Page 77 of Chasing the Sun

Sheila and Rose had been my bingo accomplices, and Cal had made sure we had all gotten home safely. I lifted my coffee mug in solidarity and shook my head, taking a sip.

The day was definitely salvageable.

I looked out onto the farm and its rolling hills. Star Harbor Farm was in various states of progress, but our biggest setback had been the fire at the barn. The barn was meant to be the welcoming showpiece, a grand testament to everything Star Harbor Farm stood for—community, agriculture, and good old family fun. What stood in its place was the blackened remains of charred wood and heartbreak.

I reached for my phone, capturing a panoramic image of Star Harbor Farm, the burned remains of the barn clearly visible. People were so enthusiastic to see our progress, and this would continue to be a part of it. The wind whispered through the skeleton of the barn, rattling the charred beams like bones. A place that once held so much potential had been reduced to nothing but blackened ruin.

I clenched my fists. This place deserved morethan my grief.

It deserved rebuilding.

In my green boots, I trudged across the farm, noting that there was still so much hope and potential in the lush pumpkin vines that grew stronger every single day. I couldn’t let one setback, no matter how devastating it seemed, ruin what we were going for.

Stan was counting on me. The community was counting on me.

In the light of day, the barn was just as bad as it had felt on the night of the fire. Nothing had been salvageable except for a few thick beams that had only minor charring. Those had been placed to the side, but the rest had been hauled away.

With my phone, I captured a few more pictures, attempting to be artful in the way I explained exactly what had happened and where we would go from there. I left out the boys’ involvement, of course, but shared that the tragic accident had claimed the heart of Star Harbor Farm.

When I looked back through the pictures, I had somehow used moody lighting and elegant angles to capture the heartbreak and loss I had felt settle into my bones.

I typed out a heartfelt caption:Sometimes, something has to be taken away for something better to grow in its place.

I wanted it to be true. As I looked around the expanse of the farm, for the first time I wondered whether this feat was too large to pull off. I stared at the rubble so long that my chest hurt.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Stan’s voice floated over my shoulder and I turned, my face twisting in confusion at his comment.

I exhaled, kicking a rock in the general direction of the barn. “I’m not sure we’re looking at the same thing,” I pouted.

Stan sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, his arms accentuating the movement. “Look at this view.” One hand swept out to the sand dune cliff beyond the barn and the glittering waters of Lake Michigan. “Where else in the world can you get a view like this?”

A smile tickled my cheek. I closed my eyes and let the soft breeze wash over me, just as a group of sandhill cranes flew overhead, their dinosaur-like squawking making my smile blossom.

“It’s a beautiful summer day. We all woke up safe in our beds. Some people in someone else’s bed.” I peeked to find Stan hitting me with a knowing look, and I could feel my cheeks get hot as he feigned ignorance. “Sure was an early morning for Cal to be walking out of your cottage ...” He raised both his hands. “But I’ll leave that between the two of you.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “He was just checking on me.” I glanced up at the old man who had become more of a grandfather than I had ever known. “I let loose a little too hard last night, but he made sure I made it home safe.”

Stan nodded. “That sure sounds like the Cal I know. He likes to pretend the cold exterior is who he is, but every so often you get a glimpse of the man beneath all that. And that ... is another miracle in itself.”

My smile warmed. Stan had such a simple, yet eloquent, way with words. The world deserved to experience it. They deserved to see the vision of Star Harbor Farm I had sold him come to life. Feeling sorry for myself or letting something as simple as a totally devastating, almost life-threatening barn fire get in my way seemed downright silly.

I squinted against the sun, feeling more determinedthan ever. My eyes shifted to Stan. “Think there’s a YouTube video on how to build a barn?”

A hearty chuckle rumbled through him as he threw one arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a side hug.

TWENTY-THREE

ELODIE

There were,in fact,lotsof YouTube videos on how to build a barn.

Unfortunately for me, and much to my dismay, I slowly came to the realization that building an entire barn from scratch would beslightlyoutside of my wheelhouse. After unending calls to local contractors, I also learned that it would be several months before construction could even begin, given that the summer months were the busiest in the profession.

As much as I hated to admit defeat, it looked as though Star Harbor Farm would have to open without the barn as its heart and showpiece. Undeterred and knowing there was no rest for the weary, I moved down to the next best thing on my to-do list:Source a stupid number of straw bales.

After borrowing the keys to Stan’s farm truck, I climbed inside the cab of the old square-body Ford. I turned the key and the engine cranked to life. Surely someone in town knew of a local farmer looking to sell off some straw. The truck’s seat rumbled beneath me as I bounced across the gravel road that led to the main roadway.

When I rounded the bend on the way toward town, I noticed a horse and buggy pulled off to the side of the road. Growing up in Western Michigan, Amish and Mennonite communities were a part of life. It wasn’t uncommon to see a horse-drawn carriage trotting down the main roadway, the drivers lifting a hand in greeting as you passed.