Mitch moved to stand. “Emmy—”
“No, don’
t get up.” She pushed off the table and stood, leaning heavily on her chair and shaking her head. “Sounds like a bit of rain’s heading this way. That’s just what those seeds need, and it makes for good sleep. Seems I’m wore out tonight, and it’s ’bout time I get these tired bones in bed, in case we have some strawberry customers tomorrow.”
He stood anyway, then hesitated as Emmy waved Sadie over.
“Come on, Sadie girl. You need a good night’s sleep to get up for school in the morning. We’ll wash up, and I’ll read to you till you drift off.”
Smiling, Sadie darted over and hugged Emmy’s waist.
Mitch moved toward them. “Emmy, I think we need to talk.”
“Don’t worry.” She reached out and patted his cheek, her gaze tired but admiring as it drifted over his face. “My sweet Mitch is home. My strong, beautiful boy. I’m gonna sleep good tonight.”
He stood still, arms hanging at his sides, as she and Sadie walked out of the kitchen and around the corner, out of sight.
Kristen’s soft voice sounded at his back. “Dylan, why don’t you head to bed, too? I can handle the rest of this.”
Dylan’s light tread moved across the creaky hardwood floor; then he hovered in the hall. “Can we still go with you to check Ms. Kristen’s corn tomorrow?”
Forcing a smile, Mitch nodded. “Yeah. We’ll wait till you and Sadie get home from school.”
Dylan smiled, then left. The breeze from the window pushed at Mitch’s back, and the sweet scent of Kristen’s shampoo enveloped him as she drew near.
“You need some rest, too, Mitch. I can handle this.”
He looked down at his side, and finding the sight of her soft, warm hand too inviting to resist, he slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed. “Thank you.”
She squeezed back once before sliding her hand free and stepping back. “You’re welcome.”
Mitch watched her return to the sink, dip her hands into the sudsy water, then scrub another dish. A drizzle began outside, small droplets of water pinging against the raised windowpane, and the sharp scent of rain filled the room.
An aching need for comfort, deep and searing, spread through his limbs, and he forced his feet to move away. “Good night, Kristen.”
CHAPTER 7
“A little farther this way. Watch your step.”
Kristen smiled, adjusting her grip on Emmy’s arm and moving her feet carefully across the loose clumps of soil beneath her.
Humid heat seeped through the dark cloth covering her eyes, and the tang of dirt and distant rain in the air touched her tongue as she licked her lips. A giggle bubbled up from her belly, and she closed her mouth, trapping the laughter in her throat.
Good grief. It was silly and ridiculous to get so excited over something so small. But she had to admit that ever since dinner last night, when Mitch had mentioned that her corn should be showing, she’d thought of little else. All day, while she and Mitch had serviced and cleaned Lee’s tractor, she’d caught herself gazing over her shoulder toward her field, peering past the thick clouds on the horizon to see whether she could spot any signs of life from afar, knowing full well she wouldn’t at that distance. Mitch had been forced to nudge her out of her reverie at least four times during the workday.
Emmy had seemed to pick up on that embarrassing fact. She’d tossed amused glances in Kristen’s direction as she picked more strawberries and filled buckets, which, unfortunately, no one had come to buy yet. Then, after Sadie and Dylan had been dropped off by the bus and had come running up the driveway a half hour ago, Emmy had made a game of blindfolding Kristen before they all piled into the truck and drove to the field.
“It’s not every day you get to see your first crop spring from the ground,” Emmy had said. “It’s special and should be treated as such.”
“Now,” Emmy announced, kneeling and then pulling Kristen to a squatting position. “Give me your hand.”
Kristen complied, grateful for the confident note in Emmy’s voice.
Despite last night’s confusion, Emmy seemed more solid after a long night’s sleep. She’d even slept an hour later than usual this morning, which Kristen could only assume should help matters.
She stilled, hearing Mitch’s heavy footsteps behind her and feeling the towering heat of his presence above her. He’d looked so weighed down last night, after Emmy’s confusion, his eyes heavy and his shoulders sagging. So much so, she’d been tempted to wrap her arms around him and pull him close.
But . . . that wasn’t her place or concern. Though, increasingly, she had to force herself to remember that. She was here to work, and her focus should be on producing a healthy crop for Emmy—not on romantically entangling herself with Mitch. Nor should she be ruminating over Emmy’s mental slips. It wasn’t for her to say, but that was probably all last night’s confusion had been. Emmy had overexerted herself and exhausted her mind. It happened to everyone on occasion.