The One That Got Away (8 page)

The area was breathtakingly pretty. It reminded Marcus a little of the commune in Oregon where he’d spent much of his childhood. The trees, the endless green… But the town of Promise felt stable and historic. It lacked the uneasy transience of commune life.

Now they were on their way to visit Ginger’s friends Soleil and West.

“What is this place?” Izzy asked from the backseat. She sounded suspicious. “You’re not taking me to some back-to-nature program for bad teenagers, are you?”

Ginger made a little choked sound in her throat and shot a panicky glance at Marcus. “No!” she said, her voice too high. “This is my friend’s farm. It’s a really cool place I’ve been wanting to show you both.”

“Oh.” The response from the back of the car was unenthused.

“Well, I mean, actually, there
is
a program for teenagers here,” Ginger amended as the car crunched along the gravel road through a wooded area. “It’s an internship program for kids from Oakland. I thought you might enjoy meeting some other kids your age. You might want to hang out with them over the summer.”

Izzy was silent. Marcus glanced in the rearview mirror and caught her expression.

“This is an organic farm, right?” he asked, to break the silence. “What do the kids do here?”

“I think they learn how to grow vegetables and take care of animals, so they can go back to the city and work in an urban garden project,” Ginger explained.

“Why do they need to come all the way out here to learn that, if the project exists where they live?”

Ginger frowned. “I’m not sure. I think Soleil’s background as a social worker has something to do with it. I’m sure she sees the program as more than just learning farming skills.”

“You mean she counsels the kids, too?” Marcus asked, hoping Izzy didn’t think that was the main reason they’d come out here.

“Not formally, I don’t think. But I know she sees herself being a counselor above anything else.”

They rounded a bend in the road and came into a clearing. Up ahead was a white Victorian farmhouse with a red roof, and spread out on rolling hills behind it was the farm itself.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ginger said.

“Yeah.” Marcus took note of a group of kids playing a game of badminton off to one side of the garden. On the porch, a man stood overseeing a toddler unsteadily maneuvering her way down the front steps.

“That’s Soleil’s husband, West,” Ginger said as if she’d read his mind. “And their daughter, Julianna.”

“Are those
goats?
” Izzy asked, her tone vaguely horrified.

“Yep.”

“Do I have to go in? I want to sit in the car.”

Marcus turned around to look at her. “Don’t be rude, Izzy,” Marcus said.

Ginger peered at him, her expression inscrutable, then glanced back at Izzy herself. “You want to sit in the car? By yourself? For an hour?”

“Yes.” There wasn’t a lot of conviction in the girl’s voice.

“Sure, go right ahead,” Ginger said.

Marcus caught the doubt in Izzy’s eyes as he glanced in the rearview mirror. She wasn’t sure what kind of trap she was walking into.

“But I thought you wanted me to socialize or something?” she asked.

Ginger shrugged. “Not if you don’t want to. I thought this would be fun for you, but if you’re not interested, stay in the car.”

He marveled at how calm and unbothered by Izzy’s petulance she managed to be. He needed to figure out how to master that skill himself. It was part of the reason Izzy had seemed to respond so well to Ginger today as they toured the town, while she rebelled against Marcus’s habit of always wanting to control the situation. How had he turned into an overbearing father figure so quickly?

He balked at the change in himself. While his own dad hadn’t been a traditional father, with his radical politics and his laissez-faire approach to parenting, somehow Marcus had defaulted into the stereotype of a TV dad—his own
Father Knows Best
impersonation.

As they pulled to a stop in front of the house, the man on the porch swept the little girl into his arms and came toward the car to greet them. He was smiling tentatively, dodging the grabby hands of his daughter, who was trying to stick her fingers in his mouth.

Ginger and Marcus got out of the car, and she made introductions.

“How about the girl?” West asked, nodding toward Izzy, still sitting in the vehicle.

But before Marcus could explain his daughter’s rudeness, she opened the door and got out as if nothing was the matter.

“This is my daughter, Izzy,” he said, the words tripping awkwardly off his tongue.

It was his first time introducing her to anyone as his child.

“Hi,” she said to West. “How old is your little girl?”

“Julianna’s eight months old.”

“And already walking—that’s amazing,” Ginger said.

“I don’t think it counts as walking until she lets go of the death grip on my thumb, but yeah, she’s a precocious one.”

“Can I hold her?” Izzy asked. “I mean, do you think she’d mind?”

“She’ll probably love it. She lives for attention.” West handed the baby over to Izzy.

“She’s so cute,” Izzy cooed as she hefted the weight of the girl against her narrow hip.

“Don’t let the cuteness fool you. The little demon never sleeps for more than two hours straight, and thinks flinging baby food is an Olympic sport and she’s going for the gold.” But his voice was softened by affection as he gazed at his daughter.

“Is Soleil around?” Ginger asked.

“Sure. You should come in. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“I should have called first, but we were driving by and I couldn’t resist stopping in to show these guys the farm.”

“Anytime you’re always welcome,” West said as they followed him up the steps and across the porch.

Inside, the house smelled of fresh-baked bread. Marcus looked around, admiring the gleaming hardwood floors and simple, unpretentious beauty of the place. It was much as he imagined Ginger’s house would be once they got it fully renovated.

They?

Yeah, he was already imagining himself sticking around for the entire job…and beyond.

They followed West down a hallway to a large, eat-in kitchen, where a woman with a headful of springy black curls was explaining to a tall, gawky looking teenager how to properly slice bread.

“We’ve got some visitors,” West announced.

The woman looked up, and a broad smile crossed her pretty face. “Ginger!”

The two hugged and turned to the group.

“You probably remember Marcus from college and this is his daughter, Izzy,” Ginger said.

Soleil greeted them both, then gestured to the boy cutting the loaf of bread. “You guys are just in time to sample Omar’s first effort at rosemary bread.”

She introduced them to the youth, who looked to be maybe fifteen and was wearing a pink, flower-print apron over his baggy jeans and sports jersey. He grinned and said hello, and the smile transformed his dark brown face. Marcus watched as the boy’s gaze landed on Izzy and lingered there, sparking with interest. Izzy, for her part, assumed a posture Marcus had never seen her take before, hair flipped over her shoulder, hip cocked to the side.

Okay, she was holding a baby, but there was no mistaking the change in her. She looked flirtatious.

As parenting challenges went, he wasn’t remotely prepared for boys. His first instinct was to grab Izzy by the hand and drag her from the house, shuffle her back into the car and maybe drive her to the nearest nunnery.

She smiled a coy smile and said hello to Omar.

No, Marcus definitely wasn’t prepared.

“Bread for everyone?” Soleil asked. “Omar, why don’t you help me serve?”

“Ma!” the baby cried, reaching for her mother and trying to squirm out of Izzy’s arms. “Mamamamama!”

“I could help with the bread,” Izzy offered. “I think she wants you.”

“Thank you, Izzy. She’s probably getting hungry.”

Marcus watched as his daughter went to the counter with Omar and began putting slices of bread on napkins.

“Why don’t you give Marcus a tour of the place, West?” Soleil suggested as she sat down at the large oak kitchen table with Julianna squirming in her arms. “He’s never been here before.”

She casually flipped up her shirt and began nursing the baby, causing Marcus a moment’s embarrassment. Not since his days on the commune had he been around the family scene, complete with breast-feeding moms and fussy toddlers. Suddenly, traipsing around a farm sounded like a marvelous idea.

“Izzy, why don’t you come, too?” he said as she brought him and West slices of warm bread.

“Oh, um, I guess.”

“Omar could show her around and introduce her to the other kids,” Soleil said. “Would you mind, Omar?”

As he passed slices to Soleil and Ginger, he nodded. “Sure, that’s cool.” His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Hey, you want to see the chickens? We’ve got some crazy-looking ones.”

Izzy, who’d taken a bite of her piece, shrugged. “Um, yeah,” she said once she’d finished chewing.

“This bread is great,” Ginger said.

“Delicious, Omar. I think you’ve found your calling,” West added.

The boy smiled and motioned for Izzy to follow him. Marcus couldn’t think of any good excuse to stop them. Okay, he was being an overprotective father. Surely there wasn’t any harm in two kids taking a tour of the farm. Still, he made a mental note to keep an eye on them. After all, he was responsible for Izzy now.

“Come on out back,” West said, motioning to Marcus. “I’ll introduce you to the goats.”

Marcus followed him reluctantly, hoping they’d quickly find their way around to the chicken coop. Chickens he was familiar with, but goats?

“So you’re new to town, right?” West asked once they were crossing the yard behind the house.

A gorgeous Australian shepherd mix came running up to them and nudged Marcus’s leg for attention. “Hey, buddy,” Marcus said, bending to pet the dog.

“That’s Silas. He’ll make you stay there all day rubbing his head if you’re not careful. So, you’re here for the summer?”

Marcus straightened. “Yeah, I’m here for the summer. I’m, um, getting to know my daughter.”

“Oh, right, Soleil mentioned that. You must have had quite a shock finding out you were a father.”

Marcus smiled, surprised at himself. The topic didn’t feel as weighty as it had even yesterday. His growing feelings for Izzy and Ginger, he suspected, were making him feel more positive about the situation.

“It was a shock at first,” he said. “For Izzy, too, I’m sure. But we’re adjusting. I guess the scariest part is the lack of a crash course in how to be a father. Any tips for a complete novice?”

They headed toward the pasture Silas following along behind.

“You know, I didn’t find out about my daughter until Soleil was already five months pregnant. We had a rocky start, but things worked themselves out.”

“And you’re happy now?”

West smiled, and he didn’t need to say a word. “Yeah. Being a father is hard, don’t get me wrong, but it’s amazing, too. Every single day is amazing, even the rough ones.”

Marcus felt that now familiar stab of regret. “I wish I’d been around for Izzy’s baby years.”

“Is her mom still in the picture?”

“No, she died a few months ago.”

“That’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“We hadn’t been a couple since college.” Marcus explained. “But it’s rough for Izzy.”

“It’s good you’ve got Ginger around. I can’t imagine a better role model for a teenage girl. You thinking of staying here in the area?”

Marcus hadn’t been before he arrived, but now… “Maybe,” he said. “I suspect we’re going to like it here.”

“I guess my only words of advice about the fatherhood thing is, you know, you’ve got to find it in yourself to be a better man than you ever thought you could be. Because your daughter doesn’t deserve anything less.”

Marcus chuckled. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“You can do it, man, don’t worry. If I can, anyone can.”

But as Marcus surveyed this farm, the house, the barns, the animals, all the stability and responsibility it took to keep a place like this running, he wondered…. Was he way out of his element?

And even more important, was he cut out to be what Izzy needed?

Her happiness depended on the answer to that question.

He felt the euphoria of moments ago slipping away from him.

“I’m not sure I know what to do with a thirteen-year-old,” he admitted.

“You’ll figure it out. And she’s welcome to come hang out with the kids here anytime you need a break. We’ll teach her some useful skills—how to pluck a chicken and such.”