A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(30)

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m down to forty-nine and a half.”

He just smiled. Then he leaned toward her and pressed his cheek against her cheek. He let go of one of her hands and slid his around her waist to the small of her back, just enough to hold her while he felt the softness of her cheek and the tickle of her hair. He hummed softly, content. They stood like that for a long moment. Then he slowly pulled back and while looking into her beautiful eyes, touched her lips with his. He felt her lean into him a little and watched as her eyes slowly closed.

He didn’t push his luck. He pulled back. “Was that okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Lovely.”

“How do you feel about us now?”

“Maybe forty-nine.”

He laughed loudly. “Not even forty-eight and a half? We didn’t even get a whole year? I obviously have work to do with you.”

“Be careful you don’t drive it in the other direction.”

He laughed and led her down the road toward the lambs. Matt had never had to be careful before. He’d had almost legendary success with the girls, then the women. This one wasn’t going to fall into his lap. He didn’t want her to, he realized. He wanted to work for her. Earn her. Deserve her. Be good for her. “You’re going to love the lambs,” he said.

* * *

It was such a perfect June day to gambol about the farm, Ginger thought. And that was really what they were doing, she and Matt, hand in hand, walking at a leisurely pace, visiting the new lambs and the not-so-new lambs. The babies were in the lambing pens inside, though they were big enough to be outside in such perfect weather. There were just a few late lambs; most had been born at least a month earlier.

The weather wasn’t the only thing that was perfect. Ginger had begun thinking that while there were people in her life she trusted and could talk to, for some reason this new friendship with Matt was deeper and more trusting than anything she had known. She assumed it was because they were recovering from similar heartaches. But they only visited those subjects a little bit, then moved on to other things—his family, his education, her family and how everyone but her seemed consumed in the family business.

“How long have you known this was what you wanted to do—farm?”

“I think I was born knowing,” he said. “I never wanted anything else. I only write, research and teach occasionally to stay well-rounded. It’s important to stay involved in the community. We go to a lot of town meetings—things like zoning, environmental issues, property tax, lots of things to stay on top of. I grew up knowing these things.”

“I envy that,” she said. “I’m the only person in the family who hasn’t found any study or industry that would be fulfilling for a lifetime. I’ve had jobs, and while none of them were going to make me rich or successful, I was satisfied.”

“Did your parents ever push you?”

“There was the occasional comment asking if I didn’t think about college. I took a few classes. I was interested in literature but not English or composition. I liked some history but most of it put me to sleep. I’ve never been any good at geography. And math? Forget it.”

“Science?” he asked.

“Yes, anatomy. Basic biology was okay but I spent four weeks in chemistry before I just panicked and dropped it.”

He laughed. “Because it was hard?”

“Hard and intimidating!”

“I wonder how you’d feel about botany...”

“Now that I’ve visited a real working farm and work with flowers, I might find it interesting...”

They looked at George and Lori’s house, but just from the outside. Ginger remarked on the small garden on one side.

“That’s George. His wife isn’t too interested in that sort of thing. George says she won’t plant or cultivate but she’s good at picking for dinner. She, like Peyton, is more inclined toward medical pursuits. Lori is a physical therapist and has worked since they got married. Peyton, I have no doubt, will continue to work with Scott even after they have more children. She loves her work.”

“Where is everyone?” she asked. “I expected a lot of action around here.”

“By now I think they’re all at the big house. It’s not the biggest house—George’s is actually bigger, but it will always be the big house because my parents are there and it’s built for an army. Only seven rooms, but they’re huge rooms. On Sundays when the farm is quiet, no planting, breeding, lambing or harvest, the family just maintains. There are daily chores but it’s the only day of the week there’s actual rest. They take care of the animals, then go to mass, then have an early dinner. It’s the only day of the week the family eats before six. I left a note for my mother that you might join us, but it’s up to you. There could be a lot of them.”

“Really?”

“George’s family, I have two sisters nearby, Ginny and Ellie, but they divide their time between my parents and their husbands’ families. You know the food will be great but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“If you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing...”

“I’m sure it would be a challenge to get you away from them. My mother especially. She lives to feed people, especially people who are at her table for the first time.”