The Husband She Can't Forget. Patricia Forsythe

       CHAPTER THREE

      THE NEXT MORNING, Carly stood on the lane that sloped north to south across her fields and watched her employees as they picked and loaded produce. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion this morning. Probably due to the Memorial Day holiday. Any kind of break in the routine seemed to throw her teenage helpers off their stride. The delivery to the Mustang Supermarket would be late today, but she’d called to tell the manager about the delay. Now she needed to not stress over it.

      She couldn’t blame the holiday weekend for her sleepless night or the edginess that had awakened her with the first light of dawn and sent her roaming the fields for peace. She couldn’t stop thinking about Luke and the fact that he was going to be around Reston. She didn’t know how long he would be staying—although his mention of buying property certainly suggested a lengthy stay—or when she would see him again, but she dreaded it.

      Turning back toward her equipment shed, she took a deep breath and worked to quell the anxious flutter that had started in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about Luke, and she hated being late or appearing unreliable. That was why she had resisted Lisa and Gemma’s efforts to get her to open a shop in which to sell her recycled goods. Keeping up the stock, finding old pieces to transform into new ones, having regular shop hours had all seemed overwhelming until her friends had convinced her to at least give it a try. If it was too much or if the shop was unsuccessful, they’d argued, she could go back to posting her pieces online and either shipping them or having the new owners pick them up.

      She didn’t like the idea of quitting if her shop didn’t succeed. Giving up wasn’t in her nature. She had only ever given up on one thing in her life—marriage to Luke—and that wasn’t a decision she’d made alone.

      For the new shop, Lisa had helped her find a couple of reliable employees and Carly had hired more help for her gardens to free her up for the shop. She only hoped her newest commercial enterprise didn’t turn out to be a huge mistake.

      For some reason she’d been feeling restless lately, ready to take on something new but not sure what that would be. Her two best friends thought she was a little crazy to work so hard when she was finally in a position to hire more employees, but she’d developed the habit when she’d returned to Reston after she and Luke had broken up. She had recovered from her double heartbreak by spending days in the fields or the greenhouse and evenings refinishing furniture. All that labor had consumed her time and thoughts, and exhausted her so much that she’d fallen into dreamless sleep every night. Now those habits were so ingrained she couldn’t change.

      She walked up to the front of the shed as Jay and Sheena arrived, driving four-wheeled utility vehicles pulling garden carts full of vegetables. They began loading the produce into the big plastic bins she used for deliveries and stacking them carefully in the back of her truck while Carly hurried inside to brush her hair into a ponytail, slather on sunscreen and plop a wide-brimmed hat onto her head.

      As she passed through the living room, she gave Wendolin’s trunk a yearning glance. She was eager to open it and begin going through the contents. It would bring her closer to the sweet woman she had known, and it might help her put parts of her long-ago marriage to Luke into perspective. Even after all this time, she still didn’t fully understand some of the things that had happened. Tonight, she promised herself. She would open it tonight.

      By the time she returned to the shed, the kids had the produce loaded and Jay was ready to go. Watching them work as she hurried from the house, Carly thought again how lucky she was to have these two working for her. There were two other occasional employees who operated her produce stand, but they didn’t have the work ethic of Sheena and Jay.

      Sheena Blake was the oldest of five children of a single mom and needed to earn money to help out at home. She was pretty in a quiet and earnest way, and willing to work.

      Jay Morton was the son of the mayor of Reston, and he’d been raised to be a hard worker. She knew he liked video games and electronic devices. A couple of times she had caught him playing games on his phone when he should have been sorting and packing produce but, for the most part, he was a good employee.

      Carly smiled as she handed Sheena the clipboard with the paperwork Jay would need. He was eager to get going, finish this job and go on to the next one, while Sheena was fixated on double-checking everything. Carly feared that her own meticulous habits were beginning to affect the girl.

      “Don’t drive too fast,” she said to Jay. “I don’t know where all the extra people have come from, but traffic in town seems heavier than usual.”

      “I know, Carly. I just came from town,” he said, nodding toward the motorcycle he rode everywhere. He shook his head and exchanged looks with Sheena as if he thought their persnickety boss was losing her mind. Sheena smiled back as color rushed into her face.

      “Oh, of course.” Carly gave him the keys.

      As he pulled out, she and Sheena went back to work, picking the remainder of the vegetables they needed to deliver today and getting them ready to go. Carly was grateful for the manual labor that left her too busy to think about yesterday’s encounters with Luke.

      When they took a break, Sheena took a long drink of water from one of the bottles Carly always kept in a cooler in the shed, then poured some into her hand and splashed it on her face. Once she was cooled off, she turned troubled eyes to Carly. “Have you seen Mrs. Salyer lately?”

      Carly paused, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her elderly neighbor. “No, not in a few weeks. Why?”

      “My mom stopped to see her yesterday and she said Mrs. Salyer was in bed. In the middle of the day.”

      “Era wasn’t sewing or gardening or...putting a new roof on her house?”

      “No. Mom said it looks like Mrs. Salyer didn’t even put in a garden this year.”

      “Is she sick?”

      “She said she’s just tired. At least, that’s what she told Mom.”

      “I’d better check on her.” Hearing that Era Salyer was napping instead of working was like learning the sun had decided not to rise one morning. It simply didn’t happen. “Can you finish up here?”

      “Sure.”

      Carly scooped her cell phone out of her pocket and called Era, but there was no answer. She grabbed a basket and filled it with fresh produce.

      Carly hurried to one of the four-wheelers and rode down the highway, being careful to keep her slower vehicle at the edge of the pavement.

      At the mailbox marked Salyer, she turned in and made her way over the rutted lane, which wasn’t in much better shape than her own. She stopped in front of Era’s small house, noting the unaccustomed sight of dry and drooping roses and hydrangeas. At the side of the house, the plot that usually held Era’s lush vegetable garden was choked with weeds.

      Carly hurried to the front door. A scuffling noise followed her knock and, after a pause, Era called out, “Who is it?”

      “It’s Carly Joslin, Mrs. Salyer. I haven’t