Barefoot and Pregnant?. Colleen Faulkner
crouched down beside the wheelchair and scooped up a little dirt. He pressed it into his grandfather’s hand and closed the old man’s fingers around it.
Somewhere in Tom’s clouded, pale blue eyes, Zane sensed some kind of recognition. Zane lifted his grandfather’s feeble hand close to his nose so that he could breathe in the scent of the warm, dark soil.
“The thing is, Pops, I really liked her. I was thinking about taking her out in the boat on Friday. Showing her your dad’s land. What do you think?”
Zane carefully loosened his grandfather’s hands and sprinkled the dirt onto the ground again. “I know, do what I think’s best. You’ll always support me.”
He sighed and sat back on the bench. Scootie dropped the stick at his feet and Zane threw it as far as he could. The dog bounded off and to Zane’s delight, his grandfather smiled.
“You like it when I bring Scootie, don’t you?” Zane leaned forward. “Here, let me get that.” He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his grandfather’s plaid shirt and gently wiped the old man’s mouth. He refolded it and tucked it back into the pocket, giving it a pat.
As if on cue, the black Lab came bounding back, stick in his mouth and he collapsed at the foot of the wheelchair.
“Hey, look who’s back, Pops!” Zane gave Scootie a scratch between the ears. “So how about a walk down the path, through the woods?” he asked, already on his feet, grabbing the wheelchair.
“Here we go.” He pushed his grandfather down the walk. The dog bounded past them, familiar with the path they took several days a week. “Think we can take him if we run?”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” Zane answered for Tom. And then he took off at a run, pushing the wheelchair.
Grandfather opened his arms and tipped back his head and grinned, enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face.
To Zane, that smile was worth a million dollars.
Wednesday morning, Elise headed downtown in her car to drop off some paperwork for a client. She hadn’t heard from Zane yet, but she guessed he would call her tonight. She had a women’s business league meeting right after work, but she’d skip the dinner afterward, just to be sure she was home when he called. She was trying hard not to get her hopes up. He hadn’t said he wanted a date. He’d said he wanted to talk about real estate.
Elise signaled and turned left onto a divided road that went through the middle of town. As she passed an old beat-up pickup truck, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.
It couldn’t be.
She slowed down so that the dilapidated truck passed her in the right lane. The truck spat and sputtered as it chugged along, bits of straw blowing out of its bed. It didn’t even have a typical Delaware state license plate, but instead had a tag, that read Farm Vehicle in black block letters. The body of the truck was blue. Rusted blue. The original tailgate had been replaced sometime when she was a teenager with a red one. The tailgate’s rust matched the body’s quite nicely.
Elise clutched the steering wheel of her imported sedan as the driver came into view again. He had the radio blasting to some old rock station that played hits from the seventies and eighties. The song “Ballroom Blitz” blared and he sang along. His dusty ball cap was pulled down low over his brow, one muscular, tanned arm rested on the open window as he tapped to the tune.
The farmer looked like Zane.
It couldn’t be Zane, of course. Zane drove a BMW sedan. Even though she didn’t know what he did for a living, she could guess from the kind of man he was. She was certain he was working in an office somewhere right now. Wearing a gray business suit, ordering employees around. At the very least he was having lunch with a client, sipping a nice wine and ordering Caesar salad with the dressing on the side.
They say everyone has a twin, she told herself, trying not to hyperventilate as she let the truck pull away from her. She ignored the guy in the white car behind her who was tailgating in an effort to get her to speed up.
That farmer was obviously Zane’s twin. Wasn’t that a funny coincidence? Right here in their own town of Nassateague Bay.
Or maybe Zane had an identical twin brother and he just hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe the farmer was a twin brother, that was it. A black sheep of the family. Never made it to college. Worked on a potato farm. Planted and harvested soybeans for a living.
Elise forced herself to loosen her grip on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. She put down the passenger side window so she could get some air.
The tailgater passed her. “It’s the pedal on the right,” he shouted as he whizzed by.
Elise slowly pressed the accelerator until she was once again doing the speed limit. The pickup turned right at the next intersection. Without thinking, she signaled and switched lanes quickly so that she could follow the imposter.
It wasn’t Zane. She knew the farmer wasn’t Zane. He couldn’t be Zane. There was no place to indicate “farmer” on The Husband Finder checklist. She had clearly stated in the career category that she was looking for a professional, a man who would understand her devotion to her profession. She tried not to panic as she followed the truck down a narrow side street.
Two blocks down, the truck made another right. She continued to follow at a safe distance.
The farmer wasn’t Zane, and she was going to prove it to herself.
The truck pulled into a gravel parking lot. She had never been on this side of town. A sign on the side of the tin-roofed cement block building read Smitty’s Seed & Feed. It was a feed store, for heaven’s sake. A store where farmers bought their…animal provisions and bird seed, she supposed.
She slowed down, watching as the old truck lurched to a halt and the door swung open. As she drove by, she saw the farmer lift his head, raise a hand and call good-naturedly to a man standing in an open door on the loading dock.
She knew that voice.
She knew that bad-boy blond hair sticking out from beneath the ball cap.
Elise drove by the store and kept going.
She was afraid she might cry.
A farmer? Zane farmed for a living? Now what? Career was a big heading on The Husband Finder checklist. It was even printed in bold. She’d already ignored the whole chemistry advice. Could she scratch out the career part, too? Would the list still work?
Elise pulled into a parking spot in front of her client’s business and picked up her cell phone to call Liz’s extension at work.
“Liz Jefferson.”
“Liz,” Elise said, feeling a little silly for even calling about this in the middle of the day. Liz was busy; personal lives were supposed to stay out of the office.
“Elise?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Elise said. “I just saw Zane in town.”
“And he canceled your date? Excuse me, your nondate?” she corrected. “Jerk.”
“No, no. I didn’t speak to him. I just saw him drive by.”
“And he had a woman with him and a baby in a car seat in the back. The man’s married. Jerk.”
“No, Liz, listen to me. I saw Zane and he…he was driving a pickup. An old pickup.” She took a deep breath. “Liz, he got out of the truck at a feed store wearing overalls.”
“Sweet Mary, mother of Joseph,” Liz swore.
“I don’t think he’s a doctor or a lawyer,” Elise said. “What do I do?”
“What do you do?” Liz shrieked. “You cancel the date, of course. You were the top seller for Waterfront Realty last month. You don’t date farmers.”
Elise