Page 3 of Class Act

“Oh, nothing major,” she assures me. “I was just wondering if you can stop by the house and sign some paperwork.”

“Of course,” I immediately agree, not even bothering to ask what it is as I assume it has to do with legal documents since they’d mentioned they were in the process of updating all of that.

“Thank you, Cain, You’re such a good son.”

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When the final bell rings, I stand at my door, my hand raised to accept the high-fives they all give me as they leave. It’s a tradition I start every school year on the first day as a way to connect with them, to let them know I’m here for them, and that I appreciate them giving me their undivided attention.

Once they’re gone, I straighten the desks, gather my belongings, and retrace my steps from this morning. After I took over for my parents, despite me reassuring them they were always welcome to remain in the home where they raised me, they chose to purchase a smaller house in town.

As I drive by it every day during the week, me stopping there isn’t unusual, at least until harvest. Thankfully, that doesn’t start until summer break commences. You’d think, being down to one career a few months a year would give me some free time. You’d be wrong. I just might be busier than ever then as tasks I was unable to see to before filled my itinerary. On top of the normal ones associated with running a farm of my magnitude, that is. Which is why, when she asks if I can stay for an early dinner, I agree.

Mom insists we eat first, knowing that as much as I love seeing them, I’m also anxious to get back and complete my next set of chores in order to get to sleep at a decent hour. As always, the food is delicious and I enjoy the company.

After polishing off dessert – strawberry shortcake with lots of whip cream – mom hands me the document. Ready to go, the sugar high giving me the energy I need to conquer what’s to come, I take the pen, sign my name, drop a kiss on her cheek, give Dad’s shoulder a squeeze, and head out.

It’s not until much later, my eyes so heavy they’re closing from the weight, that I wonder why my mom seemed so smug when I left, the papers clutched to her chest as if they were priceless.

What did I agree to?

Chapter Four

Madelyn

April 10th…

When my plane arrived and we were allowed to disembark, I wasn’t sure who I was looking for, only that they’d be holding a sign with my name. I’d spoken with Hannah over the phone after the paperwork had been notarized on my end, which I thought odd, and been promised a copy once the other party had signed theirs and it received the same treatment.

Seeing as how the end result had me leaving my hometown with the added bonus of getting me away from my stepfather, Paul, and stepbrother, Trent, I wasn’t too keen on questioning the hows and whys. Mom and Paul met when I was in high school and she fell for him. Well, his act. Honestly, and this is not a shot against her, but more like an insight I’ve gained in the years since, I think she was just tired and took a chance that Paul would be helpful. He was not. By the time she realized it, it was too late. She got sick, though we were told it had been building in her for some time. From then on, when I wasn’t at school, I was caring for her on top of waiting on Paul and Trent who, apparently, couldn’t do a damn thing for themselves. And yes, I see the irony of hating that fact then signing on to be someone’s housekeeper, but my thinking is this…Perhaps that’s exactly what I needed to get me out of that house.

I see it as a circle of life, hair of the dog thing. Impulsiveness got me to this point, hence, it’s what will get me out.

And yes, I know using the word hence doesn’t make it a smart idea. But even though Mrs. Pederson told me I had forty-eight hours to change my mind, I didn’t. Something told me not to.

Besides, the devil you know isn’t always preferable to the one you don’t.

I follow my fellow passengers, intent on retrieving our luggage. My worn once bright red bag is easy to spot, so I grab it and beginning scanning the crowd for my ride. As I don’t see Hannah right away, I move off to the side, making way for others to grab their suitcases and such.

It’s a bit disheartening that all my possessions and essentials were able to fit in two duffle bags, but it is what it is and fretting about it won’t change. Instead, I do as my mom always said, take a step forward because there’s no use looking back.

When I finally see the sign, I notice the glances aimed at me, people trying to figure out why I rate such service, but I pay them no mind. For some, it’s mere curiosity, for others, confusion because my attire does not suggest the bearing of somebody who deserves special attention.

Hannah’s face, upon seeing me heading her direction, lights up in genuine pleasure and welcome, which is why I find myself accepting the hug she gives me. “Hello, dear,” she greets me, holding out a hand to cart one of my bags. I try to insist I can handle both, but she’s determined and I cave. I have a feeling I’m not the first, nor will I be the last, that concedes defeat when she’s in this mode.

She shows me to her truck, informing me it’s the usual mode of transportation around here as a lot of residents have working farms and if not, they prefer it due to the winter weather. Having never experienced that season at home, I admit to her I’m a little nervous regarding it. Thankfully, I won’t have to deal with it for at least six months.

And when I do, Hannah assures me Cain, her son and my new employer, will show me the ropes in navigating the snow and cold, and will keep me plenty warm during both. I assume she’s referring to him stoking the fireplace or helping me find the appropriate clothing for the low temperatures I’ll encounter here.

Her love for him is obvious, as is her pride, as she shares some information on him, giving me an opportunity to see him through her eyes. “Wait, he’s a rancheranda teacher?”

She beams a quick smile at me before returning her gaze to the road. “He wanted to do both, refusing to give up either dream. I’m sure at some point he’ll retire from the school and devote all his time to the farm, but he’s not there yet. But something tells me that’ll change very soon.” This time she sends me a furtive glance that I can’t translate.

“He must be so tired,” I muse, then and there resolving to do whatever I can to lighten his load.

I must’ve spoken that out loud, or my thoughts were visible on my face, because she reaches out to pat my hand. “You’re exactly who he needs.” I mull that over as we continue the rest of the trip in silence until she pulls into a drive.

“It’s…beautiful,” I whisper as I take in the view before me.

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