Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

A low sound escaped him, half laugh and half frustrated growl. “I figured as much.” The whisper of paint strokes moved between them. “You know, Sadie might be young, but she’s intelligent and mature for her age. Living with my sister . . .” His boot moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Well, I imagine she became overly sensitive to what was occurring around her. Had to because she never knew what mood her mother would be in at any given moment.” He hesitated, then said, “Carrie was an addict.”

Kristen froze, the burning sensation pricking at her eyes traveling lower to constrict her chest. She’d never felt smaller or more insensitive in all her life.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” She set the paintbrush down and looked up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “But I could see I did, and I’m truly sorry for that.”

He nodded slowly, his blue eyes roving over her face. “Have you been around kids much? Younger brothers or sisters maybe?”

Kristen grabbed the paintbrush and started painting again.

The sign slipped to one side of her lap, and Mitch nudged it back. “Do you have family waiting on you back in Cook County? Parents or—”

“No.” She dragged the brush harder, paint speckling her jeans. “There’s no one. You?”

“It’s just me back in New York. Did you grow up in Cook County?”

Desperate to escape the hot seat, she dropped the paintbrush and met his eyes. “Are you going to take them?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Take what?”

“The kids. Sadie and Dylan,” she clarified. “If you’re so sure this farm is going under and you’re that concerned about their welfare, are you planning to take them home with you?”

His face flushed, and he moved his legs, shifting his balance again. “For a little while, once I talk Emmy around, but not permanently.”

“Why not?”

His mouth opened soundlessly, and he shook his head. “I’m not equipped to raise two kids right now. My apartment is too small, my work hours are too long, and I wouldn’t be able to give them the undivided attention they deserve.”

“So you’re going to take a chance on their finding a better home?” A foster home, maybe? Or even a children’s home, like the one she grew up in, where she wished and dreamed someone would come for her, only to walk out alone years later? “Without Emmy?”

He twisted the blade of grass around his finger, and his fingertip turned red. “Anything stable would be better than here.”

“How would you know that for sure?”

He raised a brow and returned her stare. “What makes you so certain it wouldn’t?”

A screen door slammed, and Emmy reemerged onto the porch, the cane she leaned on tapping against the steps as she walked toward them and Sadie and Dylan trailing behind with cups of sweet tea. “Before my knee gives out for the day, I’d like to show Kristen the field she’s gonna be responsible for. Y’all feel like taking a short ride?”

Mitch tossed away the blade of grass, and Kristen heaved the sign off her lap, and then both of them stood at almost the same instant.

Kristen bit back a smile. It was hard to tell which one of them was more eager to change the subject.

“I’ll drive,” Mitch said, heading for the truck. “Which field?”

“The one Lee’s going to wrestle away from Ruth Ann for us.”

Mitch sighed. “You heard him say that was a long shot.”

Emmy smiled. “And you heard him say he was gonna try anyway. Have faith, Mitch. Now, bring that truck around.”

The seven-minute drive to the back of Emmy’s extensive property passed in silence except for the occasional squeak of shifting gears and the acceleration of the engine. The whir of the air conditioner, the sporadic rock of the cab as the tires dipped over potholes, and the glare of the setting sun’s rays streaking across the horizon had the kids leaning their cheeks against the cool windows, struggling to stay awake. Kristen sat between them, her head lolling against the headrest on more than one occasion.

“Stop right here.”

Her eyes sprang open at Emmy’s command, and Mitch drew the truck to a gentle halt. They all climbed out. Mitch lowered the tailgate, and Dylan helped his sister climb onto it, then joined her, settling beside her and swinging his legs.

“Stay put,” Emmy said. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Kristen fell in step at Emmy’s side while Mitch led them off the dirt road to the field. He glanced back several times, his somber gaze watching Emmy’s slow movements, then lingering on Kristen’s as she maneuvered between ridges of soil.