The second half of the movie begins to play and he doesn’t return to our hay bale. There’s no way I can sit still and wait for him, so I get out my phone and text him.
Where have you gone?
He doesn’t reply, and after twenty minutes, I make a snap decision to check the farmhouse. I sneak off and try the side door, expecting to find it locked, because what sort of family leaves their home open when there are a couple hundred people wandering about?
The trusting sort, as it turns out. The door is unlocked, so I venture inside, calling out Anders’s name. I check the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, and the office, and when there’s no sign of him, I tentatively climb the stairs to the first floor. I call out his name again as I walk along the corridor, but can hear no movement behind any of the doors. I don’t dare open them—I already feel bad enough about trespassing.
Afterward, I search the entire farmyard, from Jonas’s cabin to every single row of cars parked behind the barn. As the film finishes and people start to pack up their things and walk or drive back to town, I stand on the track and look out across the dark fields. The dry, crispy cornstalks sway in the breeze, whispering.
He could be anywhere.
Jonas comes over to me. “There’s always tomorrow.”
“What if he returns to Indianapolis?”
“He won’t. He promised to shell corn with me.”
“Shell corn?”
“We’re harvesting the fields, Wren,” he says facetiously, as though he’s told me a hundred times before. “That’s what we say: we cut beans and shell corn.”
“Cut beans, shell corn. Got it.”
He grins at me. “We’ll make a farmer’s wife out of you yet.”
“Not if Tyler beats me to it,” I bat back.
His eyebrows jump up and he barks out a laugh.
“You did seem very cozy over by the bar.”
“She’s a nice girl,” he replies with a shrug.
I smile and glance at the dark fields again, sobering as I turn back to him. “Can you hide his car keys, just to be on the safe side?”
“I’ll sleep with them under my pillow,” he replies.
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
Jonas sends Bailey and me packing with the rest of our family, saying he’ll tackle the cleanup in the morning. He can’t start “shelling corn” until the afternoon, when the sun is out and the dew has evaporated—the moisture levels have to be exactly right or the crop could be ruined.
I lock up Bambi and take one last look around for Anders, but wherever he is, he doesn’t want to be found.
As I’m fallingasleep, a message comes in, jolting me awake.
Sorry, I needed some fresh air and then got talking to my mom.
Fresh air? We were sitting outside!I tap out with a smile, so relieved that he’s replied.
Ironic, isn’t it?
Hope you’re okay.When he doesn’t answer, I add,Jonas says you’re helping with harvest tomorrow. Can I come for that ride in your tractor with you?!
I wait and wait for his answer.
Okay.
