Her Heart's Desire (Sunflower Series Book 1) (4 page)

“
Next
Saturday night?” Zoë’s brow
furrowed.

“Lucas had the gall to tell him I couldn’t go
out with him tomorrow night.”

“Lucas said that? Well, you
could
go.”

Lia sighed. “Yes, but I wouldn’t be good
company. I hate it when Lucas is right.”

“But, think about it. Maybe going out is
exactly what you need.”

“I will, but
next
Saturday night.”

“I’ve met Karl once. He seems...more mature
than the last nephew Mr. Turner imported to help out. It’s not like
Lucas to butt in.”

“He’s been an ache in my backside for the
last year”—Lia lowered her voice—“I think…and oh, is Craig going to
catch it…I think my brother appointed Lucas as my watchdog.”

Zoë’s eyes grew round.

Lia nodded. “That would explain why Lucas,
not Craig, fought with me about who would put in the crop last
spring, who would help me with the mowing, even who should harvest
the corn. All along, I just thought he wanted the business. When I
complained to Craig about Lucas Dwyer, my brother dearest
encouraged me to let Lucas handle things if I wanted the farm to
succeed. I think Craig feels guilty because he couldn’t pull
strings to help the Dwyers keep their farm.”

“Wouldn’t you?’

Lia frowned. “Yeah, probably. If I were
Craig. But I don’t know about finances like he does, and I can’t
depend on Lucas. He’s gone in the fall combining. Craig said Lucas
travels as much as a thousand miles to a farm for work during the
season.”

“And that’s got what to do with giving the
man a contract? Give Lucas some credit. He’s helping pay for
Megan’s education.”

Lia narrowed her eyes. A ripple of unease
rode a rollercoaster from her brain to her heart. “Do you still
have a crush on him?” she asked quietly. “I thought you were long
over Lucas.”

“Hey, sister!” a voice shouted, interrupting
her study of Zoë. Lia turned to see Zoë’s younger brother racing
toward them.

Zoë hopped down from the barstool and let out
a squeal. “Whee!” She raced toward her brother. “Seth! How come you
never told anyone you were coming home?”

The uniformed solider stopped, saluted, and
then grabbed Zoë around the waist and twirled her round and round.
The few customers in the bar clapped. Bethany reappeared from the
kitchen and joined in the applause.

“Welcome home, Seth,” Lia called out, but she
couldn’t help but wonder if Zoë had purposefully avoided the
question about Lucas—their unrequited love during their high school
years.

Chapter 3

Lia waved her hand. “Hello? Bethany. Another
of whatever beer Zoë’s drinking and the same for her brother,” Lia
said to the mesmerized bartender as Seth and Zoë walked toward her
spot at the bar.

“I just love a man in a uniform,” Bethany
gushed. Lia worried the woman might fall into an old-fashioned
swoon, something like Scarlett O’Hara might pull. Lia’s mother had
endowed their Midwest family values with a smattering of southern
culture from her side of the family. An iconic swooning couch had
held court in the living room all of her life.

Seth saluted Bethany, who blushed deep
pink.

“Drinks coming right up.
His
is on the
house.” Bethany hurried away.

Seth leaned over and hugged Lia. “The famous
artist comes to town. Good to see you.”

“You aren’t the little runt who followed your
sister and me around. I’d salute you, but would probably make a
mess of it, and I don’t want to insult. How about a toast
instead?”

Bethany placed a beer directly in front of
Seth and Zoë’s second one within reach.

Lia stood and lifted her mug. “Here’s to all
brave men who serve with honor. And to you, Seth Marshall, for
making your family proud and coming home alive.” She clinked the
glass together with her friends and took a sip.

“To Seth,” the other dozen patrons in the bar
shouted.

Seth turned and waved to the well-wishers.
“Thanks. It’s good to be home.”

“I’m going to leave. You two have some
catching up to do,” Lia said, picking up her keys from the bar.

“But you haven’t finished half your drink,”
Seth pointed out. “Don’t go on my account.”

“I feel even more inspired to paint now. It’s
all taking shape in my brain.” She hugged Seth, then Zoë. “I’ll see
you tomorrow,” Lia whispered. “About two. Rain or shine.” A touch
of sadness tweaked her heart. Celebrating Seth’s return, a brave
man home from war, and seeing the joy in Zoë’s eyes over his
homecoming made the ache of missing her parents and the family life
they’d shared greater in the moment. Not that she expected things
to be a hundred percent different tomorrow, but maybe getting past
the first anniversary of the funeral would be like finishing a book
about an epic journey. Starting a new story might lighten the
remaining sadness stuck in her heart.

Walking out of the dark bar, Lia shaded her
eyes, allowing them to adjust to the sunlight. She crossed the
street in the shadow of the bar’s rocket steeple before turning the
corner and making her way back to her truck. She mused about the
differences between her and Zoë. She was taller, curvier, auburn
haired, with not much family compared to Zoë with her petite build,
model thin, blonde bobbed hair, blue eyes, and a large boisterous
family. Their goals in life were different, too. While she loved to
paint and enjoyed teaching, Zoë preferred the spotlight. Harvest
didn’t have a theater, but maybe it could use one where her oldest
friend from grade school could perform and charm any audience. If
Zoë had pursued a career in sales, her friend would be rich. Her
smile endeared her to everyone.

“But then, if she wasn’t here, I wouldn’t
have her to lean on right now,” Lia said, climbing into her truck.
Their differences didn’t interfere with their friendship. However,
she envied Zoë one thing—as an older sister to siblings, her friend
received family respect—unlike Lia’s brother, who looked at her
more and more like a child since their parents had died, which made
the challenge of proving her farming capabilities that much more
difficult. If Craig would only see reason, he’d be proud of her,
instead of doubting her.

Two years in age difference was a lot when
they were in high school, she a sophomore to his senior status, or
when they were in college, but not now. Just because he majored in
business and she in art didn’t mean she couldn’t manage the farm
like a business. In the face of Mister Doubter, as long as the
weather held and the crop came in—fingers crossed—she’d break even
on her first, fulltime farming effort. He’d given her a year to
fail.

Just the same, even with mixed feelings,
she’d be happy to see him. Family history and grief knitted them
together, a special kind of bond. She sighed. Craig was headed home
for the weekend to spend time with her and to pay respects to their
parents. She couldn’t pull off the small graveside memorial service
tomorrow afternoon without him. Lucas and Megan would be there and
Zoë, too. A few other close friends and neighbors had been
included. If she were a betting woman, she’d put money on the fact
that Craig had other items on his agenda, like trying to talk her
into selling the farm again. He had better be ready for a
shocker...did he even understand the two-letter word, no? If he
decided to sell his half, she’d find a way to deal with it, but her
inheritance wasn’t for sale. End of story.

Lia pulled into a quick-stop station shaded
by tall grain silos, filled up the truck with diesel, then ran
through the car wash before heading back to the farm, traveling the
two-lane blacktop highway rather than farm roads to keep the truck
clean. As she drove, she noticed hints of changing color. The sun
appeared more golden, rather than summer lemon. Leaves showed the
first fall tinge of orange and gold. Fields of sunflowers turned
their heads to the light. Tassels on corn glinted like golden silk
thread in fields spreading out for miles, signs of summer slipping
into fall. Any day now, a first soft frost could arrive and make
the world look different. A Kansas fall was like a rose bud—it
opened fast and faded too soon.

But she could capture it all in a painting to
preserve the feeling year round.

Arriving at the farm, she nosed the truck
into the garage. Gentleman Jack greeted her with loud barks from
the mudroom where she’d left him. For a Brittany Spaniel, he obeyed
well, yet true to his bloodline, whenever able, he’d cast for quail
and pheasant—no matter the season.

“Were you a good boy?” She let the dog loose.
He bounced past her in a spurt of energy before sprinting back.
Together they walked around the old two-story farmhouse. Spring a
year ago, her father had replaced all of the windows with efficient
double-paned ones. It lowered the heating and cooling costs, which
made a difference in her budget between eating well or not. The
butter-yellow paint on the house had faded along with the black on
the shutters. With the right ladders, she could save money by
tackling the job herself. Well, with the right ladders and a few
male friends with strong forearms. She had a few candidates in
mind, men she could bribe with good food and beer. Maybe she could
ask Lucas to organize a painting party. After all, if he was going
to keep inserting himself into her life, he might as well be
useful.

The house was more than just a structure
built on some land. It represented her past and her future. Safety.
Comfort. She loved it, but loved Lucas as much. That was a secret
she shared only with the house. How would he react if he knew her
honest feelings? Would he brush her off this time, like the times
in the past, all because she was Craig’s sister?

For some reason she hadn’t figured out yet,
she feared Lucas knowing the true depths of her feelings. Telling
him was a risk she wasn’t willing to take at this point. Her heart
still ached over the loss of her parents, and she couldn’t handle
rejection from him again.

If she let him know how much she cared, and
he didn’t share the same feelings, it could very well be her final
heartbreak. Only then, would she consider moving off the farm.
Torture would be seeing him with another woman. If he
married...then Craig just might get his wish. She’d be the one to
plant the For Sale sign by the road. But she held on to a thin
thread of hope about Lucas. As much as the man infuriated her,
fighting with him was better than not having him in her life at
all.

Walking with Gentleman Jack through the yard
and around the house, she surveyed what she owned. The house rested
on the crest of a rolling hill. A hundred yards away, oak and hedge
apple trees lined a stream slicing through the thousand-acre
property. Passing the line of birdfeeders, she made a mental note
to refill them. She selected different feed for each one to attract
different species of birds. Cardinals, blue jays, and a few
bluebirds came, along with brown wrens and gray doves. Just beyond
the yard surrounding the house, as far as she could see, corn
whispered in the wind and one field of sunflowers lifted their
faces to the sun. Here the wind always blew. She missed it whenever
she traveled.

Satisfaction settled over her like a warm
blanket on a cool night. She’d show Craig. The crop had been
planted with a lot of hard work, and she’d already contracted to
have it harvested within the month. No way would she miss the
mortgage payments. The sale of the corn, yellow like gold, would
provide enough money for her to make it through the winter, plus
pay for planting in spring…as long as internet sales of the boxed
stuff her mother had left hidden in the barn remained steady for
the next few months. However, to ensure her success, it was time
for plan B, a visit to the gallery in Kansas City requesting to
show her work. If her collection of paintings sold, she’d be in
high cotton
, as her mother used to say.

A trail of dust caught her attention. A truck
traveled up the hill on the mostly hard-packed clay road. She
glanced at her watch. The delivery driver was right on time, but as
usual, he passed the house, continuing on his route to one of the
neighbors down the road. Had her mother kept watch through the
sunroom window and anxiously waited for the arrival of new
packages?

“Here, Jack!” Lia called. The dog ran to her
with his ears peaked and his tongue hanging out. She bent to pet
him, rubbing behind his ears. “I guess it’s a good thing after all
that you never bit the FedEx man who delivered all that stuff to
Mother.”

The news of her parents’ death had been
difficult enough to take, but when she and Craig got to the hard
part of disposing of some of their parents’ belongings, in the barn
along with equipment and tools, they’d discovered a room built into
the back corner with a lock on the door. When they busted in, to
their surprise, they uncovered a ten-by-ten space stacked from the
wooden floor to the fourteen-foot ceiling with unopened boxes. The
mystery of the packages revealed itself after they searched a file
cabinet and found receipts providing information identifying the
contents of the multitude of packages. But the reason for the
merchandise was only a guess. By all appearances, their mother, a
meticulous bookkeeper, became an internet shopaholic after Lia went
off to college more than ten years ago.

Lia crossed her arms, hugging her shoulders,
and wished she could hug her mother to make the tightness in her
chest lessen. She blinked back tears. Mother had lived for their
family. Left her home and relatives in Louisiana to marry a farmer
and take on a completely different life than the one she’d known.
She brought a taste of Cajun culture to the Midwest, but the folks
didn’t understand Twelfth Night and thought Mardi Gras was an
excuse for debauchery, which their local minister preached against.
Had her mother been so lonely she tried to fill her cloistered farm
life with stuff? Had the highlight of her day been a delivery from
the FedEx man? What had her father thought about all of it? Her
parents, as far as she knew, had the perfect marriage. Lia shook
her head. She’d probably never uncover the secret to her mother’s
behavior.