“The soil is soft enough for you to do most of the work with your hands. You shouldn’t need a tool.”
He could hear the smile in her voice.
“We pick these before they get too big, so make a hole about every six inches.” She poked her finger into the soil and wiggled it to make the hole wider. “The seedlings are sturdier than you think, but you still need to be careful with them. Separate them out like this.”
Gently, she tore off a clump of the tiny plants, teasing them apart with her fingers until she’d managed to separate a small, two-leafed seedling with a clump of dirt-covered roots from the rest. She placed the plant into one of the holes she’d made and pressed the soil around it. He watched as she repeated the process with a handful of other seedlings, his trepidation growing with each tiny plant she tucked into the earth. He wasn’t exactly ham-fisted, but he didn’t know if he had the finesse to tease the plants free of the clump without tearing them to bits. He had a feeling whatever he did to her plants, Andy would be more than happy to do to him.
“Here, you try.”
She held the clump of dirt and leaves out to him as if she were handing him something precious, and he took them with the same reverence. If he screwed this up, it wouldn’t be because he didn’t try. Careful not to break the slender stems, he felt his way down to the base and gently nudged one of the tiny seedlings loose. In the end, he had to pull it free with a bit of tearing to the roots, but he didn’t think he did too badly. Andy didn’t groan or take a swipe at him so he couldn’t have gotten it too wrong.
He poked his finger into the earth, surprised at how easily it gave way. The soil was soft and warmer than he expected. He thought that might be the real advantage to the hoop thing. The air temperature might not hold but if it warmed the soil up even a couple of degrees, it probably gave the tiny plants a boost. He made a metal note to ask Andy later, but at the moment he had a tiny charge to tuck into the dirt. Keeping his touch firm but gentle, he set the plant into the hole and pressed the soil around it. On its own, it looked minuscule and unsteady, barely holding itself upright, but there was tenacity too. He could almost picture the plant it would become.If it didn’t die.He really didn’t want it to die.
When he glanced over at Andy to see what she thought of the job he’d done, he found her watching him with the closest thing he’d seen to warmth since he arrived. When she wasn’t trying to shoot him full of daggers, she looked friendly—softer even—but not in a way that diminished her. She reminded him a little bit of her plants. Somehow fragile and strong at the same time.
He’d obviously slipped off his rails, as evidenced by his mental journey into the land of daytime talk shows and Hallmark cards.
“Am I good to go?” Maybe if he put some distance between them he could find his perspective again.
She tipped her head to the side, clearly catching his dismissal and looking confused by it. He stabbed his finger into the dirt to resist the urge to pull back his words. To ask her to stay and help him.
“Finish this row,” she said, standing and wiping her hands on her jeans.
He deliberately avoided the path they took over the gentle swell of her hips.
“I’ll be in the summer kitchen behind the house. Find me when you’re finished and we’ll see where Jake is and what happens next.”
He nodded, following her with his gaze as she made her way back down the row in the direction they’d come from. She paused halfway to look back over her shoulder at him.
“It’s good you’re here. For Jake,” she added, as if he’d misunderstand her intent. “I’ve been worried. I’m glad he has someone to look out for him.”
He nodded. Her concern for his friend tightened something in his chest. She didn’t have any reason to care about Jake beyond normal human decency. He’d seen enough of people in the past couple of years to convince him decency was a precious commodity. Despite his inclination to assume she was naïve, he had to admit she’d built something beautiful—a peaceable kingdom in the middle of a world with too much ugliness and chaos. He’d hate to see the outside world touch it.
––––––––
ANDY DIDN’T WANT to like him, especially after his smug cracks and weird judgmental vibe. Feeling anything close to affection for Liam was at odds with theget the Viking out of her spaceplan she’d been building for herself. But she’d watched the care he’d taken planting the lettuce and something inside her shifted. Most guys, especially ones as big as him—not that she’d come across any as big as him but the basic principle applied—didn’t have the finesse to plant the tiny seedlings without destroying as many as they saved. Instead of using brute force to do the job, he coaxed the seedlings apart with a finesse she hadn’t expected.
He’d spent the rest of the afternoon moving fencing with Jake and by the time they made it back to the house for dinner, she could see a noticeable change in the younger man. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that one afternoon with a combat buddy was enough to fix the things Jake was wrestling with, but it was the first forward movement she’d seen in him. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling hopeful. And as a result, softening her opinion of the overbearing man who’d invaded her farm and threatened her peace.
To top it all off, he’d been freakishly charming at dinner. When the guys got together and told war stories, she’d always felt a bit like they spoke a language she didn’t understand. It didn’t bother her. The shared experience was part of why the farm worked. They might not be in the service anymore, but they lived and worked side by side, albeit it at far less dangerous jobs. And they didn’t have to explain things to each other. They could count on the person sitting next to them to at least have some understanding of their experience, the lens with which they viewed the world. If it helped ease them back into the world their friends and family lived in, then it was working exactly the way it was supposed to.
On the occasions that dinner conversation turned to experiences she couldn’t imagine, Andy had gotten used to sitting back with her coffee, providing a silent witness to their struggle. She had no illusions about her role. She wasn’t a therapist—not even close—but she could listen without judging. Lord knew she had enough in her past to ensure she never threw stones.
It had been different with Liam at the table. He’d deliberately drawn her into the conversation, not to show how much she didn’t know, more like giving her clues about the language they spoke. Providing markers for her to find her way. It was unexpected and kind of endearing.
“The goats are already starting to wear out the bottom pasture,” said Travis. “You’re right. We need to think about rotating them through the upper field.”
Between dealing with Liam and packaging the latest soap order, she hadn’t given the idea of getting a dog any more thought. It didn’t sound like she could afford to put it off. If the goats cut the new growth too close, it would take much longer for the pasture to rebound. Let it go too long and it might be a whole season before it recovered fully. Maybe they could get a llama. Llamas were supposed to be almost as protective as sheep dogs.
“Do you remember the goats that time outside Kandahar?” Jake’s quiet voice cut through the noise around the table.
The group was so unaccustomed to him joining in the conversation. His words brought everything else to a stop as they held their collective breath, waiting to see what came next.
“The time Jefferson fell asleep and almost got himself eaten?” said Liam, the laugh lines deepening around his chiseled lips. “How could I forget?”
“By what? Not goats, surely?” she asked after a few moments, holding her breath and hoping since he brought it up, Jake would tell the story.
He shot Liam a pleading look, almost as if he were trapped and couldn’t figure out how to free himself, which probably wasn’t that far from the truth. Something passed wordlessly between them and then Liam turned his attention back to the handful of people gathered around the table.
