Page 99 of Harvest Moon (Riverbend 3)

“Too bad for him, huh?”

“Too bad! I played with Oliver instead.”

Once they reached his work truck, Gavin buckled him into his car seat. “Well, wait’ll you tell your friends you got to sit in a backhoe today.”

“Yeah!”

Gavin ruffled his hair, then closed the door and got in on thedriver’s side. He pulled the truck from the driveway, then backed it back in, positioning it carefully in front of the trailer. When he was finished he said, “Be right back, Jess.”

He rounded the truck and found the trailer’s coupler poised nicely over the ball, so he unlatched the coupler and lowered the trailer until the hitch was fully seated. He should really use a sway bar—the trailer was loaded with cement bags so it was heavy enough to require one. Plus he’d be driving on the freeway. But the sway bar was currently attached to the other trailer, and he’d only be on the highway for ten minutes. Besides, he really didn’t have time to spare—it would be a long, silent ride to Riverbend if he was late returning.

He finished hitching the trailer and got back in the truck. “Ready to go, bud?”

“Can I drive the backhoe, Daddy?”

“Remember what I said?” Gavin carefully pulled from the drive. “We only have time to sit in it today. You can tell Papaw all about it.”

He turned left and headed toward the highway. The site was twelve minutes away—without pulling a trailer. Plus a couple of minutes for the backhoe. That would be pushing it.

When he reached the highway, he drove up the ramp and accelerated. Traffic was fairly heavy, but it was flowing well at least. He got up to sixty—really shouldn’t go any faster—keeping his eyes on the clock as Jesse chattered away in the back seat.

Gavin was looking forward to going home for the holiday weekend. He’d had to work over Thanksgiving weekend, so they’d only gone to Riverbend for the day, much to his mom’s dismay.

Since Christmas fell on a Sunday this year and the project was almost back on schedule, he was taking the whole weekend off.It would be good to see Avery—she was doing her residency in Pennsylvania and hadn’t made it home for Thanksgiving.

A semi passed on his left, and the gust of wind pushed the trailer to the right, tugging at the truck. Gavin lifted his foot from the accelerator. The trailer fishtailed the other direction. He clenched the steering wheel. Tried to correct. But it was already out of his control. A terrible sense of doom filled him just before his world turned upside down.

When Gavin awakened hours later, the last thing he remembered was the tilt of the truck. The world rolling. If Jesse had cried out in those final seconds, he couldn’t remember it. Maybe that was for the best.

Later, he would wish he could forget all the hours that came afterward...

When he realized the horrifying cost of his recklessness.

When he had to face his wife.

When he had to somehow keep breathing with the burden of their son’s death pressing down on him like a boulder.

But he couldn’t forget any of it. Instead, reality sank deeper with each passing second, dragging him down with it. Gavin had walked away with hardly a scratch. But inside he was dead—just like his son.

Chapter36

Laurel felt oddly serene as she drove past the “Welcome to Riverbend Gap” sign. She’d driven to Asheville this morning and told Diane what was transpiring. Laurel didn’t want to resign yet in case the worst happened and they lost Emma, but she needed to be honest with her boss.

Diane had been more than understanding. “We’d be very sorry to lose you, Laurel. But I can’t say I’m surprised you’d be willing to give up your job for your friends’ child. You’ve been nothing but loyal to this place for six years, and I can only imagine you’d be just as loyal to your friends. It’s a wonderful thing you’re trying to do for that little girl. We can extend your leave another two weeks. Let me know how the hearing goes. Selfishly, I hope to have you back.”

Laurel beamed. “I’ll keep you looped in. Thank you, Diane.”

The possibility of giving up her dream position should be agonizing. But dreams could shift and morph over time. Sometimes new dreams were born. And somewhere along the way, that’s what must’ve happened to her. Because she wanted Emma more than she wanted anything else.

She drove down Main Street, observing the hikers who ambledthrough town with their spindly walking sticks and lumpy backpacks, searching for a hot meal. She passed the Trailhead Bar and Grill and Owen’s Nursery where she’d worked so many summers. Once through town, she pressed the accelerator. She was eager to get home to Emma. Anticipated Sunny’s enthusiastic greeting. And the ripening orchard that awaited her.

The scenery had changed in the three days since she and Gavin sat in the park and made their life-altering decision. Autumn colors were already trickling down the mountains. Fall was in the air. And her entire life had done a one-eighty. Instead of feeling whiplashed, she just felt... content.

Only thoughts of her relationship with Gavin unsettled her. As always, when she thought of their new arrangement, fear bubbled up inside. Resolutely, she pushed the feeling back down. She would manage her expectations. She wouldn’t be seeking his time or attention or love or counting on him for emotional support. She would expect nothing but his partnership in Emma’s care, and then she wouldn’t wind up disappointed and heartbroken. Her mother had been so right about that.

As she pulled in to the drive she pushed away her apprehension and determined to dwell on the positive. She would have a beautiful child to raise. A charming home to care for. A lovely orchard to run. The thoughts brought a smile to her face.

Gavin had moved back to his camper yesterday, but he’d come over this morning to watch Emma while she drove to Asheville. Laurel turned into her driveway. Gavin’s truck was still there. She’d half expected him to take Emma to his work site today. She opened the front door to Sunny’s welcome. The dog’s tags jangled wildly, and her entire backside wagged back and forth as if she hadn’t seen Laurel for months.

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