Season of Hope Page 4

  “I trust you. It’s just a cut. Nothing serious.” Tori reached for her phone but found her back pocket to be empty. Oh, that’s right—it had flown out of her hand. She heaved a sigh, causing Jake’s eyes to jerk to her face.

  “You okay?”

  She dragged a hand over her face and pressed it to her throbbing forehead. “My phone. It’s lost in the attic somewhere. Aunt C’s going to wonder where I am. How did you know I was here anyway?”

  “I drove by, saw your car and decided to stop for a quick tour of the house to see what needs to be done. Looks like we’ll have to start by patching that hole.” Jake shot her a half smile that sent her heart skittering across her ribs. He gathered the trash, stuffed it into his front pocket and closed the first aid kit. “Are you okay to drive?”

  “Of course. It’s nothing more than a bruise and a cut.”

  He held out his hand to her. “Lean on me. I’ll get you to your car so you can rest for a moment, then I’ll go back to the attic to find your phone.”

  Lean on me.

  She’d love nothing more.

  Jake wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her down the steps. She pressed her cheek into the softness of his T-shirt and inhaled the scent of hay mixed with sunshine. For the first time in a very long time, she felt safe. But knowing it was a momentary kindness—of Jake being Jake and helping out someone in need—filled her heart with sadness that threatened to buckle her knees.

  She wanted his forgiveness. A fresh start. But that wasn’t possible. He’d made that clear already. And somehow she had to figure out how to live with that.

  Chapter Three

  Finding Tori trapped and terrified in her attic knifed Jake in the gut.

  Not to mention the way she’d clung to him after he’d freed her foot. Hearing her cries and feeling her trembling shook him more than he cared to admit.

  Not wanting her to go through that again, he’d insisted she get the utilities transferred into her name and turned on. If he was going to work on her house, he needed power for his tools anyway.

  And with rain soaking the fields, today seemed like the perfect time to get started. The sooner, the better, especially with rotted floorboards in the attic.

  Jake shined his flashlight across the damaged floor. White fungus stained the dark wood. He pulled at one of the ragged edges and it flaked off in his hand.

  Definitely dry rot.

  The attic floorboards would need to be replaced, which meant a trip to the home improvement store.

  He straightened, pulled off his leather gloves and brushed dirt off his knees. A drop of water splatted his forehead and slid between his eyes. He shined his light across the ceiling and found a bubble of water between two wet rafters.

  He was afraid of that. A leaking roof wasn’t something to ignore.

  Did Tori’s budget include roof replacement?

  Probably not, but they’d have to make it happen if she wanted to live here.

  But repairing the roof would have to wait until the rain stopped. He needed to find a sheet of plywood to cover the hole in the floor for now and grab a bucket or something to catch the water.

  He headed for the staircase to find Tori standing in the doorway to the attic with her hands pressed against the walls and one foot on the first step. “Hey, I was coming to find you.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I said your family could use my property, but I didn’t expect to find cows in my backyard.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was washing walls in the back bedroom when I heard mooing. I looked out and found them in the backyard.”

  Jake hurried down the steps, brushed past her and rushed into the bedroom that smelled like lemon cleaner. A glance out the sparkling window showed half a dozen heifers grazing in her grass.

  Why weren’t they bedded down in the barn?

  He pulled out his phone and tapped on Tucker’s name. When the call went to his brother’s voice mail, Jake called the farmhouse. “Hey, Dad, is Tuck around?”

  “No, he took the twins to the dentist. Need something?”

  “Cows are out. I was going to have him give me a hand to round them up.”

  “I’ll help. Where are you?”

  “I’m at Tori’s, but you stay put. No sense in both of us getting wet. I’ll take care of it.” Jake ended the call, stowed his phone and looked at Tori. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”

  “I can help you.”

  Jake eyed her thin yellow T-shirt layered over a tank top or something, cutoff shorts fraying around the edges and flowered flip-flops. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Hypocrite.”

  “What’d you call me?”

  “You heard me. You’re so afraid of letting people help that you shoulder all the burdens by yourself.”

  Jake tossed his hands in the air. “Fear has nothing to do with it. Dad’s recovering from back surgery. Tuck’s at the dentist with his kids. Evan and Micah are doing their own thing. Looks like I’m the only guy to do the work.”

  “I just offered.”

  “What do you know about herding cows?” Jake headed for the stairs.

  She followed behind him. “Not a thing, but I can follow directions well. And, right now, it seems like you could use an extra set of hands.”

  He’d done things on his own for so long that he didn’t know how to ask for...or accept help. Not only that, but he couldn’t risk something happening to someone else he cared about.

  Whoa.

  The traitorous thought slammed into his chest like one of his 1,500-pound heifers.

  He cared about Tori? After what she’d done?

  Not by choice.

  He preferred to feel indifferent. That way, every word, every moment, every glimpse of her didn’t set his heart on fire.

  Truth was, she’d been here only a handful of days and she was getting under his skin. Again.

  Jake strode through the kitchen for the back door, trying to ignore the person close enough to be his shadow.

  The rain slowed to a mist, creating steamy, humid air that stirred up scents of plowed earth, freshly cut grass and wet animals.

  One of the cows eyed him from under the apple tree and bawled.

  Jake reached in his pocket, pulled out the farm truck keys and handed them to Tori. “If you want to help, drive the truck to the barn. I need to load fencing supplies.”

  She took the keys without a word and rounded the side of the house to the driveway.

  He strode across the wet grass to one of the heifers and ran a hand over her damp hide. “Hey, don’t cry to me. You’re the ones who left the barn to stand in the rain. Time to head back inside.”

  He jogged across the yard to get in front of the wayward herd and turned to face them. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, “Come on, cows. Come on.”

  They responded to his voice with mooing, but they ambled toward him with the speed of Sunday afternoon drivers. As they passed the fence, Jake noticed a heavy limb on the ground between two posts. Mystery solved as to how they got out. Within minutes, Jake led them back into the barn and secured the gate across the doorway, which allowed for fresh air but prevented another escape.

  Tori had parked in the barnyard and left the truck idling. He motioned for her to drive to the white utility barn, where he loaded a chain saw, roll of barbed wire, fence stretcher and barbed wire pliers. He opened the passenger door and hopped inside.

  “Where to now?”

  “Back to your place. I’ll drop you off, then I’ll drive into the pasture to fix the fence.”

  “Tell me where to go. I can help.”

  He laughed. “Fixed a lot of fences, have you, city girl?”

  She shot him a glare. “Not a single one, but like I said earlier, I follow directions well and you
could use another set of hands, country boy.”

  He swallowed a reply and turned up the radio, then regretted it. A current hit about love that was meant to be filled the cab.

  Not for him. Not again.

  Jake lowered the window, rested an elbow on the door frame, and rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and index finger.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Tori’s help. Anyone else, and he’d jump at the chance for extra hands.

  But, Tori...man, being around her so much was killing him. Every time she moved, he breathed in her expensive perfume that rattled memories that needed to stay locked up. At one time, he would’ve given almost anything to hear her voice once again, the softness of her lips against his, her silky hair through his fingers...

  But, no. They were not meant to be.

  The broken fence came into view. “Pull up to the fence where that heavy limb is lying. The lightning must have hit the tree, and the noise spooked the cows, which caused them to bolt.”

  She did as instructed and shut off the engine. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Cows getting out? More than any farmer would like. Fences require consistent checking and maintenance, and we’re in the process of replacing all the fencing. I do what I can but...” His growing to-do list weighed on his shoulders. Jake shook it off, hopped out of the truck and opened the back door to the extended cab. He searched for some gloves. He found one pair wedged between the seats, but where were the leather ones he’d used earlier?

  Still in Tori’s attic.

  He’d removed them while inspecting the floorboards and hadn’t picked them up before heading downstairs.

  Perfect.

  Well, he’d handled fencing all his life, so he’d simply be careful.

  “Put these on to protect your hands.” He tossed her the gloves, then closed the doors. He reached over the tailgate for the chain saw. A few minutes later, the downed limb lay in chunks on the ground. Perfect size for firewood.

  He returned to the truck, stowed the chain saw, shoved the fencing pliers in his back pocket, handed the rusty yellow fence stretcher that had been his grandfather’s to Tori and reached for the roll of wire, careful not to snag it on his skin. He jerked his head toward the fence. “Follow me.”

  Jake set the roll on the ground where lines of loose wire sagged between two posts. He knelt between them, soaking the knees of his jeans, and picked up one end of the broken wire, twisting it into a loop. Reaching for the roll of wire, he ran the free end in through the loop and wrapped it a few times to secure it. Jake picked up the other end of the broken wire, bent it around the head of the fencing pliers and twisted it into a loop. He scanned the ground for the fence stretcher and realized Tori still held it.

  She’d been so quiet. For a moment, he’d forgotten she was there. But now knowing she watched his movements sent the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. He held out a hand. “May I have that, please?”

  She handed it to him and knelt beside him.

  “Careful. There are prickers in the grass.” Jake seated the wires in the grooves and clamped them. “Remember the old ratchet car jacks?”

  She stared at him with a blank look, then shrugged as pink brightened her cheeks. “No, not really.”

  He smiled. “No big deal. Well, the fence stretcher uses that same ratchet motion to tighten the wires. Want to try it out?”

  “What do I do?” She reached for it, her hand brushing against his.

  “Just grab this handle and move it back and forth. It travels along this grooved edge and pulls the two sections of wire together.” Jake moved behind her, covered her hands and demonstrated the pumping action required to move the tool.

  She did as instructed as Jake stepped back.

  The sound of metal snapping jerked Jake’s attention away from Tori’s gloved hands to the wire jumping free of the stretcher. He grabbed onto it, preventing it from slicing her face.

  Pain flared through his hand as the barb flayed his palm. Crimson stained his skin and raced between his fingers.

  “Jake!” Tori dropped the fence stretcher, tore off her gloves and pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a cream-colored, lace-edged camisole. She wrapped the shirt around his hand, causing him to cry out. “Sorrysorrysorry! We need to get you to the ER.”

  Jake wanted to argue, but the searing pain scrambled his brains.

  Tori guided him to the truck, then slid in behind the wheel. Her fingers shook as she tried to start the engine.

  Jake pressed his head against the seat rest, closed his eyes, and forced air in and out of his lungs.

  He deserved a swift kick. Why didn’t he make sure the wire had been seated correctly before clamping it down? What was he thinking?

  Problem was, when Tori was around, thinking went out the window.

  He knew better than to grab the wire without gloves, but seeing it springing toward Tori’s face...

  And now he won a trip to the ER for his lack of focus.

  Way to go, hotshot.

  * * *

  If Tori hadn’t insisted on helping Jake, then he wouldn’t be on the couch snoring softly under the influence of pain meds prescribed after his unexpected surgery to repair the flexor tendon in his right hand.

  One more thing for him to hold against her.

  She hated his carrying everyone’s burdens, and with all the help he’d given her, if she could give back even a little, then maybe she could redeem herself.

  Tori picked up her iPad and tried to focus on the fund-raising notes she’d been making about Jake’s project. She’d gotten a list of local businesses and started a letter requesting sponsorship, but she couldn’t give it the proper attention.

  Instead, her eyes roamed across the room, over the framed family photos hanging on barn board walls—the boys’ graduation, Jake’s and Micah’s boot camp photos, Tucker with his twins as infants, Evan holding a kayak paddle in one hand and a trophy in the other. The flat-screen TV hung above the brick fireplace that begged to be lit. Piles of farming magazines lay scattered on the square wooden coffee table nicked with scars and white water rings. Brownish leaves on the tall plant in the corner showed it thirsted for light and water. Tan tabbed curtains had been drawn to keep out the sunshine heating the bay window.

  Her gaze settled on Jake. Sprawled on the dark brown leather couch, he slept on his back with his left arm over his head and his splinted, bandaged right hand resting on his chest. The cream-colored chunky knitted afghan had fallen to the floor, leaving Jake exposed in a navy blue T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts with a torn pocket.

  His face softened under the necessity of rest. The furrowed brows relaxed. The lines around his mouth disappeared in the shadow of his scuff. She longed to run her fingers through his hair, brush the stray strands off his tanned forehead. But it wasn’t her place.

  She set her tablet on the arm of the matching overstuffed chair where she’d been sitting and stood. Clasping her hands together and lifting her arms above her head, she stretched and rolled the kinks from her neck.

  Jake groaned and mumbled something, but Tori couldn’t make out his words. Scowling, he shook his head. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes darted back and forth. He circled his arms in front of him, almost as if trying to grab onto something. “Tori! No!”

  He jerked awake, his chest heaving and breathing ragged. His eyes found hers, and she took a step toward him, then stopped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Keeping an eye on you.” He was dreaming about her? Sounded more like a nightmare.

  “I don’t need a babysitter.” Jake sat up and moved to the edge of the couch. He rested both elbows on his knees, cradled his injured hand against his chest and dragged his other hand across his face, then through his hair. “Feel free to leave. I’m fine.”

  “You had surgery yesterday.”

 
“You’re not my wife anymore, Tori. You don’t belong here.” He stood and left the room.

  His sharp words lashed at her heart with the chill of a frosty winter morning, turning her skin cold. He voiced the things she’d been turning over in her head. But she promised Jake’s father, Chuck, she’d hang around, and that’s what she was going to do whether Jake liked it or not.

  He returned a moment later with a full glass of water and stopped short as if surprised to see her. He set the glass on the table, sloshing water onto one of the magazines. She reached for a tissue from the box on the table next to the chair and mopped up the water.

  Jake reached for her hand. “Stop. You don’t need to clean up my messes. I’m serious.”

  Tori balled the soggy tissue in her hand and resisted the urge to throw it at him. “Listen, Jake—”

  “No, you listen. This is my house. The one place where I can go for a little peace and quiet. Just...leave.”

  “No. Your dad asked me to stay until he got back, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m sure the pain in your hand is causing you to act like a jerk, so I’ll try not to get all sensitive female on you and crumble into a weeping ball because you hurt my feelings.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want. You’re good at that.” He reached for the remote and flicked through soap operas, daytime talk shows and home shopping, finally settling on a black-and-white Western. Two minutes into the program, he flicked it off and tossed the remote onto the cushion beside him. “Where’s Dad anyway?”

  “Claudia drove him to an appointment.”

  “I thought Tucker was doing that.”

  “Tucker and the twins are at the barn. A milk inspector or someone like that showed up a little bit ago.”

  Jake’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” Then he buried his face in his good hand. “Oh, man. I left a mess in the milk house I’d planned to take care of yesterday.”

  “It’s been taken care of.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “One of the neighboring farmers called your dad yesterday and mentioned a rumor of the milk inspector in the area. Claudia and I watched the twins while he and Tuck hung out at the hospital during your surgery, but then Tuck asked if we could watch them a little longer so he could make sure the milk house was ready to go.”