Her Heart's Desire (Sunflower Series Book 1) (10 page)

Lucas frowned. “Truth is a tricky thing
sometimes. Your truth isn’t necessarily hers.”

Craig crossed the room and stood in front of
Lucas. “You
have
to talk to her. Convince her.”

“What makes you think Amelia will listen to
me?” Shaking his head, Lucas stared at his friend. Had he truly
heard Craig correctly? “You’re going to sell? Who’s the buyer?” he
asked suspiciously.

“I’m not going to say just yet.”

Lucas locked his jaw and glared. “It’s not a
who
, but a
what
. That soulless corporation offered
you big money.” He never imagined his best friend would be a
sell-out. Plenty of local farmers would want the Britton’s land. He
barely had enough for a down payment, but even he had an interest
in the land. However, he never wanted Amelia to think his interest
in her was connected to the farm. He wanted her, not for her farm.
Why would Craig turn traitor and destroy the tradition of family
farming?

“It’s practical. It makes sense, Lucas, and
not just on paper. Afterward, I’ll invest the money. Amelia can
paint. Do what she wants without the headaches and the worry of the
farm. She won’t be at nature’s mercy for income.”

“You want an easy way out. You just don’t get
it.” Lucas rose and kicked a stool, sending it toppling onto its
side. It
clunked
against the cement floor. He sucked in a
quick breath to check his frustration, which was rising like a
flooding river. He lowered his tone and studied Craig. “She paints
like a fiend here—
not
in the city. She’s making ends meet.
The crop this year is good. It’ll put her in the black. You should
have a little faith in your sister.”

“But what about next year? Or the year after
that?” Craig shouted. “Soon, all the boxes of stuff my mother
bought and hoarded in the barn will be gone. Then what?” Craig
slammed his bottle of root beer on the workbench. Liquid spewed
from the top and trickled down the side. Craig shook his hand,
shaking off the brown beverage. He grabbed for the rag and wiped up
the mess. “Farming is gambling. Only worse. You put your heart and
soul into it and just like that”—Craig snapped his fingers—“it’s
gone.”

“If farming is gambling, then you should
understand. You gamble with people’s money every day. Isn’t that
what you do, Mr. Big Investor? Just wait until after the harvest.”
Lucas mopped his face with his hand. “Give her that much time. If
the corporate operation is willing to buy now, they’ll pay more
after the harvest. It will give you leverage to up the price.”

“You of all people should know,” Craig
sounded as though on the edge of defeat, “farming is always a huge
risk. I won’t remind you about what happened to your father. Look
what it did to you! I don’t want that for Amelia. I have to protect
her.”

He couldn’t deny the truth of Craig’s words.
The loss of the farm still jabbed his gut, sometimes as a mild
punch, other times like a fiery hot stab. He understood what it
meant to have life ripped away. A life he’d fought for, risked his
life for. Would it be worse if Amelia tried and failed? Maybe.
Maybe not. He wasn’t in the psychic business. That was Helen’s
bailiwick. But he wouldn’t help
anyone
, not even Craig, yank
dreams from another person, especially if that person was
Amelia.

“I can’t help you, man. I told you before.”
Luke bent to pick up the fallen stool. “I’m done running
interference. I’m not sticking my nose into Amelia’s business
unless she asks me directly. You’re on your own.”

“What if,” Craig’s words came slow and even,
“I made it worth your while?” Craig’s eyebrows raised.

Lucas frowned. “A bribe?”

“Think of this as a business deal. The parcel
of land between your house and ours. It could be yours. It will
give you greater access to the creek. Your holding will go up from
ten to ninety acres. They don’t want the land where our house sits.
It’s a sweet deal.”

“I think if you weren’t my best friend, I’d
punch you out right now.” Lucas locked his jaw. “If I wanted your
land, I’d offer a deal to Amelia. Not you.”

“Craig? Lucas?” Amelia’s voice came from near
the doorway. “Can you hear me? Are you in there? Want some
lunch?”

“Consider the offer,” Craig growled. “For the
sake of our friendship. Amelia’s always been like a sister to you.
Help me do the right thing by her.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. He kept his voice
low. “Well, consider this. Maybe I’ll just marry her. That would
solve her biggest problem—you.”

Craig drew back. The shock on his face made
the entire conversation worth it. “Let him
consider
it all
the way back to St. Louis,” Lucas muttered as he turned his back on
Craig and walked toward the voice of the woman he loved.

****

“Megan, honey, you have to look at the good
in the situation.” Lia sat on the foot of Megan’s bed with
apprehension railing in her gut like Jerry Lee Lewis pounding piano
keys. It broke her heart to see Megan cry. The transition from kid
to grownup rarely went smoothly for anyone, but could she really
offer adult advice to the almost twenty-year old sobbing into a
pillow? Her brother, and for that matter, Megan’s brother, often
treated her with kid gloves, like she were still a child, which she
resented. Would Megan reject her offer of support? Though Lia had
been a teacher and dealt with children’s emotions, Megan’s pain cut
so close to home. Lia started to reach out and pat the young woman
on the back, but thought better of it. Megan didn’t need to be
patronized.

“If Lucas is out on a job or visiting your
parents in Arizona”—Lia clutched her hands in her lap—“you can stay
with me...if you don’t want to be here all alone. You can even
invite some of your friends from college for a weekend sleepover.
Do college girls do that still? Just know this, I know what it’s
like to miss home.”

The young woman flopped over and wiped her
tear-stained face with the corner of a pillowcase. “You make me
feel guilty. At least my parents are alive, but I always pictured
myself coming home from college for holidays and having my parents
here.” Megan sniffed.

“I never understood how complicated parenting
must be until mine died. I have many regrets now. I took my mom and
dad for granted. My mom was upbeat and like a brilliant star. I
always felt like I lived in her shadow,” Lia confided. Tears welled
in her eyes. She had to get a grip on her own sadness or she stood
no chance of helping Megan.

“But...but,” Megan sputtered. “It’s like my
dad gave up on life and our family. Lucas is now a parent to all of
us. Something he didn’t ask for. He’s always had broad shoulders to
carry the weight of our woes, but now, I’m worried about him...yet
also feeling sorry for myself.”

Lia reached for Megan’s hand. She squeezed,
offering support. “I know it’s not the same with your parents
moving out west. I know how life can feel unsafe because of all the
changes. Craig takes his big brother responsibilities very
seriously. I know he wants to protect me, just like Lucas wants to
protect you.”

“How is it that my dad, a fourth-generation
farmer—I mean, our family survived the Dust Bowl!—leaves the farm?”
Megan sat up and scooted on the bed, resting her back against the
headboard. She pulled a pillow into her arms and hugged it. “My dad
now spends his days swimming and playing shuffleboard at a
retirement village. Every trailer looks the same. Okay, maybe the
front doors are different colors. My mom knits and goes to book
clubs. Who are those people?” she wailed. “What’s become of my mom
and dad? Why did they desert me?”

“Lucas works hard so they can have some
comfort in their life,” Lia said quietly. “He also does that for
you. Do you really think he’d leave for more than a couple of
weeks? Arizona might be nice in the winter, but Lucas is tied to
this land. I’ve never talked with him about it, but as a former
military officer, I’m guessing many large companies would be happy
to have him. Yet, he chose to come home.”

“Yeah.” Megan sighed. “You’re right.”

“Remember what my mother always said?”

“
C'est la vie
,” Megan whispered.

“That’s life,” Lia repeated. “Say it
louder.

“
C'est la vie
!”

“Much better,” Lia said. “We have to take
life as it comes. You’re counting on doom before it arrives. Not a
good philosophy for living.” She paused and tried to step away from
the war of emotions battling in her heart. Guilt about her mother
raged against practical reason, but so far, the war had no victor,
and her heart remained battered and bruised. She might very well be
on the way to a bleeding ulcer if she didn’t heed her own advice.
Megan had spent more time at the Britton’s farm over the last five
years before her parents died than she had. Maybe Megan had
insights? “I’ve only told one other person this...”

“Yes?” Megan leaned forward.

“I loved my mother, but she made me
uncomfortable sometimes. She was always the brightest star in the
room. She made people feel welcomed. Growing up, I often felt
awkward in her presence. She had a sense of grace and southern
style, and she forgot to pass those genes to me.”

“When I was in high school, I got off the bus
at your house on Fridays,” Megan said, a small smile appearing. She
pulled a tissue from the side table and dabbed the corners of her
eyes. “Your mom always had something wonderful cooking on the
stove. The house smelled
heavenly
with spices. I didn’t mind
the long walk home, even in the winter wind or snow, although she
always offered to drive me. I think it made my mother mad that I
spent so much time with your mom.”

Lia paused. “But you can’t think it had
anything to do with your parents moving to Arizona.”

Megan shrugged.

“No,” Lia insisted. “I think it has more to
do with the embarrassment they must feel over what happened. Losing
the farm, one that’s been in the family for several generations, is
hard. It’s complicated. Emotions are messy. I understand
embarrassment. Felt that way about my own mother sometimes. She
would talk to anyone about anything.”

“Wrong,” Megan corrected. “She
listened
to everyone, even those in line at the grocery
store. She drew people out. She gave them a reason to smile. She
made everyone she came in contact with feel special.”

“Because she was so outgoing, and you know
how small town gossip is, my parents strictly enforced propriety.
Dotting all i’s and crossing all t’s was required. The fact is...my
mother embarrassed me and, at the same time, she insisted I follow
strict rules of conduct.”

“I guess”—Megan shrugged—“we always want
what’s on the other side of the fence.”

Lia laughed. “In this case, we’ve crossed the
line into literal. May I ask you a personal question?” She chewed
her bottom lip. Never would she want to sully her mother’s sterling
reputation, but there was so much she wanted to know, and she had
no one to ask but Megan. “Did she ever talk with you about buying
all that stuff? I don’t know if my dad ever knew about the cache in
the barn. Mom paid the bills and did the bookwork for the
farm.”

Megan grew pensive. “I don’t want to speak
out of turn. Your mom never said anything directly to me. It
wouldn’t be right for me to say. I don’t want to speculate.”

“Did she ever mention me?”

“Oh course! All the time! She beamed with
pride about your art. About the recognition you’ve had. And, I hate
to say this, but here goes—I’m on Craig’s side. I think you should
go back to the city and paint.”

“So, you, Craig, and Lucas are ganging up on
me. Nice to know I’ve got the support of my family and
friends.”

“As Lucas reminds me, sometimes we’re unable
to determine the direction of the wind, but we feel the effects.
Anyway, now you know my vote, for whatever good that is. Um... How
about lunch?” Megan swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Before you and Craig arrived, I told Lucas I’d make lunch.”

“Now who’s uncomfortable? It’s three against
one.” Lia folded her arms over her chest and eyed Megan. “What else
do you know?”

Megan’s nose wrinkled. “All I’m going to say
is you’ve got an ally, and you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“What do you mean?” Lia demanded.

“I think I hear Lucas calling me. I know he
wants lunch. He’s all hyped up on caffeine.” Megan slid off the
bed. “Let’s go.”

Megan left the room almost at a run. Lia
stared at the empty space where the young woman had just been and
frowned. The only person who might agree she should stay, at least
until next Saturday night, was Karl, but he couldn’t be counted as
an ally. Even Zoë encouraged her to return to the city. Megan had
some explaining to do.

Lia’s hands rested over her heart. Who in
Harvest could she trust?

Chapter 8

Lia set plates on the table. “Chicken salad
sandwiches. Potato chips. Lucas likes the salt and vinegar kind.”
She opened the bag and poured a small pile of chips on each plate.
It comforted her to know small details about Lucas’s life.

Megan turned up her nose. “Those make my
mouth pucker just thinking about the taste.” She carried napkins to
the table and placed one beside each plate. “He can have my share.
I’ve got some fruit salad in the fridge. Shall I get it out?”

Before she could answer Megan, she caught
sight of Lucas. He stalked into the house, his expression
unreadable. The screen door bounced closed behind him. He went
straight to the hall. She followed, but stopped short, peeking
round the corner. The sound of water running came from the
bathroom. When she turned around, she stood face to face with her
brother, who did an about-face and went to the kitchen sink.