A Risk Worth Taking (18 page)

Ford

“Don't worry
about losing. If it is right, it happens - The main thing is not to hurry.
Nothing good gets away.”
―John
Steinbeck

The
static in the line was a constant buzz. My parents refused to get a cell phone
and their landline wasn’t the sharpest way up in the hills of southern
California. Community living meant plenty of people had a phone they could
borrow but they never asked. They just stuck with the same corded wall phone
year after year.

“Ford?
Ford, I can’t hear you,” my dad said over the buzzing.

“Dad,
turn the volume up,” I said.

There
was some jostling while he located the button.

“Better?”
I asked.

“Yes,
much better, thanks. How’s the plant business? And that Virginia heat? I heard
it’s like being slow-cooked in a sauna out there.”

“Plants
are good. Making a lot of progress with Casey’s help. And Virginia is hot.
That’s for sure.” My night with Summer unwittingly flashed in my mind. Hot
wasn’t even the word. Boiling. Molten. Searing. Those were all better
descriptions of what I’d experienced. I was pretty sure my dad meant the weather,
though.

“Casey’s
your roommate, right? The one good with engines?”

“Yeah,
that’s him. He’s been a lot of help with the medicinal stuff.”

“Good
to hear. Your mom and I, we’re both real proud of what you’re doing up there.”

“Thanks,
Dad. That means a lot.”

A
female voice sounded in the background on my dad’s end, and I waited while my
mom added her two cents about something. A minute later, my dad came back on.
“Your mom says to tell you she wants you to mail her some more of that one
herb, the one she can use for cooking.”

I
shook my head. “She means that edible aphrodisiac, doesn’t she?”

My
dad chuckled. “What can I say? Your mom’s an adventure.”

“You
mean she likes an adventure.”

“No,
son. I mean, she IS the adventure. Just wait, you’ll find someone soon enough
and you’ll see what I mean.”

“I
have all the adventure I need on my own.”

“Hmm,”
my dad responded—which was his way of not arguing but still feeling right. I
let it go, unwilling to admit that for the first time in my life, I could
imagine what he meant. Summer was an adventure unto herself. “Speaking of
which, that girl,” he continued, “what’s her name? The farmer’s daughter? Your
mom said you sounded sappy about her last time you called.”

“I
did not sound sappy. Mom likes to romanticize.”

“Well,
the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with you. What’s her name again?”

“Her
name is Summer. And I … okay, fine, I might be sappy about her.”

My
dad whooped and the line muffled as he called out to my mom and repeated what
I’d just told him. My mom laughed and I heard a clear, “I told you so” in the
background.

Damn.
Why did I tell those hippies anything? They got so stinking excited about the
idea of me in love. Which was funny considering it hadn’t even happened yet.
But no matter how long it took, no matter how many times I walked away from the
possibility of a relationship, they never lost hope.

“She’s
just a girl I’m seeing,” I reminded them—and myself—amidst their hoots and what
was probably a happy dance in their living room.

“Sure
she is,” my dad replied quickly. Too quickly.

“We’re
just having fun,” I added.

“Well,
I would hope so. You shouldn’t do it if you’re not having fun.”

I
pressed my lips together. This wasn’t going the way I wanted. “What are you so
smug about?”

I
could hear the grin in my dad’s voice. “Judging by the fact that you actually
admitted to being sappy, something you’ve never done before by the way, I think
this is going to be real interesting.”

“I’m
going to Dakota in a little over three months,” I reminded him.

“I
know you are, son.”

“Then
why do you sound so calm about it?”

“Because
I know you. And you know yourself better than anyone else I’ve ever met. You’ll
do what’s right for you, and that’s all I can ask.”

“What’s
right for me might not be what’s right for Summer,” I warned.

“It
may not.”

His
agreement surprised me. I wanted him to argue, to tell me I was wrong for this,
for possibly hurting this girl. Somewhere during our little dance around the
edges, I’d developed feelings. It was safe to say she had too. I knew where
this could end up and I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I wanted someone to tell
me it was okay—or to run in the other direction now, before it was too late. My
dad was doing neither.

“This
time is different,” I said. Maybe if I admitted it aloud, it would make him
see. Make me see. And give me answers.

“I
know.” His voice was way too gentle and understanding. This is not what I’d
wanted when I started this conversation.

“Why
aren’t you worried?” I demanded.

“The
question is, why are you?”

Summer

“The only thing you have is
right now, and that’s where the happiness lies.”

–Angeline Kace

Over the next week, Ford helped me inventory
the retail stock. We counted plants, bags of soil, tools, fertilizer… anything
and everything the farm could put a price tag on got logged. Despite the
tedious work, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much or spent so
little time thinking about balance sheets and bank accounts or the state of my
parents’ love life.

Ford was both a distraction and a point of
focus.

The things he said, the way he saw the world,
made me think from an angle I never had before. It was a constant challenge to
answer his questions or to ask my own in a way that helped me understand there
was more than one way to view the landscape of life.

Over the course of our conversations, something
began to shift. I couldn’t put my finger on it except I felt so … open. So
free. And full of feeling, emotional and physical. I preferred to concentrate
on the physical. I’d never had so much sex. Or so many orgasms.  Unfortunately,
one hadn’t gone with the other in experiences past. I realized now how sad
that’d been.

It never failed that when left alone, we’d end
up in some form of undress and making out—or more. Usually more. And usually
wherever inventory took us. Closets, greenhouses, sheds. The garage. Casey had
almost walked in on that one but we’d played it off. The memory still made me
smile.

By the time I woke Friday morning, my senses
tingled at the mere thought of checking off numbers in boxes.

“Morning,” I said to Mazie as I went for the
coffeepot. The kitchen was deserted except for the two of us. Most of the crew
wouldn’t pop in until lunchtime since they had coffee and bagels in the main
greenhouse. Mazie always made sure of that.

“Good morning, paidi mou,” she said, a smug
smile on her lips.

“What’s that look for?” I asked before blowing
on the steaming mug.

She didn’t look up from the small circles her
dish rag made on the already clean counter. “No reason.”

“Uh-huh.”
I didn’t believe her one bit. Especially after that stunt she’d pulled getting
me to my mom’s party. She still acted like she’d been the one to bring Ford and
me together. And I’d bit back an argument since technically, she was right. Underhanded
but right.

“Your
boyfriend was in this morning, asking me questions about you,” she said.

“He’s
not my boyfriend,” I mumbled over the rim of my cup.

I’d
told her this already. I’d told everyone this already. The problem was, I had
no idea what Ford was. Anytime I tried calling him “just a friend” the person
laughed in my face. Especially Mazie.

My
dad frowned a lot. He, least of everyone, understood or approved of casual
relationships. Frank had slapped him on the back and called him “old school”
before admitting it confused him just the same. Casey was the only one who got
it but instead of agreeing with me about being “just friends” with Ford, he
winked and changed the subject. It grated on me, not having a better answer. I
had zero experience with a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere.

“If
you say so,” Mazie said, still wiping spotless counters. “But his questions
said otherwise.”

“What
did he ask you?”

She
shrugged. “Things about your childhood. Your favorite sports and subjects in
school. What you were like. First boyfriend.” Her expression turned sly. “First
kiss.”

I
set my mug aside and groaned. “You did not tell him about that.”

“He
needs to know what he’s up against,” she said.

I
rolled my eyes. “He’s not ‘up against’ anything.”

Her
laughter escaped in a snort. I shook my head, picked up my mug, and headed for
the hall. “I’ll be in my office,” I called over my shoulder. Mazie’s answer was
more laughter. That woman was evil.

After
lunch, I put aside the account files and went in search of Ford. He spent his
mornings either helping Dad or hunched over the baby sprouts in his greenhouse.
I found him doing the latter, so intent on his work he didn’t hear me come in.

I
stood there, watching his suddenly delicate fingers handle the tiny leaves and
stems. His lips moved silently as he bent over the raised planter’s box.
Whispering to his babies.

“Ford?”
Halfway down the aisle I called his name, but he didn’t look up. Then I noticed
the ear buds he wore and the wire connecting to his iPod. Not whispering to the
plants. Singing. I smiled and crept sideways so that his back was to me.

When
I reached his shoulder, I ripped the ear bud free. “Ford!”

He
jumped and let out a yell. “You should’ve seen your face,” I said, laughing.

“Oh,
you’ve started it now. Just wait,” he said, removing the other ear bud and
switching off the iPod.

I
grinned. “I’m terrified.”

“You
should be.”

“Uh-huh.
Are you ready or what?”

“I
was born ready.” I turned to go but he grabbed me and pulled me to him. “One
thing first,” he said, lowering his lips to mine. I ran my hands up his chest
and locked them around his neck, the motion eerily familiar, like I’d been
doing it forever.  His tongue traced my bottom lip and then the roof of my
mouth, just behind my teeth. I shivered, instantly turned on.

“You
like that?” he murmured.

“Gets
me every time,” I whispered, reaching for more.

The
kiss lasted just long enough to make it difficult to stop. When he pulled away,
we were both breathing hard. I dropped my arms from his neck reluctantly. “We
should get to work,” I said.

He
kissed my cheek one last time and whispered into my ear, “When’s our first
break?”

“Soon,”
I said, grinning at him.

Outside,
he fell into step beside me and laced his fingers through mine. I hung on,
shoving out the little voice that wanted to know what it meant for him to hold
my hand. It didn’t matter what it meant. It only mattered that he was holding
it.

We
spent the next hour inside the barn’s storage room, Ford calling out items
while I marked it down on my clipboard. When all the rakes and shovels had been
recorded, we went back to my office to input the numbers.

I
shoved aside the contents of boxes I’d brought in that now littered my desk and
fired up the computer. I’d barely had time to put away Mom’s things left behind
since being back. The room was still bare of my own personal touches.

“It’s
a work in progress,” I explained.

Ford
sat in the empty chair across the desk. “No explanation required. Have you seen
my work space? Controlled chaos.”

“Controlled?”
I lifted a brow.

“I
know where everything is.”

“Yeah,
because it’s all lying on the floor in plain sight.”

“Don’t
question my system. It works for me. Besides, all the creative types are
messy.”

I
looked around my half-decorated, half-packed office and made a face. “I would
say you’re converting me but this is just me procrastinating.”

He
picked up a framed document laying on top of the stack. My diploma.
“Congratulations, by the way,” he said, scanning it. “Heard you graduated with
honors and a dean’s letter. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Thanks,
but how’d you know about the dean’s letter?”

“Your
dad likes to brag.”

I
smiled. Yeah, he did. Ford nodded at the open boxes sitting underneath the
window. “What’s going on there?”

“New
management,” I said. His brows lifted. “My mom left a lot behind. I’m purging.”
I left out the part that I’d only this week started the process after my mom
had called for me every day since her party. I’d ignored every call—and every
dirty look from my dad when it happened.

“I
see, and how’s that going?”

“Slow,”
I admitted.

“I
can’t imagine why. The whole thing sounds like a blast.”

I
smiled ruefully. “Exactly. I’m pacing myself. Wouldn’t want to end the fun too
soon.”

“I’ve
never seen you not be fun.”

I
planted a quick kiss on Ford’s lips, forcing myself not to overthink the
compliment. I lifted the frame from Ford’s hands and set it on the exposed nail
I’d found when I’d removed a piece of artwork my mother had hanging.

When
I’d finished, I found Ford paging through an old farmer’s almanac that was in a
stack headed for donation. “Interesting,” he said absently.

From
this angle, his face was a contoured outline of nose, cheek, and jaw. The
picture he made, shoulders slightly hunched and nose stuck in a book, made him
look at once both rugged and gentle. And endearing.

No,
no, I wasn’t going to think like that. We weren’t in a relationship. This was
just … well, I wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t so meaningful that I could allow the
sort of feelings that threatened. But damn if there wasn’t something about him
that made me want to care.

“Did
you know this one recorded snow flurries in our county in May one year?”

It
wasn’t “our county.” It was mine. He wasn’t staying long enough to claim it for
himself.

I
couldn’t help thinking that way, and it distracted me from answering. When I
didn’t readily respond, he looked up. Our eyes met and a jolt of something
electric shot straight up from my toes. My pulse sped. “Umm …”

Snow.
We were talking about snow.

“Is
everything okay?” he asked.

Somehow,
I managed to blink my way free of the spell. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just …
distracted, I guess. I’m throwing those out.”

“What?
All of them? You can’t throw these away. They’re classic.”

“You
take them then. I don’t have the space.”

He
gave me a strange look. It made me feel like he was trying hard to understand
an unsolved puzzle.

“What?”
I demanded.

His
voice was gentle as he asked, “Does it make you feel better about her to throw
things away?”

My
back stiffened. “Maybe.”

“I’m
sorry. That was rude. I shouldn’t—it’s none of my business.” He ran a hand
through his hair. A few pieces stuck that way, making him look younger and less
confident. Somehow, it erased any insult the words had caused.

“It’s
fine. I just—Yes, throwing things away makes me feel more in control, like I’m
being proactive. And … It means fewer memory tsunamis when I walk through the
house or work in this room.”

“Memory
tsunamis?”

“Everywhere
I look I see her things or I see the empty place where her things were before.
And this room has the most of her.” I looked around as I spoke. “She spent a
lot of time here and didn’t take much of it with her, it seems. The more I
purge, the more it might start to feel like mine, instead of something that
used to be hers.”

“They’re
divorced. You talk about her like she’s dead.”

“Not
dead. Just … Well, I guess you could say our family died when they split.”

He
shook his head, the gentleness giving way to frustration. “That’s not true,
Summer. You guys are still a family. You’re just not all in the same place
anymore.”

Instead
of irritating, his conviction made me curious. “You sound like you know from
experience.”

“No.
I mean, my parents are still married, but the point is they have faults and
problems and they let each other down sometimes. People do that and your
parents, they’re just people.”

I
thought about Aaron. I’d let him down, that was for sure. It had been the right
thing, but didn’t change the fact that I’d disappointed him. And hurt him. Sort
of like my mother had done to my father …

“Oh,
geez.” I backed up and braced myself on the edge of the desk, perching there
while I processed that.

“What
is it?”

“You’re
right.”

His
lips twitched. “And it’s shocked you so much you need to sit down?”

I
didn’t laugh. I was too busy drawing parallel lines between myself and a mother
I’d unwittingly painted as the villain. “I’m just like her,” I said faintly.
“All this time, I’ve blamed her for walking out on Dad. Made her into the bad
guy. Swore I’d make up for her wrongs by coming back here. And I did the same
exact thing she did. I walked out.”

“What
was his name?”

I
looked at him sharply, but there was no trace of judgment or disapproval.
“Aaron,” I said. “We dated the entire time I was at school. He was smart and
nice and treated me well. He probably would’ve asked me to marry him after
graduation.”

“What
made you want to end it?”