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“Gramp, shouldn’t someonebe helping you?” Cal asked a few minutes after greeting the older man. He squinted into the sun toward his grandfather’s house, regretting that he hadn’t made some calls about Everett’s health when he first woke up.
He’d slept late, his first good night of sleep in weeks, and then he’d gotten entirely too distracted watching Josie attack the weeds in his mother’s garden as if she had a personal vendetta against anything that touched the squash plants. He’d never seen anyone wield a hoe with as much force as the caretaker, especially given her size. For someone with such sweet curves, she had oddly gangly arms and legs, thin and tanned. And no wonder given there wasn’t a stitch of food in the house.
What was up with her? He’d puzzled over it far too long when he should have been getting the scoop on Gramp’s health from one of his brothers or even—worst-case scenario—his father. Cal had been avoiding his dad’s calls ever since he’d been released from the team, not ready to hear Clint Ramsey’s take on things. His relationship with his father was…complicated.
“I don’t need help,” his grandfather replied, gnarled hands clutching the walker tighter. He wore a bathrobe over a T-shirt and cotton pajama pants, although he’d taken the time to put on real shoes with good soles for walking. “Bad enough I have to use this contraption everywhere I go.”
He steered the walker’s wheels back toward his own house at Cal’s urging. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by Josie anymore today, and this way, they were walking away from her, the garden, and the house where Cal grew up.
“I read a little about the tour bus accident online.” He’d stayed up well after he’d tangled with Josie in the kitchen, trying to get up to date. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home sooner.”
“I don’t need babysitting,” Gramp assured him. “Never have.”
“Was Dad around at least?” Cal pressed, knowing his sister was traveling the globe while his brothers were both still busy with their own seasons. Nate was sick of bouncing between Triple- and Double-A, while Wes was killing it in Triple-A, expecting a call-up soon. “Has he been checking on you since you’ve been back home?”
“He comes over most days.” Gramp shook his head, his white hair lifting in the breeze. He’d lost a fair amount of weight since Cal had seen him at Christmastime. “But he’s not a lot of help with the farm, as you well know, and that’s what I really need right now. Someone to be my eyes and ears around the place. For all I know, I’m paying too much for that manager to muck things up.”
Gramp listed sideways like a boat blown off course, his feet following the walker when it hit a high patch of grass. Cal tried to reroute both of them onto a flatter part of the dirt road.
“I’m sure he’s doing a good job, Gramp. Dad vetted the guy carefully.”
Gramp made a disgusted sound but didn’t comment.
It had been a big conversation two years ago when Cal’s grandmother had passed away. Everett had been grieving and upset and lashed out at all of them for not stepping up to help with the business. Cal’s father had finally talked Gramp into hiring an outside manager to oversee what was left of the farming operation and orchards since Gramp had been adamant he didn’t want to sell any more of the farmlands that would one day go to his grandkids since his own son had never wanted any part of it.
Cal had never thought he’d have any interest in it either since, up until a few weeks ago, baseball had always been his life. Now?
He still couldn’t see himself as a farmer. But he had an abundance of time, and he owed his grandfather some help.
“I can check in on the business this week,” he ventured. “If it would put your mind at ease.”
What he really wanted was to spend more hours with Gramp and make sure he was healing, but if what mattered most to his grandfather was a scouting report on the farm, Cal would figure it out.
“You’d do that?” Gramp stopped the walker, turning to glance up at Cal.
He looked sort of misty-eyed too, and Cal hoped he was just tired. Still, it gutted him to think that something so small mattered so much to his granddad, and that Cal had never given it any thought until right this minute.
“Hell yes, I’ll do that.” He dropped his arm around Everett’s shoulders and urged him forward, ready to get them both out of the heat. “But keep in mind, I know exactly nothing about orchards and farming, so you’ll have to tell me what I’m searching for.”
“You know more than you think,” Gramp assured him, nodding with satisfaction. “You didn’t spend every day of your youth on a baseball diamond, son. I took you out to the farm plenty of days when you and your siblings were little mites.”
Cal didn’t think that driving a hay wagon or feeding calves were going to be useful skills anymore, especially now that Rough Hollow had gotten rid of all their cattle. But he didn’t mention it since his grandfather seemed pleased for the first time.
“Then I’ll wander around the place tomorrow and tell you what I see.” Cal pointed toward the historic house that looked a little worse for wear. It needed paint, first of all. A temporary ramp he’d installed a few years ago for his grandmother appeared warped in places too. And there was a handrail loose. “Today, I’m going to make a run into town for groceries.” Along with paint, lumber, and of course, pie. “You’ve got some bulking up to do.”
“Bah.” Gramp made an impatient gesture with his hand, his body weight falling forward enough to have Cal scrambling to keep him upright.
He figured since his grandfather didn’t follow up the protest that equaled to Cal winning the point.
“After I get back from shopping, I’d like to move a few of my things over to your house. That is, if you don’t mind me staying with you for a little while.”
“I don’t need babysitting,” Gramp reminded him, steering the walker around a rotten board on the ramp as they neared the back door.
“I realize that, but with Mom in Ecuador, I can’t exactly crash with the caretaker.”
Gramp stopped midway up the ramp. Cal couldn’t believe he wasn’t sweating bullets by now, especially with the robe on over his pajama pants.
“She’s a pretty girl.” His grandfather peered up at him, as if looking for confirmation of the obvious. “Hard worker, too.”
