Читать книгу Apple Orchard Bride - Jessica Keller - Страница 11
ОглавлениеJenna felt like she was going to throw up.
Why wouldn’t Toby go away? Just. Go. Away.
A charge buzzed over her skin as if she were still touching the electric fence. He was invading her safe place. Her escape. Her mind instantly flew to a darker place. To a date in college with a very different man, who had invaded not only her space but her body, taking her innocence and destroying her faith in other people in one night.
She’d survived the past eight years since then by carefully constructing a life that kept her safe and protected at all times. Only interacting with other people on her terms—like at church or the farmers’ market or at the Bible study she attended—and then spending the rest of her time locked away. Alone. Safe.
The only man she really trusted was her father. He was the only one she was okay with being near. Toby living on her dad’s property messed up her protected space. She couldn’t feel secure here if she had to worry about running into him all the time. Not that Toby would harm her physically—she didn’t believe that of her old friend for one second—but the feeling of invasion made her gasp for air all the same.
A line of sweat slipped down her spine. They were in for another hot day.
Her father didn’t know, would never know, about the assaults that happened to her during college. He wouldn’t be able to comprehend why Jenna was so vehemently opposed to Toby living in the bunkhouse. The only way to get Dad to agree would be to tell him about the horrible things she’d overheard Toby say about his beloved orchard all those years ago and hope it fired Dad up enough to tell Toby to take a hike. Although... Dad could be frustratingly full of grace and forgiveness. It was a trait she had admired and loved about him until this very moment.
When she rounded the edge of the last row of trees, her two-story white farmhouse came into view. Although, instead of the normal, peaceful feelings that the sight of her family home usually brought, she zeroed in on all that was wrong with it. The house hadn’t been painted in years, probably because Dad had been declining for longer than anyone—even he—realized. Huge chunks of white were missing from sections of the lower portion of the house, and both sets of stairs and the front and side overhangs drooped. The gray-green roof had seen better days. The state of the house resembled Toby’s high school statements about the Crests being podunk and backward.
“I want to stay.” Toby’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I want to help here.”
“We don’t need you.” She sped up her stride, making it to the back steps a moment later. She yanked open the screen door, and it shuttered on its ancient frame. “Dad!” she called. “We need to talk.”
A bowl of oatmeal sat untouched and cold at the kitchen table. She glanced at the digital numbers on the oven. Almost nine in the morning. She’d been out longer than she’d planned, but Dad should have finished eating by now.
Worry gnawing at the back of her mind, Jenna left the kitchen and made for the front of the house. Because it was built more than a hundred years ago, there was no such thing as an open floor plan in their farmhouse, just little divided areas.
“Dad!” Her voice grew louder. Why wasn’t he answering?
Jenna all but ran into the front sitting room and screamed when she saw her father lying, facedown, on the floor. Chunks of a broken mug were scattered near where one of his hands rested in a pool of coffee, but more concerning was the small puddle of red near where his forehead rested.
“Dad! No! No! No!” she yelled and fell to her knees beside him. She touched his shoulder. Still warm. Alive. Thank You, God.
“Toby!” she screamed. “Toby, help!” The infuriating man had followed her all over the orchard but hadn’t followed her into the farmhouse. He must have heard her call, though, because his echoing steps pounded into the house.
“Jenna?” His voice lifted in question.
“Front room!” She turned her attention back to her dad. “Daddy.” She tapped his shoulders again. “Please be okay. I need you to be okay.” She smoothed her hand over his back. Should she move him? Flip him over? She probably wasn’t strong enough to do it while still supporting his neck. That’s what a person was supposed to do when someone passed out, right? Turn them on their back and start chest compressions? Or would that harm him? If something was wrong with his neck or back, movement might further injure him. She didn’t want to make the decision on her own. “Toby!” she yelled again. Hurry up!
“Jen—” Toby’s face fell when he entered the room. “What happened?” He dropped down beside her.
“I don’t know. I found him like this.” Her words trembled as tears started to crash down toward her chin. “I can’t lose him, Tobe.” Her childhood name for him slipped out before she could rein it in. She pressed on. “Will you help me roll him over?”
Toby eased closer. “Call 9-1-1. If he needs it, I know CPR.”
“But—” Feeling completely out of control in the situation, she froze. She wanted to curl up in a ball and let Toby take care of everything. But Dad needed her.
“Now, Jenna. Call.” Toby looked back at her father. He gently cupped where the nape of Dad’s neck met his hair and flipped him onto his back. The line of blood on her dad’s temple shifted to run down the side of his face. He looked as if he had on fake paint for a monster costume. On the positive side, if the gash was still bleeding, then he couldn’t have been passed out long.
Toby grabbed her father’s wrist and leaned close to his chest. “He has a pulse and he’s breathing. Call, Jenna. Go call for help.”
Dial 9-1-1. Right. Her cell phone. She felt in her pockets. She hadn’t grabbed it earlier. Jenna started for the kitchen but stopped when she heard a quiet groan.
Toby smiled. “He’s awake.”
Her dad blinked a few times and then tried to sit up, but Toby stayed him with a hand to his shoulder. “Easy, now, Mr. Crest. You fell. We found you passed out. We’re going to call an ambulance for you.”
“No.” Her father pressed his eyes shut and groaned again. “No ambulance. I won’t leave my house that way.”
Toby sent Jenna a look that said “What now?” It was only an uneven lift of his eyebrows, but she knew him well enough to know what all his facial expressions meant.
“Daddy.” She slowly stepped back into the room, as if he might scare if she walked normally. “You’re bleeding. You were unconscious. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“Stop your worrying, the both of you.” Dad started to try to rise to a sitting position again, so Toby braced his back and helped him up. Toby pulled one of the chairs closer so her father could lean against it.
Dad gingerly touched his temple. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jenna arched her eyebrow. “Like your hands shaking were nothing this morning?”
“I tripped on the carpeting and knocked my head on the arm of that chair on the way down.” He pointed at the curled-over edge of their large rug and the wooden armrest on one of the two antique chairs that flagged the sitting area. “That’s all. It could happen to anyone. Even someone strong and fit like you or Toby.”
“Even still.” Toby exchanged another worried look with Jenna. “We’d like to get you to the hospital.”
Her father set his jaw. “I’m not climbing into an ambulance.”
“They help you into it—” Toby started to say.
Jenna shook her head. “That’s not what he means.” Dad could be more stubborn than dried tar. Which was probably where she got that particular trait from.
Jenna disappeared into the kitchen and grabbed her keys, her cell phone and a clean dish towel from the counter. She marched back into the sitting room and jangled the keys. “I’m driving you there.” She tossed the kitchen towel to Toby. “Press that to his cut.”
Toby did as instructed. And as if reading her mind, when they were ready to leave, Toby wrapped his arm around her father and helped him walk to the car.
“I’ll sit in back.” Dad motioned toward the backseat of her late-model Camry. “I may want to lie down.”
Toby made sure her dad was buckled in. “Try not to fall back to sleep. I’m sure they’ll want to check you for a concussion,” he instructed before claiming the passenger seat.
Jenna started up the car and backed out of their driveway without looking over at Toby. If he hadn’t been there...if she’d been all alone and something happened to her father...something worse...what would she have done? Would she have been able to clear her mind enough to call for help? She wanted the answer to that question to be yes, of course. But whenever panic clawed its way into her chest, it seemed to affect her ability to think, as well. What if something happened to her father and she couldn’t help him because she was in the middle of an anxiety attack?
Toby was right. She needed another person at the orchard. She needed help.
Now to taste humble pie.
“Thank you,” she whispered so only Toby could hear. No need to stress her father out in his condition; he didn’t need to know that she and Toby had been arguing.
“For?” Toby’s eyebrows rose.
“Coming when I called...even after...” She swallowed hard and tried to make her voice even. “After what I said to you.”
“Listen.” He angled his body so he was leaning over the middle control area and lowered his voice. “From what I’ve gathered, there’s some water under the bridge that you and I need to sort through. And we will. But no matter what—and hear me on this, Jenna—no matter what happens between us, I’ll always come if you call for me. Got that? Always.”
She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded. Toby wanted to deal with their issues? Was that even possible? And if they did sort through everything...then what? They weren’t kids running through the apple orchard any longer—they could never go back to those carefree days. After everything that had happened in both of their lives, they could never go back to their old, easy friendship.
She could accept his help on the orchard and with her father, but she couldn’t welcome him back as a friend. Not ever. Not after the way he—and every guy after him—had betrayed her.
“Mr. Crest.” Toby opened his visor and used the mirror on it to keep an eye on her father. “I’m going to ask you some questions to help you stay alert, okay?”
“Do your worst.” Her dad’s smile was soft, but his joking manner made Jenna ease her foot off the accelerator. It wouldn’t help them to get a speeding ticket on the way to the hospital.
“Favorite food?”
“Besides apple pie?”
“Sure.”
“Roast-beef sandwiches.”
“Who’s the best football team?” Toby asked with a grin.
Dad laughed. “Packers.”
“You know that makes you a state traitor, right?” Toby shook his head as his grin widened.
“Oh, please.” Her father crossed his arms. “Had they offered for you out of college, you would have accepted.”
“You’re...you’re not wrong.”
Had Toby flinched? Or had Jenna only imagined it?
Toby cleared his throat. “Did Kasey give you any trouble this morning?”
“Who’s Kasey?” Jenna glanced in Toby’s direction at the next stoplight. His pale blue eyes almost looked like they had a white electric circle in them. She forced herself to look back at the road.
Her dad leaned toward the front of the car. “She’s only the cutest little girl I’ve ever met. Present company excluded.” He tapped Jenna’s shoulder and then rested his other hand on Toby’s shoulder. “She was nervous about her first day of school and starting after everyone else, so she and I prayed together before she got on the bus.”
“Wait.” Jenna gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Who’s Kasey? She was at our house? I’m so confused.”
“I helped her get on the bus so Toby could start working on the orchard.”
Toby nodded and then pointed toward the entrance to the hospital parking lot. Like much of the Goose Harbor area, the small hospital was nestled in by the thick forest that lined much of the dune-covered areas of town. If there weren’t huge arrows and many signs for the hospital on the street leading up to the entryway, people would miss it all the time, especially when not thinking straight in an emergency.
Jenna would have never missed the entrance though. She’d driven Dad here for one too many appointments in the past six months. She could probably sleepwalk to the hospital with no problem. Which was a good thing, because Dad and Toby’s discussion had distracted her.
Did Toby have a daughter?
“Wait, is Kasey yours?” She parked near the doorway for the ER.
Toby unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door. “In a way, yes.” He closed the door and helped her father out of the back of the car. They made toward the hospital’s automatic front doors, leaving Jenna to trail behind them.
“How old is she—Kasey?”
“Seven,” Toby called back as he shuffled along with Dad.
Jenna tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Toby had a daughter—a daughter the same age as Jenna’s child would have been if she’d carried to full-term.
But she couldn’t process it all. Not right now. It was too much, the emotions that went with what she’d been through during college on top of her worries about her father.
Shaken, she slumped into a chair beside Toby and curled her trembling hands over her stomach as Toby and her father answered the admitting nurse’s questions.
* * *
Toby ushered Jenna to a waiting area outside the doctor’s office. Jenna dragged her feet, her tennis shoes thumping against the polished floor. Mr. Crest had stated he preferred they let him be alone with the hospital staff first, with the promise that he’d call for them once he was ready. Jenna had balked until Toby pressed his hand to the small of her back and steered her out the door. Initially, he was afraid she would fight him, but she’d seemed almost grateful to be redirected.
Now, if only she’d talk.
Jenna rocked in her chair. Her already pale skin had turned ashen. She had her eyes closed tightly and was breathing hard through her nose. Toby dropped into the seat next to hers. Instinctively, he reached to take her hand but stopped himself before he made contact and grabbed the armrest instead.
“Are you okay?”
It was probably a dumb question. Her father was being examined in an emergency room. She’d been sitting in the same waiting room when she learned her mother had passed. This place—the hospital—was woven deeply into both Jenna’s and Toby’s lives. Not in a good way. Then again, when hospitals were needed, it was hardly ever good news. This was the same emergency room his family had rushed to many times with his brother. Although Toby had usually been sent to the Crests’ home, where Mrs. Crest distracted him with apple turnovers and the family included him in their evening board-game tournaments. Toby had spent many nights bunking in their guest room as a child so his parents didn’t have to split their time between him and his brother.
“Water.” Jenna ran shaky hands down her cheeks. “Can you get water?”
“I’ll get you anything you want.”
Jenna finally stopped rocking. She tipped her head to the side and studied him for a moment. What did she see? An old friend she trusted? Or still the enemy she’d made him out to be in the orchard an hour ago? Toby feared the latter.
“Water’s fine.” She looked away.
Toby begged a plastic cup off the ladies at the nurses’ station, filled it at the water fountain and then located a vending machine at the end of the hall. Score. It had chocolate-covered peanuts, Jenna’s favorite. After getting a pack, he reclaimed his seat and eased the cup into her hands.
She took a long drag of water and then cradled the cup on her lap. “That helped. Thank you.” At some point during their dash to the hospital, some of her curls had worked their way out of her ponytail so that they hung around her face. It made her look vulnerable. Protectiveness flooded his heart. Unsure of how she’d respond, he fought the desire to offer her a hug like the old days.
“Here.” He passed the chocolate-covered peanuts her way.
Jenna looked up from the cup of water and accepted the bag of treats. “Oh. These are my favorite.”
“I know,” he said warmly.
“You remembered.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“I...” He reached over and tucked her loose curls behind her ear. “I remember almost everything about you.”
Her eyebrows pinched together, and she rubbed the heel of her palm against her collarbone.
Toby angled his body toward her. Now was probably the worst time to ask, but he had to know, had to understand why she wasn’t happy to see him. Why she’d wanted him off their property. He tried to find a diplomatic way to start. “What are you thinking right now?”
“Sorry.” She dropped her hand from her chest. “Sometimes it feels like I’m having a heart attack.”
Concern for her dad. Anger at him for taking a job at the orchard. He’d expected one of those answers. Not...heart attack. Wait. Was Jenna ill, too? His gut tightened. “Should I get you a doctor?”
“Please don’t. I’m fine.”
“Is that a real fine, or like when your dad said he was fine?”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Jenn-nna.” He dragged out her name, the way he used to when he was bugging her to tell him something when they were kids.
“I...” She sighed loudly. “You might as well know if you’re going to be sticking around...”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I have anxiety. It’s not terrible. And not all the time.” She continued, speaking rapidly, almost as if her words might vanish if she didn’t get them out fast enough. “But I have attacks—episodes.” She shrugged. “Sometimes they’re really bad. I’m okay though. Right now. I’m fine.”
“You said that.” Toby let her words sink in. Jenna hadn’t suffered from panic attacks in the past, that he knew of, anyway. Were these new? What caused them? He’d have to do some more research about anxiety before probing further. One thing he understood from having lived with his brother was that where health conditions were concerned, people could unknowingly hurt with poorly phrased questions or assumptions, even when they had good intentions. He wouldn’t do that to Jenna.
Jenna set the bag of peanuts in her lap so she could knit her fingers together. “I know it’s irrational. I know... It’s just, at the time, it’s very real.” Her gaze latched on to his. “Do you think that’s silly?”
“Not at all.”
“Seriously?”
“Listen, Jenna, we all have things we struggle with.” He took a deep breath. “You clearly already know, but I spiraled into depression after the reality set in that I’d never play professional ball. I had no clue who Toby Holcomb was without that trajectory for my life. Unlike you, I wasn’t brave though.”
“I’m not brave.” She sounded hoarse. “Feeling like the world is collapsing when nothing is actually wrong isn’t brave.”
“You just told someone. That’s brave.” Toby rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands together. “I was a coward. I didn’t tell anyone when I was low.” Even himself. He should have known, locked up in his apartment for days at a time. Staying in bed. Not showering. Depression. The mind sure had a strange way of protecting itself...lying. Telling him he was fine. Normal. That how he was acting was how a failure of a man should act. He’d lost his dream of being a professional athlete and then tanked the sporting goods business he’d started after that.
Toby Holcomb is a failure.
Toby shook his thoughts away and pressed on. “Instead, like a fool, I self-medicated.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Just say it. She already knew anyway. “Alcohol. Lots of it, I’m afraid. I’m ashamed to say that it took me almost five years to snap out of it.”
Silence. Say something. Tell me my past doesn’t make me a bad person now.
“What made you snap out of it?” Jenna quietly asked.
God. That was the simple—and complicated—answer. His mother’s constant prayers.
“I could really have hurt someone or myself, making poor choices like driving drunk. I thank God for both of those police officers who arrested me. If I hadn’t been caught...” He shook his head. “It’s more than that though. I was so busy focusing on what I lost—what I felt like was unfairly taken from me—” he tapped the knee that sometimes still gave him trouble, the one that had cost him his career “—that I lost sight of what God put me on this earth to accomplish.”
“Football?”
He snorted. “That was something I was good at a long time ago. Something I never used to glorify God. No.” He straightened in his seat. He’d never verbalized these thoughts to anyone—not even his parents—but it felt right sharing with Jenna. “I was put on earth for the same reason you were. I’m supposed to love people, Jenna—we’re supposed to share God’s love with people. No matter what situation I find myself in, I’m supposed to deal with it in a way that points people toward God. That’s my purpose.”
She pressed her hand into her forehead. “You make it sound like the easiest thing in the world. Dealing with situations that way—as if we’re on display for the sake of God.”
“Easy? Hardly. But, as Christians, isn’t that exactly what our life is supposed to do? At least...I think it is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The old Toby wouldn’t have said all this stuff.”
He sat up in his chair. Tapped his fingers on the armrest. “The old Toby wasn’t a Christian.”
“And now?” she whispered.
“I am. Thanks to my mother.”
A soft smile lightened Jenna’s face. “She never gave up on you.”
“I’d long given up on me, but she hadn’t. I’m thankful for that. For everyone who pointed me toward God in some way. You included.”
Jenna hugged her stomach, her shoulders hunching forward. “I’m not like that anymore. I have a really hard time with some of the things that have happened in my life. I feel like if people knew that I had the anxiety...why I had it...” She shook her head. “If showing people God’s love through how I handle my experiences is my purpose in life, then I’m failing.”
Toby nudged her arm gently with his elbow. “Good news. I don’t think God expects perfection from us. There are all those grace and mercy and forgiveness parts of the Bible to back me up.”
Toby looked away. He was a hypocrite, saying things he wanted to believe but wasn’t quite sure he really did. He should tell her—tell her that he struggled with wrapping his head around grace and second chances just as much as she seemed to—but the words lodged in his throat.
He glanced back at her. No...he couldn’t tell her that he failed at everything. That he was bound to fail in his fresh attempt at a relationship with God. That he’d end up failing her. Again. Like he’d failed her after her mom died. It was impossible to say something like that when she was looking at him for the first time in the old way she used to when they were kids, with her eyes large, lighting up, as if talking together was the best and safest thing in the world.
Jenna relaxed her arms. “That’s not the answer I thought you’d have.”
Toby swallowed hard. “What did you think I’d say?”
“I thought you’d say you changed for your daughter’s sake.”
“My—wait—my what?” He jerked his head toward her, trying to read Jenna’s face for any signs that she was kidding.
“Kasey...your daughter.”
Wait. She thought? No. “Kasey’s not my daughter.”
“You said earlier that you guessed she was yours.” Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I was named her guardian in the will.”
“Guardian? So who—?”
“You remember Sophia, my cousin, don’t you?”
“Sophia died? She was younger than us.” Jenna touched his wrist. “Tobe, I’m so sorry.” Her hold tightened. “Oh, poor Kasey. Losing her mom so young.”
“I hoped you could help her since...” your mom died when you were young, too. “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a little girl. When your dad found out, he called and offered the bunkhouse, a job. My parents live in a retirement community, no kids allowed. I’m all Kasey has now. If I hadn’t accepted guardianship, they’d have placed her into foster care. I couldn’t let that happen.” He shook his head.
“You did the right thing.” She laid her hand over his for a second, then cupped it back with her other in her lap.
“I can’t do it alone though. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He skirted his gaze to hers. Her deep blue eyes captured his, and he never wanted to look away. They could be friends again. Everything could go back to how it was before. “Will you help me?”
“Of course. However I can.”
And just like that, they were a united force. He still needed to get to the bottom of why Jenna had been so upset this morning, but that would come in time.
