Chapter 5: Summer

I glared at the blinking cursor on the computer screen and the number beside it. Since when were any of the farm’s accounts in the red? Dad had said things were a little tight but this was ridiculous. There was plenty of money in the general operating account. It looked to me like it hadn’t been funneled over properly. Or at all.

I sat back in my wheeled desk chair and ran a hand through my hair. I needed a break. I’d been at it all morning and the more I looked into the farm’s books, the angrier I became at my mother.

She’d been the bookkeeper for the farm since before I was born. She knew numbers and accounting like nobody’s business. I took after her that way, though I hated admitting now that I took after her in anything. When she’d left, abruptly if the balancing date on the spreadsheets were any indication, my dad hadn’t found someone new to take over.

For the first couple of months, things had sort of run themselves. After that, I’d tried helping my dad with phone calls and emails containing reminders to “transfer the money for the mortgage on this date” and “don’t forget about payroll next week.” Now, after seeing the state of things, it was a wonder he’d made it this far without me.

As if my thoughts had conjured him, hard knuckles rapped against the open door and I found my dad hovering half in, half out of my office.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Good morning, sunshine.” He crossed into the room, bringing with him the scent of leather and dirty denim. I loved the smell of both, thanks to him. He set a steaming mug on my desk and sipped on another still in his hand. “Thought I’d bring you some liquid energy.”

“Thanks.” I took the mug and sipped my coffee, grateful for the caffeine and a reason to take a break from the computer. I leaned back in my chair and slipped my feet out of my shoes before tucking them underneath me.

My dad sat in the empty chair across the desk, his shoulders stiff and jaw set. I couldn’t see his eyes underneath the brimmed hat but I could feel them piercing at me with an unasked question.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He set his mug aside and folded his hands. “You tell me. How bad is it?”

My brows knitted as I tried to read his meaning. “How bad …? Oh, the accounts?” He nodded, his lips pressed together. It almost made me giggle, the way he sat with his head down, like he’d just been sent into the principal’s office. Almost. But I knew better.

“It’s not great,” I admitted. “Money isn’t where it should be. I’m surprised the guys have been able to cash their paychecks these past few weeks.” My dad hung his head like he’d just been reprimanded. “But it’s not unfixable,” I continued. “The money’s there. It just needs to be funneled to the right places.”

“I bounced the truck payment last month,” he admitted.

“That’s because you wrote the check from the wrong account. I’ve already fixed it.”

“Really?” He blinked at me in surprise. “I’m caught up?”

“Completely,” I assured him. “Like I said, the money’s there, it just wasn’t organized.”

He sat up straighter and adjusted his hat. “Thanks, hon. I appreciate what you’re doing here.”

His words validated me. I enjoyed feeling needed but more than that, I wanted him to be happy. To not have to worry. “You’re paying me enough for it,” I teased.

“Quality doesn’t come cheap.” His smile softened. “I’m glad you’re home, even if it’s not what you—”

“Stop right there,” I said, holding up a hand. “You don’t get to act like I gave up the moon to come back and help you out.”

“But, honey—”

“No ‘buts.’ I mean it. I came back here because I love you and it’s what I want. I’m happy here. This is my home and it always will be. Stop acting like you forced me.”

He smiled and picked up his mug. “All right. Fine. I can’t believe I wasted all that money on big-city schoolin’ just to have you come home and do addition and subtraction on my dial-up computer. How’s that?”

“Let’s meet in the middle,” I told him with a laugh.

“Speaking of meeting in the middle, you know, there’s someone else who was askin’ to see ya when ya got settled back here.”

My smile died and the coffee on my tongue turned instantly bitter. “No.”

“Summer, she’s your mother.”

“And you’re her husband. Didn’t matter much, did it?”

“This isn’t your fight.”

“You’re right. It’s yours. And if you won’t do battle, I will.”

He sat back, his eyes widening. “Is that what this is about? You think you have to punish her for me?”

“No, Dad.” I exhaled. “I’m just … I don’t know her anymore. I guess I never did. She feels like a stranger.”

Lines appeared at the corner of his eyes as his face tightened. “You should at least talk to her.”

I set my cup down and made a show of moving the mouse around the screen. “Can’t. Too busy.” I clicked the button a few times for good measure.

My dad leaned forward in his chair and opened his mouth, no doubt ready to spew some line about the bonds of family and how important it was to forgive. I would’ve cut him off, but a noise in the doorway did it for me.

“’Scuse me, am I interrupting?” Ford looked back and forth between us uncertainly, his body already half turned toward the exit. His boots scuffed the floor as he turned to go without waiting for an answer. How much had he heard?

“No, it’s fine. Come in,” I said, before my dad could say otherwise.

“Are you sure? I can come back.”

“Dad was just on his way out,” I said.

My dad gave me a stern look before rising, his hat in one hand, his coffee in the other. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he said to me, his tone ominous and heavy with meaning. We weren’t done with this conversation. Fine. I’d just keep finding ways to interrupt it.

As distractions went, Ford wasn’t bad. He had on jeans snug enough around the hips that it got the imagination going. His brown work boots had seen better days; the sole was loose around the edges and stained where his frayed jeans met the laces. He still hadn’t shaved. For a fleeting moment, I wondered what the stubble would feel like against my skin.

I forced my eyes down, not wanting to be caught staring—again—and saw that his shirt was blue today. It matched his eyes. I tried not to compare the two shades, willing myself to stop thinking about his eyes at all. Or any other part of him. Damn those jeans…