What The Heart Wants (4 page)

Three
 

Mam didn’t keep many personal items around her house, aside from the absurd amount of knick-knacks that covered every surface. There were no photo albums, no journals, no phone books. The only personal item she found was a handwritten note in a beautiful frame hanging on her bedroom wall. It said simply, “I’m sorry I was such an asshole. - John”

Anna laughed when she found it. For the first time she was getting some insight into the kind of woman her great aunt had been. She wondered who John was and what he did and what Mam must have said to him to prompt such a note. And, most of all, what prompted Mam to spend time and money to so carefully preserve a note that apologized for being an asshole.

It seemed like Mam had stubborn and bitter streak. It wasn’t good enough that he said sorry once. No, she needed to see his apology note proudly displayed on the wall in her house. The thought of Mam walking passed it every morning and night and scoffing or smirking made her laugh again.

She had been in Stars Landing for a little over a week. She spent most of her free time acquiring books and pouring over them, taking meticulous little notes that she put into alphabetical order. Taking a walk on the property with two of her books, a bucket of rocks and a permanent marker, she found and labeled every already planted field. The ones that had nothing in them she assumed were up to her to figure out what to plant. The thought was exciting if not a little daunting.

It took her all of five minutes to decide to plant the largest open field with chamomile. She could sell it as a plant. Or she could sell it as herbs for dishes. And, more importantly, she could dry it and package it to sell as tea in the off season when there would be no fresh harvests.

Annabelle had always been good at planning. In school she had always been top of her class and she spent many hours pouring over non-school books in her free time. She had always been eager to learn new things. She probably could have gone to any college of her choice on a scholarship had she ever been able to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She had always been too busy planning to actually decide. She could open a bookstore or her own coffee shop. She could go to veterinary school.

The idea was always more exciting than actually committing to it.

She had always been envious of the people who simply knew what they wanted to do. They wanted to go to law school so they could fight social injustice. They wanted to go to business school and become a filthy rich venture capitalist and spend all their free time chasing models on exotic beaches.

She had never been that passionate. So she slaved away at ten or twelve hour days at someone else’s business and socked away money for the day when she maybe, just maybe would take the chance, drain her account, and start her own business. But there was always that little voice in the back of her head telling her she was never going to be able to pull it off.

Mam’s farm falling into her lap was the kick in the pants she needed. A opportunity, with no anxiety-filled move of her own, came by and she could grab it by the short hairs and take a chance. She wouldn’t spend the rest of her life wishing she had found the courage earlier. Or, worse, yet, to die with a “what if” between her line.

So although she had never had a green thumb (evidenced by the dozens of houseplants she had managed to kill over the years, despite following the care instructions exactly) she was going to put everything she had into this. Even if she failed she would know that once in her small little life, she faced all of the fear and anxiety and self-doubt, looked them in the face, and told them all to go straight to hell.

Sylvester jumped up on the desk where she was writing down notes on garden pests, and plopped down onto her notebook. “You hungry buddy?” Anna asked, scratching his head before making her way to the kitchen to put out his dinner. “Me too,” she said, her stomach grumbling loudly.

Opening the fridge, she realized that she had eaten the last of the grapes and pasta the night before and a plate of plain brown rice wasn’t very appealing. “Looks like I’m going out for dinner,” she told the cat whose face was buried in his food dish. “you hold down the fort. And try not to kill your brother,” she said, peeking at the bird cage suspended from the ceiling.

The diner was busier than the last time she went there. A different pretty young waitress showed her to her seat and took her unusual order with a barely noticeable eyebrow raise.

Anna was just about to dive into her French toast when someone slid into her booth, across from her. “French toast and macaroni and cheese?” Sam asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey I’ve been living on spaghetti and yogurt for a week. Leave me alone,” she smiled.

His waitress came into view, looking around, trying to find where her customer was when she spotted him sitting with Anna. She was impressively balancing five plates between her two arms, and dropped three off in front of Sam before moving away.

Anna looked at Sam’s food and groaned. He had ordered a large garden salad with a side of broccoli and minestrone soup.

“What?” Sam asked, amused by the look on her face.

“A health freak, huh?” Anna asked, pouring a generous amount of maple syrup over her French toast.

“Got something against veggies?” he asked, picking up a piece of broccoli with his fingers and putting it in his mouth, “They do the body good.” Anna smiled and shrugged, putting a heaping spoonful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth and chewing deliberately. “And so does macaroni and cheese and French toast apparently,” he added with an odd look in his eye.

Anna choked, coughing furiously until she finally swallowed her food.

Sam was watching her with a bemused expression. She obviously wasn’t the kind of woman used to receiving compliments As far as he knew, women who didn’t have a coughing fit over a charm-less insinuation. She couldn’t meet his eye afterward, pretending that cutting up the rest of her French toast required intense concentration.

“So Miss. Goode,” he finally said. “how goes the farming?”

She surprised him by snorting. “I have everything labeled, but I still only know two by sight.”

“That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with little Billy does it?”

Annabelle felt herself blushing. “You named your goat Billy?” she asked, refusing to admit that he was right… the only reason she knew the basil was because Sam had told her what it was. “That’s… original,” she said with a smirk.

“I call all of the goats Billy. I would have run out of names by now if I gave them each their own.

“You’re a goat farmer?” she asked and her face looked sad. “You don’t like..”

“Eat them?” Sam chimed in with a full, booming laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, Miss. Goode, little Billy wont be ending up on anyone’s dinner plate. Goat isn’t a very popular meat. No, I use the goats for milk. And cheese making.”

Anna nodded, feeling oddly relieved. She didn’t want to think that the adorable little bundle of fur might end up as someone’s dinner. Even if he had damaged some of her crops.

“You could come over sometime if you get tired of trying to tell plants apart. Its not hugely interesting, but there are lots of baby goats you can name until your heart is content. And you can try some of the products. It could be a good distraction.”

“You had me at ‘baby goats’,” she said and Sam laughed.

“Good. Anytime then. No need to call or anything. I am pretty much always around.”

Anna wondered if this was a date thing. No. She knew better than that. He was just being nice. Friendly. A good neighbor. Even if he did sort-of say that she had a good body. “So what…” Annabelle started when she was interrupted by Ashley, the waitress from her first visit, suddenly walking over with what looked like a disapproving frown.

“Someone,” she said with a flick of her head indicating the person was behind her, “wanted me to bring you these.” It was then that Anna noticed the plate she was carrying was piled high with what looked like one of every danish the diner carried. Her mouth watered. Ashley leaned closer to her. “I could go right over there and drop them in his lap if you want,” she said and Anna realized she was dead serious.

Anna giggled and shook her head. “That would be a waste of perfectly delicious danishes.”

“Suit yourself,” Ashley grimaced. “but I am not thanking him for you.”

Annabelle shook her head, smiling as she arranged the desserts in front of her. It was then that she looked up to Sam and caught a glimpse of a dark look cross his face before he noticed her looking at him and replaced it with that adorable lopsided grin again.

“You cant possibly be thinking about eating all of those, can you?”

Anna stifled the insecurity that told her that she shouldn’t be stuffing her face in front of an attractive man. “Just watch me,” she said instead, taking a huge bite out of a apricot and cheese danish.

Sam laughed, a rich infectious laugh.

Anna felt someone lean over her chair from behind, their face next to her ear. She didn’t have to look to know it was Eric. Who else would take such liberty with someone’s personal space?

“There’s something sexy about a woman enjoying her food,” he said and sauntered away and out of the diner. She could have sworn her ran a finger across her neck before he stepped away. She felt a shiver spread down her spine.

Looking up at Sam, she noticed the dark look again. She held up a hand as if to stop him from talking although he wasn’t even trying to speak. “I’ve already had the lecture. From Ashley. And Maude. And judging from that frown Hank The Friendly Grocer is giving me, I have another one in my future. So save it.”

Sam shrugged. “No smoke without fire they say.” He reached across the table and stole a corner from her apple danish and popped it in his mouth.

“I’ll have to invest in a fire extinguisher.”

“I grew up with the O’reillys,” Sam said. “that might be too subtle.”

Annabelle giggled. “Well then, a high powered fire hose. Or one of those airplanes they use on wild fires. I can improvise.”

“Good to know,” Sam said, rising and dropping a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “Don’t forget to come and visit sometime.”

“I wont,” she said, feeling uncomfortable. Outside of her mother’s boyfriends, a man had never paid for her food before. And in one meal, Sam had paid for her dinner and Eric had paid for her dessert. “Here,” she said as the waitress came over again. “this is for you.”

The girl smiled broadly. Their bill couldn’t have been more than twenty dollars. “He’s the best tipper in town.”

--

Sam heard the cigarette lighter click as soon as he walked outside the diner. He sighed. “What do you want, O’reilly?”

Eric shrugged. “She’s a breath of fresh air,” Eric commented.

“Which is exactly why you should stay away from her.”

“Ouch,” Eric laughed.

“Oh come on, man,” Sam sighed, leaning on the wall next to him. “she’s a sweetheart. You’ll get tired of her in a week and she’ll be heartbroken.”

“Think that highly of me, huh Flynn?”

“Or that lowly. I don’t have a vested interest here. I just think she had enough on her plate without having to become another notch in your belt.”

“Yeah,” Eric said, crushing his cigarette butt on the outdoor ashtray. “keep telling yourself that,” he laughed and walked away.

Sam didn’t know what was wrong with him. He and Eric had always gotten along well enough. Not quite friends but without any animosity either. Everyone knew he was the biggest manwhore in town, but that had somehow never mattered. Women knew what they were getting themselves into with Eric and yet they willingly fell into his arms. It had never bothered him before. He convinced himself he was just being a good neighbor. Or honoring Mam’s memory by warning her niece about Eric. She just seemed so innocent and wide-eyed and he felt the need to shield her.

It didn’t have anything to do with the attraction he felt toward her.

Four
 

She hated gardening. She was kneeling in one of the plots, ruining yet another pair of perfectly good jeans. She hated the dirt under her nails. She hated the mini heart attacks she got every time a beetle or a creepy spider scampered out of the dirt she was digging in. She hated how sweaty she was all day and the weird tan lines she was getting from all the hours in the sun.

It felt like she had been working on the plot for hours and she only had two rows planted. And they were crooked. And her fingertips hurt from digging out all of the relentless weeds. She had just started the hole for a third row when a swarm of huge black ants came flooding out of the dirt.

And that was it. She was done. She threw down her shovel and started walking. It took her about ten minutes before she reached the end of her property line. She only had a moment’s hesitation before she put a foot on the wrung of the fence and hoisted herself over. Sam did say anytime… and today of all days, she could use the distraction.

Sam’s property must have been massive because she had already walked fifteen minutes on his side of the fence before the outline of a house and two giant barns came into view.

His house was a massive two-story white colonial without shutters. There was a large deck on the back lined with young manicured trees. But to her, the barns were far more impressive structures. They dwarfed the house in both height and sheer square footage. They were painted the typical vibrant red with crisp white accents. One of the barns had the massive passway doors thrown open and she could see tractors inside along with various other equipment she didn’t recognize.

There was no sign of Sam or even any goats for that matter. She walked toward the second barn whose door was bolted. It was then that she saw the forth building on the property. A long silver structure easily the length of both barns and the house if you lined them up next to each other. There were several small windows placed much higher than eye-level. She figured that must be where the cheese was processed. She fleetingly wondered how many employees he employed.