“Thanks, Gram. I’ll take care of this for you, and then I’ll see you on Sunday.” Leaning over to kiss her cheek, I whispered, “Go easy on Pop.”
She didn’t say anything, just rolled her eyes at me as I escaped out the kitchen door and jumped into my truck.
* * *
Gram was right; her directions to Emma’s cabin were so accurate that I didn’t have a problem finding it. I aimed my truck down the newly graded gravel drive, coasting along until I came to a stop in front of a cabin.
For a moment, I stayed put behind the wheel, just gazing out the windshield at the place. It was a surreal experience, seeing the plans that Emma had shared with me now fully realized. Since I hadn’t been around to see the process—the preparing of the land, the building of the house—it was almost as though she’d spoken her dream into being.
The cabin itself was made of split-logs. It sat pretty high on the ground, giving her a decent-sized crawlspace beneath the floors. I wondered if she had gotten the root cellar she’d talked about once upon a time.
Colorful plants and flowers decorated the front of the house, below the generous porch. A single rocking chair graced the porch itself, and I smiled a bit, imagining Emma sitting there at the end of a long day. The whole place was bigger than I’d expected, and there wasn’t even a hint that it hadn’t been built by professionals.
In the back and to the sides, I spied her garden rows. They were neatly laid out, but the plants that grew there weren’t trimmed and tidy—they were tall and wide and bushy, natural and exuberant in their wildness. I could almost hear Emma’s voice in my memory, intent and enthusiastic as she told me about her theory that plants thrived with less interference from humans.
Still, here in Florida, they needed a little bit of help, especially on the days when we’d been without rain for almost a week. I climbed out of my truck and went around the side of the cabin, where I found the shed and the hose Gram had mentioned. I grinned a little when I turned on the spigot, remembering Emma’s little trailer with no water, sewer, or electric.
I worked on the side rows first, giving all those thirsty plants a thorough drink, and then I pulled the hose a little further to the front, repeating the process there. Once I was finished, I carefully re-wound the hose, turned off the water, and found a bucket in the shed. The organized shelves there made me smile; Emma’s hand was all over that, too.
The bushes in the front-of-the-cabin plot were heavy with small Everglade tomatoes. I popped a handful into my mouth, savoring the sweet burst of flavor. These were the treats of my childhood; I recalled Gram setting me at the table, a dishtowel wrapped around my neck and a bowl of Everglades in front of me. They’d kept me busy and quiet while she cooked dinner.
I’d just begun dropping handfuls of the tomatoes into my bucket when I heard the rumble of a car engine. My first instinct was that Gram had come over to oversee my work, but that was doubtful. Once she gave me a task, she rarely micro-managed it. Then I wondered for a split second if Noah might be stopping over to take care of his girl’s place, checking it out for her.
But no. I recognized the compact as the last of the light of day hit its roof. The car turned to the side of the cabin opposite of the garden, and a moment later, Emma climbed out of the driver’s side.
It had been a little over two weeks since I’d seen her, and my breath caught. Her auburn hair was pulled back away from her face, and she was wearing a swingy sleeveless top with what looked like yoga pants. As she slammed her car door shut and made her way over toward me, she hitched the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Deacon.” Her voice held both surprise and a little bit of apprehension. “What’re you doing here?”
I lifted the bucket above the tomato plants. “Stealing your produce, apparently.” Dropping it onto the grass next to my feet, I chuckled. “With permission from Gram, I should add. She asked me to stop and water your garden, and she told me to pick Everglades, too. I guess she didn’t realize you were coming home tonight.”
“No, she—” Emma snapped her mouth shut. “Yeah, you’re right. She probably just forgot the dates.” She took a few steps closer to me. “Thanks for doing this. My babies look great. Anna and Jimmy must’ve been giving them lots of TLC.”
“Probably.” I hooked my thumbs through my front belt loops. “So . . . how was vacation?”
She smiled. “It was wonderful. I did nothing but relax and sleep and read and hang out with my family. I made no decisions, fought no battles, and offered not one bit of constructive insight into the world at large. It was blissful.”
“Sounds perfect. Everyone needs that kind of break, and you’ve been going full-steam ahead for at least two years.” I pointed to the cabin. “I mean, just look at this place. It’s amazing, Emma. I drove up, and it was like looking at the plans you talked about—uh, before. When you first got to Harper Springs.”
“That’s right. You haven’t been out here yet.” She said it as though that was a surprise. Given the tenuous, strained nature of our relationship since I’d returned to Florida, it wasn’t at all shocking that I hadn’t stopped by to hang out.
“Nope.” I tried to keep my tone light. “It sure is a long way from the trailer. Figuratively speaking, I mean.”
“You’re not wrong. This place has running water, reliable electricity and a flushing toilet. All the comforts of home.” Emma laughed. “And as far as I’ve seen, no snakes—although I’ll admit that I never go under the house without a strong flashlight and someone else here to save me if I happen upon one there.” She shuddered, and I had a sudden, keen vision of the night I’d rescued her from a harmless black snake back at her trailer. It had been the first time I’d held her in my arms, even if it had been only because she was terrified of the unexpected visitor. It had been the first time I’d realized I’d wanted to kiss her.
“Probably a good idea,” I agreed. “It wouldn’t shock me if you had some neighbors who enjoy the cool of your cellar there.”
“I think I’m going to forget you said that, or I’ll find myself obsessing about it at two in the morning.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Let’s talk about something else. How’s everything at the hospital?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not answering that question. You’re not back on the clock until Monday morning. You’re still on vacation until then. Don’t think about St. Agnes now.”
Emma tilted her head. “But I was thinking of maybe sneaking in tomorrow afternoon, just to see what’s been going on.”
“Don’t.” I pointed at her sternly. “You haven’t had any vacation for a while, and you need to take full advantage of this one. Monday is plenty of time to dive back in.” I bent to pick up the bucket again and then paused, adding, “And don’t think you’ll be able to do that behind my back. I have my spies, you know.”
“Sure you do.” She didn’t sound at all worried. “So listen, as long as you’re here, do you want a tour?”
I did, more than I wanted to say. “I’d like that, but I don’t want to intrude. You’re just getting home. You’re probably beat.”
