Page 208 of To Catch a Sub

Was that what Landon would look like in 15 years?

The idea that she might still know him, let alone be with him, in fifteen years was wonderful.

“Da, can I help?” Landon rose from the wooden kitchen chair beside hers. Unlike Nana’s kitchen, this one was simple to the point of being spartan, though there were odd piles of papers in various places, including on the end of the six-seater oval wooden table.

“I am capable of making tea,” Oliver opened a cupboard and reached for a mug but paused, looking over his shoulder at his son. “Why don’t you get your mother’s tea set?”

Landon had put his hand on Colette’s shoulder when he stood, and now he squeezed her, a small hidden response to his father’s words.

Colette placed her own hand atop his, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

“Still in the china hutch?” Landon said after a small pause.

“Yes.” Oliver grabbed a battered box of Tetley tea bags. “And maybe the pot.”

Landon disappeared through the kitchen door, headed deeper into the house. Colette looked at Oliver, who seemed slightly uncomfortable. She hid her smile as he rubbed his head with his hand exactly the same way Landon did.

“Are lambs soft?” she asked.

Oliver looked up. “Lambs?”

“Landon says they aren’t soft, but they look very fluffy.”

Oliver relaxed. “Like a scrubbing brush for dishes.”

Colette made a distressed noise and slumped dramatically in her chair. “I’m heartbroken that they aren’t cuddly little clouds.”

“You want something soft, you want to pet a cow calf. The hair on their faces is so soft.” Oliver touched his own nose.

Colette sat up. “You have baby cows?”

“This is a dairy farm and it’s the right time of year. The sheep are new. I can’t milk as many as I used to. Doctor said I have low blood pressure and need to slow down, so I got rid of some cows and got some sheep to keep the grass down in the front.”

Landon had returned while his father was talking, carrying a tray with a delicate china tea set on it. Landon set it on the counter by the sink before turning to his father.

“What’s this about your blood pressure?”

“Bit low. I have to drink more water. Less time on my feet. It’s nothing to worry about, Land.”

“It sounds like it is. And I was going to ask about the sheep. I thought maybe you were renting that pasture.”

Oliver shook his head.

“Da, you should have told me about your blood pressure.”

“You have enough to be getting on with, with your job.”

At the mention of Landon’s former job, Colette’s stomach clenched. Oliver had been away yesterday helping a fellow farmer with something, and apparently he hadn’t spoken with his in-laws since returning. Or they wanted Landon to tell Oliver himself.

Landon filled the electric kettle and turned it on.

“They’re sure it’s just blood pressure?” Landon was staring at the kettle, his shoulders tight.

“I went to Dr. Peters to check.”

Landon nodded once, then returned to his chair. Under the table, Landon grabbed her hand, holding tight.

“My mother died of heart disease.” Landon was speaking to her, but looking at the kitchen wall. There was a photo taped there. A dark-haired woman with skin a few shades darker than Landon’s lying in a hospital bed. A small dark-haired boy with a goofy smile that showed off all his teeth was in bed beside the woman. A younger Oliver stood beside the bed, holding the woman’s hand.