“That’s very good, young man. I’m sure we can help get you fixed up, but—” He eyed Mark thoughtfully. “After you eat your pie, do you think you’d be interested in helping judge a contest?”
“Me?” Mark asked. “What kind of contest?”
“I hear you’re rather a fine businessman and rancher. I’ve also heard that you have quite the plans for planting a crop of fruit trees. One of our judges backed out, and I think we could use your help judging the largest vegetable contest.”
Though curiosity tugged at the back of his mind how Mr. Lawson heard about his plans for the fruit trees, Mark laughed. “I’m not sure that being a businessman and having grand plans qualifies me to judge the largest vegetable contest, but I’m willing to give it a try if it’s all right with Layla.”
“Certainly,” Layla said, taking Heath from Mark’s hands.
“Oh, and I want to have my pie first,” Mark joked.
Mr. Lawson slapped the side of his trousers and laughed broadly. “Then let’s get this man a piece of pie. We’ve got a contest to judge.”
***
“Mrs. Lawson’s pies didn’t disappoint,” Mark sighed with contentment as he finished the last piece of crust left on his plate.
“Which one did you like best?” Layla asked, nodding at the three empty plates in front of them. Mr. and Mrs. Lawson had insisted that each of them had a slice of pie all to themselves. The couple had given them slices of strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry pie, and Layla had suggested they share the pieces so that they could try each flavor.
“It’s hard to say. The strawberry was surprisingly sweet, and the raspberry was a little tart, which I like. But the blueberry tasted familiar. I feel like I’ve had that one before.”
Layla pursed her lips. “Youhavetasted the blueberry one before. My father sometimes sells Mrs. Lawson’s pies in his store. I brought home one about a week ago.”
A hint of tension coursed through him as Mark recalled how he had reacted when Layla had served him the meal purchased from her father’s store. Thinking about the incident made him feel awful. He could only imagine how she felt. Reaching across the wooden table, he took Layla’s hand and said simply, “I’m sorry.”
She squeezed his fingers in return. For a long moment, they gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. With her free hand, Layla wiped a smear of strawberry from the corner of Mark’s mouth. She blushed as she gently grazed his lips. “Now,” she said, clearing her throat and giving his fingers one more light squeeze before releasing them. “You’d better get going. Mr. Lawson wanted you to head over to the vegetable judging contest as soon as you finished eating.” She adjusted Heath on her lap to stand as Mark cleared the plates off the table and followed her.
There was shouting, and Mark swiveled his head, searching for the source of the commotion. He couldn’t find it, but when he swept back around to Layla and the baby, he saw that she had turned pale.
“Layla, are you all right?” he asked, reaching out to support her, taking Heath from her stiff arms. “Layla,” he repeated. “Talk to me.”
Her blue eyes dilated as she stared past him into the crowd.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s my father,” Layla whispered, never taking her eyes off a spot over Mark’s left shoulder.
“Your father?” Mark followed Layla’s gaze, moving Heath into a more comfortable position.
“I want you to tell everyone—” Emmett Fitzpatrick shouted, swerving down the dirt path, pushing bystanders aside. He was careening in such a manner that Mark instantly knew the man was drunk. “I want you to tell them all that Ol’ Emmett said—” he called out as he drew closer to them. The whiskey odor wafting off Emmett became more pungent the closer he came.
“Father,” Layla gasped, rushing forward to gather her father in her arms.
“Layla?” Emmett asked, his gray eyes searching for her, unable to focus properly.
“Father, it’s me. I’m here. I’m going to help you,” Layla said quietly, doing her best to put her arm around her father’s waist and lift him.
“I’m so sorry, Layla. I want you to know that. I’ve been so good and then—” He hiccupped loudly and continued hiccupping, Layla’s face contorted with distress. Since Mark was holding Heath, he didn’t know what to do.
“I’ll hold the baby,” Mrs. Lawson said, appearing at Mark’s side. She held out her steady hands to Mark.
After a discerning look, Mark decided that she seemed trustworthy. Layla clearly thought highly of Mrs. Lawson and had known her for years, so that was enough for Mark. As she was offering to help, Mark graciously accepted her assistance. “Thank you, Mrs. Lawson.”
“You go on, Mr. Flint. I’ll keep your baby safe,” Mrs. Lawson replied in a soothing voice.
Rushing to Layla’s side, Mark grabbed Emmett’s arm, draping it across his shoulders. He shifted his weight to take some of the burden off Layla, and her expression changed dramatically. She nodded at him once to thank him, and then they quickly moved, supporting Emmett between them.
Though they said little, the crowd parted for them as they walked. The people around them whispered and cast scrutinizing gazes, and Mark was saddened for Layla. He had known Emmett Fitzpatrick was prone to drinking, but he had never imagined that Emmett’s actions impacted Layla so greatly. Frowning, he realized that because of Emmett’s vices, Layla was now his wife, and it made Mark feel even worse.
