39. Chapter 39

"You hired a new farmhand?" I shade my eyes to see a lone figure driving a mower along the edge of the wheat field to make it easier to harvest. "Can we trust him?"

I shouldn't question Hans. We need the help and weeding out the opportunists is difficult.

"I didn't run a background check, but he's not a fan of fotboll and he won't be selling any stories. That I can guarantee."

"I guess I'll meet him later." As much as I don't want anyone else on the farm, Hans and I can't harvest the wheat alone. The farm might survive on goat cheese and wool since my grandparents left a trust to cover the cost of running the land, but the extra income goes to charities.

Hans makes a noncommittal sound from the back of his throat like he's hiding something from me. "When did this guy start?"

"A couple of days ago." Hans turns and walks away as fast as his aged legs can carry him.

The mystery of the new farmhand is the type of thing that can occupy my mind, so I don't obsess over the fact that Alec left four days ago.

I regretted not hearing Alec out as soon as he left. Part of me wishes he stayed, but the other part knows that if Alec loved me, he'd take responsibility and try. I can't take solace in being right. It's lonely and crushing.

Without the farm, I wouldn't get up in the morning. But the animals need to be fed and they have no regard for my broken heart.

I imagine what would've happened if Alec wanted to be with me. His declaration of love and throwing himself at my feet for mercy. Which I would've granted after the proper amount of groveling and time. Neither of those things is clear in my mind or provide a satisfactory new beginning. But since it's all in my head, they're irrelevant.

But my mind still reinvents the past where Alec would tell me he'd been a fool to let me go and can't imagine his life without me.

I dream of everything he would say to win me back. But even the fantasy feels hollow. No words out of his mouth can penetrate the pain in my heart. I've designed elaborate scenarios in my head of lavish gifts and huge proclamations. My heart soars with love and we consummate our very emotional reunion. But even the most serendipitous dreams are holograms compared to the past with Alec and the present ache.

My mantra is that I'm better off without him since he can't commit to a short-term separation. If we were in a relationship, we'd face harder things than this.

Hans told me that Alec's leaving made headlines on some of the gossip sites. We were photographed together on our date night in Brooklyn, and those pictures are also plastered on social media with every super sleuth offering an opinion on whether he is the man in the Evighet statue. They judge his suit and make insinuations about his manhood. Blatantly toxic views on display for the world to consume and comment on.

I use Hans's phone to watch the video of Alec at the airport. He charms and teases the photographers, saying he isn't a man to kiss and tell and only grins when asked if he'd kissed me.

Alec revels in his few minutes of fame. No grimaces or stiff body language, the camera loves him and he loves the camera back. It hurts. It should validate my decision, but it hurts.

So instead of letting Alec take over my mind, I make up stories guessing the identity of the new farmhand. I imagine the corrupt things the man did as reasons why he's hiding on a remote farm. Maybe I'll write a crime drama when I can't sleep at night. The thought brings a smile to my face.

Two days later, and I still haven't met our new farmhand.

"I'm beginning to think either the new farmhand is avoiding me or you've hired an undocumented migrant and you want me to have plausible deniability," I say casually as we feed the goats.

Hans sputters and pounds his chest. "Don't kill an old man with jokes."

Hans doesn't look me in the eye for the rest of the day. My imagination has taken a dark turn. I refuse to believe that the man I've known since birth would sell me out, but he's lying to me. After dinner, I plug my phone in and wait for it to turn on.

I have to check the social media sites for stories that no one else would know. He knows I'm not online, so it would be easy to make money off my name when I'm not monitoring it.

There is still speculation, but only the recent articles know my current location. Those date back to before Alec arrived. Shane didn't have to be a genius to find me. He just had to check the gossip sites. There are a bunch of articles pretending to have inside information on the farm, my role here, and my new investor. They're making things up now. But there are no articles with any relevant or personal information. I do a few more searches. Nothing.

I'm paranoid.

Tomorrow I'm meeting the farmhand. He's been working for me for almost a week and I don't know his name. I don't care if Hans hasn't sold me out. This is not normal.

The day has been skit since I woke up to thunder and lightning and had to get the animals in the barn but couldn't find the new farmhand. I have no right to complain, but helvete, something has to go right.

Hans says he sent him on an errand, but this is ridiculous. The man cannot work for me if I don't know who he is. I stop by the barn and see one tractor is missing. It's old and will die in the rain. If the farmhand had checked with me, he would've known. I try to get Hans on the two-way radio and only hear static.

That sets off alarm bells in my head. I should've been able to hear the new farmhand check in on the radio this past week. Another fact that points to Hans hiding something from me. I change the frequency of the radio and catch Hans speaking, but the farmhand doesn't need to reply.

There's no good reason for Hans to put them on a different frequency. My life is becoming a TV show. It's either a drama or a psychological thriller. I'm a terrible judge. I fell in love with a man who was willing to sell my love for him. I could be inventing danger or ignoring it.

Hans wanders into the barn and looks surprised to see me. "I was looking for you."

It's hard to believe him, but I don't call him out yet. "What do you need?"

"There are a few messages on the answering machine in the farmhouse. The same guy keeps calling. I think he's a reporter, but he mentioned international financial transfers and contracts. He might be someone you know."

The guy has to be a fake, but I pause. Madyson's accountant might try to confirm the money from the gallery sales. I should check. "I'll go in after I make sure the farmhand isn't stranded with a broken-down tractor."

Hans flinches. "I'll find him and bring him back if he needs it. I'll probably send him home. Too much rain."

I'm torn between following Hans and listening to the messages. I walk toward the farmhouse with my radio on to hear the new radio frequency, listening for the farmhand. No sense following Hans until he locates the guy.

The farmhouse is welcoming, warm, and dry. I forget where the answering machine is in the house and search for it. It's over twenty years old, and I'm surprised it works.

I push play, and my stomach turns when I hear the voice.

"Hello, I'm trying to reach Von Blixt. This is Shane Reynolds. I hope I have the right number. Please call me back at 555-555-5555."

My heart speeds up, wondering if something happened to Alec. But Shane sounds fine—not upset. The next message starts.

"Hello, this is Shane Reynolds, again. If I'm reaching Von, I really need to speak to you. I assume you'll want to transfer the assets as soon as the sale happens, but I don't know how you want the funds sent. There are rules and regulations for international transfers we must discuss. I also don't have a signed contract for the transfer. Please call me as soon as possible."

Shane repeats his number, but I press the button for the next message. There are three more similar messages.

According to my back account, I've been paid for the sale of my art. Shane's request doesn't make sense. It would be insane to think it has something to do with my new farmhand, but I've lived my entire life without any mystery and now there are two strange occurrences. I don't believe in coincidences.

Needing answers, I tramp back out into the rain to get an ATV to find my soon-to-be-fired farmhand. I will not tolerate deception. A light catches my eye from my workshop. It should not be on. I'm furious with Hans for going in or allowing someone else into my private space. It ignites my fury and within minutes, I'm flying through the field, rain pelting my body.

The radio crackles and I slow to hear the voice. Hans is giving instructions to restart the tractor, but I only hear grunts from the farmhand. I spot the tractor off in the distance and speed toward it. Three things happen in rapid succession. I hear a distinctly loud American voice speaking terrible Swedish, the shout of joy as the tractor starts, but a strangled yell as the tractor jolts and slides over an embankment. It must be in reverse and I don't know if it ran Alec over or…

I can't finish that thought. The rain blurs my vision, but the tractor isn't in sight and I can't hear Alec on the radio. I'm screaming into it, trying to get to him while all the other unanswered questions become insignificant.

It feels like hours later by the time I get to the tipped over machine. I'm yelling Alec's name, but the wind carries my voice away. I don't see him. Jumping off the ATV, I slide down the mud to the tractor. Alec's legs are sticking out, trying to gain purchase, kicking out and wiggling around.

He's alive. I'm frantic to get him out from under the beast.

"Alec!" My voice is high and panicked.

"Von?" Alec sounds surprised but not in pain.

My heart starts beating again as I grip his leg. I choke on air, terror coursing through my mind, processing all of his possible injuries. My hands keep slipping off the call button on the radio so I can't reach Hans.

"Can you pull me out?" Alec's voice is muffled.

"We have to be careful not to injure you more. We might need to call the emergency department to lift it off you." I stroke his leg, slightly relieved he sounds coherent and not suffering.

"I got stuck trying to get the radio. I'm fine. Not hurt, just stuck."

Grabbing both of his legs, I yank him out and he blinks up at me, drenched and covered in mud. Keeping my hysteria in control is extremely hard. I'm not sure if I should punch him or kiss him.

"You left Sweden," I accuse. My brain can't understand Alec being here as my hands run over his body, checking for injuries.

"Hi, Viking." Alec's timid and trying to sit up, but I push him down. He submits to my touch.

I wish I had the strength to put some distance between us, but I don't. My hands have a will of their own, tracing every part of him from his head to his boots. The smart thing would be to retreat and get answers—smart is overrated.

"Can we talk?" He reaches for me again, but I lean back.

The shock is wearing off and Alec's deception about being on the farm confuses me.

"What are you doing here?" My mind goes numb.

"The short answer is that I want to help you get the farm up and running. The long answer is complicated and the longer I'm here, the more I'm figuring it out."

"Please tell me the long answer in detail." Thinking he could've died put things in perspective, but my heart is fragile.