Grit: A Love Story on 7th and Main Read online

  “What does this have to do with Calvin?”

  “You’re not the woman you were when you married Calvin, Missy. I’m not the man I was when I married Aneesha. Which is good, because I was kind of an arrogant bastard back then.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I was. And getting divorced knocked a lot of that out of me. Aneesha changed me. Changed who I am.”

  Melissa frowned. “But she didn’t die, Cary.”

  “No, but in a lot of ways—important ways—I am who I am because of her. And in that sense, she’s still with me all the time. So is my dad, who taught me how to be a man. So is Jenny Christiansen, who taught me how to kiss—you did ask—and every other person I’ve been with. Every other person I’ve loved.”

  “So you’re saying Calvin is always going to be with me.”

  “Of course he is.” Cary moved her hair to the side and kissed her neck, making Melissa shiver. “Not only with you, but with Abby. With your mom. On the ranch. He put his mark all over that place.”

  “I forget his voice sometimes,” she blurted out. “Forget the sound of my name when he said it. Is that terrible?”

  “No. It’s normal. It’s been six years.”

  She rubbed her knuckles over her eyes. “But then I feel close to him when I’m riding in the north pasture. He loved going up there in the spring to see the wildflowers. We took Abby there for a picnic when she was only a baby. Sometimes when I’m there, it’s like… if I turned around, he’d be sitting on the fence. Waiting for me.”

  “I think that’s beautiful,” Cary said softly. “And I’m glad. Do you think that bothers me? Why would it bother me? He was my friend.” Cary blinked hard. “And I miss him, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting you. Or recognizing what’s been growing here for years.”

  Melissa cleared her throat. “I don’t know if I’m ready for what you want, Cary. Even if I can accept what you’re saying—”

  “What do you think I want?” he asked. “No, don’t tell me yet, because I can almost guarantee you’re going to get it wrong.” He put a finger over her lips when she opened her mouth. “No. Stop. Just… don’t assume.”

  She batted his hand away. “Don’t assume what? You pretty much told me we’re not friends, so—”

  “Bullshit.” He glared at her. “When did I say that?”

  Melissa opened her mouth. Closed it. Okay, he hadn’t said they weren’t friends, he’d said they weren’t just friends. Which… Okay, judging from how much they were kissing that morning, it was a fair statement.

  Cary continued before she could respond. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ll always be friends. Nothing about that has changed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” He propped his arm on his knee. “Missy, I know you like arranging shit and putting everything in the right drawer. Your office organization is ruthless.” He leaned over and kissed her mouth, savored it. “But don’t try to organize us. For now, let’s just keep being friends.”

  She raised both eyebrows. “Friends?”

  He shrugged. “Friends who kiss.”

  “Is that a thing now?” It was entirely possible. Melissa hadn’t been on a first date since 2004. She didn’t know how anything worked these days. There were apps for everything. Friends Who Kiss was probably a relationship status on Facebook.

  “It’s a thing.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. “It’s a thing for us.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cary got off the phone with the agency his friend Mark had recommended. Background checks on Stuart Hagman hadn’t taken as long as Cary anticipated. None of the information had been buried. Most of it was public record, in fact.

  The real mystery was how to approach Melissa. He’d just broken through the hard shell of her resistance to a relationship; he didn’t want to sabotage his progress.

  “Friends who kiss.”

  Sure, Melissa. Friends who kiss. That’s all.

  It wasn’t ideal, but he could work with it. The woman was cautious by nature, and life hadn’t been kind to her. He respected her caution; he just wished it was directed at those who might be actual threats.

  Like Stu Hagman. Potentially.

  There was no getting around it. The man hadn’t been up-front with Melissa, and she needed to know. Cary wasn’t willing to jeopardize Melissa’s, Abby’s, and Joan’s safety because the woman he loved might get pissed off at him for interfering.

  Check that. She would definitely get pissed off at him, but there was nothing else to do.

  Then again, maybe he didn’t need to talk to Melissa. The more he thought about it, the surer he was.

  He didn’t need to speak to Melissa. He needed to talk to Stu.

  He ran a quick hand through his hair, thinking about the best way to approach the man. “Phil?” he called to his foreman.

  Phil stuck his head in the office. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Going over to the Oxford ranch. I’ve got my phone.”

  “No problem.” Phil disappeared again.

  It was a quiet time on the farm. They’d finished picking the Valencias and had a few months for pruning and cleaning the groves before they’d be ready to harvest the navel oranges and mandarins. Phil was trying to contact pickers and line up everything for harvest in advance, but many contractors didn’t want to be booked that far out or commit to a price before they knew how high labor demands were going to be.

  “Phil!”

  Phil appeared again. “Yeah, boss?”

  “You touch base with Teresa yet?”

  “I left her a message, but she hasn’t called me back.”

  Cary grunted. “Okay. I’m going over to Oxfords.”

  Phil grinned. “Yeah, you said that.”

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing.” The old man wouldn’t stop grinning. He’d been hired by Cary’s dad, so in Cary’s mind, he was a fixture. No one could fire Phil. Not that they’d want to. He was a nice person and his wife made excellent brownies.

  Cary glared at Phil as he walked out the door. “Just shut up.”

  “Wasn’t saying anything!”

  “Yeah, well… stop smiling.”

  “Say hi to Melissa!”

  Cary turned and flipped the man off before he opened his truck door. He drove the three miles from his farm office over to the ranch, taking his time to survey his groves along the way. His father’s original five-hundred-acre orange farm had been expanded over the years. Cary had bought pieces of property here and there. This one was good for Valencias. That one for lemons. Another had both his current office, a greenhouse, and was certified organic, which gave him a bridge to that market while he transitioned his other groves to more sustainable practices.

  His property was scattered, but the original farm still surrounded his mother’s house, which sat in a grove of oaks and sycamores that ran along Halsey Creek.

  Cary drove past his family home and turned left on Jordan Valley Road to get to the Oxfords’ ranch. He glanced at his watch. If he was correct, she’d be gone this time of day and he might be able to talk to Stu on his own.

  He was driving past the house when he saw Abby waving from the porch. The smile was automatic. He might be a cranky bastard at times, but that child was pure sunshine and he’d do anything for her. He stopped and got out of the truck.

  “Hey, kid.”

  “Hey, adult.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you have school today?”

  “Nope.” She climbed up on the porch railing and swung her legs. “Teacher work day. Mom’s not here. Grandma’s in the house.”

  He leaned against the post near the front step. “I came to talk to Stu.”

  “Oh.” She hopped down. “Stu’s nice. I like him and Leigh. Want to see my new goat?”

  “You got a new goat?” He followed Abby as she skipped to the goat shed behind the house. “Yeah, I want to see it. I though
t your mom said no more goats.”

  “We didn’t buy it.” Her cheeks turned red. “Aslan got Princess kind of pregnant and so Princess had a kid.”

  “That does happen sometimes when you put goats together.”

  Abby’s cheeks were still a little red. “You have no idea.”

  Cary muffled a laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “I’m just glad this one made it,” Abby continued. “Rosie had a kid last year, but it didn’t live for very long.”

  “I’m sorry.” He hadn’t heard about that. “That’s sad.”

  She shrugged. “It happens. Generally speaking, goats are very hardy animals.”

  “I don’t know much about them. I never had any when I was a kid.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Really?”

  “I told you before. No animals.”

  She looked at him with eyes of sincere pity. “Well, goats are very fascinating creatures. Did you know they were some of the first animals humans ever tamed? People have probably had goats longer than they’ve had dogs.”

  Cary nodded. “That makes sense. Dogs are nice, but they don’t give milk or wool.”

  “Exactly!” Abby shook her head. “But there’s like… millions of dogs in America but hardly anyone has goats.”

  “That’s crazy. I don’t know what people are thinking.”

  “I know, right?” She opened the metal door and let Cary in the shed. A wide corral filled with large rocks, a picnic table, old children’s toys, and various and sundry crates had been built off the side of the shed, which shielded the goat corral from the afternoon sun. It was not the neatest setup. He and Melissa had patched it together over the years as Abby’s goat obsession grew.

  As they approached, happy bleats of excitement greeted them as six goats jumped and skipped over to see their favorite human.

  “Hey, guys!” Abby rubbed the heads of all six goats before she walked deeper into the barn. “Princess,” she sang. “Hey, mama goat! How are you?”

  Cary followed Abby into the small kidding pen, which was separate from the main corral. A floppy-eared doe lay in straw with a tiny kid next to her. Cary bent down and watched as Abby filled a plastic tub with oats and brought it to Princess.

  He squatted down to examine the new addition to the herd as Abby fed the mother goat. “Pretty cute, kid.”

  Abby looked up with a brilliant smile. “Which kid are you talking to?”

  “Ha ha. I’m talking to you, human kid. And I’m talking about goat kid. Boy or girl?”

  “Girl. I think I’m gonna name her Lala. I was hoping it would be a girl because I want to learn how to make goat cheese, and if we get more boy goats, that doesn’t do much for me. I already have two boys, and Mr. Tumnus is starting to fight with Aslan. They nearly broke the fence last week.”

  “You want to make goat cheese?”

  Abby stood. “Yeah. I like goat cheese, and Paula at the farmers’ market said she’d teach me how to make it if I want. And even though I can’t sell goat cheese at the market, I can sell goat-milk soap, and I looked online how to make that and I don’t think it’s very hard. I bet people in Metlin would buy goat-milk soap. Especially if I made it smell really nice.”

  She was standing with her hands on her hips in a posture Cary had seen a million times. Though Abby was a combination of both Calvin and Melissa, her expressions came entirely from her mother.

  Abby caught his smile. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Cary stood. “I think it’s cool that you like goats so much. And you already have plans to do something smart with them. Some kids want a regular job, but your ideas are way better.”

  “Thanks.” She sighed. “Mom doesn’t like goats.”

  “I think she has more issues with little girls who let their goats out into the garden and aren’t responsible about putting them back.”

  “None of them have gotten into Grandma’s garden since last year!”

  “So.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Give her time to forget. They did destroy all the roses.”

  “The roses grew back.”

  “Just give it time.” He walked back out to the main goat pen. “Tell me more about the wonder of goats.”

  “Did you know they have four stomachs?”

  “I did not.”

  “They do. And no upper teeth.”

  Okay, that was interesting. “Really?”

  “None at all,” she said. “See? Goats are fascinating animals.”

  “They really are.”

  Joan called Abby into the house for lunch, and Cary got back in his truck and drove to the barn, parking beside the worn structure before he walked to the trailer in back. He knocked on the door and stood back so whoever was inside could see him through the windows.

  He’d waited a couple of minutes before he saw the door handle turn. A woman around Joan’s age peered out.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for Stu Hagman.”

  Someone else was in the trailer. Leigh glanced over her shoulder, and a lanky, weathered man came to the door. He wiped a handlebar mustache and stuffed the napkin in his jeans pocket.

  “I’m Stu Hagman. C’n I help you?”

  “I’m sorry if I interrupted your lunch. I’m Cary Nakamura. Friend of Melissa’s from down the road.”

  Stu nodded. “I’ve heard your name. You got the orange groves next door. There a problem with the fencing I need to know about?”

  “Fences are fine. Can we…?” Cary nodded toward the shade structure behind the barn with a picnic table underneath it.

  Stu and Leigh exchanged looks. Leigh looked nervous. Stu looked solemn.

  “Sure.” He nodded toward the picnic table. “You want something to drink?”

  “I’m okay. Thanks.”

  They walked to the shaded area and sat.

  Cary braced his elbows on the table. “I’ve been friends with Melissa a long time. Our families are close.”

  “Miz Rhodes is a good woman.”

  “Yes, she is. So is her mother.”

  Stu cleared his throat. “Can I ask what you’re doing here, Mr. Nakamura? Did Miz Rhodes—?”

  “Melissa has done nothing but sing your praises,” Cary said. “She thinks you’re a good worker. Likes how you ride and likes the work you’re doing with your dog. Says you’re a good cattleman.”

  “I’ve been doing it for a long time.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Yeah, you have.” Cary drummed his fingers on the table. “But not for the past ten years or so.”

  Stu’s face was frozen.

  “Did you tell her?”

  The older man’s face gave nothing away.

  Cary persisted. “Did you tell her you’ve spent time in prison?”

  “I’ve been on probation five years,” Stu said quietly.

  “Yeah, and before that you were in prison in Oklahoma.” Cary drilled his eyes into Stu’s. “And you were an addict.”

  Stu was silent a long time. Then he sighed deeply and leaned his elbows on the table, looking away from Cary. “Am an addict, Mr. Nakamura. Once an addict—”

  “Always an addict. Trust me, I know. I got some guys working for me who’ve had their own issues.” Cary waited for the man to look back at him. “I’m not judging you, Mr. Hagman. I admit, I was worried. And when I first started reading the report, I was pretty damn mad to think you’d kept that from Melissa. But I kept reading, and from what I can tell, you’re not a violent guy except when you’re using.”

  The man’s face was fixed in a stern expression. “They charged me with assault, but it was a bar fight. I was drunk. I never intended for it to go that far.”

  “You know what?” Cary leaned on the table. “I understand that. And from what I can find, you’ve walked the straight and narrow since you got out. Your wife stuck by you. Your friends didn’t abandon you. That says a lot.”

  “I’m training dogs again.”

  �
��Dogs are good judges of character, though Abby might tell you goats are better.”

  The corner of Stu’s mouth turned up. “That girl does like her goats.”

  Cary’s gut told him Stu Hagman was a good man who’d made his mistakes, but he’d paid his debt and was working on redemption. He wouldn’t be a threat to Melissa, Abby, or Joan. He was probably too grateful to even consider putting them at risk.

  He was also pretty sure that Melissa didn’t know a damn thing about the man’s record.

  “Mr. Hagman,” he said, “I don’t have anything against you. None of this is personal. I’d run a background check on anyone I didn’t know who moved onto Melissa’s property and lived within spitting distance of that little girl, because I’m a suspicious asshole who doesn’t trust many people.”

  Stu nodded. “I understand that.”

  “Did you tell her anything? Does she know even a little bit about the drugs and the assault and the prison time?”

  Stu hesitated before he shook his head. “I told the Bradys. They sent Leigh a little money when we were trying to get back on our feet, so they knew.”

  Cary didn’t believe in secrets. Secrets were a killer, even when intentions were good. “Did the Bradys tell you not to tell Melissa?”

  “They didn’t. But they didn’t include it in the letter either.”

  Cary nodded. “I didn’t go to her with this. I came to you because you need to be the one to tell her. She may decide she’s fine with you staying on. She may decide different. But she needs the information. You living here without telling her where you’ve spent the past ten years is as good as lying if you ask me.”

  “I see.” Stu cleared his throat. “She doesn’t know you ran that background check, does she?”

  “No, she does not.” Cary tried not to visibly cringe. “And you probably know her well enough by now to know how she’s going to react to my butting in.” Cary shrugged. “But it wasn’t really a matter of choice for me.”

  Stu nodded.

  “I’d like you to tell her. Doesn’t have to be today, but it better be soon. If you don’t, I will, but it’d be better coming from you.”

  Stu took a deep breath. “Felt wrong not to tell her, but…”