Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Hmm. Seemed he might be one of those people who liked to work his stress out between the sheets. And I was only too happy to help.
Chapter Eighteen
Jude
Tired and wired. I’d told Carson that stress tended to hit me after an emergency, so I shouldn’t have been surprised by my jangling nerves as we turned onto the long drive that led to my house.
“So this is my place.” I parked near the side of the house.
“It was your parents?” Carson likely knew that fact from his mother and aunt, but given land prices around the area, he’d also be justified in assuming a vet couldn’t afford even a small rural spread.
“And grandparents. And great-grandparents.” There were times that my legacy felt like heavy wool socks in August, but I also took pride in our history. “Our family arrived in the early 1900s, but the original homestead has been substantially sold off over the years. I lease haying and water rights to the rear parcel.”
“Nice extra income.” Carson was undoubtedly familiar with the endless local discussions around water being more valuable than the gold settlers had sought way back when.
“Yeah. It’s part of why I have more breathing room financially.” I hopped out of the truck. Mild guilt over the big purchase continued to prick at me. And when I parked at home, my parents’ thrifty ways haunted me. “My father was reluctant to do the land lease. He tended to be even more set in his ways than I am.”
“That’s possible?” Carson snorted, the sort of good-natured ribbing of a longtime friend.
“Oh yeah.” I chuckled because Carson had no idea the lengths my father had gone through to pay land taxes without leasing water rights and to keep his veterinary fees low. “Modernizing the practice some also improved finances, and Luna’s been terrific at bringing in the small animal clients. Dad only brought her on because my mom insisted before she passed. I made Luna a full partner after Dad died.”
“Some change is good.” Carson’s voice held the weight of experience. He’d certainly been through enough changes this year. I admired his resilience, but it was his compassion I appreciated the most.
I wasn’t entirely certain why I’d confessed my suspicions about Dad’s death to Carson, but unlocking that secret from the vault in my chest had felt like taking off a hundred-pound pack in the desert. Sharing with Carson was a pleasure I hadn’t known existed, let alone how much I needed it.
Carson followed me out of the truck and toward the house. I was about to unlock the side door before I caught sight of the garden, glittering beneath the last of the sunset.
“Wait.” I groaned, hunger battling with obligation. “I need to water before I forget.”
“You garden?” Carson didn’t sound terribly put out at this change in direction and trotted after me. I flipped on the rear porch light and collected the hose.
“Mom did.” I gestured around us before flipping on the hose to take care of the raised beds. “I try to keep it going. Nearing the end of the season, but it was warm this week. I can’t let the garden die off yet.”
“Beautiful.” Carson drew out the word as he looked around the garden, which even in the fading light was pretty. All the late-summer plants were in full bloom, with a few of the autumn bloomers also coming along. I hadn’t expected Carson to appreciate my efforts, but he nodded approvingly. “My mom does tomatoes.”
He put a novel’s worth of meaning into that single sentence. He got it. The bond between sons and mothers, the urge to keep part of her alive, the need to honor what had been important to her.
“There used to be more vegetables and herbs over there.” Voice thick, I pointed to the rear of the garden space. “Keeping the perennials going gives me enough fits.”
“You’re doing good.” Carson’s praise hit like cool water on a parched plant on the hottest of days. Lord, I’d needed to hear that.
“Thanks.” I moved the hose, narrowly avoiding Carson, who had stooped to pull some weeds from one of the lower beds. “You don’t have to help.”
“I want to.” He sat back on his heels, seemingly content to stay awhile. “Peaceful out here.”
“Yeah, but I promised you food.” Task minimally accomplished, I flipped off the hose. “I bought steak for tomorrow, but there’s enough meat for both nights.”
“Sounds good.” Carson brushed off his hands and jeans as I returned the hose. He followed me through the side door into the kitchen, striding over to the sink to wash his hands like this was his hundredth visit. “Can I help?”
“Sure.” As with other tasks, we worked well together. I preheated the grill while Carson seasoned the steaks. Then I did a fast chop of some vegetables for an easy salad while Carson watched the grill.