I’m halfway done baling hay when I spot one of my old pickup trucks driving in my direction. Parking the tractor, I wait, and the closer it gets, I realize Leighton’s behind the wheel.
Climbing down, I meet her at the hood of the truck. “What’s going on?”
She’s smiling, and when she hops out, I see she’s carrying a wrinkled grocery sack. “Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” She tromps over a path of cut hay and takes a seat inside the wheel of my New Holland. Digging around in her plastic bag, she retrieves a couple of sandwiches, handing one to me. “My mom used to do this for my dad growing up. She’d pack him a lunch and take it out to him every day. They’d have what they called ‘tractor picnics.’ It was just something they did. I always thought it was sweet. They didn’t go out much, didn’t get to go on a lot of dates, so this was how they spent time together.”
Unwrapping the sandwich, I stand before her and take a bite. It’s damn good. And it was damn sweet of her to think of me like that.
“You can sit here. There’s room.” She pats the inside of the tire well.
“Feels good to stand.”
She rolls her eyes, chewing a mouthful of white bread and lunchmeat. “Whatever. Suit yourself.”
A minute later, she tosses me a can of Coke before telling me she also packed me a bag of chips, an apple, and a homemade chocolate chip cookie—still warm.
I don’t know why she suddenly feels the need to take care of me … but it’s kind of nice.
Allison used to pack my lunches in the mornings on my field days. I guess we never thought to make a date out of it.
“Molly called,” Leighton says. “She and Guy want us to come by for dinner tonight. I told her we would.”
“All right.”
“Also, this movie I really want to see is playing at the drive-in this week. It’s a love story, so if you don’t want to go, I can call Karly or go by myself or something.”
“I’ll take you.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, like she wasn’t expecting me to offer. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” It’s the least I can do after the week she’s had. “We’ll go tonight, after supper.”
Leighton stands, flinging her arms around me. “Thank you!”
She squeezes me tight, but I free myself, not letting her get carried away.
“I should get back to work,” I say, grabbing the rest of my food and climbing back into the cab of the tractor.
“Dinner’s at six,” she calls, waving as I drive away.
Something about this feels like revisiting the past with a stranger. And for once, I don’t particularly mind it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Leighton
“Judd, stop staring. It’s not polite.” Molly points her dinner fork at one of her boys, who quickly peels his eyes off me and places them on the heaping pile of food on his plate. “Sorry. These guys act like they’ve never been around a pretty woman before.”
“Of course we have, Mama,” another one of her sons pipes up. “You’re a pretty woman.”
“Brownnoser,” another boy says.
“Wyatt, we do not use that language at the table,” Guy’s voice booms.
Molly and Guy exchange looks. Embarrassment? Frustration? Exhaustion?
“River, are you going to marry Leighton?” Judd asks.
River coughs, nearly choking on his shepherd’s pie.
“Judd.” Molly’s voice is a stern scold that does nothing to stifle the giggles that erupt from that end of the table. “Don’t stick your nose in other people’s business.”
“You do it all the time,” Wyatt says.
“Kid doesn’t miss a thing.” Guy chuckles, winking at his wife.
“Do as I say, not as I do.” Molly rises from the table, fishing something out of their enormous refrigerator before taking a seat. Two of the boys are kicking each other under the table and another is swirling his mashed potatoes and brown gravy into a miniature Mount Vesuvius on his plate. I only count four Fasthorse boys, so the oldest must be gone. Even still, it doesn’t seem to lighten Molly’s load. “Leighton, you need anything?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “The food is divine. We don’t have food like this back in Scottsdale … comfort food. We have a lot of amazing restaurants and world-class chefs, but all of them are trying to one-up each other, and it’s like they’ve forgotten the power of a simple, tried-and-true recipe.”
“Why thank you, Leighton.” Molly sits up a little straighter.
“My mom used to cook like this all the time,” I say. “Brings back happy memories.”
“Make sure you save room for dessert,” Guy says. “Molly makes a strawberry shortcake like no other. Won first prize at the Bonesteel County fair last year.”
A table leg is bumped and everything shifts, nearly knocking over a goblet of iced tea.
“Cooper and Dawson, so help me!” Molly slams her silverware, her face morphing into a scowl.
Guy shoots the boys a look that makes their shoulders shrivel and their smiles fade.
“They’re only acting up because we have company,” Molly says. “They think they’re showing off, but really they’re fast-tracking themselves to an early bedtime with no dessert.”
“No!” Cooper whines.
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “We’re having a good time.” Nudging River, I ask, “Right?”
He nods. “Never a dull moment with the Fasthorse boys.”
The second dinner is finished, I head to the kitchen with Molly to help her dish out dessert, which she insists we enjoy on the wraparound front porch because the sooner she gets the boys outside, the sooner she can salvage what’s left of her sanity.
Minutes later, I’m rocking in a chair between River and Molly, watching the sunset as the four boys chase fireflies in the yard while the dog chases them.
River watches the scene play out before us, sitting still in his rocker, his expression subtly pained and his quietude suggesting his mind is somewhere else completely. I wonder what he’s thinking about … or who. I imagine maybe he’s trying to picture his children running around out here alongside the Fasthorse kids, chasing fireflies and filling the quiet countryside with the sound of carefree giggles.
“You okay?” I whisper, leaning close to him.
His eyes adjust as he turns to me, sitting up and checking his watch. “Yeah. We should get going. Movie starts in a half hour.”
“You two going to the drive-in tonight?” Guy asks.
“We are. I’m making him see that new Ryan Gosling movie.” I can’t help but boast, but I hope I’m not embarrassing him.
Being a man of few words, River thanks the Fasthorses for dinner, waves to the boys, and then heads to the truck.
Giving Molly a hug, I tell her I’ll see her in a couple days.
“It was nice finally meeting you,” I say to Guy as he walks me to River’s truck.
“Likewise,” he says. His pace slows, and I get the feeling he wants to say something. He peers over at River before looking down at me. “I just wanted to thank you, Leighton, while I had the chance.”
“Thank me?”