. Sure, Remi had indicated we could stay as long as we needed, but with his company paying cash, our house was sold before the funeral. Both Mama and I didn’t want to live on charity.

Any way to keep ourselves busy was good. In the quiet moments, the gaping hole Papa left in our family couldn’t be ignored. In the quiet moments, I couldn’t keep thoughts of Remi from invading.

Towers of boxes surrounded Mama and me. The last of our stuff had been delivered to the apartment Mama had purchased.

“I don’t think all this will fit.” She pushed boxes around and read the labels, the wood floor creaking beneath her feet.

Using my box cutter, I sliced through a line of clear tape. “I think these are the last of our books.”

“Did we really have that many?” Mama shrugged. “Oh well, I guess I need to buy a bookshelf.”

She’d purchased this apartment along with the empty commercial space beneath it. Space we’d spent the last couple of months cleaning, painting, purchasing ovens, tables, and chairs, and prepping for the grand opening, less than a week away.

Mama owned a bakery. Nora’s Bakery.

I’d expected her to go back to running the grocery store, now being renamed Ivy’s. She’d surprised me when she’d shown me the building she’d purchased and drawings with plans for the future.

“You know what? I feel like buying one right now. Get your shoes on,” Mama ordered me around like a drill sergeant.

“I’m coming?”

“I’ll need your second opinion.”

“Fine.” Slipping on my shoes and jacket, I followed her down the stairs and into the car.

We’d sold both of our unreliable vehicles at the auction and now had a brand-new Jeep. I’d never seen Mama so excited about a vehicle in all my life. Considering she’d married Papa at nineteen, she’d never experienced the life of an independent woman.

Driving through town, we headed down the one street I chose never to take. It wound right by our farm. Holding my breath, I rolled down the window as we passed. Golden stalks of corn rustled in the wind. A combine moved slowly through the field, harvesting the dried kernels that Remi and I had planted together.

Remi’s voice was as deep and resonating as if he sat next to me. “ Look, Angie. The little baby corns. They’re growing.” He’d bent down to his hands and knees, putting his face right up to the emerging plants.

I breathed in the fall air. It smelled of wet earth and fresh cut plants … the scents of harvest. An overpowering wave of homesickness hit me, and I choked back tears. As happy as I was Mama had gone after her dream, being in an apartment for a couple of months had me pacing the 1200 square feet, restless as a caged lion.

What I wouldn’t give to hop on Mae’s back and ride to my favorite spot on my land where a tall maple blanketed the green grassy knoll in shade, next to where we’d spread Papa’s ashes. The place where I sat with him and could see our fields knitted together like a great patchwork quilt.

I needed to stop using the words “my” and “our.” It wasn’t mine anymore. I’d lost the war. Soon, the pastures would be covered in houses. Thankfully, Remi had flown back to Dallas.

That man was single-handedly responsible for this deep, wrenching pain I carried with me. The longing. The homesickness. I was a boat adrift on an unfamiliar sea with no place to dock. I couldn’t imagine if he’d moved to town, and I’d be forced to face him every day.

My body betrayed me at the thought of him—with his thick, dark hair, matched by his deep-brown eyes, his muscles rippling as he chopped wood, his kisses, and marriage proposals. My abdomen tightened against the anticipation at the mere thought of him.

Criminy. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. He still had power over me.

“You know who I’ve been thinking about?” Mama broke the silence heavy in the car once we’d passed the only home I’d ever known.

“Who? Don’t say—”

“Remi.” Mama turned away from Twin Falls, in the opposite direction of any bookshelves.

“Where are we going?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “There’s an antique store out this way. It just opened. I thought we’d give it a try.”

Antique store? That I hadn’t heard about? Unlikely.

“Given our financial situation, we would have lost the farm anyway. Remi made it as painless as possible if you think about it.”

“I can’t trust him.” I gripped my thighs. “Besides, he moved back to Texas.”

“Maybe you should give him a second chance. Tony loved him like a son. He can’t be all bad.”

She turned down the most beautiful lane. Maple trees lined either side of the driveway. Bright white wood panel fences bordered green pastures. A horse galloped along with our car, almost looking like—

“Mae!” I tapped Mama’s shoulder. “Look, it’s Mae! Did you find the people who bought her?” I rolled the window down and leaned out to get a better view of my horse.

Mama slowed as she approached the house. The lane widened to a two-story white farmhouse placed in the center of sprawling fields and rolling hills of pasture. It had a wraparound porch with a swing on it, swaying in the wind. Windchimes, sounding just like Mama’s, danced in the breeze, their melodic sound carrying to me through my open window, followed by the call of a rooster.

We came to a stop.

Remi was at the bottom of the stairs, wearing his typical white shirt and blue jeans, minus his cowboy hat, holding a … puppy?

“This is where I leave. Get out. And go easy on him. That man is more in love with you than you know,” Mama said.

I didn’t want to get out. Remi could hold a hundred puppies in front of a thousand dream homes, but I wouldn’t move from this seat.

When I didn’t move, Mama reached over and opened the door for me. She unlatched my seat belt. “Out.”

Woodenly, I unfolded myself from the car and closed the door. If it weren’t for Mae, I would have refused. Mama sped back the way she’d come. I stood rooted in place, staring at my dreamlike surroundings. Stables matching the house rose to the south, and a detached garage and a quaint chicken coop with my chickens milling about underneath a large willow tree stood to the north. A creek gurgled somewhere near enough I could hear it.

I spun 360 degrees until I faced Remi once again. “What’s going on?” I did my best to melt him with my stare, but the wonder of this place took some of the venom out of it.

He took a few cautious steps toward me, the puppy whimpering and squirming in his arms. “I got it right, didn’t I? White farmhouse. Land to call your own. A large, healthy pasture for Mae. And a,” he held the puppy out to me, “dog.”

I allowed myself to examine the puppy, taking in his curly coat with a white stripe in the middle of his forehead, leading to his white nose and chest. Black patches with two brown spots looped around his droopy eyes. He was the cutest darn puppy I’d ever seen.

“I didn’t know what kind of dog you wanted, so I projected and picked one I would have loved to have as a kid. A Bernese Mountain Dog. Turns out they’re not only loveable and gentle; they also make good livestock guardian dogs.” He rubbed the puppy’s head while it licked his nose.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before I found words. “What do you mean, you got it right?” I gestured to the area around me. “Why are we here? What are you doing back in Idaho, holding the cutest puppy in the world? Why is Mae in the pasture? And is that?” Marching past him, I focused on the metal structure at the end of a gravel path I hadn’t noticed. “Is that Oscar parked next to the shop?”

Remi shrugged. “Even Booster the Rooster is here.”

“Explain,” I insisted. My patience ran out.

He set the puppy on the lawn next to his feet. “Remember the money my brother and dad promised me if I bought your farm?”

“Yes, you planned on using it to open your extreme sports store.”

“I used every penny to buy this place and most of your stuff at auction. Some of the tractors I had to let go because they were just too expensive and too big.”

I covered my mouth with my hands and didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t tell you sooner. I tried. But I’m pretty sure you blocked my number.”

I had, in fact, blocked him the morning I’d seen the closing documents.

“And I had to put a lot of work into it before it was ready for you.” Remi kicked at the gravel. “It’s not as big as your old place. Only eighty acres. Something you could manage while still working at the hospital …” His voice trailed off.

I gaped at him. He’d bought me a house. Not just any house. My dream home. He’d given Mae back to me. Tears shuttered down my cheeks. He stepped forward with his arms outstretched, but I stopped him. “Why?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “There are several reasons why I bought this place for you.” He tapped his index finger. “One: you need a place to stay now that some jack-ass company bought your old one out from under you. Two: it’s a peaceful spot. Three—”

Still covering my mouth, I started laughing through my tears. He touched his second and third finger as he ticked off his list and paced in front of me, the puppy chasing at his heels.

“… Mae has plenty of room to roam. Once I fixed the fences, those were a mess. And four: the year-round creek on the property will make it easy to get water to the cows. Five: a puppy needs a quiet place in the country to live.”

“Remi—”

“Six …” He kept going as if I hadn’t spoken. “I love you so much.” He dropped his hands to his side.

“What about your dream? With you and Myles?”

“You are my new dream, Angie. Nothing else matters more to me than your happiness.” He started pacing again. “And working with my family for a while longer might give me an opportunity to improve my relationship with them. Seven …”

My cheeks lifted into a shaky smile. Only one reason mattered to me. I didn’t have to give up any part of myself, work my butt off, or become someone else to earn Remi’s love. I was enough. Boring, Idaho, and all.

Taking hold of his shirt, I yanked him to me and stopped his list with my mouth. His arms lifted to encircle me. He pressed me tightly to him. The feel of his heart matching rhythm with mine, the taste of him—fresh air, fall leaves, and spearmint—the way his hands spread warming tingles everywhere they touched—these all told me emphatically that I was home.

“Of course,” he whispered against my lips. “If you’ll be needing a farmhand, I know someone who comes highly recommended. Used to be a high-rolling playboy in Dallas. Then came to Idaho and fell in love.”

He kissed me again. Gripping the curve of my bottom, he lifted me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Tilting my head, I continued to match the movement of his lips. He spun me in a circle, then, relaxing his hold on me, he let me slide down his body until my feet once again touched the ground.

“He’ll have to submit an application to HR.” I trailed kisses along his neck. “And agree to work for sex.”

Remi laughed and pushed me back, forcing me to look up at him. “You might not want to be so loose with those terms.”

“I can be as loose as I want with the man I love.”

“Who, Myles?” He widened his eyes in mocking shock. “Does he know about your feelings?”

I let out a hoot of laughter and slugged him on the shoulder.

He caught my hand and held it against his chest. The beat of his heart thudded softly against my fingertips.

“Say it again.” All joking left him. He dipped his forehead to mine.

“I love you, Remington James Cockrell the Third.” Some of the weight pressing me down, giving gravity more power over me, left. I’d found the man I’d been searching for. Someone who’d love me as much as Papa loved Mama.

“Then I believe,” he kissed my forehead, “Miss Angelina Johnson, we have a deal.”