Lisa Jordan

Season Of Hope


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against the barn wall before retrieving his shirt hanging from a nail in the wall and pulling it over his head.

      Was she relieved...or disappointed?

      Forcing her eyes away, Tori glanced down at her sundress, toed off her heels and kicked them off to the side out of the way. “What are you doing?”

      “Checking the roof and floor for any needed repairs, pitching old hay out the back window into the compost unit, and restacking some fresh stuff. You should’ve called.” Jake reached for a bale and lifted it over his head to add to the growing stack.

      “You’re right. Sounds like you could use another hand.”

      “Sure, when there’s one around.” Jake jerked his hat off his head, pulled a navy bandanna from his back pocket and mopped his forehead. Pocketing the cloth, he righted his cap. “What are you doing here, Victoria?”

      She hated the way he used her given name, laced with disdain and veiled anger...like her father used to.

      “I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry my presence caught you off guard.”

      “Why today?” Jake yanked off his gloves and slapped them against his reddened palm. His eyes lifted and searched hers. “Why not yesterday? Or even tomorrow?”

      The ragged edges of pain around the whisper in his voice sliced through her. “You remembered.”

      “Even though you filed for divorce less than three weeks after we were married, I will always remember our anniversary.”

      She dropped her gaze to the floor as her cheeks burned. With her big toe, she traced a circle in the dust. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Jake...”

      “Forget it, Tori. I’m not here to rehash the past. You’ve apologized. I accept. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

      She ran a thumb and a forefinger under her eyes, probably smearing her eyeliner, and exhaled. “Aunt Claudia told me about the tornado and how much you’ve lost. I’m so sorry.”

      “Thanks.”

      “She also mentioned your project. I can help.”

      “I don’t need your help.”

      “You’re a real one-man show, aren’t you?”

      “You know nothing about me anymore, so stop pretending you care.”

      “But I do care. I never stopped.” Tori sat on a stray bale. The hay poked the backs of her legs. The pain was minor compared with the verbal barbs piercing her heart. “Tell me about your Fatigues to Farming project.”

      “The program will enable disabled vets to learn about farming so they can start their own small businesses.”

      “So how does my property tie in?”

      He leaned the pitchfork against the ladder and reached for a water bottle on the floor. After taking a long drink, he wiped his mouth and looked at her. “Our property is necessary for growing crops and cow pastures. After Claudia and Dennis moved into town, we planned to buy back her property—it used to belong to my grandparents. We want to build accessible cabins for vets and their families to live in while they go through the program. Plus, there’d be space for a community garden.”

      “Would you consider a trade?”

      His eyes narrowed. “What kind of trade?”

      “My sister, Kendra, is deployed overseas, so I have temporary custody of her four-year-old daughter, Annabeth. We need a...safe place to live. Staying with Aunt Claudia isn’t an option since her lease doesn’t allow long-term guests. Help me get the house ready to move into, and you can use the rest of the acreage for your project.”

      “Sell it to me. Then you can have the money for something that won’t need work.”

      “I don’t want to sell.”

      “Why not?”

      She raised her chin. “I have my reasons. That’s my offer. How are you raising awareness for your program?”

      “Haven’t had time for that yet. Still working on grant paperwork. We need funds to get the program started.”

      “I’ve planned awareness campaigns for charities and different organizations. I could do a fund-raiser for you. And I’m good at what I do.”

      “At what cost?”

      “No charge. A trade of services. It’s a worthy cause, and I want to help.”

      Jake retrieved his gloves and slid them on. He reached for the pitchfork and headed to the back of the barn.

      Tori tamped down the familiar feeling of rejection and walked over to where she’d kicked off her shoes. After sliding her feet back into them, she followed Jake. “You have twenty-four hours to think about it, then the offer’s off the table.”

      He jammed the fork into a bale and glared at her. He threw his hands in the air as his voice rose. “Man, Tori. Give me a break, will you? I haven’t heard from you in six years. You ignored my phone calls and letters when all I wanted was the answer to one simple question—why? Instead of hearing from you, I get divorce papers handed to me through my commanding officer with orders not to contact you or else face charges. So excuse me for being a little gun-shy.”

      “I’m sorry. That’s not how I wanted things to happen.”

      “You didn’t stop it.”

      Tori crossed to the open window that overlooked the barnyard. Tears blurred her vision as her voice dropped to a whisper. “I couldn’t.”

      Unwelcome memories swirled in her head, tangling with her thoughts and roping her emotions. She didn’t want to remember the pain ripping through her body or hear the whine of the ambulance as it rushed her to the hospital. Or relive the sympathetic tone of the doctor as he broke the news. Or the convincing tone in her father’s voice as he tried to suggest he had only her best interests at heart.

       Tell him.

      Not here. Not now.

      “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” Jake stood behind her.

      She whirled around, fisted her hands on her hips, then poked a finger into his chest. “These last six years haven’t been a picnic for me either. There’s so much you don’t know. If I could change the past, I would. Since I can’t, all I can do is make a fresh start. A safe place to care for my niece while her mother finishes her deployment, and maybe, if it’s not asking too much, a chance to make amends. I’m sorry I hurt you, Jake. It was wrong, and I regret it more than anything. But I’ve lost a lot, too.” She brushed past him and caught her foot, turning her ankle. Pain lanced her leg. She reached down and rubbed her throbbing joint. “You were right about one thing, the barn is no place for a sundress and high heels. Twenty-four hours. You know where to find me.”

      “Wait.”

      She stopped, keeping her back to him. The fatigue in his voice nearly unraveled her. More than anything, she wanted to wrap her arms around him, but that was impossible. He didn’t want her around, let alone to be touched by her. She clenched her jaw, mentally preparing for another round.

      “Be here at nine thirty tomorrow morning. And wear something more appropriate for getting dirty.”

      Tori nodded, headed out the door and stomped back to her car.

      Like it or not, Jacob Holland, she was sticking around.

      Even though she knew it couldn’t be, her heart longed for that second chance.

      To fix what she’d broken. But that wasn’t possible.

      Because once he learned the truth—what they’d truly lost—he’d want nothing to do with her again. But, for now, she wasn’t ready to risk being out of his life forever. So she’d stay and prove she was good at keeping her word