“Don't you dare.” Pushing through the water, Laurel headed toward the beach. Robert grabbed her and twirled her around, dunking her. She came up sputtering and wiped wet hair out of her eyes. “You!” She laughed, then dove in and swam out a little way. Treading water, she waited for Robert, but Luke jumped at him and tried to dunk him. The two tussled.
Laurel's eyes roamed over the beach. Children played in the sand and in the shallows. Parents relaxed in the shade of trees. A young couple caught her attention. They were indiscreetly entwined in each other's arms. The woman reached up and ran her fingers through the man's blond hair. He gazed down at her, then kissed her ardently.
Laurel glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the pair, but they could be seen only from the water. They'd set their blanket in a grove of birch. Laurel knew she was intruding, but she couldn't keep from watching.
The woman said something. They laughed, then held each other tightly. Then Laurel noticed the woman's bulging abdomen. She was pregnant. Laurel felt a pang of jealousy. To be so in love would be wonderful, she thought, aware she didn't feel that deep passion for Robert.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
LAUREL THRUST A PITCHFORK INTO THE EARTH, WEDGING IT BENEATH A potato plant. Pushing it deeper with her foot, she lifted the plant, which was heavy with potatoes, then dropped to her knees and began breaking up loam with her hands. When her fingers found the firm, round potatoes, she pulled them free of the root, brushed away the dirt, and dropped them into a wheelbarrow. Before moving on, she rested her arms on the edge of the cart.
Her mother bent over a plant in the row beside her. Glancing at Laurel, she said, “These are loaded!”
Laurel pushed the wheelbarrow a few feet down the row. She looked at the sky. Fingers of wispy clouds stretched across the pale blue ceiling. The sun was warm but not hot. Squawking echoed across the fields, and Laurel sought out the geese she knew were heading for their winter feeding grounds. Flying in perfect formation, they paddled the air. Laurel watched until they disappeared beyond the forest in their single-minded flight south.
Summer was coming to a close. Chilly mornings foretold of approaching fall. Soon the morning sun would reflect off sparkling, frosted earth. Already leaves were changing into their fall colors—red, yellow, and orange. Autumn, with its iridescence, would settle over the valley.
Leaning on the pitchfork, she stared at the home she and Robert would share. He'd done a good job. It was a nice house, but it just didn't feel like hers.
“You're not going to get many potatoes dug that way,” a man called, cutting into Laurel's thoughts.
The voice sounded familiar. Laurel whirled around. “Adam?” She stared at him, thinking it might be her imagination. Sunlight shimmered off his light brown hair, which curled onto his forehead as it always did. He was wearing blue jeans and a pale blue work shirt. A charming smile lit his face. The closer he came, the faster he walked, his long legs carrying him toward her.
“Adam!” Laurel repeated, refusing to obey the compulsion to run to him.
Adam had no such reservations. He ran to her and swept her into his arms.
Automatically, Laurel's arms went around his neck. She didn't fight his embrace.
He held her against him and whispered against her hair. “I've missed you. Oh, I've missed you.”
Laurel could smell his mild, spicy aftershave. It reminded her of the kiss they'd shared. I'm engaged! her mind yelled. What am I doing? She pushed against his chest. “Let me go!”
Adam grudgingly released her, but he stood close, his captivating blue eyes searching hers. She felt his passion and his love, and fought a rush of emotions that threatened to drive her back into his arms.
“I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to. I know you're engaged. It's just that when I saw you …” Adam brushed the hair off his forehead. “I wasn't thinking. Sorry,” he ended lamely.
Laurel took a steadying breath. “I … I didn't know you were in town.”
“I flew in this morning.” He gazed at the fields and rows of lush green crops. “You've done well.” He looked at Jean, who was studying him with a puzzled expression. “Afternoon, Mrs. Hasper.”
“Hello, Adam.” Jean stepped over the row of potatoes and joined the two. “It's good to see you. What brings you to the valley?”
“My story. I still have the final piece to write—the first harvest. By the looks of things, you've made it.”
“It's been a good year.”
“You'll be taking part in the fair?”
“Of course,” Jean said. “Nearly every farmer will have something entered.”
Adam smiled. “That's why I'm here.” He glanced at Laurel. “Then I'll be heading back to Europe. Things are heating up over there.”
Reality hit Laurel. Adam wouldn't be staying. Sadness seeped through her.
“We're happy to have you,” Jean said. “Can you stay for supper?”
“I've been dreaming about your cooking. Of course I'll stay.” Adam's eyes swept over neat, mounded rows of vegetables and dark loam, then moved to the mountains. He breathed deeply. “In London I'd remember how beautiful it is here, but the memories aren't nearly as good as the real thing.” He glanced at Laurel. “It'll be hard to leave.”
The following morning Laurel headed for the forest to pick cranberries. Adam tagged along. She carried an empty lard bucket, hitting it with a stick periodically as they walked.
“Why are you making that racket?”
“The bears are filling their bellies before winter gets here. It's best to let them know we're coming. It's not a good idea to surprise one.”
“Oh.” Adam searched the ground and picked up a branch. He started beating his own pail. “So, this will send them off, huh?”
“Usually. I've never had a problem, but bears are unpredictable.” Laurel wasn't sure she liked the idea of Adam joining her. It probably wasn't a good idea to spend time alone. She knew Robert wouldn't like it.
They entered the woods and immediately found bushes heavy with clusters of red berries. “They're loaded. These make great jellies and syrups.”
Adam immediately plucked a firm, round fruit and held it to his nose. “Smells funny.” He popped it in his mouth, then spat it out. “They're sour. How do you eat these?”
Laurel laughed. “I told you, Mama makes jelly and syrup out of them. She adds lots of sugar.” Laurel untied a length of rope she'd cinched around her waist and ran it through the bucket handle, then looped the rope around her waist, pulling it snug and tying it. “This way your hands are free to pick.”
“Good idea,” Adam said, unbuckling his belt to secure his pail. He picked a handful of berries and set them carefully in the bottom of his pail. “So, you and Robert are still planning on getting married?”
