That night at the family dinner, a discussion about the Bottom farm next door comes up.
“So let me get this straight. They are sheep farmers, but they want to share the land,” Scarlett asks.
“Our back pastures butts up against theirs, and they want to expand. They thought we could share the space,” Dad explains.
“Well, Redd wanted to share the field,” I remind my family.
“Was this the same field that . . .” Scarlett’s voice drifts, leaving the implication clear. It’s the same field that flooded, where I was captured on film. Her face grimaces.
“Anyway, Redd’s father, Harry, passed away years ago and—”
“Wait?” Scarlett holds up a hand, a chuckle already filling her voice. “His name was not really Harry.” She pauses for clarification. “Harry Bottom?”
“Yes,” Dad answers in all seriousness, but Scarlett’s already giggling, and Blade’s grin begins to grow.
“Harry Bottom,” Scarlett repeats, looking at my father, who doesn’t crack a smile. He only nods. “Harry Bottom had a son named Redd Bottom.”
Scarlett snorts, and it finally registers with Dad. “After years of working to keep a straight face over that name, I get it, but Harry was a good man. His son, I cannot say the same of.”
“Because Redd Bottom is an ass,” Canyon mutters, and Scarlett loses all control. She’s laughing so hard tears fill her eyes. She’s holding her belly, and the sound coming from her is infectious. Blade starts laughing next.
“Okay, settle down,” Dad says, finally giving in to the smile curling his lips.
“Harland, if you tell me he has another son named Prickly or Round or something like that, I’m going to have to excuse myself.” Scarlett’s already told me the baby presses on her bladder, and some days, she embarrassingly can’t hold it all back if she coughs or laughs. Explaining this fun fact, which was more than I needed to know about her, sent her into tears.
“He actually has a daughter,” Harland explains. “Her name is Cherry.”
“No,” Scarlett says, dragging out the word.
“Kid you not,” Dad says again, and Scarlett’s laughing uncontrollably once more, but Blade isn’t catching on.
“What’s so funny about that? Cherry is sweet,” Blade defends, and Scarlett can’t even breathe.
“I bet she is,” Canyon adds, narrowing his eyes at Blade. Scarlett presses off the table, excusing herself as she holds her belly.
“Anyway,” Dad says, still smiling at the laughter following Scarlett like a comet tail. “We need to shore up those fences so his damn sheep don’t escape onto our land again. They’ll tear up that field with their hooves. And loose sheep just beg for predators to come hunting on our property.”
Dad doesn’t need to remind me. Scarlett returns within seconds, still wiping at her eyes.
“Oh my. I needed that laugh.” She snorts once more, and Canyon shakes his head at my . . . girl. It seems silly to call a grown woman my girl but calling her my woman sounds a bit harsh. Girlfriend seems like we’re teens, and woman-friend sounds worse. There’s only one label I want for Scarlett, but she won’t be getting it.
“Okay, boys. Carly. Joey. I have a special cake for Bull back at the house, so we should be heading out,” Scarlett says in her take-charge voice. Her face gives nothing away, but we both know the cake she’s referencing is her own body.
“You baked?” Carly teases.
“Of course not. I stopped at a bakery in Colebury.” Scarlett winks at me, and I stand to thank the family for the presents they’d given me. A new belt from my father. A gift card from Canyon and Joey. A book about the moon from Blade. Carly makes good food, and that’s all I’ve ever needed from her.
“What’s this?” I ask Scarlett the following evening. Holding out her phone, I glance up at her. The screen lit up while she was in the bathroom, and I caught a glance of the notification.
“What’s what?” she snaps, matching my sharp tone. She’s defensive somedays and then quick to apologize, explaining the pregnancy weighs on her. She’s been cooped up since leaving the Busy Bean back in August, and while she’s adjusting to farm life as a city girl, some days are a struggle.
She’s only seven weeks from her due date and growing incredibly uncomfortable. Relegated to more rest than play, she’s coming out of her skin.
As she steps up to me, I turn her phone so the screen faces her. Reaching out for it, she tugs the device from my hands and stares at the portion of a notification presented on the home page
Call me about the opportunity to . . . The partial message is from her former boss, Lex.
“What does this mean?” My tone is harsh, although I don’t mean it to be. I’m on edge myself lately. It’s getting harder and harder to fight my feelings, especially after a wild night like last night where we celebrated my birthday in our own manner, and then Scarlett presented me with a telescope to see the moon.
It’s a Celestron brand PowerSeeker worth almost four hundred dollars.
“I had a telescope as I kid, but I haven’t used it in ages,” I’d told her.
“Well, it’s time to start moon gazing again. You’ll need to teach Sprout everything,” she’d said. I explain to her how the moon dictates almost as much as the sun for farming, and as Sprout is the future of this land, she wants him to know everything.
“It means you should ask for more information before snooping on my phone,” she sasses back, and while most days I love it, I don’t appreciate it today.
“I thought that’s what I was doing. I’m asking what does this mean?” Anger fills my voice. “Are you looking for another job?” The thought hits me like a whack-a-mole machine.
How could she do this to us? Isn’t what we have enough? I thought we’d gotten to a point where we were settled into who we are and who we will be as Sprout’s parents. We’d come to an agreement that Scarlett would stay home and mother our child. It’s a big change for her, I understand, but she won’t be alone. It takes a village, and she’ll have the entire family helping her with our baby. How could I be so stupid? Of course, she wouldn’t be happy just being a mother. The farm would never be enough for her.
“And what if I did want another job working someday?” Them’s fighting words in her tone, and I don’t blame her. I’m looking for a fight for some reason.
“Reporting again?” I sneer as I wave out at her phone. My voice rises. With my broad shoulders set, I glare at her. “We made promises to each other.” She wasn’t going to work for them again, but what have I promised her? I’m here for her day in and day out. What more could she want from me?
As she stares up at me, Scarlett’s face blanches, reading the questions in my own expression. I just want her to tell me the truth. Why is her former boss contacting her? What does she want with them? Obviously, a job, more opportunity, a return to the city life.
“I’m not . . .” she quietly admits. “I just . . . have something to discuss with him.”
“What?” I snap.