Feels Like Love (3 page)

“I’m
sleeping in Emily’s room,” April replied. “I’ll be fine.”

He
drew her closer. “You have
no
idea how badly I wish we were already
married,” he growled into her hair.

April
squirmed; she wasn’t in the mood for romance. “I need to finish the dishes.”

Scott
loosened his hold. “When you’re done, can we take a walk?”

It
was almost ten and the world was dark and peaceful, the stars making a tapestry
of light across the inky sky. The silence was broken by the rustlings of the
cattle and the squeaking of the snow under their feet as April and Scott walked
down the road away from the house.

April
shivered and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. She didn’t
stop walking as she threw her head back to look at the sky. “Look how many
stars there are. They're brighter here than anywhere else.”

Scott
looped his arm around her shoulders and they walked in silence for a few
minutes until finally April became too dizzy and had to pull her gaze back to the
road.

“So,”
Scott said, “are you going to tell me about him?”

She
knew it was coming. After the scene at dinner,
of course
he would have
questions about Wade. So why did her throat suddenly feel so tight?

“I
told you, he’s an old friend from high school,” she stammered.

“Come
on. I saw how everyone was acting, especially
you
. There’s more to it
than that.”

She
sighed. “He was my boyfriend. We dated, we broke up, I moved away, I met you.
End of story.”

“Why
do I get the feeling that’s not the whole story?” He wouldn’t let her off so easy.

“I
guess you could say we were kind of a thing,
”
she admitted after a
pause.

Scott
stopped and turned to face her, dropping his arm from her shoulders. “What does
that mean?”

“I
don’t know, just a …
thing
. We became friends in grade school and it
lasted all the way through high school. Everyone thought we’d get married.” She
forced a laugh, hoping he hadn’t caught the pang of regret in her voice. “It
seems ridiculous now.”

Scott
was quiet, his breath cloudy in the cold air.

“You’ve
had other girlfriends,” April pointed out.

He
nodded. “That's not the issue. The issue is you’re still hung up on him.”

“No,
I’m not.”

“April,
please, I’m not stupid. This is not a normal reaction.”

“We
broke up during my second year of college and it was … ugly,” she said finally.
“We both said hurtful things and we left it that way.”

“Yet,
for some reason, he’s doing chores for your dad,” Scott pointed out.

“He
really bonded with my family,” April said. It felt like she’d been punched in
the stomach; she hadn’t expected the memories to hurt so much. “We were only school
friends for a while, but Wade’s home life wasn’t the best. My dad hired him to
move sprinkler pipes the summer before sixth grade and after that, he started
hanging around here a lot.”

The
memory of young Wade formed in her mind – skinny and sunburned, hauling
sprinkler pipes through a field of alfalfa almost as tall as he was. The long
metal pipes were heavy and awkward, but he never complained and never asked for
help. Eventually he moved on to other chores and by the time they were in high
school, he could run the farm practically as well as her father.

“Oh,
I see,” Scott said cynically. “So he became the son Ben was supposed to have
been, is that it?”

April
paused. She’d never thought of it that way before. To her, Ben had always just
been Ben and his condition was as much a part of him as his big eyes and long
eyelashes. Maybe it was different for her parents. As much as they loved him,
maybe there was also pain, the loss of the way things could have been.

“I
don’t know,” she whispered.

Scott
gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, his lips against her temple.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I
know,” April said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cold
cheek to his. “Please don’t worry about Wade; it’s ancient history. I love
you
.”
She turned her head to meet his lips for a long kiss.

“I’m
glad we got that worked out,” Scott said when they broke apart. “Can we go back
inside now? I’m
freezing
!”

April
laughed and they turned toward home.

April
said
goodnight to Scott and went to her parents’ room. Her dad was already asleep,
but her mother was still packing – though there were a lot more clothes
piled
around
the open suitcase than were actually
in
it.

“Did
you get Scott settled?” she asked, looking up from the skirt she was folding.

April
nodded and sat down at the foot of the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress
and disturb her dad. “Do you like him?”

“He
seems great; I’m excited to get to know him better,” her mother said. “Do you
need any refreshers on how to take care of Ben?”

“I
don’t think so,” April said. “Nothing has changed, has it?”

“Just
that Donna has taken over his bathing. And she helps him in the bathroom
whenever she’s here. Having her instead of us seems less embarrassing for him.”

April
nodded. “He’s still eating okay?”

“Yes,
just make sure to feed him little pieces and he needs the nutritional
supplement with every meal,” her mother replied. She picked up a bottle of
travel sized shampoo and frowned at it. “Will this be enough for the whole trip,
do you think?”

“Better
take two,” April advised. She scratched her fingernails over the yarn knots on
the quilt covering the bed. “I don’t see why dad asked Wade to do the chores. It’s
going to be so awkward.”

“Only
if you make it awkward.”

“I
won’t make it
anything
, because I don’t plan to see him,” April
grumbled, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. She did want to see Wade again …
maybe.

“If
you’re not going to see him, then you don’t need to worry about it, do you?” her
mother said calmly.

“Why
couldn’t dad find someone else?”

Her
mother removed several items from the suitcase. “You know, just because Wade
isn’t a part of your life anymore doesn’t mean he isn’t part of ours. He comes over
quite often.”

“I
didn’t know that, why didn’t you tell me?”

Her
mother gave her a long look. “Sweetheart, you always get so upset when we mention
Wade, I wasn’t about to open
that
can of worms.”

“I’m
not upset,” April burst out. Her dad stirred and she threw a guilty look in his
direction. “I’m not upset,” she continued in a softer voice. “But what about
Scott? He’s not going to like Wade coming over every day. You’re not being fair
to him.”

“I
understand,” her mother said, a hint of steel in her voice. “But, is it fair to
expect your dad to take time training someone to milk the cows and do the other
chores when Wade already knows how and is willing to help?”
“No,” April muttered,
plucking at a long piece of yarn on the quilt.

“I’m
sure the three of you can act like adults and everything will be fine. Besides,
as you said, you don’t
have
to see him.”

April
knew her parents had been extremely saddened by her breakup with Wade. They never
directly interfered, but they had dropped plenty of hints over the years that maybe
the relationship was not dead and they should try again.

But,
they didn’t know about Twin Falls.

“So
that’s what Wade does now?” April finally asked. “He’s farming?”

Her
mother wrapped the cord around her blow dryer and put it in the suitcase. “Wade
bought the Eddington farm last year and has been fixing it up. He also does something
with computer programming, but he’s never really gone into details, says it’s
pretty boring.” She began filling in the space around the blow dryer with
rolled socks. “I hate packing,” she murmured, almost to herself.

April
had been to the Eddington farm once in junior high, when she’d been paired with
Anoria Eddington for a class project. It was some distance from town, up a
small canyon. A pretty spot, but totally unsuited for a farm. The fields were sloped
and rocky – hard to plant, hard to water, hard to harvest. He’d never get
good crops there.

What
was he thinking?

“Computers
are boring as opposed to shoveling manure and driving a tractor in circles all
day,” she muttered, unable to keep a note of sarcasm out of her voice.

“I
remember a time when you didn’t mind riding a tractor in circles all day,” her
mother pressed on the clothes inside the suitcase to smash them down and gave
her a steady look.

April
didn’t want to think of those summer days she had spent perched on the fender of
a tractor while Wade drove the plow, the seeder, the swather, or the baler
around her dad’s fields. She’d cling with one hand to the edge of the fender
and with the other to the back of the seat, Wade’s back solid and warm against
her arm. It wasn’t boring at all.

“You
want him to be happy, don’t you?” her mother asked.

April
shrugged. The state of Wade’s happiness was something she tried not to dwell
on.

Later,
after she crept into Emily’s room and slipped into the spare bed, she lay awake
for a long time, listening to her sister’s deep, even breathing and fighting
back the memories that seemed determined to surface.

It
was still dark when she woke a few hours later to see her parents off. The fire
in the wood burning stove was out and April shivered as she pulled on a pair of
wooly socks and an orange Boise State University sweatshirt that didn’t really
match her purple pajama pants. She gathered her unruly hair into a ponytail and
looked forward to going back to bed once they were gone.

After
hugs and kisses and a barrage of last minute instructions from both her parents,
April watched from the living room window as they drove down the road. Another
set of headlights turned into the lane toward the house and the two vehicles stopped
side-by-side for a moment, the drivers obviously having a brief conversation
before continuing on.

It
was too dark to see the car coming toward her and April was puzzled for a
minute. But a quick glance at the clock reminded her, it was chore time and Wade
had come to milk the cows.

Her
pulse quickened. Hiding from anyone in a town as small as Snow Valley wasn’t
easy, but she had tried. When she was home, she had stayed on the farm as much
as possible and trips to town were usually quick and filled with anxiety. It
helped that Wade avoided her as actively as she avoided him. In over two years she
had only seen him once.

April
stepped back from the window as the headlights reached the house and made the
turn toward the barns.

She
told herself she wasn’t going to the kitchen because she could see the milk barn
from the window. She was going to the kitchen because it was almost morning and
she was up anyway, so she may as well make a batch of muffins for breakfast. It
was purely a coincidence she could see the barns.

The
milk barn was some distance from the house and the kitchen was dark; Wade wouldn’t
be able to see her.
Probably.
But, better not to take chances. She hid
behind the curtain at the window by the table and peeked out as the truck came
to a stop, triggering the motion sensor floodlights mounted on the barn.

April
let out a snort of disgust. He still drove the same old pickup he had had in
high school. That figured. She glanced from Wade’s truck to Scott’s BMW parked
near the house and felt a petty surge of satisfaction.

Across
the backyard, a tall figure emerged from the truck and disappeared into the
barn. A few moments later, the inside lights came on, the rectangular windows
lighting up in the dark like the eyes of a jack-o-lantern.

April
had helped her dad milk the cows enough times to know the routine. First, Wade
would go into the machine room to start the motor on the milking machine. He would
have to coax it along, but finally it would come to life with a rattle and a
puff of smoke. Once the motor was running, he would go to the washroom and fill
a five gallon bucket to the brim with industrial strength soap and hot water,
then haul the bucket to the milking room.

The
cows were already in the holding pen outside and as the machines started up,
they began lowing, eager to get at the grain they were fed during milking. Wade
would start the conveyer belt that brought the grain from the storage silo to
the metal pans at the head of the stalls, and then he would yank on the rope
that opened the door to the corrals. The cows would file in slowly, jostling
each other as they tried to get the best access to the grain.

The
smell of milk, cleaners, and cow manure, the rattle of the machines, the shuffling
and sniffing of the cows, suddenly, April was homesick for it. She stood at the
window for some time, watching as the cows cycled in and out of the barn.
Finally, she sighed, turned on the radio in the kitchen, and flipped open the
recipe box on the counter.

It
took some digging, but finally she found the recipe for blueberry muffins,
written on an index card in her mother’s handwriting. She greased muffin tins, mixed
batter, and even braved the creepy part of the basement to get frozen
blueberries from the enormous freezer. Before going back upstairs, she stopped
and put her ear to the door of her old bedroom, but all was quiet. Scott was
still asleep.

Once
the muffins were in the oven, she washed the mixing bowl and began on the
streusel topping while the smell of baking blueberries gradually permeated the
kitchen.

The
sun had broken over the horizon and April was humming along with Gary Jules when
there was a heavy knock on the back door. She gave a startled gasp and the bowl
she was holding slipped from her fingers to shatter on the floor, sending up a
mushroom cloud of flour, brown sugar, and cinnamon.

“April?”
Wade’s voice came through the door.

Almost
without thinking, she dropped to her knees and scurried around the corner of
the counter. She hadn’t drawn the blinds at the window above the sink, he could
see inside if he wanted to.

She
darted a panicked glance at the door handle. They hardly ever locked the doors.
What would she do if Wade looked in the window, or worse, barged through the
door, and found her hiding under the barstools like a prairie dog in a burrow?

A prairie dog in mismatched pajamas with messy hair and no makeup.

April
ground her teeth. Stupid muffins. She should have gone back to bed. She wasn’t
even very good at baking.

Wade
knocked again. “April? Come on. I heard you singing,” he called.

Her
heart pounded. Why was he doing this? Hadn’t they agreed to avoid one another
at all times? Maybe not an official agreement, using
words
and
everything, but they both seemed to know it would be better if they never spoke
again.

“Here’s
the milk,” he finally called. “Since you’re acting like such a baby, I’ll leave
it on the step.”

She’d
forgotten the milk. Her dad always brought a gallon of fresh milk to the house
when he’d finished the morning chores. Of course Wade would do the same.

A
minute later she heard him gun the truck and take off around the corner of the
house. He was going fast; that meant he was mad.

Whatever.
She could be mad, too. He shouldn’t have come to the door in the first place. And
she was
not
acting like a baby. She was just … unprepared.

“Doesn’t
mom always put some kind of a topping on these?” Trevor asked an hour later as
he helped himself to another muffin.

“Yeah,
that crumbly stuff,” Emily put in. “You should have made some, April.”

“Or,
how about you drag your lazy butts out of bed and make your own breakfast?” April
retorted. She meant it as a joke, but her tone was harsher than she’d intended.

Emily
looked at her wide-eyed and Trevor dropped his head and offered a mumbled,
“Sorry.”

“No,
I’m sorry,” April took a deep breath. “It’s been a bad morning; I didn’t mean
to snap at you.” She glanced at the floor where she’d dropped the bowl. After
she had cleaned up the mess, she’d been in no mood to make more streusel.

So
the muffins weren’t as impressive as they might have been. One more thing to
blame on Wade.

“Are
you okay?” Scott asked with raised eyebrows.

“I’m
tired; didn’t get much sleep.”

A
moan came over the monitor from Ben’s room and April pushed her chair back. “Can
you guys clean up while I take care of Ben?”

“Want
some help?” Scott called as she started down the hall.

“I’ve
got it,” April threw over her shoulder.

April
grunted as she helped Ben out of bed; she’d forgotten how heavy he was. He could
bear a little weight on his legs, but even so, she was out of breath by the
time she had helped him across the hall to the bathroom and then back. His
stiff limbs made everything ten times harder and her arms were trembling as she
helped situate him in the wheelchair.

“Whew,
we did it,” she gasped as she buckled the shoulder harness that kept him from
slumping over. She pushed a few stray curls back from her face and gave him a
quick kiss on the cheek. “Want a muffin? If Trevor hasn’t already eaten them
all, that is.”