Page 8 of That One Night
Her mom’s face softened. “He’s such a good man,” she murmured. “Such a catch.” Then her voice brightened. “Imagine. A Reed marrying a Montclair.”
Emery looked down at the ring on her left hand again. It felt heavier by the second.
But she was doing this for her mom. Alice Reed had cried twice already since Emery arrived. Once when she found her dad’s worn boots by the door, and again when she couldn’t find the deed to the back fields.
Her mom needed stability. Hope. And not more heartbreak.
But still, she couldn’t help the growing sense of tightness. As though the walls of this old farmhouse were slowly closing in. The air in here was too still. Too full of memories.
Unlike Emery, her mom had never left this town. She hadn’t gone to college, hadn’t lived anywhere but Hartson’s Creek. She’d been raised on a farm and married a farmer. Her whole world was this land, this house, these routines.
Knowing about Emery’s break up?
It could break her.
And Emery had already broken enough things lately.
“You know what?” she said, releasing her mom’s hands and stepping back. “I’m going to take a walk. The realtor asked for some initial photos. I’ll take a few while the light’s still good.”
“In this heat?” Her mom frowned. “You’ll burn up.”
Maybe she would. But right now, she needed to breathe.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” she promised, grabbing her phone and slipping in her earbuds before her mom could protest.
Outside, the sun hit her like a wall. She squinted toward the nearest field, where Jed was talking with a few of the farmhands. From the way they were herding cattle, it looked like they were rotating pastures.
Jed spotted her and tipped his cap, the sun glinting off his white hair. She smiled and waved back, grateful for his presence.
The Reed farm was just fifty acres now, much smaller than it used to be. Her father had sold off parcels of land over the years whenever money got tight. Most of it now belonged to the Hartsons next door.
But there was still enough land to get lost in.
She followed the dirt path that wound around the cornfield, the green stalks already waist high. In a few months, they’d be golden and ripe for harvest.
She veered toward the small copse of trees at the edge of the property that used to be her childhood escape. When she was little, she used to sneak back here whenever her parents were upset with her. Her mom never liked walking through the woods, and her dad was always too busy with the farm to track her down.
The moment she stepped beneath the canopy, the air turned cooler. Calmer. The sound of bugs and birds replaced the distant hum of farm life.
And there, just beyond the trees, was the pond.
Its surface glinted in the sun, water still and glassy. Fed by a tributary of the Hartson Creek, it had always been her favorite place on the property.
And today, it looked almost… magical.
A breath of wind stirred the surface. Somewhere, a dragonfly zipped across the edge.
And then, unbidden, Maisie’s list floated into her head. That wrinkled piece of paper, still folded in the pocket of her overnight bag.
The first item.
1. Go skinny dipping.
She stared at the pond, heart thudding like it had something to prove.
She couldn’t. Could she?
For a second she just stood there, thinking about how stupid that list was. Maisie had messaged her yesterday to say she’d arrived safely in London. She’d sent a photograph of herself, sitting in an English pub next to the sparkling River Thames.
