5. Thad

Aweek after Sammie agreed to take the new position, we had the wedding offerings listed on our website. I'd also managed to get press releases with the announcement to several newspapers in Montana as well as pulled in a favor from a travel blogger/influencer we'd worked with before. By the beginning of the next week, we'd had three brides call to ask if they could take a tour of the facility and meet with the wedding planner.

Sammie and I talked briefly over breakfast about our meeting later that day with one of the interested brides and her mother. They'd flown into Bozeman specifically to check out the ranch and had stayed overnight in one of the cabins.

Sammie had a day planner open on the island with the entire afternoon's agenda for the bride and her mother carefully noted. Seeing her neat handwriting and detailed notes moved me. She'd put so much into this in just the first week. I hadn't had any doubts whatsoever about her ability to help us build this new branch of our business. Happily, she was proving my instincts were correct.

Chloe's high-pitched voice sounded from the mudroom. Since there was no one with her, she must be chatting up her stuffed Slurfpig.

"Before we finish talking about business, I had a question for you," I said.

Sammie straightened and looked up at me, biting her bottom lip. For a second, I wondered what she thought I was going to say. "I wanted to get your permission to hang a swing for Chloe." I kept my voice quiet so the little one couldn't hear me. "We used to have a wooden one that hung from the tree out front, and I thought she might enjoy it. I wanted to make sure it's okay with you before I opened my big trap."

"Can you make it low enough she can get on there by herself?"

The question surprised me. "Yeah, of course. We can bring it higher as she grows."

Sammie's eyes softened, and the corners of her mouth lifted momentarily in one of her sad smiles. "That would be nice. Thanks for thinking of her."

"I woke in the middle of the night, and the idea popped into my mind. I hadn't thought about that swing in years."

"That's the gift of children, they let you live your life over again," Sammie said.

"We had so much fun on that thing. Soren and I used to wrestle to see who could swing first."

"Did you ever win?" Sammie asked.

"No, never. How did you know?"

"I figured he would have wanted it more, and you would have wanted him to be happy."

"Does that make me a wimp?" Is that how she saw me? As the weak youngest brother, always acquiescing?

"It makes you kind and unselfish. If more men were like you, we wouldn't have as many problems in the world."

Her words made my chest ache with joy and longing, followed by a disturbing thought. What if my kindness put me in the friend zone? Nice guys never end up with the girl.

"What did I say wrong?" Sammie asked. "Your eyes went all dim."

"You said nothing wrong. It was sweet of you to say."

"But it made you sad?"

Fine. She wasn't going to let this go. I'd just tell her the truth as I wanted to anyway. I wanted to tell her every thought and idea I had and all the stories of my past and hopes for the future. For now, I settled for a moment of vulnerability. "It made me wonder if I'm that guy—you know, the one all the women go to with their troubles but never fall in love with."

"Do you think romantic love is a choice and not something that just happens to you whether you want it to or not?" Sammie cocked her head to the side, watching me.

Taken aback, I had to think before answering. "No, actually. We don't choose who we fall in love with."

"It just happens," Sammie said.

"Right." Our gazes lingered for a moment until I looked away, afraid of what she might see in my eyes.

"Anyway, you're not that guy," Sammie said. "You're the type all the girls are secretly in love with, but they don't feel good enough for you, so they keep it to themselves."

I had no idea what to say. I'd need some time to think about that comment, dissect it, and mull over it for longer than was necessary, as I often did when it came to things that were important to me.

Sammie went back to her day planner. But we'd had a moment. I hadn't imagined it. Was it possible she felt something for me?

"Caspian and Elliot are going to meet with her after the lunch rush," Sammie said. "They'll have cake samples and a few appetizers to give them an idea of the type of menu we could offer."

"That might convince them right then and there," I said, ever loyal to my brother and his cooking.

"You and I'll give them a tour of the property and then go over details while sitting around the bonfire. I thought that would be a nice touch."

"Great idea," I said. "We should have a bottle of champagne on ice ready for them."

"Yeah, absolutely." Sammie nodded, leaning over her planner to jot down that detail.

Elliot arrived in the kitchen, wearing one of Caspian's flannel shirts and a pair of leggings, her hair disheveled and a pink glow to her cheeks. It didn't take much imagination to know why.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, heading for the coffeepot. "I've been sent for coffee by the chef. We had a late night." She yanked two mugs from the shelf and set them on the counter.

"We don't want to know," I said, teasing.

"Get your mind out of the gutter." Elliot scooped several teaspoons of sugar into one of the mugs. "I meant at the restaurant. We had a couple big tables that stayed until closing. I had to be the bad cop and tell them to leave."

"Any luck with the house search?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Sammie and I looked at an old farmhouse that I think could be perfect for us." Elliot brought her mug to her mouth and took a quick sip. "Good coffee, Sammie."

"Thank you," Sammie said. "Caspian's very specific about how he likes it."

"Don't I know it," Elliot said, rolling her eyes.

"Where's this house?" I asked, curious. How come no one had mentioned it to me before now?

"An old farmhouse down that one road—what's it called, Sammie?" Elliot asked.

"Holland Road," Sammie said, not looking up from whatever note she was writing in her planner.

"Yeah, right," Elliot said. "It's about three miles down Holland, and then we turned down a dirt driveway. Like I said, it's a farmhouse with this cool old apple orchard. Does that ring a bell?"

"Sure, that's the old Mobley farm," I said. "Such a shame none of the kids were interested in keeping it. Mama told me when she was a child, they hosted fun parties every fall, with hayrides and bonfires. Everyone brought their own basket and picked as many apples as they wanted. People brought food to share—that kind of thing."

Sammie sighed, sounding wistful. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

"We're going to do that," Elliot said. "Every year. It'll be a tradition. Sammie, you were so right about this house and the land. Caspian saw the vision right away, like you did."

Sammie looked up from her notes. "I'm glad he saw it too."

"They didn't make a living off the orchard?" Elliot asked me.

"I doubt it. If I remember right, she was a schoolteacher, and he ran their small farm and did odd jobs on the side." We hadn't known them well, but Mama thought highly of the Mobley family. "But no one's lived in that house for a long time."

"The kids just want to get rid of it," Elliot said. "Which is great for us. We're getting it at a really good price. The renovations will cost nearly as much as the house. We talked to Stella and Jasper, and they think we should go for it even though I'm nervous about all the work." Elliot picked up the other coffee mug. "Caspian's all for it, though, and your dad agreed to help us."

"He's getting too old for that," I said, chuckling. "But he'll never admit it."

"Caspian said we'd hire a lot of it out, but your dad wants to be involved as much as he can. We're so lucky, aren't we? Jasper and Stella make so much of what we want possible."

"They always have," I said. "I'm happy for you guys."

"I wish it was going to be finished before the wedding, but there's no way," Elliot said.

"You can stay here as long as you need to," I said. "That goes without saying."

"I appreciate you saying that," Elliot said. "I love living here with all of you, but it will be nice to have our own home for our future family and all that."

"I totally understand," Sammie said wistfully. "That's my dream too. Or it used to be. Now I just want to—" She cut herself off, clearly realizing she was about to share an insight into her life. If only she'd trust me. I could help her. I know I could.

An awkward silence descended for a few seconds until Elliot broke it. "I should get back to Caspian before his coffee gets cold. You two have a great day if I don't see you later."

"What did you like about the Mobley place?" I asked Sammie after Elliot had headed up the stairs.

Sammie raised her head from her notes. "Everything. With a remodel, it could be restored with some modern touches, yet keep the essence of the original." She went on to describe the layout. "It's a house for a family. And the apple trees were so pretty. Think of all the pies and apple butter you could make."

"I don't know if I've ever been inside," I said. "I can remember going with Mama to pick up a box of apples, but I think I waited in the truck."

"Selfishly, I'm thrilled at the idea of Elliot and Caspian buying it," Sammie said. "Just so I can visit. And maybe help a little with decorating. I love putting rooms together."

"It would be fun to refurbish an old place like that. Pop did it in the house where he and Mama live." I told her how he'd bought it and fixed it up when he first moved here. "He rented it out once he moved in with us, so when they decided to move out of the big house, we had to do a lot of work again."

"You did all of it yourselves?"

"Pretty much, except for electrical and plumbing. Pop doesn't like to mess with those. He always says to leave that to the experts."

"Would you want to build on the property or buy a place of your own?" Sammie asked. "If you were to move out of here into your place?"

"It would depend on what my wife wanted. She might like a little distance from my family."

"No way. I'd have loved a big family like this one. And the woman for you has to put family first, or it will never work."

"It was just you and your dad, right?" I asked.

Sammie nodded, shutting her day planner. "Until he passed away."

"When Chloe was a baby, right?"

She gazed at me for a moment, a glint of surprise in her eyes. "That's correct. Good memory."

I remembered everything she told me. Hanging on every word might be a good way to describe how I listened to Sammie.

"My mother died when I was an infant," Sammie said. "Daddy raised me on his own."

Grief tainted her voice. Grief that had not lessened over time. "You must miss him."

"More than you could ever imagine," Sammie said. "He was the one person I could always count on. You remind me of him. He always put others first, just like you. That's why he never remarried. He didn't want to risk bringing the wrong person into my life. I wish he'd done more for himself, though. He deserved to find happiness with someone. He didn't have enough joy or love in his life."

"He had you," I said. "I'd venture to bet having a daughter like you felt like enough to him."

"That's nice of you to say." She paused, taking in a breath. "Since Daddy died, I'm not accustomed to people giving me compliments."

"I could say more. A lot more." I waited, holding my breath, hoping she would ask me to elaborate. Instead, we were interrupted by Chloe running in from the mudroom. She launched herself into my arms, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

"I have a surprise for you, Miss Chloe," I said.

"What is it?" Big blue eyes stared at me with the same guarded expression her mother had displayed when I'd asked about the swing. As if I were about to say something cruel or disappointing. At three years old? What had Chloe's father done to them?

"I'm going to hang a swing for you on the big tree out front. Do you want to go with me to the barn to gather my materials?" I set her down on the floor and knelt to speak to her. "You can help me pick out the piece of wood for the seat."

"Yes, yes." She squealed and bounced on the tips of her toes. "When?"

"Right now. And guess what else? Soren brought home another dozen chicks from the feed store. Do you want to see them?"

Chloe had gotten so excited earlier in the spring when he'd brought home the first batch that I hadn't had the heart to tell her we'd lost half of them when a fox invaded the henhouse. I didn't want her afraid to go into the barn, so I hadn't mentioned it.

"I put on shoes." She dashed back into the mudroom to pull on her sneakers with the Velcro fasteners.

As I headed that way, Sammie got up from the table and reached out a hand to stop me. "Truly, Thad, thank you. For everything."

There was so much more I could do and say and be. If only she'd let me.

"Anything you need, I'm here. Don't hesitate to ask."

She gazed into my eyes. "You know, I almost believe it's true when it comes out of your mouth."

"Why wouldn't it be true?"

"Because most promises are empty, or worse, downright lies."

"I'd never lie to you."

She darted away, avoiding my eyes. Her cheeks flushed pink as she returned to her day planner, dipping her chin.

"Sammie?" I asked. "What is it?"

Her gaze remained on the paper. "There are certain things I wish I could tell you, but I can't."

"Why? Do you think I would judge you?"

"No, it's not that. It's more that…telling you about aspects of my past would change the way you see me. The less you know the better."

"But we'll never truly know each other if you don't tell me who you really are."

Her chin jerked upward, as if someone jabbed her with a hot poker. "You think I haven't told you who I am?"

"Have you?"

She grabbed her pen and clasped one hand around it in a way that reminded me of the way a person would hold a knife right before they jabbed it into your heart. "The less you know about my past, the better. I want to forget all of it and start over. I've told you that."

"Yeah, good luck with that," I said. "The past has a way of lingering around like a bad smell you can't find."

Chloe was shouting for me, so I excused myself and headed that direction, unsettled. What was she hiding? Was it something that could hurt her and Chloe? Maybe all of us?

I couldn't obsess about it now. There was an adorable blue-eyed girl who wanted my attention.

* * *

As I'd toldSammie earlier, the idea to put up a swing had come to me in the middle of the night. When we were kids, Pop had hung a wooden swing from the tree in front of the house. Over the years the wood and rope had decayed until it was no longer safe to use. By then we'd grown too old for swinging anyway, so we took it down from the sturdy branch without much thought. I'd spent many an afternoon swinging under the branch of that tree, dreaming of my future. Now we had a child living on the property, and she needed a swing to dream about her own future. What would she dream of? Would any of it ever come true, given the transient nature of her life? Even though Sammie wouldn't admit it, I had the feeling she was always one foot out the door. She reminded me of this skittish barn cat we'd had a few years back. We could never pin him down for long before he ran away as if his tail was on fire.

Chloe pressed her small hand into mine, which made my heart do a little flip. "We go to the chicks now, Tad?"

The th sound wasn't her strongest. I didn't mind.

"That's right," I said. "You must be careful, though, and don't try to pick them up or touch them. They're very small."

"Peck me?"

"No, they're nice chicks who will grow up and give us lots of eggs. They're our friends, so don't worry. We just have to be careful not to hurt them."

"Okay." She began to skip while still holding my hand.

We found Soren at the water trough with his favorite horse.

"You take Matilda out this morning?" I asked. He and Matilda often went out for an early-morning ride through the meadows and rolling hills on our property. Matilda, our youngest and most robust horse, was his favorite. Several of the others had been with us since I was a teenager. Like Mama and Pop, they'd slowed down a little, which made them perfect rides for inexperienced guests.

"We're here to see the chicks," I said.

"Go on in. They're expecting you." Soren chuckled at his own joke.

"They know we here?" Chloe asked.

"No, he's only teasing. Let's go see them," I said.

We walked past the barn to the chicken coop. The hens pecked and clucked in their pen, searching for bugs and worms. Chloe waved at them before we went inside where our girls had their nests and boxes and the chicks lived under a warming light in a wooden box. Straw covered the bottom to provide a nice soft bed. Soren would have it no other way.

Chloe let go of my hand and knelt by the chicks, instantly bewitched by the adorable puffballs. They peeped and preened as if showing off for their human friend. I watched, as amused by Chloe as she was by the baby chickens.

While she was occupied, I perched on a bale of hay to think about what her mother had said to me in the kitchen. Sammie remained a mystery, protecting her secrets. I'd learned little from that conversation, other than a feeling. She was drawn to me as I was to her. If it weren't for her past, we might have a chance. I'd ask her out on a date, and we'd go somewhere nice and laugh and talk, like normal people. But there was nothing normal about the woman I'd fallen in love with.

I got up to kneel with Chloe by the box. "They're cute little girls, aren't they?"

"Don't hurt them," Chloe said in a slightly chastising tone.

"That's right. We'll be very careful." I lifted one out of the cheeping brood and cradled her in my hands. "You can pet her if you want."

One plump finger reached out to stroke the top of its head. Chloe snatched her hand away as fast as she'd put it there. "Not hard. Gentle."

I smiled to myself, hearing her mother in the little voice. "That's right." I set the chick back in with the rest of them. "You're a good girl to remember."

"Mama told me. Kittens very small," Chloe said.

"You had kittens?"

"Daddy hurt them." Chloe lifted her gaze to mine, tears clinging to her thick lashes.

Daddy hurt them? What did that mean in three-year-old speak?

"Did someone hurt your kittens?" I asked gently.

She looked up at me, blinked as if I had two heads, and then returned her attention to the chicks. "Daddy kill kitties."

"Your daddy killed your kittens?" My heart beat between my ears.

"Yeah. He took kitties away in a trash bag. They didn't come back." Her bottom lip quivered, and several tears traveled down her cheeks.

What did he do with them, the bastard? I drew in a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"They were your kittens?" I asked.

Chloe nodded and held up four fingers. "Mama found them under the porch. Daddy take them away." The chicks had brought back bad memories, I thought. I'd never heard her say anything about kittens before now.

"He took the kitties somewhere and they never came back?" I repeated it back to her, hoping to nudge her into telling me more.

"Yeah. Mama cried. Then Daddy hit her."

"Who did Daddy hit?"

"Mama. She cried."

My forehead dampened with sweat. "How did he hit her?"

She held up her hand, enclosing it into a fist. "Hits. Hard. Over and over."

He hit her with his fists. As much as I'd suspected this to be the case, it still sent a wave of shock through me. She'd left an abusive husband.

Was he still looking for her? The way she moved sometimes, like a startled animal, made sense. She'd grown accustomed to being hit.

"Did he ever hurt you?" I asked.

"One time." She touched the back of her head. "He smashed me into the wall."

Pop showed up in the barn, calling out to us. "Hey, guys."

Chloe ran to him, and he picked her up and swung her around before setting her back onto the barn floor. She ambled back to further observe the chicks.

‘"What's up, Pop?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. "Did you come out for a reason or just to say hi?"

"Your mother sent me with some raspberry preserves. I gave them to Sammie, and she told me you guys were in here, so I thought I'd say hey. Feels like I haven't talked to you much lately." His gaze lingered on my face a little longer than usual. "Everything all right? You're looking a little green around the gills."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I lowered my voice, glancing over to make sure Chloe was out of hearing range. "I just had a disturbing talk with Chloe."

"Something about her mom?" Pop asked.

"How'd you know?"

"It's not too hard to see you care for her."

"I do. A lot."

"What's holding you back?"

"She's got secrets. Stuff from her past that she won't share. Chloe just told me her daddy used to hit Sammie." I told him what she'd said, including the disturbing story about the kittens and that he'd slammed Chloe into a wall.

"Your mom and I thought it might be something like that. She's running from him, don't you think?"

"Gotta be."

"You have feelings for her?" Pop asked.

"Yeah. I can't stop thinking about her. It's grabbed me and won't let go. But I don't know what to do about it. She's married. She might be in danger of being found. Who knows what kind of mess she could bring into our lives."

"Yes, it's messy. No doubt," Pop said. "It was messy with your mom too."

"Did you ever think it was too complicated?"

"Not once. Did I go in knowing it could be a fight to get her to trust me? For sure. But I didn't let it keep me from hoping or trying."

"But she wasn't married to someone else. And she didn't hide anything from you."

"That's true, she didn't hide anything, but she was still married when I met her. Before he was killed, she told me she was getting a divorce. I wouldn't have made a move or pressured her, obviously, but I figured a friendship was the best way to get to know her. And then everything happened with your dad and suddenly she was a widow, with even more trauma and betrayal to deal with."

"We're friends, no question there. I'm not sure how she feels. Some days I think she likes me. Others, I can see she's consumed with worry and fear, leaving no room for me."

"You want my advice?"

"Always."

He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, his love for me like pure light. "Be patient and steady. Show her by your actions who you are and how you feel. If it's meant to be, she'll see it and God will open a path for the two of you to be together. You have to lean into faith in times like these, knowing God always has your best interest at heart. There's a reason he put the two of you together in the same place. Whatever it is, let it unfold. Don't push. Not yet."

I nodded as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder before letting me go. "Thanks, Pop."

"I'm so unbelievably proud of the man you've become. You know that?"

I drew in a breath to stop the tears that scratched at the backs of my eyes. "I'm just trying to be like you, Pop. From the moment you came into our lives, all I've wanted is to be half the man you are."

Pop's eyes reddened. "You're a good boy. Always have been."

We were quiet, observing Chloe cooing to the chicks, until I broke the silence.

"Do you think I should talk to her about what Chloe said to me? If I don't, it feels a little like I'm lying to her."

"I always figure honesty is best in any relationship. More than anything, she needs you to be there for her without judgment or expectations. She needs a loyal friend. If she opens up to you and asks for your help, then you'll know what to do next."

"Yeah, okay."

We were interrupted when Chloe came running over to us. "Tad, is it time for the swing?"

"I have to hang it up first, so maybe this afternoon," I said.

"Yay." Chloe wrapped herself around my legs. "I love you."

For heaven's sake. The tears I'd successfully avoided only moments ago now blurred my vision. "I love you too, little one."

Pop's eyes twinkled. "I can remember the first time you told me that. ‘I love you, Mr. Moon.' I thought my heart might burst right then and there."

"I still love you, Pop."

"Back at you, kid." Pop held out his hand to Chloe, and the two of them walked out of the barn together.

I wiped my eyes on the back of my arm and followed.