She chewed her bottom lip. She hoped she didn’t run into the guy from the hardware store. After sticking her foot in hermouth, she had no idea how to navigate a conversation if they did cross paths.
Following her GPS, she turned onto the final road that would lead to the ranch. Miles of fence guided her way. The fields were vibrant green, with small patches of trees clustered together like giant bouquets.
She smiled at her own thoughts. Marla joked that Fern had been named after a plant and therefore lived and breathed plants. Now she wasthinkingplants too. Compared to her state of mind last year at this very same time, she’d take happy daydreams.
When her GPS announced she was approaching the turn, she let off the gas and searched for a humble driveway or lane.
There was no missing the Black Heart Ranch, though. Two massive gates spanned the paved road. Heart picking up a beat, she stopped in front of a tall pillar made of stacked stone with a button and a small black sign that said: PRESS FOR ENTRY.
The woman she’d spoken to, Willow, had told her to buzz when she reached the gate, but Fern mistakenly assumed she meant call her on the phone.
As soon as she pressed the button, a voice came over the speaker. “Hi, Fern. I’m opening the gates for you now.”
The speaker clicked off, and the gates swung open.
Her mind was so filled with the excitement of the community garden she was here to plan that she barely had time to take in the big, beautiful trees lining the driveway. When she spotted a sprawling ranch house, several barns and outbuildings, and the small sign that read Black Heart Therapy Lodge, she could only blink in awe at what she could only see as a family empire.
She hadn’t known what to expect when Willow asked if she’d be interested in working on a community garden for the therapy program, but it was something much less grand.
Cutting the engine, Fern grabbed her tote bag and climbed out. Her boot barely hit the ground before someone called out a greeting to her.
“Hello!”
She turned to see a woman so stunning that for a moment, she fumbled to place her as an actor or model even in barn clothes and a chore coat. But her sweet smile put Fern at ease the minute she saw it.
She strode forward to meet her. “I’m Fern.”
“Willow. Welcome to the Black Heart.” The breeze stirred a few loose strands of her dark hair that broke free of her long braid.
Fern reached out and clasped Willow’s hand. For a person who spent the past year feeling like a fish out of water in this small town, she felt herself relax. Maybe also because she was in the company of another woman who had a plant name.
“Thanks for inviting me.” She looked around. “Wow. This place is amazing.”
“C’mon. I’ll give you a short tour before we discuss the garden.” Willow led her to the big house, a mixture of old and new. The older stone that looked original to the house against brand-new crisp black trim gave Fern a sense of home that most places she visited didn’t.
“The house is so charming.”
Willow beamed. “Thanks! I spent a lot of time on improvements. We built additions not once but twice to make room for our big family. I have six brothers. Add in their spouses and two little ones, and we need a lot of space. My own housejustgot built on a plot of land that direction.” She pointed toward the field.
They rounded the corner of the house, and she waved at the new addition. “My brothers run a security agency that includes personal protection, and there’s an entire cyber division.”
Feeling even more awed, Fern was swept along to a big barn with several corrals behind it. When they paused in front of the therapy lodge, Fern’s stomach gave a little lurch at the prospect of bumping into the veteran from the other day.
She never intended to hurt people with words—she of all people knew the impact such things could have on mental health.
Looking up at the lodge, constructed with heavy log siding and a grand entrance formed by log posts and beams crisscrossing over the door, her own troubles felt insignificant compared to the weight of what the men in the therapy program carried.
At last, Willow led her behind the lodge. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. The big building sheltered the spot of verdant grass from the sounds of the working ranch. Out here, there was only the whisper of the wind and the music of birds.
Heart fluttering with happiness, Fern turned to Willow with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
Willow grinned and bobbed her head in agreement. While she explained her vision for a garden where the veterans could grow vegetables and herbs, her face came alive.
Her excitement was contagious, but add in that Fern was already thrilled by anything and everything with roots, and she felt like she was floating as she stood in the middle of the plot and envisioned what it could become.
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a notebook and pencil she carried everywhere on these projects. Though this planwould make the backyard gardens she’d worked on before look like they belonged to dollhouses.
She opened her notebook. “I always wanted to be part of a community garden. I almost spearheaded a project in Salt Lake City. That…fell through.”
