Page 3 of Bloom
As pathetic as it was, I had to search my mind for an answer. “I love music.”
“Me too,” Timber beamed. “What kind?”
“Oh, I’ll listen to anything, though my favorite toplayis probably country.” Timber’s jaw dropped open and I hoped to continue to impress him by adding, “I play the guitar. My grandpa taught me when I was young, and I’ve kept at it.”
“That’s amazing.” My heart swelled at the compliment. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.” It was as if every sweet word from his lips spoke directly to my soul.
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to make fun of me?”
“I swear,” he answered seriously.
“When my crops started dying, I even took my guitar outside and played for them, hoping it would help.” Unfortunately, the desperate act did nothing.
“I’d never make fun of that; it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.” I felt guilty all over again for teasing him about his book preferences. I owed him a chuckle at my expense. “Besides, some research suggests that singing to plants really does help them grow because of the sound vibrations.”
“Oh, I didn’t say anything about singing. My singing sounds like someone stepped on a cat’s tail.”
Timber shook his head. “I don’t believe it for a minute.”
“Don’t make me prove it to you.” Without a word, he pressed the radio’s power button, and turned up the volume until an upbeat country tune filled the cab of the truck. “Okay, but I warned you.”
I opened my mouth and the most godawful, grating noise joined in on the song. I wish I were exaggerating my terrible singing voice to make him laugh, but I really was just that bad. But Timber didn’t laugh or make a disgusted face; he just watched and listened with a gentle smile, as if he was actually enjoying the massacre.
“Okay, I embarrassed myself; now it’s your turn.” I pointed to him as a signal to sing, but when he began, it was a much different experience. Timber’s voice was honey smooth as he perfectly matched every pitch in the song. It was luxurious but familiar. Goosebumps rose along my arms, as if every tiny hair in my skin was reaching out to get closer to him.
When the song ended, Timber pressed the button once more, making the air so quiet around us, I could hear my heart racing. Stating the obvious, I told him, “You’re incredible.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a sweet smile. “Maybe we can collaborate sometime.”
“Absolutely.” I could think of nothing better than making sweet music with Timber. The thought danced around my mind, distracting me from my problem, until I turned onto my property and the sad reality hit me all over again.
Chapter Two
Timber
My first thought as we pulled onto Jersey’s property was that my mate had been so close, a mere twenty minute drive away from me, for so long. I was curious why we hadn’t crossed paths, or why I hadn’t been drawn to him before now, but I knew Fate worked in her own timing. Perhaps I had to build a rapport with Chuck first, so that my mate would feel comfortable turning to me in his time of need.
But all thoughts were pushed away when I got a glimpse of his land. It was undoubtedly beautiful, scrawling out across acres of gentle hills and valleys, but I couldn’t ignore the large patches of black scorched earth. The photo Jersey showed me didn’t portray the amount of damage present.
Jersey parked next to a soy bean field and my heart sank. Most of the plants were brown with falling leaves, which was the typical look for this time of year. It meant the beans were ready to be harvested. But he wouldn’t be harvesting as many as planned, thanks to the dead patches.
We were both silent as we climbed out of the truck and walked to the edge of the blackened ground. I lowered onto my knees and ran my fingers along the dirt. Any remaining leaves were charred and crispy, and even the soil was dry and stiff.
“I’ve tried treatments for fungus, bacteria, parasites,” Jersey sighed, “But nothing has helped in the slightest.”
It only took a moment for me to know why his treatments hadn’t worked; now that I was seeing the damage up close, I realized I’d seen it before. “That’s because unfortunately, this isn’t from a natural cause.”
“You know what it is?” he asked excitedly. “Wait; what do you mean it’s not from a natural cause? What is it? What can I do?”
“Your crops have been doused in bleach.” I looked up at Jersey to find him staring down at me in utter confusion. “Some people use it to clear weeds. I’m not a fan of the method, because it damages the soil, and even some weeds have purpose and can be transplanted, but itiseffective.”
“But…I…what?” I gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and he finally got out, “Who would do such a thing? And how did I not smell it?”
I could only provide an answer to one of his questions. “I’d bet the bleach was mixed with water. It dilutes the smell without dropping the potency. If the water is hot enough, it will actually cause the chemical to sink deeper into the soil.” As for the other inquiry, I could only ask, “Do you have any enemies?”
“None,” he answered easily, and I wasn’t surprised; my mate was wonderful and anyone would be lucky to know him. “The farming community around here is tight knit. Many of my neighbors offered advice and assistance.”
“Have you noticed anyone sneaking around your place? Any strangers?” It would take a fucked up type of person to hurt a stranger, but I couldn’t think of any other possibility.
