Page 14 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

Porch Goose

? No One Needs to Know - Shania Twain

Olivia

A rush of nostalgia hits me the moment I step onto the rickety porch of my childhood home, the weathered boards creaking beneath my feet.

Mom’s gardening gloves are sitting atop the table beneath the crooked mailbox, with her rubber boots on the mat below.

The little goose statue with his yellow raincoat and matching hat is still perched on the opposite side of the sage-green door with the sun-bleached artificial tulip wreath.

The familiar scent of home envelopes me when I walk through the front door.

Everything is just as I left it, almost as if no time has passed at all.

Boots are lined up near the same floral wallpaper that’s been in the entry forever, behind the coat hook holding Mom’s well-worn straw hat and gardening smock.

I turn the corner through the narrow archway into the living room. The walls are a light butter-yellow, covered in mismatched framed photos from my childhood. The same slipcovered cream sofa sits near the picture windows with the gossamer curtains filtering the harsh rays of the mid-morning sun.

It was a beautiful childhood, though sometimes lonely.

I grew up an only child, but that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

I was one of a set; one half of a whole that never was.

Tucked away inside the china cabinet, there’s a faded photo of my mom holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink and blue striped baby blanket—the only proof of my baby brother’s momentary existence.

I trail my fingers over the glass before following the familiar path through the hallway toward the sun room at the back of the house. Mom’s exactly where I thought she’d be, in her white wicker chair with her knitting needles in hand—a set of newborn booties in the making. How ironic.

“Livie!” Mom places her project on the side table next to a steaming cup of tea and pulls me in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

Do I tell her now? When the stick turned blue, I wanted to call my mom immediately, but there’s another part of me that’s terrified of her reaction. I thought I might be able to muster the courage if I showed up in person, but now that I’m standing here, the timing doesn’t feel right.

My parents aren’t terribly religious, but I know it’s going to disappoint her to find out I’m pregnant with a near stranger’s baby.

I’m afraid she’s going to judge me for my impulsiveness, and even though she’d be right in that assessment, I’m not ready to face it.

Call me a coward, but I want to bask in my excitement for a little while longer.

My life may be a mess, but this baby is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

“Just missed you. Where’s Daddy?”

“Out in the fields, of course. Almost planting season.”

“Corn? Or is it soybeans this year?” I sink into the chair on the other side of the table as Mom retakes her seat and pulls her knitting back into her lap.

My mom has always been beautiful—the spitting image of a younger Grammy. Her blonde hair is peppered with greys these days, and the lines around her blue eyes have deepened, but looking at my mom is like getting a glimpse into my future.

“Corn,” she says. “Half of last year's soybean crops failed, so Daddy’s been looking at buying some extra land. Something about the water retention in one of the fields. You know I don't understand half of what he’s saying.”

I giggle. “Over thirty years married to a farmer, you’d think you would’ve picked up a thing or two by now.”

“We were busy doing other things.”

“Ew. Gross, Mom.”

“Oh, stop it! I meant raising you. Not to mention chasing you and Sarah around the damn farm.” Her face turns serious. “How are you doing since…”

“You mean since the man I thought I was going to marry cheated on me with my best friend?” I wrinkle my nose. “Not great, but I’ll survive. I always do.”

“Better you know now, Liv. The right man is out there somewhere.”

My mind automatically drifts to Wilder and our stolen moments on the plane. The big, broken cowboy who somehow worked his way under my skin in a matter of forty-eight hours.

You sure know how to pick ‘em, Liv.

“How did you know Daddy was the one?”

A wistful smile spreads across her face as she continues to work the yarn around the knitting needles.

“I don’t know if it was any one thing. There was a spark from the moment we locked eyes, and it developed quickly after that.

When we weren’t flirting, we were laughing.

When we were apart, we were constantly on each other’s minds.

” She glances out over the landscape with a thoughtful expression.

“He brought me tulips every day for a month because he knew how much I loved them. He took care of me even when I was stubbornly trying to push him away.” She reaches for one of my hands and gives it a squeeze.

“Find someone you can laugh with. Someone who brings out the best in you. Someone who can see you at your worst and still make you feel beautiful. When you do, make him work for it. The things worth having are always worth fighting for.”

Wilder has already seen me at my worst, and he’s never wavered for a moment, but that doesn’t mean he’s the one for me.

I want to believe the right man is out there, but what if I miss him because I’m too focused on the one who’s still grieving?

No, I can’t afford to get all twisted up in Wilder Hayes.

I’m a mess. He’s a mess. Nothing good could ever come from two messes colliding.

Standing, I swipe my hands over my jeans. “I better get back to the diner to help Grammy with the lunch rush.”

Mom stands and pulls me in for another hug. “Be patient, my love. The right one is worth waiting for.”

Wednesday, May 21st, 8:23AM

Wilder: Good morning. How are you feeling?

Olivia: Considering I’ve had my head dangling over the edge of a toilet for the last hour, not great.

Wilder: Do you need anything? I could stop by the drug store.

Olivia: I’m all set, but thank you. ??

Thursday, May 22nd, 1:56PM

Wilder: Storm misses you.

Olivia: I miss her, too. Give her a peppermint for me.

Photo of storm eating a peppermint.

Friday, May 23rd, 10:22AM

Wilder: Are you going to be at the festival tomorrow?

Olivia: Yep. Working the Rosie’s booth with Grammy.

Wilder: Save me something sweet. ??

Friday, May 23rd, 5:55PM

Olivia: Look at these tiny cowboy boots!

Photo of little pink boots.

Wilder: Buy them.

Olivia: We don’t even know if it’s a girl

Wilder: Buy them anyway.

Money transfer.

Wilder: Get something nice for my baby mama, too.

Saturday, May 24th, 4:32PM

Wilder: Feeling okay? You don’t need me for anything?

Olivia: I’m not going to fake an illness to rescue you from the auction, Big Guy.