Todd put down his knife. The biscuit on his plate sported a layer of butter, topped with peach preserves. “Why are you smiling, Mr. Joel?”
“I was remembering when I was your age and eating with my parents and grandparents.”
“Wow, you can remember that long ago?” Todd murmured in awe.
April choked on her coffee. Wes snickered.
“Of course I do even if my sister has her doubts.”
“I mean, where are your mom and dad?”
“They’re in Heaven now.”
“Oh.” Todd stared down at his plate, his shoulders hunched. “My dad and Oma and Opa are in Heaven, too.”
The smile on April’s face disappeared.
“Do you miss them?” Todd whispered, a catch in his voice.
The ache in the little boy’s voice touched Joel. He also knew Wes waited for his answer.
“I do. They went to Heaven many years ago, but sometimes I see a sunset or a flower and it reminds me of my mom and grandma. Now, with my dad, if I see a horse the same color as his, I think he would like that horse.”
“Oh.” Todd thought over the answer. “Are you still sad?”
April bit her lip, waiting.
He hadn’t expected a counseling session at breakfast and wondered what his sister, the counselor in training, would tell him to say.
Lord, I need some words of wisdom. “I was sad when it happened, but now I can remember them and smile. I recall the good and funny things, like when my dad stepped in a bucket of water I left beside the back door. Or the time my mom got mad at me and threw an egg. I ducked and it hit my sister, who was coming into the kitchen.” He winked at the boys. “You should’ve seen her face with all the yolk and egg white running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. My mom’s reaction, her expression—” he dropped his jaw and let his eyes go wide to demonstrate the reaction “—was funnier than my sister’s.”
The boys laughed and he caught April smiling.
“I did my share of things that my mom got on me about.”
“What?” the boys asked.
Joel glanced at April. “I do need to keep a few secrets.”
“Aw,” the boys groaned.
“You better eat while your eggs are still warm,” April warned.
Reluctantly, Wes and Todd started eating, but they constantly looked at Joel, as though they were afraid he’d vanish into thin air if they didn’t look at him every few minutes.
* * *
April watched the boys wolf down their breakfast, but what broke her heart was their constant checking to make sure Joel didn’t disappear. Would this be a bigger disaster than she feared?
Her fields would be planted, but at what cost?
Wes and Todd slipped from their seats and headed for the back door.
“Put your dishes by the sink,” April instructed.
“Aw, Mom,” Wes complained, but obeyed.
Todd opened his mouth to voice his objection, but with one look at her, he swallowed the gripe and slipped his plate beside his brother’s.
“Down,” Cora asked.
Joel took the little girl out of her booster chair and placed her on her feet. She followed her brothers outside.
They were alone in the kitchen, finishing their coffee. The warm, intimate feeling of them together, lingering over breakfast, discussing the ranch, rattled her. She wanted to see Joel as nothing but a hired hand, but somehow her brain and heart went mushy.
She held up her cup. “More?”
“Sure. Top me off.”
She grabbed the coffee carafe and refilled both cups. Sitting down, she took a deep breath to steady herself.
“So tell me what you’ve decided to plant and what fields you plan to use.” Joel took a sip of his coffee.
His question jerked her back to the present. Most of the night she’d prayed and wrestled with what to do on the ranch—as well as fantasies about this tall, toe-tingling cowboy. Early this morning she’d come to a decision. “I want to plant hay in the north field, and in the west field I thought I’d go with your suggestion and plant sunflowers.”
They traded glances, and April thought she saw him smile, but it was gone so quickly that maybe she’d been wishing it.
“I think you made a good choice. So where are these fields?”
“Let’s go take a drive and I’ll show you.”
They all piled into April’s truck, Cora and Todd in the backseat, Wes between April and Joel. She drove out to the north field first, pointing out the section that needed to be planted with hay.
“At mile marker 123 is the start of the field,” she explained and continued to drive.
“Right there by the sign for the feed store is where our field ends.” Wes pointed, his arm shooting out and nearly catching Joel on the chin.
She glanced at Wes. “I didn’t know you knew the boundaries.”
“Yeah, Opa showed me,” he answered casually without looking at her.
Words piled up in her throat, and she couldn’t spit one out.
Within twenty minutes, April finished showing Joel the other field she wanted to plant.
“And the rest of the fields, I’ll rent out. I’ve had a couple of the folks at church offer to rent a field.”
“Good idea.”
April nodded. “If something’s not in that field, I could lose topsoil, and that I can’t afford to do.”
“Opa always talked to us about the ranch,” Wes said. “And how to care for it.”
Her son knew more than she credited him with. Vernon had been a great teacher.
“I see your grandfather taught you well.”
Wes sat up straighter. “Opa told me I needed to plant a field and not let it lay fallow, ’cause you don’t want to lose the topsoil. We are stewards of this land.”
Vernon had always said that. April felt pride her son had picked up his grandfather’s attitude and ashamed she hadn’t realized her son’s connection to the land. The boys hiring Joel should’ve sent her a clue.
“When harvest time comes around, whoever harvests the fields you rent out might do yours, too.”
His words, like a slap in the face, reminded her that he wouldn’t be here in the fall to harvest the crops, but they told her he knew his way around a ranch.
The boys chatted with Joel while she drove back to the house. The instant she stopped the truck by the kitchen door, Joel slipped out and walked to the tractor. “So let’s pray that your tractor will start this morning,” Joel said, “or I’ll be using that wrench. Where’s the key?”
“Inside the kitchen door.”
The children stood by the truck and watched him retrieve the key, start the tractor and attach the blades to the back of