Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) Page 3

  "You make money, from telling people how your day was?" he asks incredulously.

  I feel my shoulders go back. "It's about raising kids, what works for me and what doesn't. My trials, that are other peoples trials, too. Recipes, crafting, everything. I have sponsors that pay me to advertise on my page."

  "Huh," is all he says before walking away.

  I look after him. "Huh? That's it?" I get a pat on my shoulder from my mom.

  "I've got ten dollars that says he Googles you and finds your stuff tonight, darlin’. He's just in shock, is all."

  I shake it off and look to Harper and Trigg. "Alright, let’s go get an inventory of what we have going on outside. Go get your wellies on. They’re in the back of the van." I made sure we all had two pairs of the tough rain boots before even stepping foot onto the farm. Old habits and everything. I trail behind them before mom stops me.

  "Your dad and I are going to go and let you get settled in here. I put a casserole in the fridge for you, so don't worry about dinner."

  "Thanks, Mom. You're the best." I shut the cabinet doors before going out to the garage to see my dad has already put on the cover for the GTO, so it doesn't get damaged. I hug him, too. “Thanks, Daddy."

  "Any time, baby doll."

  I turn to see Brody petting Angus, his dog at his side. Jet is standing with him, already in his waterproof boots. I sit on the bumper of the van, slip my flip-flops off and put on black rubber boots as I listen to Brody talking to Jet.

  "His name is Brutus. What's your dog's name?"

  "Angus. Mom named him."

  "Isn't that interesting?"

  Jet scrunches up his eyebrows. "Why?"

  “Your mom and I promised each other we would get our pets’ names from Shakespeare." He glances over at me.

  "Why?"

  "Cause your Granny loves Shakespeare and named all of her kids after characters, and then got my mom into it. We hated that."

  "Wait, Brody's not a Shakespearean name. And Aunt Darcy isn’t from there, either," Harper says. "Is it, Mom?"

  I shake my head "No, they aren’t. You aunt goes by her middle name. Brody’s middle name is from a play."

  He looks down and laughs, making me laugh with him. That laugh makes me think of quiet talks and summer drives. I missed that laugh. "One day I'll tell you what mine is."

  I stand up and say, "Alright, munchkins, let’s go see what your chores will be." They groan collectively and I bend down to kiss their heads.

  Trigg asks, "When are we discussing allowance?"

  Brody frowns at him with a playful sparkle in his eyes. "Boy, you live on a farm now. I didn't get money unless I did good in school. The rest I had to do. No rewards except food on the table and not getting grounded."

  "Exactly. And I hear Grandma even has an automatic pump for milking the cow, so you don't even have to do that by hand," I tell them excitedly.

  I look over at Brody and he's smiling at me.

  "When I was in school, we had to walk, in the pouring down rain, to the bus stop."

  I smile back. "It was at least a mile down the road; the whole road was all mud."

  "Okay, now I know you're lying," Harper says. We laugh together and walk behind the house to the backyard. Over on the far end of the house, to the left, is an herb garden that surrounds cement blocks with four bee boxes in each corner and a birdbath in the center. In the middle is all garden. Rows and rows of different plants, short in front to tall in the back.

  Brody points to the garden. "Granny had everything marked." He points to the brightly colored wooden spoons and I laugh warmly.

  "She's always used those spoons." I spot her handwriting on an orange spoon by my feet and crouch down to look at it. Her swirls on those sticks make me feel closer to her suddenly, and I'm instantly saddened that she won’t be here to switch out her spoons for the next crop.

  "Spring crops are coming in consistently. That's pretty much all I've been doing, milking and picking crops, weeding. I started some seeds in the shed last month for when these are done."

  I turn to him. "So you're the hand that Granny left all her money to pay?"

  He shrugs and keeps walking.

  "It wasn't all that much. I was helping her out for nothing for a while, before she was gone. I've been floating around the family farms for about two years, helping out when they need it." I nod, but am thinking it's crazy for him to be floating around. Why didn't he have his own place?

  "Wow, look at all the work you get to do!" I exclaim to the kids. "There's spinach, onions, carrots, potatoes, and all of these strawberries! Oh, here's broccoli and lettuce, too."

  They're looking at me dubiously. I explain feebly, “Granny's garden got big while I was gone."

  "Yeah, well, Granny had a helper and didn't mind expanding anymore," Brody explains wryly.

  I ruffle Jet's hair. "And now, I get to take advantage of you guys! Just think, next year, we can plant all the way back there . . ."

  The kids are waving their arms and shaking their heads saying, “No, no way. No, Mom. Seriously, no," as I talk over them.

  I throw my hands up in fake exasperation. "Fine, just don't complain about what little work you have to do with what we have now."

  We walk behind the garden and see the pond and dock to the left with the barn to the right. I wave over.

  "Pond is there. No one goes in without an adult. I don't care how good of a swimmer you are. Jet, I'm serious."

  He nods his head sulkily and I reach for his bottom lip. "Mom, no. I told you, you can't wrap it around my head! No!” He tries to ward me off. I let him go and look to the water. The pond isn't large, but not small, either. Too small for a boat, though. Ducks are swimming around in the water. White, black, brown.

  "They're runners," Brody tells me. My eyes get big and I tell the kids excitedly, "Those are runner ducks! Wait ‘til they’re on land. It's the funniest thing you've ever seen."

  Jet asks, "Why?" His favorite word.

  I tell him patiently, "They stand straight up and waddle, not hunched over. Seriously funny."

  We turn to the barn that's classic red, but in need of paint. One half of the barn is all tractors and equipment for hauling the orchard harvests, and the other side is three stalls with nothing in them. In front of the barn, but behind the detached garage, is the fenced in chicken coop. It's a house, with the nest part hanging off of the main rectangular building so that you can lift the hinged roof and grab the eggs. There's a ramp that goes down, and then six hens in the fenced in area. The fence is black wire with white painted posts. The grass is green under the coop and I see a sprinkler on a fence post. The hens will go in the house when it comes on, and it keeps the grass greener.

  Directly behind the garage are the rabbit hutches that are in a low white picket fence. The buildings are as tall as I am at 5'6". About ten feet away are two massive compost bins. They're black round bins on a stand, and when you turn the handle off to the side, it will tumble and spin. The kids squeal at the black and white bunnies hopping around. I open the gate to the little picket fence and let them in then shut it behind them. All three immediately plop down on the grass as the bunnies hop around them. Against the wall of the garage are three wire and wood cube cages on stilts with dirt under them. Brody points to them.

  "I let the rabbits out during the day when I'm in the garden so I can keep an eye out. Just in case something tries to take one of them. I don't know if you remember, but every few days the rabbit droppings go into the compost bins. They're on a month-to-month schedule. The one with the red painted lid is the one that's in use. You just switch out the tops every month. It was easy for Gran to remember that way."

  I nod and tell the kids we're going to look at the cows. When none of them move, I tell them to stay there until we get back and make sure I get eye contact before leaving them.

  Brody and I walk to the back of the garden to the acre of pasture that is holding the two cows. They're tiny Irish Dexters. Their b
acks come waist high and they’re both solid black. "They're on a rotation so you always get milk. The one on the left is Grace and on the right is Hope. Hope has the crooked horn and is a little shorter. Grace is pregnant right now. She should drop at the end of May or June. They're both giving milk right now. I've been trying to dry Grace out to get her ready for her calf. She's slowed down to about three-quarters of a gallon, and Hope is giving one and a half. I hope you get some good recipes."

  I look over at him and smile widely. "I've been researching everything like crazy. I know how to make mozzarella, ricotta, ice cream, kefir, butter, and yogurt. I’m ready."

  He studies my face before saying softly, "I'm glad you're excited about this. You could always sell."

  I shake my head. "I need a healthier lifestyle for the kids. Harper has RA. Jet had a cavity."

  He nudges my shoulder and I immediately get chills down my arm. "Cavities aren't that huge of a deal, Jules."

  I look over at him. "They are to me. I didn’t get my first one until I had two kids and was eating crap food all the time. This is a severe life change for them, but it's getting back to what I know for me."

  "And what do you know?"

  I look over at him and then back to the kids in the rabbit pen. "I know I have to do better, try harder. That's what I'm doing."

  I leave him and pull some spinach leaves out of the garden and go play with my babies.

  We play with the bunnies for almost thirty minutes while Brody picks from the garden. I get the kids in the house to wash up, and finish unpacking their suitcases. In Jet's case, I know he’s probably just playing with the toys he brought. I go into the kitchen and look around for the first time. The old dining room table is still the same. It's wider than most rectangle tables and has eight chairs down the sides, one on each end. Behind the table, on the wall, are white cabinets and butcher block counters with windows at the top instead of upper cabinets.

  By the back door is a red wooden bench with cubbies and hooks above it, for changing shoes and jackets. The kitchen juts out from the house a bit, so there are windows everywhere. Along the back wall are more white cabinets, butcher block counters, and a huge ceramic apron kitchen sink. Over the sink is a bay window that always held plants, but is empty now. There's a red dishwasher on either side of the sink.

  On the interior wall is a massive red refrigerator. It’s the size of two side by side fridges with an ice maker and water dispenser on the outside. Down the wall, next to the butler's pantry door, is a set of double ovens that are also red. On the side of the kitchen that shares a wall with the butler's pantry is a huge burner stove that's red and has two ovens, a grill and griddle, and six gas burners. The back splash behind all of it is a light blue rectangular tile that has been there for as long as I can remember. The center of the kitchen is taken up by an island that is massive, all cabinets with one end shelf for cookbooks and its own sink. At the other end are two wooden barstools, while in the middle of the cabinet space, facing the refrigerator, is a little red and glass faced beverage fridge.

  "Whoa. Granny upgraded," I say as I finish my inspection.

  When the deep voice tumbles over my shoulder, I jump and instantly try to cover the action by sitting at the bench to take off my shoes. "Yeah, she bought all the appliances a few years back. You know how she liked to have the whole family over. And she was making a lot for the market, too," Brody tells me as he does the same with his shoes.

  I walk to the fridge and pull it open, finding the casserole mom left on the top shelf, along with some cheese, bacon, eggs, milk and oranges. The refrigerator looks massive with the small amount of food in it. Grabbing the casserole, I turn to find Brody sitting on a barstool watching me. "I saw the market, it's grown so much."

  He nods. "It's huge right now. We've had celebrities move into the neighborhood and that draws people, along with the health movement." I put the casserole in the oven and turn it on then turn around to face Brody. He pushes a huge stainless steel bowl in front of me. "I thought you would want to make a salad."

  I nod and pull the bowl towards the kitchen sink to wash the veggies. After putting the bowl in the sink, I look around for a colander, until Brody leans over the corner of the island and pulls a cabinet open on that side. I glance at him quickly, then snatch it up and close the cabinet. As I wash my hands, I ask, "So are there any power tools in that garage?"

  Brody's eyebrows go up as I watch him watching my reflection in the window above the sink. "Yeah, there's all of Gramps’ old stuff, plus what I have."

  I nod and he asks, "Why?"

  "Well this is California, and if there's one thing I know, between here and Alaska, is the damage earthquakes can do. I want to put good baby locks on all of the cabinets so those Pyrex don't come crashing down one day."

  "You're worried about the dishes?" he asks drolly.

  I look over my shoulder at him. "Those are worth a ton of money, especially the rare prints, not to mention they were Gran's. What happened to all of her plants, anyway?"

  "Everyone took some, to keep them alive. I have some at my place. I imagine everyone will use it as an excuse to come over and see you guys," he explains to me.

  I turn the water off and start cutting everything as I talk. "They don't need an excuse. Everyone is welcome, whenever."

  He watches me with questions in his eyes, but doesn't get to ask them. Jet, Harper, and Trigg burst into the room like Tasmanian devils.

  "Mom, mom, mom, mom." I look at Jet the whole time and don't even try to answer until he pauses for a breath.

  "Yes?"

  "My bed squeaks so loud! It's awesome. And there was a spider in my closet."

  "Did you kill it?" I ask him. He shakes his head no. "Did you eat it?" He giggles and shakes his head no. "Did you put it in your sister's bed?"

  Harper shrieks and glares at him; he shakes his head no faster. "I put it outside, silly."

  "Very good! Don't touch spiders, though. Just come get me. They could be poisonous. We live in a warmer place now, okay?"

  He nods and I tell him to go wash his hands again. Harper is next. "There's no Wi-Fi here, Mom."

  I nod again. "Okay, start a list. We're going to have to make a trip to the store, anyway." Harper starts opening drawers and slamming them shut, looking for paper and pen. I hand over a salad spinner and cutting board full of veggies to Trigg.

  "Put all of that in here and spin it around to get the water out."

  As he does that, I turn to the fridge and take out the gallon mason jar from inside. I grab glasses from the cabinet next to the fridge and set out four cups, before hesitating over a fifth. I look over my shoulder at Brody to find his eyes on me again. "Are you staying for dinner?"

  He nods slowly, so I grab another glass quickly, trying not to think about why he hasn't left at all since we got here. I look at the milk and notice the cream that has settled on top and walk into the butler's pantry to get an old Pyrex juice beaker and lid that I saw earlier.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I spin around, once I find it, to see Brody standing with his hips resting against the counter, hands on either side, gripping the lip. "You want me to go?"

  I ask desperately, "Why are you here Brody?"

  He shakes his head, looking at me intently with eyes that are more green right now than brown. "Where else would I be?"

  I don’t have an answer, so I turn and leave the room with him trailing me. I get a turkey baster and suck out the cream, putting it in the beaker before securing the teal lid on top. I hold it up and speak to the kids.

  "This is cream, nobody drink it." I put it back in the fridge then pour five glasses of milk halfway full before putting it back, too.

  I go to the upper cabinet that always had the plates in it and stare at the beer mugs in their place. Brody points to the other bottom cabinet by the colander and I pull it open to see a drawer stacked with big plates and small ones, pegs holding the dishes in their place. I look around the
room and say under my breath, "Gran had her house redone for kids." Thinking about the little drink fridge, it was very clear.

  "Yeah, she did," Brody confirms.

  "When?" I ask him.

  "About five years ago," he says quietly, but the kids hear it anyway.

  They all freeze, so I take a deep breath and instruct Jet, "Take one plate at a time and put them on the table, please. We need five. Harper, you take the cups of milk and put them by the plates. Trigg, whoa, that is a dizzy salad kid."

  He cracks a slight smile and I kiss his cheek before taking the spinner from him, dump it into a green and white Pyrex bowl, and stick tongs in it.

  The timer goes off and I take out the casserole from the oven. When we sit down, Brody goes to sit at the head of the table before looking up to me and hesitating. I look at the kids already in their spots, and seeing that they didn't take offense, I nod my head. We sit with me on Brody's right, Harper to his left, Trigg beside her, and Jet beside me. I dish out plates and then hesitate again before putting my hand in Brody's to say grace. His skin is rough, like it used to be, callused from working on a farm. His hand is so big it swallows mine.

  I take a shaky breath and look at Harper. "Your turn."

  She closes her eyes and I watch my kids all with their dark heads down, eyes closed, Trigg's spindly arm stretched across the table to reach Jet's. Harper's hand, so trusting, in Brody's. Brody moves his eyes around the table, too. I watch his breath hitch, then his eyes close and his head goes down.

  "Dear God, thank you for the food we're about to eat. Thank you for getting us from Alaska safely. Thank you for our granny's house and the bunnies and cows. Thank you for Mommy and Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Darcy, Uncle Will, Aunt Dez and baby Annez. Thank you for Brody, for picking this salad that looks so good. And thank you for Angus, who's the best dog ever. Amen."

  We all say amen then dig into our food. Trigg takes a sip of milk, then goes back and drains it. "That's good milk, Mom."

  I smile brightly at him. "Isn't it? It's the best."

  Trigg turns to Brody. "So what do you do, Brody?"

  "Let him eat. You don't need to be asking questions when everyone's mouth is full."