What else had her sister omitted? Laurel was always trying to protect her. Josie should’ve inquired more directly. “How bad is it?” The fragrance from her lavender plant wafted by on a breeze, and Josie closed her eyes, inhaled the calming scent, letting it fill her up, soothe her frayed nerves.
“The place is a money pit. We don’t have anything else to put into it.”
This changes everything, Josie. Do you realize that?
The selfish thought materialized before she could stop it. Her plans . . . How could she follow through now? When Laurel was overburdened with a failing orchard and pregnant with twins?
Nate was speaking again. “Grady insists he can turn the place around, but I’m wondering if we shouldn’t sell it.”
She and Laurel were the third generation to own the orchard, and as far as Josie knew, not one of the Mitchells had thought those words, much less said them. And she’d thought Laurel would be the last one to do so.
“Laurel’s considering that?” Their father’s death had left Josie with shares that tied her to the place. Even three hundred and fifty miles away, it dragged behind her wherever she went, weighing her down like an anchor. But if Laurel was considering a sale . . .
Now that she’d slipped the thought on for size, it was starting to feel more comfortable, like her favorite pair of Levi’s.
“I haven’t exactly broached the topic,” Nate said.
That was precisely what needed to happen. It was something her father should’ve done long ago, before he’d saddled Laurel with his own care and the care of the orchard.
“How does this year’s crop look?”
“Promising. She was hoping this year would put us in the black. But a strong crop means extra work and plenty of hands on deck. And I can’t afford time off.”
Nate ran Shelbyville’s one and only insurance agency. Good thing they’d had his income to fall back on.
“So can you come back and help us through the harvest?” he asked.
Josie’s eyes flitted over the lacy white alyssum, past the potted strawberry plant toward the haven of her darkened apartment. She closed her eyes and was, in an instant, back at Blue Ridge Orchard. She could almost smell the apples ripening on the trees. Hear the snap of the branch as an apple twisted free. See the ripples of Sweetwater Creek running alongside the property.
And with that thought, the other memories came. The ones that had chased her from Shelbyville six years ago. The ones that still chased her every day. The ones that, at the mention of going home, caused a dread, deep and thick in her belly.
“Josie, you there?”
She opened her eyes, swallowing hard. “I’m here.”
“I know you’ve got your photography job and your plans and your life.”
She breathed a wry laugh. Ironically, none of that mattered. The one plan that did matter could still play out. Same tune, different venue.
What mattered most now was seeing that Laurel’s life was settled. And Laurel’s life wouldn’t be settled until she was out from under the orchard. Josie saw that clearly now. And it wouldn’t happen, she knew, without a lot of coaxing. She only hoped there was enough time.
“I wouldn’t have called if we weren’t desperate.”
Josie took one last deep breath of the lavender, shoved down the dread, and forced the words.
“I’ll come.”