Page 29 of Sweet Surrender

“You too,” Tripp said. “Say, has Zane shown you the creamery yet? He’s got some amazing stuff going on in there.”

“Oh, wow,” Becca said, turning to Zane. “I’d love to see it, if you don’t mind showing it to me.”

“Sure,” he said, suddenly feeling grateful to his brother.

“If she wants to see the afternoon milking after that, you guys can stop by,” Tripp reminded Zane.

“And she’ll want supper, of course,” Mom said warmly, patting Becca’s shoulder on her way past.

“I’m going to get the cows,” Tripp told them. “Have fun in the creamery.”

“Can we come too, Dad?” Nick asked.

“Sure,” Zane told the boys. “You can both come, but remember the rule.”

“Don’t. Touch. Anything,”the boys cried out in a perfect imitation of Zane.

“Exactly,” he told them, not minding the grumpy impression, so long as it kept them safe. “There are some dangerous, andexpensive, machines in there, and all kinds of things that aren’t for kids.”

The boys took off toward the creamery, laughing and shoving each other lightly.

“Wow,” Becca said, sounding impressed.

“That’s true of the whole farm,” Zane told her. “But they’re used to getting speeches about a lot of the day-to-day equipment. They’re not in the creamery every day.”

“It’s a really special place to grow up, isn’t it?” she asked, looking around.

He couldn’t help noticing how her eyes seemed to get stuck on the mountains again, just like his always did.

“It is,” he agreed, surprised that she could sense that already. “There’s a nice rhythm to life here. It’s not all brand new every day. But… I don’t know, it’s not all the same every day either.”

“It’s alive,” she said, nodding. “Teaching is the same way. I mean, I don’t have as much experience as you do.”

He smiled to himself. She was so young. It was hard to believe that she could have experience at anything.

“But you taught before this,” he said, assuming it was true.

“I was a building substitute,” she told him, her smile gone and her posture uncertain, like before. “You’re going to hate me even more, knowing that.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said right away. “And actually, it makes more sense now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Just that you’re used to getting to know your students very quickly,” he said, shrugging. “Since you don’t get to see them every day for a year.”

She didn’t respond, and when he glanced down he could see she was wearing a strange expression.

“Mr. Lawrence—Zane,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s very perceptive.”

He shrugged. She probably just meant for a farmer.

“I never really thought about it that way,” she mused out loud. “But I think you’re right. I did have to work quickly if I wanted to know how to reach my students. Maybe itwasgood practice in that way.”

“Well, it’s obvious that you’re a great teacher,” Zane told her. “You care about the kids, enough to visit their families after school.”

He didn’t quite have the time to tell her what it meant to him that she had gone to bat for the boys already, even if she had gotten it wrong. They had already reached the creamery and the boys were at the door, quivering with excitement.

“Did one of you make that?” Becca asked, pointing to the wooden sign above the door.

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