Apple Orchard Bride. Jessica Keller

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      She twisted to lean against the counter, lightly pulling out of his hold. “He has trouble sleeping. His hands tremble. Six months ago, I didn’t know much about MS, and now I feel like I’m an encyclopedia for it.”

      “I’m sorry.” That her dad had an illness. That she was the only family he had, the only one who could shoulder taking care of him long-term. That she’d be alone someday after her dad passed. That her life had been upended by it all.

      He was sorry for all of it. But he didn’t have to explain. She got it.

      “He was diagnosed seven years ago.” Her shoulders sagged. “He kept that from me. From everyone. If he had told me when he started feeling bad, I would have left school. I could have left before my sophomore year. Before...” Her gaze sought his, desperate for encouragement. “He was suffering quietly that whole time, and I missed it. How did I miss it?”

      “Hey.” He clamped his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this or made it worse. You have to believe that, or else questioning it will eat you alive.”

      “You were so young.” She looked at the ground. “With Ben.”

      Even fifteen years later, he couldn’t talk about Ben. Didn’t want to. Not even with Jenna.

      Toby’s arm slacked. “Don’t worry about the motorized wheelchair. I get what it means to you...why it’s such a hard thing. But I’ll help. I’ll build a ramp into the house this weekend.”

      Jenna’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t even think about that. I should probably move his bedroom downstairs, too.”

      Toby mapped out their farmhouse in his mind. “Yes, the bedroom can go into his office. That’s a great idea.”

      “And we’ll move out the rugs and install some handrails.” The first real smile lit up her face. It brought life to her blue eyes, along with the excitement and freedom he was used to seeing there. He’d counted on these expressions from her. She was his beacon of hope, his best friend. Back again. If only for the span of a few heartbeats.

      Toby’s heart twisted. He’d do anything to get her to smile more around him. “We’ll make that place safe for him.”

      “Thank you.” She eased away from the counter. “I really should head in and check on him. I’ll talk to him about moving his room downstairs.”

      “I’ll finish the cider and head back out to the orchard.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tree line. “It looks like there’s going to be a great harvest. You’ve worked hard here, all on your own. You’re a strong woman, Jenna. I hope you know that.”

      She tossed down the dishrag and muttered, “If only that was true.”

      He opened his mouth to argue with her, but Jenna headed toward the door. She glanced over her shoulder as she exited. “Bring the cider to dinner. You’re welcome to join us around five.”

      “I’ll have Kasey.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.

      “Kasey’s welcome, too. I want to meet her.”

      “Then we’ll be there.”

Chapter Four

      Jenna dumped chunks of mushrooms into the skillet, followed by a chopped onion and a handful of fresh thyme, pressed garlic, and a dash of salt and pepper. The mixture popped and sizzled in the hot pan, and the earthy aroma from the blend of seasonings made her mouth water. She’d skipped lunch again, hadn’t she? Not intentionally. She’d just gotten busy. Jenna rolled her shoulders once. There was way too much to get done before their orchard opened to the public next weekend.

      Dad clanked a cup with a plate as he set the table.

      She pivoted to watch his movements. How long until he couldn’t move at all? Until he lost his sight? Until...?

      She had to stop. Those thoughts weren’t helpful. More often than not, his gait was jerky and his arms volleyed between the extremes of shaky and stiff, robotic. He tried to hide it. Tried to quell her worries. But watching him made fear claw through her stomach all the same.

      Jenna tightened her grip on the skillet’s handle.

      Not my dad. Don’t do this to him. Why is this happening? Why don’t You care?

      She absently scraped the spatula through the mushrooms. “You don’t have to do that,” she said to her father.

      “I’m perfectly capable of setting a table.” He had four more glasses tucked between his arm and chest.

      Another clank.

      Jenna raised her eyebrows but then took in a deep breath. Even though she wanted to march across the kitchen and pull the cups from his hands, she forced her feet to stay by the oven. It didn’t do to argue with him. It just made his face fall, as if he thought she wanted to hurt him. He didn’t get it. She was trying to take care of him, make his life easier, and trying to tax him as little as possible so he’d live longer. Why couldn’t he see that?

      “Jenna, I’m fine.”

      He moved to set down the next cup and lost hold of it. The glass smacked the edge of the heavy butcher-block-style tabletop, rocketed toward the ground and shattered. He made a late move to try to catch the glass, which sent a second cup down the same path of destruction.

      Shards shot around the room like a firecracker going off.

      “Oh, dear.” Dad gripped the back of the chair and hung his head.

      “I’ll get it. Don’t move.” Jenna lurched forward, but smoke curled from the skillet. She needed to take out the mushrooms and put the fillets in, or else dinner would be ruined. But Dad was barefoot and shouldn’t be near the glass. He couldn’t drop to his knees and clean the mess up either, because it would be too hard for him to get back up off the floor.

      She’d have to do it. And figure out how to salvage dinner later.

      Although truthfully, all she felt like doing was crying or screaming. Both at once didn’t sound so bad. Watching her father deteriorate piece by piece each day felt as if someone was slowly puncturing the deepest parts of her heart, creating holes where hope and faith leaked out of her life. Drip by drip. Never to return.

      The back door opened. Toby’s gaze went from the pile of glass on the ground to Jenna’s face. He held up a hand to block the child following behind him and then the other one to Jenna so she wouldn’t move. He mouthed, “Let me,” as he set a jug of fresh cider on the counter. Jenna nodded. She quickly dumped the mushrooms onto a waiting plate but decided to hold off on adding the fillet medallions until the chaos in the kitchen subsided.

      Toby smiled at Dad, an understanding passing between them, and then turned toward the small girl. What struck Jenna most was that Kasey looked like a carbon copy of Toby’s cousin, Sophia. Her family used to visit the Holcombs every summer. Sophia had even stayed at Jenna’s house for a few girls’-night sleepovers. Kasey and her mother shared identical long, dark hair and striking СКАЧАТЬ