3. Jared

3

JARED

J ared woke up the next day with the same strange feeling in his rib cage, like something was tugging at him—pulling him back to the house on the edge of the woods.

He hurried through a shower and breakfast, so distracted that his father had to ask him more than once to pass the butter for his toast.

"Someone's in a hurry this morning," his mother remarked as he grabbed his jacket and headed out to his truck.

A little pang of guilt hit him as he pulled out onto the road when he realized that he hadn't helped out with the dishes before leaving.

He and his brother Derek still lived at home. They both worked the family farm, and until Radcliffe put the cottage by the woods on the market, Jared had never had much reason to think of leaving.

But now that their brother Josh was back too, and the workers on his upcoming project were staying in the lower-level guest rooms, it was starting to feel like almost as much of a full house as it had been when they were kids. Josh and his daughter Scout weren't living with them, but they were at the house every day, and the whole crew was eating Mom and Dad out of house and home and making a steady stream of dirty dishes and full laundry baskets.

Normally, Jared made a real effort to take on some of that burden, especially when there wasn't much to do on the farm. But this morning he had just run out like he was shirking his self-appointed duties on purpose.

This will be quick. I'll just talk to this guy and put him on the right path , he told himself. I'll be home again in time to help Mom with the laundry, even though I left Derek to do the breakfast clean-up.

The curvy lane to the cottage unwound itself in front of him, and before he knew it, he was pulling up the gravel driveway and parking.

Jared swung out of his truck and headed for the front porch. Someone had taken out the mailbox at the entrance. The post was hanging halfway to the ground.

A woman opened the door before he reached the steps. She moved to the railing, wrapping what looked like a hand-knitted cardigan closer around herself as she did.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a clear, bell-sweet voice, squaring her shoulders.

She needn't have bothered. This little scrap of a woman wasn't going to intimidate anyone. But the way she held herself spoke of intensity and strength.

Something fierce in Jared reached out to her fearless soul, and he found himself lost in her gray eyes for a moment, blinking at her stupidly.

But he had come here to say something, hadn't he?

"You just bought this house," he said, nodding to himself, as if that part had been in question and he was pleased with himself for nailing it down.

"We moved in yesterday," she said, tilting her head, and sounding just the slightest bit impatient.

The sound of another car pulling up had Jared turning around, hoping for the man of house. But it was just the mail truck.

"Well, I'm guessing you folks aren't from around here," Jared said, finding it easier to remember what he had come for now that he'd stopped looking at her for a minute. "There's a nice fishing hole in the woods beside your house. Everyone around here uses it. We always have. You can't just put up a fence and cut it off."

He ventured to meet her eyes again. They were colder now, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

"That's what you came here to say to me?" she asked after a moment.

"It is," he said, crossing his arms in front of him and planting his feet so she would know he wasn't going to disappear on her.

But her eyes darted to the side of him.

He turned again to see the mailman was standing there with a couple of envelopes in his hand, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Of course it was George Culpepper, who probably should have retired ten years ago and only stuck around to spread gossip. The whole town would know about Jared's confrontation with the woman by this time tomorrow.

"Your, uh, box is all jammed up," George said, helpfully stating the obvious, and holding out the envelopes for her.

"Thank you," she said, leaning over the railing to grab them. "Is what this man says true? Do many people around here really use that fishing hole?"

"Oh, I'm a government employee, ma'am," George said, raising his ancient arms. "I can't get involved in any kind of private land disputes."

"Good grief, Culpepper," Jared exploded. "She's not asking your opinion as a mailman . You grew up here. You were the head of the Cub Scouts."

But George was already hurrying back to his truck as fast as his feet would carry him, which wasn't at all fast, but was enough to tell Jared he was looking for help from the wrong quarter.

"I have a little boy," the woman said quietly. "I can't risk him wandering into the woods and falling into that creek."

Jared and his brothers had spent half their childhood wading, swimming, and hunting for treasure in the creek behind their own childhood home. This woman was obviously the overprotective type.

"Is your husband here?" Jared asked.

"No," she said tightly.

"When's he coming home?" he asked.

"He won't be. But we're going to visit him in a little while," she said. "I'll be sure to pass along all your thoughts to him. "

"Where is he?" Jared asked.

"Over on Possum Hollow Road," she said. "Beside the church."

"Mom?" a little voice said from the doorway.

"Thanks for stopping by," she said in a friendly tone that clearly meant get off my property.

Jared headed to his truck, trying not to notice George staring at him openly from where he still stood by his mail truck.

Shaking his head at the madness of the whole messed up situation, Jared pulled out of the drive and headed back toward home.

The lady was obviously bananas. Nothing about her situation made a lick of sense. Why would she and her husband be buying a house if they didn't even live together?

" There isn't even a house beside that church on Possum Hollow ," he muttered to himself as he turned down Knowlton Road. " The only thing over there is the… "

Suddenly the truth of the matter landed on him so hard he almost had to pull the car over.

The only thing next to the church was the graveyard.

Her husband wasn't going to be having a heart-to-heart with Jared about fences, fishing holes, or anything else. Her husband was dead. And she and the little boy were about to go visit him at the cemetery.

And George Culpepper obviously knew. That was why he had been looking at Jared like he had two heads.

Why did she have to be on George's route? Jared groaned out loud at the thought of his stupid misunderstanding going down the gossip chain, getting more and more ridiculous with each retelling.

And why hadn't the woman said something?

The memory of her standing there so fiercely tugged at his heart, in spite of his frustration. She and her boy were in mourning, and he had yelled at her and acted like she couldn't do anything for herself.

And instead of crying or complaining about it, she had quietly made him look like a complete fool. He couldn't help the little shiver of admiration that went down his spine.

He drove the rest of the way home trying not to think of her flashing gray eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw.

He managed to keep more or less busy with household tasks throughout the day, though his interaction with the gray-eyed lady kept playing in his mind. He ran over to a neighbor's place to help out with a roofing project in the afternoon, just to have something to do.

His sore muscles had finally brought his frazzled mind to heel by the time he got home for supper. Everyone else was already seated around the table, smiling and laughing as he came in the back door and hung his jacket on the hook.

"Sorry," he called out to the group. "We were close to being done, so we kept going a little past dark."

He headed to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

"No worries, son," Dad called back to him. "We know you had some errands to run and some neighbors to help out today."

That made sense, but suddenly everyone was laughing again.

" Simon," Mom said sharply. She clearly wasn't as amused as the others.

Jared got a sinking feeling in his stomach that he knew what they were laughing about. He slunk over to his seat and glanced over at Derek, but his brother was studiously looking at his own bowl of chili.

His older brother, Josh, was grinning and shaking his head. And Josh's guests, Luis and Jane, were smiling at him with twinkling eyes.

"I heard you went over and yelled at Cora Davies about that fence," his mother said briskly. "You leave that poor woman alone. She's been through enough."

"Davies," he echoed.

He'd heard that the woman was from out of town, but the Davies family was local. Ginny Davies was part of a trio of older women who were behind so many of the volunteer projects and fairs in town.

"She was married to Arthur Davies," his mother said. "He passed almost two years ago now, I think."

Arthur had been far enough ahead of Jared in school that he didn't really know him—only vaguely thought of him as a nice guy. If Jared remembered right, he was Ginny's son.

"You always get out of sorts this time of year," Mom went on. "But speaking to Cora that way was unacceptable. I raised you better than that. "

"In fairness, I didn't know she lost her husband," Jared said carefully.

"Oh, that's very clear from the story we heard," his father said, chuckling. "She put you in your place though, didn't she?"

Jared tried to scowl, but it came out as a half-smile. She really had put him in his place. And he hadn't even known it until he was halfway home.

"Well, someone had to speak with her about that fence," Jared said, shaking his head. "You don't just come into town and put up a fence. That's not how neighbors treat each other."

"No, they just storm up and yell at each other," Josh said, and then reflexively ducked as Jared threw a piece of cornbread at him.

Derek grabbed the cornbread from beside Josh's plate, and ate it before Jared could get it back, while everyone else at the table smiled at their antics.

"Boys," Mom said sharply.

"Sorry, Ma," Josh said contritely.

"Your brother has a point, Jared," Mom went on. "What did you do to be neighborly to Cora? She's the one who's new here."

Jared nodded glumly. He had always been the type to go off half-cocked, especially when he was upset. He honestly hadn't even planned out what he was going to say when he got over there.

Even if another man had bought that place and come out willing to talk with him, Jared probably would have just started yelling. Maybe he'd just been looking for a fight after all .

"Why don't you give it some thought," Dad said gently. "You've got all the time in the world to make a better second impression."

Jared glanced up, wondering if his dad had somehow seen in his eyes that he'd been trying to get the widow out of his head all day.

But his father just smiled and took another bite of his chili.

The conversation moved on to the horse rehab facility Josh was building, and how his daughter Scout was having dinner at her cousin's house in town.

But Jared found himself lost in his own thoughts. How was he supposed to be neighborly now when he hadn't even asked her name before he started complaining about her fence?

Thinking back on the day, he had an idea. He could replace her mailbox. He could do it while she was over at the school tomorrow and leave a note for her, apologizing for his behavior today. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. He couldn't mess up and yell at her again if he didn't even see her. And she definitely needed a new mailbox.

He felt bad thinking about her needing to hire people in for little handy jobs like that. But without a man around, things would be harder for her.

Jared saw her again in his mind, standing in that brave posture on her front porch, her sweater pulled around her small frame, and felt a pang in his chest.

But it was just sympathy. Nothing more than that.