Page 60 of Sugar Coated Lies
“Yes.” It’s a whisper. “I know. It’s why I won’t pursue anything with her. I could never do that to her.”
“Sweetheart.” Mom reaches across the table for my hands. I stretch one out for her and she squeezes it, reassuringly. “I wish I could make this easier for you. I will say this, though: You’re putting her needs above yours, which tells me all I need to know on your end. I can’t speak for her, because I don’t know her that well, but I trust your judgment. I also know, like her, you’ve always put the farm and the family’s needs above your own. Perhaps if there ever were a time to break a rule or two, it’s now.”
“I’ve broken a rule or two,” I say with a humorless laugh. “I’m not the poster child you believe me to be.”
Mom releases my hand and sits back with a small laugh. “If you’re referring to your college years and some of your high school years, there are things I know and things I don’t want to know. But even with all that, you have walked the line. You are responsible and reliable. And Everleigh, should she dare to be even braver than it sounds like she is, would be pleasantly surprised.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I send her a loving smile. Talk about an amazing woman.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to rescue your father from upsetting his stomach with any more bourbon. You know how he gets.”
Indigestion and night sweats. He’s been complaining about it for years.
Even with Mom’s heartfelt advice, I don't see myself asking out Everleigh again—for her sake.
* * *
I standunder the covered awning of the barn, watching kids enjoying the playset, slide, swings, and chasing each other around while stopping for bites of our seasonal bestselling treats: peach smoothies, peach ice cream, miniature peach cobbler pies, and our newest addition, thanks to Everleigh, peach pound cake.
The new tent-like canopies we added over the play area shade the space perfectly. The ads we ran for the new shade-structure were a success, because the farm is packed with families and little ones enjoying the day.
The activity and success fill me with joy, and I can’t stop smiling.
I spot Everleigh walking away from the baking stand near the playset, an empty tray in her hands. She’s headed to the store, I’m sure, to get more goodies.
I chase after her. “Everleigh?”
She glances over, a look of concern on her face.
I hate that this is her response and that I’m the reason for it. “Hey,” I say as I approach her standing there, her shoulders up around her ears. “I’ve been meaning to catch up and see how you’re doing.”
“You have?”
Why does this surprise her? “Yes. I care about you, Everleigh. I thought that was obvious. How is Miles?”
Her shoulders relax a little. “He’s okay. He caught a cold and has been struggling with that, but otherwise he’s good. No episodes this week, so far.” I hate that she has to addso far. I hate that she’s all alone in this.
“No fever?” A fever could mean something worse. I did some reading on Alzheimer’s disease. Illness can be masked by outbursts. You have to pay close attention to how the person behaves and not dismiss any new or worse episodes as typical.
Her eyes tighten, my question obviously confusing and surprising her. “No. Just a cold.”
“That’s good.” I gesture toward the store. “Heading back to the café to restock?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on. I’ll walk with you.”
Those eyes remain tight and watchful.
“I hope I haven’t made things weird between us.” I throw out, attempting to put her at ease. In some ways, she’s like a skittish kitten, walking on eggshells, worried she’s about to be fired. I get it. She carries a heavy burden financially supporting herself and her grandfather.
“You’ve been nothing but kind, Daire,” she says to the tray.
“I don’t want you to be nervous around me,” I blurt, unable to stop myself. It’s maddening how desperate I am to get her to trust that I won’t fire her, that she doesn’t need to be on edge around me. Ever.
She stops walking, squinting up at me as the sun hits her dead in those blue eyes.
I touch her arm and guide her the few steps to the porch of the store, so we’re in the shade. “You were being blinded back there.”
