I jerked Myles to his feet and kissed him. “You’re a genius.”

Chapter 43

Angie

Wehadn’tbeenallowedtime to wallow in our grief. The farm auction had rolled ahead the day after the funeral. All my beloved animals, the equipment we’d struggled to make the massive monthly payments on, were bought and carted off.

I’d stayed inside that day, hiding from my animals’ calls and the auctioneer’s incessant droning. Immediately, we both dove into packing up the house. The hardest was going through Papa’s things. Touching his favorite shirt that he’d never wear again and smelling his aftershave and cologne; I could almost pretend he’d walk in the front door and holler at me to come help him change the water.

The insurmountable was surmounted. We packed everything we owned and hauled it to a storage unit. Sure, Remi had indicated we could stay as long as we needed, but with his company paying cash, our house was sold before the funeral. Both Mama and I didn’t want to live on charity.

Any way to keep ourselves busy was good. In the quiet moments, the gaping hole Papa left in our family couldn’t be ignored. In the quiet moments, I couldn’t keep thoughts of Remi from invading.

Towers of boxes surrounded Mama and me. The last of our stuff had been delivered to the apartment Mama had purchased.

“I don’t think all this will fit.” She pushed boxes around and read the labels, the wood floor creaking beneath her feet.

Using my box cutter, I sliced through a line of clear tape. “I think these are the last of our books.”

“Did we really have that many?” Mama shrugged. “Oh well, I guess I need to buy a bookshelf.”

She’d purchased this apartment along with the empty commercial space beneath it. Space we’d spent the last couple of months cleaning, painting, purchasing ovens, tables, and chairs, and prepping for the grand opening, less than a week away.

Mama owned a bakery. Nora’s Bakery.

I’d expected her to go back to running the grocery store, now being renamed Ivy’s. She’d surprised me when she’d shown me the building she’d purchased and drawings with plans for the future.

“You know what? I feel like buying one right now. Get your shoes on,” Mama ordered me around like a drill sergeant.

“I’m coming?”

“I’ll need your second opinion.”

“Fine.” Slipping on my shoes and jacket, I followed her down the stairs and into the car.

We’d sold both of our unreliable vehicles at the auction and now had a brand-new Jeep. I’d never seen Mama so excited about a vehicle in all my life. Considering she’d married Papa at nineteen, she’d never experienced the life of an independent woman.

Driving through town, we headed down the one street I chose never to take. It wound right by our farm. Holding my breath, I rolled down the window as we passed. Golden stalks of corn rustled in the wind. A combine moved slowly through the field, harvesting the dried kernels that Remi and I had planted together.

Remi’s voice was as deep and resonating as if he sat next to me. “Look, Angie. The little baby corns. They’re growing.”He’d bent down to his hands and knees, putting his face right up to the emerging plants.

I breathed in the fall air. It smelled of wet earth and fresh cut plants … the scents of harvest. An overpowering wave of homesickness hit me, and I choked back tears. As happy as I was Mama had gone after her dream, being in an apartment for a couple of months had me pacing the 1200 square feet, restless as a caged lion.

What I wouldn’t give to hop on Mae’s back and ride to my favorite spot on my land where a tall maple blanketed the green grassy knoll in shade, next to where we’d spread Papa’s ashes. The place where I sat with him and could see our fields knitted together like a great patchwork quilt.

I needed to stop using the words “my” and “our.” It wasn’t mine anymore. I’d lost the war. Soon, the pastures would be covered in houses. Thankfully, Remi had flown back to Dallas.

That man was single-handedly responsible for this deep, wrenching pain I carried with me. The longing. The homesickness. I was a boat adrift on an unfamiliar sea with no place to dock. I couldn’t imagine if he’d moved to town, and I’d be forced to face him every day.

My body betrayed me at the thought of him—with his thick, dark hair, matched by his deep-brown eyes, his muscles rippling as he chopped wood, his kisses, and marriage proposals. My abdomen tightened against the anticipation at the mere thought of him.

Criminy. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. He still had power over me.

“You know who I’ve been thinking about?” Mama broke the silence heavy in the car once we’d passed the only home I’d ever known.

“Who? Don’t say—”

“Remi.” Mama turned away from Twin Falls, in the opposite direction of any bookshelves.