They were at the annual Milford Peach Festival, wandering between booths and sampling everything. August had come in just as hot and dry as July, and Rose alternated between almost-constant worry about the farm and almost-constant bliss. Bodhi had slipped into her life like there had always been a spot waiting for him, an empty place she hadn’t even known existed until he’d filled it. She tried to ignore the ticking clock under their time together and focus on the good things, like Marty said. Her dad still wasn’t working the farm, but at least he made a show of being social when Maggie came by to drop off one of her desserts, and Buttercup was finally gaining weight.
The sky was darkening when they took their paper bowls of peach cobbler to the field for fireworks.
“Oh, no,” Rose said when she saw all the people spread out. “Someone’s in our spot.”
Bodhi’s gaze traveled to the spot by the trees where they’d watched Fourth of July fireworks. “We could sit somewhere else.”
Rose seemed to think about it. “We could . . .”
“Actually,” Bodhi said, “I have a better idea.”
“You do?” she asked.
He nodded. “I think I might have another spot, but it’s not here. And there’s no guarantee.” He laughed. “We might have the best view ever, or we might not be able to see a thing. You game?”
She looked up at him. He was holding her hand. He was really hers. She knew it every time he looked at her. “I’ll take my chances.”
He took her half-empty bowl and stacked it with his, then dumped them both in a nearby trash.
“Hey!” she protested. “I was still eating that!”
He grinned. “We have to hurry.”
Taking her hand, he pulled her along as he jogged toward the parking lot, both of them laughing as they dodged people heading to the field.
He opened her door when they got to the truck and ran around to the driver’s seat.
Rose laughed. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said, firing up the engine.
He navigated the truck past all the traffic heading to the festival and continued down Main Street. They were pulling into the road leading to the farm when Rose realized they were going home.
“You said you had a fireworks spot!”
He glanced over at her. “Just trust me, Rose.”
He pulled up in front of the house and ran around to the passenger side of the truck. Opening her door, he helped her out and pulled her toward the barn.
She groaned. “Tell me you’re not putting us both to work right now.”
He didn’t say anything, just led her into the barn and over to the ladder leading to the hayloft.
She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Is this the cowboy equivalent of inviting me to your room to listen to music?”
“Time will tell.”
She swatted his leg as he started up the ladder. “Don’t want you to go first with a dress on,” he said as he climbed.
“What a gentleman,” she said.
She followed him up the ladder and into the airless space of the hayloft. She was getting ready to ask what he had in mind when he grabbed a familiar step stool and reached toward the ceiling, pushing on a small square in the metal roof that she’d never noticed before. She watched in awe as the night sky became visible through a hole in the ceiling.
He climbed up and out, then reached down for her hand. “Come on.”
She stood on the stool and took his hand, and a moment later she was on the roof of the barn, the fields stretched out in every direction, the house barely visible through the trees. The sky was the perfect color of indigo just before night really descended, a soft exhalation between light and dark.
“I had no idea this was here,” Rose said. “How could I not know it was here?”
He shrugged. “I found it a couple of weeks ago one night when I thought I was going to die of heat stroke. I was getting ready to go to the orchard, but when I passed under a certain spot in the ceiling, I felt a draft. I looked up, and there it was.” He held her hand as they scooted along the sloping roof to a spot about two feet from the hatch. “If my calculations are correct, this should get us a view of the fireworks.”
“Your calculations?” She laughed. “All right, professor.”
He smiled, then leaned over to kiss her. “You okay up here? Is this good?”
“Good? It’s amazing.” She looked at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Let’s make sure we can see something first.”
And then, as if on cue, the first burst of color exploded in the air in the distance, directly in front of them. Bodhi put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close while a second explosion of color—this one gold and white—burst into the air, slowly dissipating in the night sky just before the next one appeared.
It was so quiet without the music that was played at the festival during fireworks. Now there was only the distant pop of fireworks, then the sound of crickets in the tall grass. Rose nestled under Bodhi’s arm, wanting to imprint the moment on her mind so she could call on it later. Wanting to remember the weight of his arm on her shoulders, bare under the thin straps of her sundress, the feel of his thigh pressed to hers. Most of all she wanted to remember being up so high, and not being scared at all, because somehow she knew that Bodhi would never let her fall.
She was more aware of him than ever. More aware of his magnetic pull, the soft sound of his breath, his smell of musk and earth and soap. She was dizzy with it, and she held on to him throughout the show, the racing of her heart completely unrelated to the fireworks, to being up on the roof of the barn.
When it was over, they sat in silence for a long time.
“Ready to go back down?” Bodhi finally asked. She wondered why his voice was gruff. Why it seemed to take effort for him to speak.
She nodded when she realized her words weren’t coming easily either.
He scooted back toward the hatch in the roof. “I’ll go first and help you down.”
He swung easily into the hayloft and then held up his arms. “Swing your legs over. I’ve got you.”
She did as he instructed, hesitating at the top of the opening.
“Rose,” he said, looking up at her, “I’ve got you. I promise.”
She pushed off from the roof, sliding down into the hayloft. He put his hands on her waist and she slid the rest of the way, their bodies pressed together as her feet hit the floor.
She didn’t step away, and he didn’t remove his arms from around her waist. They were both breathing hard, their eyes locked as tightly together as their bodies. There was a current running between them, like the charge in the air just before lightning cracked the sky.
Then all at once, his mouth was on hers, their kisses hungry, their hands roaming each other’s bodies. Rose broke away, stepping back a little and pulling her dress over her head. She tossed it aside without taking her eyes off him. She stood in front of him in nothing but her bra and underwear, the warm air of the barn lighting on her bare skin as gently as Bodhi’s hand when he reached up to caress her face.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sure.”
And she was. She’d never been more sure of anything in her life.
She stepped toward him, wanting him to believe it, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stared at her for a long minute, and she knew then, knew how he felt about her, that this meant everything to him that it did to her.
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the loft, setting her gently down on the mattress that lay on the floor amid the hay. He touched her face carefully, like he wanted to be sure she was real, before lowering his mouth to hers.
And then there was nothing but the two of them and the soft light of the barn and the stars overhead through the open hatch and the certainty that they belonged to each other.
Forty-Two
Bodhi walked down the rows of cut hay,
inspecting it for mold or damp that could lead to mold, and turning it over with the pitchfork in his hand when it seemed necessary. The lack of rain was their friend when it came to putting up hay, but it was still wreaking havoc on their supply.
The thought didn’t worry him as much as it should have. He was too busy replaying the night before in his mind. Too busy thinking about Rose, the feel of her in his arms, her head on his bare chest, her hair flowing out around them.
Every experience he’d had with a girl looked cheap compared to the things he’d shared with Rose. It didn’t matter whether they were riding, walking the fields, swimming in the pond, making dinner together. Everything with her was sacred.
She was good and smart and pure and strong. She’d had tradition and family and love to shape her where he’d had only uncertainty and solitude. But somehow they fit, and for the first time in his life, Bodhi thought he might even deserve something good. Someone good. Someone like Rose. The Bodhi he’d been before seemed like a distant memory. He was different with her. Stronger and better. Maybe even good, like her.
She’d slipped from the barn just before midnight, and he’d gotten up and opened his computer, buying her a plane ticket to Edinburgh on his flight without a second thought. By the light of day, it seemed an impulsive thing to do, but it was done now, and he was both nervous and excited to ask her to go with him. He was already thinking ahead, planning the moment, wanting it to be a new beginning for them both.
He thought she might regret what had happened between them, but she’d reappeared in the barn at four a.m., just like any other day. He’d been nervous, waiting for her to give him a clue how she felt about everything, but she’d come right to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him in a way that made it clear she had no regrets.
He looked up from the fields and saw her standing by the fence. She was like that. She seemed to change the air around her so that he almost always knew when she was around. She waved, beaming, and signaled that it was time for lunch. He held up the fingers on one hand to let her know he needed five more minutes.
She disappeared into the house and Bodhi continued down the line, turning at the end of the row.
He set the pitchfork next to the barn and went into the bathroom to wash up. Then he changed his shirt and headed for the house. He was halfway across the path separating the house from the barn when he saw the man walking up the driveway.
He stopped, wondering who it could be on a Sunday afternoon. But a moment later something about the man caught Bodhi’s attention—the lazy gait, the tip of his head under his hat, the obstinate set of his shoulders—and then Bodhi knew.
He waited, the blood rushing through his veins like a freight train until the man stopped right in front of him.
“Well, well, well. In New York after all,” the man said. “Can’t hardly believe it.”
Bodhi crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, now, I just come to say hello to my only son,” he said. “Can’t a man do that anymore?”
He remembered his father as tall and lean, imposing, with taut wiry muscle that Bodhi had experienced firsthand. The man in front of him was diminished. Still tall, but skinny in a way that made it clear he hadn’t done any heavy lifting in a long, long time. Teeth that had once been white and straight were now slightly yellowed, and he was missing a couple near the front of his mouth.
This was not someone Bodhi would normally be afraid of. But he was afraid now. Afraid that he would suddenly go back to being the scared little kid who’d had no choice but to run, who’d felt safer sleeping in abandoned barns and being alone in the world than he’d felt with his father. Most of all he was afraid for Rose. He didn’t want his father anywhere near her.
“You’re not my father,” Bodhi said, arms still crossed.
His dad laughed, then coughed at the end of it, a wet, barking sound that seemed to come from deep in his lungs. “That’s just not true, son. I’m your daddy whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t,” Bodhi said. “And I say you’re not. So why don’t you just tell me what you’re doing here.”
A mean light flashed in his dad’s eyes. “Can’t even invite a man inside after such a long trip?”
“No.”
He sighed, rubbing the gray hair that grew patchy and thin at his jawline. “Well, the truth is, son, I’m in a bit of trouble.”
“What a surprise.”
“Now don’t be like that,” his dad said. “Everyone needs help from time to time.”
Bodhi didn’t want to name the sadness that rose in him at his father’s words. “I needed help, too. And I didn’t get it from you.”
“I did the best I could, son. Sure enough, I made mistakes, but every man does.”
“I’m not going to stand here and argue the validity of your mistakes,” Bodhi said. “Just tell me what you want and go.”
“I’m not going to stand here and argue the validity of your mistakes,” his dad mocked, his voice high and full of scorn. “Sounds like maybe you’ve gotten a little big for your britches.”
Bodhi uncrossed his arms. “I’m going inside. You better be off this property before I come back out here.”
“I need some money, son,” his dad said to his back.
Bodhi turned around. “I’m not giving you any money. Don’t have it anyway.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” his dad said. “Been working all this time, moving around. Must have some money stashed somewhere.”
“I don’t.”
His dad turned his gaze to the Darrows’ farmhouse, and Bodhi suddenly saw it through his eyes; the wide front porch, the sturdy wicker furniture, the heavy double-glazed windows.
“Seems like you might be able to get a little advance from your employers for a family member in need.”
Bodhi was still looking at the house when Rose stepped onto the porch in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
“Bodhi?” she called out. “Who is that?”
His dad chuckled under his breath. “Bodhi. What kind of name is that? The name your mom and I gave you not good enough for you now?”
“Nobody,” he called, waving her back inside. “I’ll be right there.”
She hesitated, then came down the walkway. Bodhi watched her approach with dread, but he knew he couldn’t stop her. Rose wasn’t the kind of girl who took orders, and while he loved that about her, just this once he wished she’d listen.
She stood next to Bodhi and looked at his father. “Hello. What can we do for you?”
“Just came by to say hello,” his father said, flashing Rose a toothy grin. He held out his hand. “I’m Roger’s father.”
Confusion swept over Rose’s features. “Roger . . . ?”
“That’s right,” his dad said, “you don’t know him by his given name. I guess you call him Bodhi.”
She looked at Bodhi then, and he knew she was remembering all the things he’d told her about his past. She spoke his name softly, the first traces of concern showing in her eyes. “Bodhi?”
“It’s okay,” he said, careful to keep his voice steady. “Go inside. I’ve got this under control.”
She hesitated, then nodded and started back for the house.
“Nice to meet you,” his dad called after her.
She didn’t respond, and Bodhi knew from the set of her shoulders that she was angry. “Little bitch,” his dad muttered under his breath.
Bodhi wasn’t even aware of charging him until he felt the fabric of his father’s shirt in his hands. “Don’t you ever talk about her again. Don’t even look at her.”
His dad surprised him by laughing, following it up with another wheezy cough. “Think I’ve touched a nerve. Is my boy in love?”
Bodhi shoved him away, and he staggered back before finding his footing.
“Get out of here,” Bodhi said. “And don’t ever try to find me again. You’re dead to me.” r />
He turned and walked toward the house, half afraid his dad would follow, or just as bad, that he’d stand out in front of the house until Bodhi gave him what he wanted. But when he stepped onto the porch and opened the screen door, his father was already making his way back down the drive to the road.
Forty-Three
Rose watched from the living room window with her heart in her throat. That was the man who had raised Bodhi, who had hurt him. And now he was here. What could he possibly want?
She jumped a little when Bodhi charged him, then reached for her phone. There was a police station in town. The force itself was small, but they could probably be on the farm in less than five minutes.
But a minute later Bodhi let his father go. Rose watched as he staggered backward. They exchanged a few more words, and then Bodhi was heading up the walkway to the house.
She met him in the foyer, waiting until he’d shut the door behind him to speak. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” He said the word, but she knew that he was anything but fine. His face was two shades paler than normal, his jaw set like he was gritting his teeth.
She wrapped her arms around him, waiting until his own arms came around her shoulders. They stood like that for a minute until Rose stepped away. “Come on.”
She took his hand and led him back to the kitchen where she poured him a glass of cold water from the pitcher they kept in the fridge. She leaned against the counter while he drank, giving him time to get his bearings.
“Now,” she said, “are you okay?”
He set down his glass and rubbed his jaw. “I’m all right.” He hesitated. “I just don’t like that he came here, that’s all.”
The look on his face—a vulnerability he wouldn’t want to know she saw—caused a gust of anger to rise in her. She turned around, pulling dishes down from the cabinets for lunch and setting them down on the counter a little too hard. A moment later she felt his hands on her shoulders.
“Rose.”
She turned around and looked up at him. “I could kill him.”
He pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Don’t worry. He won’t be back.”