I squeeze the thought shut as soon as it occurs. I need to work harder at fortifying my mind.
We go toan independent coffee shop that has giant windows on the two walls adjacent to the streets. Inside, it’s painted dark gray and has a mishmash of threadbare armchairs and sofas to get really comfy in. Old books and tattered board games are piled up on shelves by the bar and I get the feeling people can lose hours in here.
As we sit down, I point out an armchair that is the same old-fashioned style as the one his family has at home. He laughs with me at the thought of his mum trying to keep a straight face when she was mimicking his ancestors.
“Do you reckon Jonas will be up on that wall with his wife one day?” I ask.
“I don’t know where he’s going to find one,” he replies wryly. “I think he’s exhausted all the available women in town.”
“Maybe he needs to come and spend some time here, find himself a nice city girl to convert.”
He smiles. “We could do a life swap.”
“You do love it at the farm, don’t you.” It’s not a question. I’m thinking of how peaceful he looked when we went swimming last weekend.
“Yeah, I do.” He stares thoughtfully out the window at the cars passing by. “Jonas put so much pressure on me to come home. I told my boss that my family needed me. Mybrotherneeded me. But now I’m wondering if Jonas got me to the farm for my sake more than his. I think he knew I needed some time away from it all.”
“Sounds like he’s acting like your big brother again;taking care of you, rather than the other way around. That’s how it was when you were younger, right?”
He nods, tapping his teaspoon gently against his oversized coffee cup. “I wish I could stick around for harvest. Jonas has been looking at hiring a farmhand.”
My heart sinks at the thought of him leaving.
“Maybe I’ll still get a chance to help out a bit.”
“If you do, can I have a ride in your tractor with you?” I ask with a grin.
Light and airy, light and airy.
“Of course,” he replies with a smile.
Anders continues towarm up, and by the time we’re pulling up outside Wetherill, we seem to be back to normal. I’m relieved.
“Go and give them a hug,” he orders me as I climb out of the car. “I dare you.”
“I’ll see.” I turn around and duck my head so I can look at him through the open doorway. “Thanks again. I had such a nice time.”
“Me too.”
I straighten up and shut the door before things can get weird again.
We’ve spent the last part of the journey talking about my family and he’s convinced me that Dad—and maybe even Sheryl—have likely wanted to hug me on countless occasions, but they’ve held back because they haven’t wanted to overstep. The fact is, and Anders agrees with this too, they simply don’t know me that well. They’re unaware that I’ve kept them at bay because I’ve been worried about getting hurt. If I want tochange the narrative, I can—it’s within my control. But I probably need to make the first move.
I look over my shoulder as I reach the front door, knowing already that Anders is long gone.
Sheryl is in the kitchen, at work with a fruit peeler.
“I should have known I’d find you here,” I tease. “Ooh, pears?”
“First of the season!” she sings.
“Just in time. I was getting a bit bored of peaches.”
“Apples are coming in now too,” she tells me.
She has batter splattered across her apron and in her hair.
“Where’s Dad?”
