“Well, yeah, I guess. I never thought about where people get trees and sh—stuff. They’re just always around.”
“Not everyone is lucky enough to grow up surrounded by all this nature.” I waved my hand toward the horizon, where the mountains showed off their green forests beneath an azure sky like a painting.
“Do you have any animals?”
“I have a couple of goats, but that’s mostly to keep the grass cut. Easier than a lawnmower when you have to work around so many tree trunks and limbs. But we still have to do our share of mowing and trimming.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Ever done much planting?”
“Some,” he answered, but didn’t elaborate.
I let the vague answer sit for a moment, hoping he’d talk to me willingly. “Flowers? Vegetables?”
His shoulders stiffened slightly. “Yeah. I used to help my mom plant vegetables. A few flowerbeds.”
There was a flicker of pain beneath the words. I knew what it was like to lose people. To feel their absence when you didn’t expect it. While I was older than him, I was still young when I’d lost so many of the people who’d loved and raised me all at one time.
“I’m sure she appreciated your help,” I said, trying to lace my voice with understanding.
He sniffed, but remained quiet. Insteadof pressing him, I left him alone with his thoughts as he continued maneuvering the UTV over the grass. He was a good driver—cautious, but sure. He’d obviously had some kind of experience handling a vehicle, legal or not.
We crested a small hill, and the neatly arranged rows of young dogwoods, red maples, cypress, and other young trees stretched out before us, their thin branches swaying in the gentle breeze with the rolling mountains standing tall in the background.
Jordan’s eyes popped, and he let out a low whistle before he caught himself and pressed his lips together.
I’d lived here for years, but the view never grew old. The various greens, creamy whites, and soft pinks were like Mother Nature’s best artwork. There was peacefulness in it, a quiet kind of beauty that made me feel I was right where I belonged.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He hesitated, then gave a slow nod. “I didn’t think it would be this big. I mean, that’s a lot of trees. And people buy them?” His voice carried a mix of skepticism and something like awe.
“Yes.”
“So, like, you just plant a seed, let it grow, then people buy them?”
I snorted. “If it were that easy, everyone would do it themselves. But something like that.”
I could see the wheels turning in his head, curiosity slipping through the walls he kept up. The sullenness that clung to him since he arrived seemed to ease off as he continued to take in the scene before us.
“What else do you do?” He might not want to be interested, but this had obviously piqued his curiosity.
I looked at the rows of trees and felt a swell of pride inthe home my ancestors built. “Well, it’s more than just digging and planting. We have to worry about pest control, the amount of water individual species get, keeping deer away, and making sure the soil is healthy. Sometimes storms come through and cause damage.” I looked over this part of my farm where the sun seemed to touch the trees with loving fingers. “It’s a lot of work. But I love it.”
Jordan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, but his attention was riveted on the trees.
“Think you’d mind helping with it?” I asked.
He let out a breath that was somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. “Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice.”
He gave me a sidelong look. “Tell that to Sheriff Braxton.”
I could see where he’d interpret his options that way. “Let’s call it an opportunity, then. But I don’t want someone here who’s going to cause problems,” I warned. “So speak up now.”
Jordan stared ahead, his jaw working as he debated his next words.
“This is fine,” he muttered.
I nodded. That was good enough for now.
