Leaning against the frame of the front door, I glance back at her. “I already have a mother, two counting you. I don’t need another one.”
“Did Bethany ever tell you she was engaged once?”
My mind races as I turn fully to face her. “Excuse me?”
She sinks onto one of the rocking chairs and folds her hands across her lap. “It probably isn’t my place to even tell you that, but just know I think you’re being too hard on that sweet girl when all she is doing is worrying over you.”
“What happened to her fiancé?”
“I think you should ask Bethany to tell you.”
Groaning, I turn back toward the house, pulling open the door. Problem is if Bethany wanted to tell me what she clearly told Bess, she would’ve already done it. Does she trust Bess more than me? I had thought we were moving toward something long term. If she has another guy waiting in the wings, maybe she’s toying with me.
I don’t like that one bit.
There’s some paperwork I need to take care of for a couple upcoming deliveries. It is the one aspect of the farm no one hassles me about doing since I’ve come home from the hospital.
That night, instead of having dinner at the main house, I see my parents. The whole point of them living in the far cabin is for them to not have to deal with the day-to-day worries of running the farm. Since I got bit, my mom has been spending more time at my cabin and the main house to keep an eye on me. I tried to tell her, just as I told Bethany and Bess, that I am fine. Doesn’t stop her from needing to take care of me.
I’ve finally convinced her that I’ll live so she’s back fulltime at their cabin. Now when I go see them, I take my truck the whole way. Any walking I do in the woods, which isn’t much, is in long pants and boots. My days of walking in shorts and sneakers are over. That’s more in my head than anything else. I have the EpiPen on me at all times, so in theory, if I were to get bit by another snake, or hell, have a similar allergic reaction to anything, I should be all right if I use it.
My nose tells me before I get to the cabin that we’re grilling tonight. The cabin my parents live in does not have electricity. My mom cooks on the wood stove in the winter months and my dad mans the charcoal grill. The pond behind my parents’ cabin is loaded with fish for grilling.
I skip the front door and walk straight to the back porch where I assume my folks will be. My mom is setting the table while my father is tending the grill.
“Hey, Mama,” I greet, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
She pulls me in for a hug. “How are you feeling?”
Shrugging, I lift my foot. “Still no feeling, but I’m getting better walking around on it.”
My father comes over to pat me on the back. “That’s good to hear.”
“How are you doing, Pops?”
“Better than most so I can’t complain.”
It’s not in his nature to complain. He’s a simple man. He’d rather cut off a limb than complain. Unfortunately, because of that, it had taken almost losing him to a heart attack for the rest of us to realize he was overdoing it.
“Pity Bethany couldn’t join us,” my mother adds, looking at the three place settings on the table.
“I dropped her off at the airport earlier today,” I explain, then pull my phone out of my pocket to see if she’s called. Her flight should be landing soon.
“How are the fruit trees looking this year?” my dad asks, glancing at my mom.
He knows we purposefully keep him out of the loop so he has no excuse to worry. “I’m not happy with a couple of the pear trees. I’m not sure what it is, but some of the branches are looking diseased. I’ve been treating them, but if I don’t see improvement in the next week or so, I’m cutting them down.”
“That would be a shame.” My mother frowns.
“I could take a look at them if you’d like,” my dad offers.
I glance at my mother before looking back at him. “Nah, I’ve got this covered, Dad.”
The orchard is probably the prettiest part of the farm, especially when all the fruit trees are in bloom. I spent my childhood climbing those trees and agree with my mom; it would be a shame to lose a couple. It’ll be even worse to lose all of them. I love those trees. Do some of my best thinking under their boughs. There’s a better chance than not I’ll end up in the orchard tonight to process what Bess told me.
I haven’t even decided if I’ll ask Bethany about it when she calls. Part of me is not even sure I want to talk to her. I slip my phone out again to see if she’s called. An emotion I can’t define, that’s somewhere between relief and frustration when I see she hasn’t, fills me. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I focus on spending time with my parents instead. We’ve finished the main course and my mom is about to serve the cake I brought with me when my phone rings.
“It’s okay, son. You can take it,” my dad says after witnessing my hesitation to answer it.