Apple Orchard Bride. Jessica Keller

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СКАЧАТЬ just as much as she seemed to—but the words lodged in his throat.

      He glanced back at her. No...he couldn’t tell her that he failed at everything. That he was bound to fail in his fresh attempt at a relationship with God. That he’d end up failing her. Again. Like he’d failed her after her mom died. It was impossible to say something like that when she was looking at him for the first time in the old way she used to when they were kids, with her eyes large, lighting up, as if talking together was the best and safest thing in the world.

      Jenna relaxed her arms. “That’s not the answer I thought you’d have.”

      Toby swallowed hard. “What did you think I’d say?”

      “I thought you’d say you changed for your daughter’s sake.”

      “My—wait—my what?” He jerked his head toward her, trying to read Jenna’s face for any signs that she was kidding.

      “Kasey...your daughter.”

      Wait. She thought? No. “Kasey’s not my daughter.”

      “You said earlier that you guessed she was yours.” Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

      “I was named her guardian in the will.”

      “Guardian? So who—?”

      “You remember Sophia, my cousin, don’t you?”

      “Sophia died? She was younger than us.” Jenna touched his wrist. “Tobe, I’m so sorry.” Her hold tightened. “Oh, poor Kasey. Losing her mom so young.”

      “I hoped you could help her since...” your mom died when you were young, too. “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a little girl. When your dad found out, he called and offered the bunkhouse, a job. My parents live in a retirement community, no kids allowed. I’m all Kasey has now. If I hadn’t accepted guardianship, they’d have placed her into foster care. I couldn’t let that happen.” He shook his head.

      “You did the right thing.” She laid her hand over his for a second, then cupped it back with her other in her lap.

      “I can’t do it alone though. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He skirted his gaze to hers. Her deep blue eyes captured his, and he never wanted to look away. They could be friends again. Everything could go back to how it was before. “Will you help me?”

      “Of course. However I can.”

      And just like that, they were a united force. He still needed to get to the bottom of why Jenna had been so upset this morning, but that would come in time.

Chapter Three

      Jenna tried to focus on the abstract watercolor in the doctor’s office at her father’s follow-up appointment the next day. Staring at the strange shapes was easier than looking at her dad or the doctor. Thankfully, Toby had stayed back at the orchard to tend to the work they’d missed yesterday and wouldn’t have accomplished today if he hadn’t been around. Busy fussing over her father the rest of yesterday, Jenna had missed her opportunity to meet Kasey but hoped to rectify that once she was home from school today.

      But after this blow, who knew? A motorized wheelchair. Her father, who used to think nothing of working ten hours a day in the busy season—the man who had taught her to ride horseback, to swim and to race on her bike—was being told it was best for him not to walk on his own going forward.

      “You’re telling me my father can’t walk anymore?” Jenna tried to modulate her voice. It wasn’t Dr. Karol’s fault—he was a messenger, tasked with delivering bad information. Still, worry simmered through her veins.

      “Jenna.” Her father’s voice held a warning.

      But she pressed on. “He fell. Doesn’t everyone fall sometimes?” She heard the desperation in her own voice. Tell me it’s all a cruel joke. Tell me Dad will just get better on his own.

      “The type of MS your father has—”

      “It’s PPMS, I know. I know it’s different from normal multiple sclerosis.” She didn’t mean to be rude, but she’d attended every one of Dad’s appointments for the past six months. She had already listened to Dr. Karol talk about Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis—PPMS—in detail on many occasions.

      Dr. Karol nodded and leaned against the counter. “With primary progressive the legs lose power, and simple tasks, like going out to check the mail, can deplete all of a person’s energy.”

      “And some days it sure does,” Dad agreed.

      How could he be taking the news so easily?

      Jenna clutched the brochure that broke down how much their insurance would cover toward each of their chair options. “But saying he’s not allowed to walk...that...that takes away his ability to live.” Once people weren’t mobile, didn’t they get pneumonia? And people could die of pneumonia. That’s what had happened to Mom.

      The doctor set down his clipboard and opened the small laptop on the counter. “On the contrary. Using a motorized chair, especially with the technology that exists these days, gives back movement and strength. Right now, Richard expends all his energy by noon, just from being mobile in your house. But a chair allows you to store that energy—it gives back his life because there are reserves left to spend time with family or go outside. Think, during harvest your father can come out to the orchard and oversee your work.”

      Jenna still wasn’t convinced as she helped her father into the car and started driving home. Not walking meant accepting defeat. It meant accepting that her father was ill. She wasn’t ready for that. Might never be. She tried to repeat what Toby had told her yesterday at the ER. That every situation was a chance to show love—to show God. But her heart had a hard time digesting that. Mom had died so quickly after becoming bedridden. While a motorized chair wasn’t the same thing, wasn’t it a step in that direction? Not my dad. I won’t let that happen to him, too.

      Her knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel. She eased her grip.

      Dad rolled down the window and braced his arm along the frame. Warm September air laced with dampness from Lake Michigan tumbled into the car. “I don’t like admitting I need a chair any more than you do, but it seems like the right choice.”

      Jenna blinked, trying to get a clear view of the road. She needed to be strong for her father. No crying. No falling apart. “We can safety-proof the house. Take away all the rugs and anything that could cause you to trip.”

      “Jenna.”

      “And if you want to be part of the harvest, you can ride shotgun in the truck. We take the pickup down the rows anyway. Toby won’t mind.”

      “Jenna.”

      “And we could—”

      “Honeybee, stop. I’m sick.” He fisted his hands, but not quickly enough to hide the shaking. From stress. She was causing that. Guilt punched at her heart.

      He rested his head against the back of the seat. “My body’s failing me. Admitting that is part of being able to move forward СКАЧАТЬ