Elsbeth stared out of the kitchen window, hugging her sketchbook to her chest, and watched as the dust cloud behind Philip’s truck faded into the distance. And for one wild, ridiculous heartbeat, she wished it was Philip who’d stayed instead of Finn.
The thought shocked her.
After all, she needed Finn’s expert opinion on her plans for the farm. But there was something about Philip, an undeniable connection…and attraction.
She turned sharply, retreating toward the steps, scolding herself.
You’re not here for a man, Elsbeth. You’re here for your dream. For Mom. For yourself.
Finn was the one helping her with plans. He was the professional. The one she was supposed to focus on.
Still, as she set her sketchbook down on the table and reached for the coffee pot, she couldn’t quite shake the hollow feeling Philip’s absence left behind.
Focusing on making a fresh pot of coffee, she measured out the grounds with careful precision. It was a small, manageable task…unlike her thoughts, which kept wandering back to Philip’s hands in the soil, the quiet intensity of his gaze when he spoke about the land.
How she liked it when he turned that intense gaze on her… And how his hands brushing hers made her stomach clench with longing…
It was as if he had cast a spell on her. One she did not want to break.
Elsbeth jumped guiltily and nearly spilled the coffee grounds as the screen door creaked open and Finn stepped inside. “Philip said to tell you he’ll be back tomorrow to help locate that spring.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh? He doesn’t need to do that.”
“Trust me,” Finn said with a knowing smile. “He wants to.”
“That’s...nice of him.” Elsbeth busied herself with the coffee maker, hoping Finn couldn’t see the flush creeping up her neck. “Why don’t you take a seat? I’m just making coffee.” As if Finn couldn’t see for himself!
Finn smiled and settled himself at the kitchen table. “Coffee sounds perfect.”
As the machine gurgled to life, Elsbeth busied herself gathering mugs and spoons, grateful for the distraction.
“So,” Finn said casually, “how long have you been planning this flower farm?”
Elsbeth’s hands stilled momentarily on the cupboard door. “All my life, in a way. My mother had a garden when I was growing up, and I loved helping her plant seeds and nurture the plants. Nothing like what I’m planning here, but it was magical to me.” She pulled down two mugs and set them on the counter as a wave of emotion swept over her.
“And now you’re here making it a reality,” Finn said as he took his notebook out of his pocket and opened it up.
“Yes.” She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. “At least, trying to.”
“Okay, I’m here to help make your dream a reality.”
Did he have any idea that he already had, by bringing Philip into her life?
She shook off that thought as she poured the coffee. There could be no distractions. None at all. Especially none with broad shoulders and eyes that seemed to see into the depths of her soul.
“Where do we start?” Elsbeth asked as she set two steaming mugs of coffee down on the table.
“You have sketches?” Finn asked.
“I do.” She flipped open her sketchbook, and as they discussed fencing materials, gate placements, and irrigation lines, Elsbeth found herself relaxing slightly.
Finn was good at what he did. Extremely thorough without being overwhelming, suggesting smart, cost-effective solutions without talking down to her.
“Okay,” he finally said as he flipped his notebook closed. “I think I have everything I need for now. I suggest you start on the irrigation system first. If you find the spring, we can tweak the plans. If not, the system we’ve designed will still work just fine.”
“Thanks, Finn,” Elsbeth said with some relief at his confident tone.
“No, thank you for making my job easier. You have good instincts.” He tapped her hand-drawn map. “The way you laid things out has saved me a lot of work.”
Elsbeth flushed, a little embarrassed but pleased. “I’m just hoping it’ll work out.”
Finn gave her a long, steady look. “It will. You’ve already done the hardest part.”
She tilted her head, curious. “What’s that?”
He smiled. “You believed enough to try.”
Her eyes misted with tears. It had felt like anything but brave most days. Half the time, she still worried she was making a fool of herself, chasing a dream better suited to someone stronger. Someone less…breakable. Because a part of her was broken. And she didn’t know how to heal.
“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered, tracing her finger along the edge of her mug. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
Finn leaned back in his chair. “That’s how all good dreams feel. Too big, too much.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Elsbeth agreed. “I guess it feels scary because I barely know anyone in town yet.”
“You know me,” Finn said with a friendly smile. “And Philip.”
Her cheeks warmed at the mention of Philip’s name. “I suppose I do.”
“Trust me, knowing Philip is like having a whole army on your side. He’s the most reliable person I know.” Finn cracked a grin. She loved the way he spoke about his brother. There was a genuine love there—she could feel it.
“Are you saying I should thank you for sending him the wrong text?” she asked lightly.
“What can I say?” Finn leaned back, crossing his arms loosely. “Sometimes life gives you more than you planned for. And in this instance, it’s Philip.”
She looked away, pretending to study the fields beyond the porch. “I’m not looking for anything except a fresh start.”
“You might not say that when Philip finds that spring for you,” Finn said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“I would have to agree with you,” Elsbeth admitted with a soft laugh. “A spring would make things so much easier.”
“Exactly. Philip has this uncanny ability to read the land. It’s like he can sense what’s beneath the surface.” Finn gathered his notes, sliding them into his pocket. “Our grandfather was the same way.”
“Is that why he works with the vines at your family vineyard?” Elsbeth asked, curious to learn more about Philip.
“Partly. But it’s more than that.” Finn’s expression grew thoughtful. “Philip has this connection to growing things that goes beyond knowledge or experience. He understands them. Nurtures them.” He paused, giving her a meaningful look. “Not just vines, either.”
Elsbeth felt heat rising to her cheeks again. Was Finn implying something?
“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “I appreciate his help. And yours.”
Finn stood, stretching slightly. “I should head out. I’ll draw up those plans and get them to you by the end of the week.” He hesitated at the door. “And Elsbeth? Bear Creek has a way of giving people exactly what they need, even when they don’t know they need it.”
With that cryptic comment, he headed down the porch steps, leaving Elsbeth to wonder what exactly he meant. She stood there watching him as he got into his car and, with one last wave, drove away, leaving her alone.
As she went back inside, the farmhouse felt too big, too empty. So instead, she went back outside, picked up her spade, and headed toward her newly designated dahlia beds. There was work to be done, and dwelling on mysterious comments from Finn, or the way Philip’s eyes crinkled when he spoke about the land, wouldn’t get her flowers planted.
The evening sun warmed her shoulders as she broke ground on the first bed. This was why she was here. This was the dream.
“What do you think, Mom?” she whispered, pausing to wipe sweat from her brow. “Is this what you imagined for me?”
The breeze rustled through the tall grass, carrying no answer but bringing the scent of wildflowers—those bachelor’s buttons Philip had shown her. She smiled despite herself, remembering the way he’d explained the old folk tale, his voice low and gentle.
By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Elsbeth had marked out three beds and turned the soil in one. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the work, a reminder that she was doing something real, something tangible. That her flower farm was not simply a dream anymore.
She leaned on her spade, surveying her progress with satisfaction. Tomorrow she would work on the next bed…until Philip came.
Would he come and help her find the spring? Or had he simply been polite? The thought of him not returning made her heart sink in a way that was both surprising and unsettling.
As darkness settled over the farm, Elsbeth reluctantly gathered her tools and headed inside. The old farmhouse creaked and settled around her as she showered off the day’s dirt and sweat, her mind still out in the fields, planning and dreaming.
After toweling her hair dry, Elsbeth slipped into her soft cotton robe and padded toward her bedroom. The floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet as she moved through the shadowy hallway.
Suddenly, she froze mid-step.
A tingling sensation crawled up her spine, raising the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She shivered, despite the lingering warmth from her shower. Something felt...different. The air in the room seemed to thicken as if charged with invisible energy.
Elsbeth clutched her robe tighter around her body, pulling the belt into a firmer knot. Her heartbeat quickened as she moved cautiously toward the bedroom window.
She pushed the curtains aside and peered into the darkness, eyes straining to make out shapes in the moonlit yard. The fields stretched out before her, silver-blue in the moonlight, peaceful and still.
Nothing. Just shadows and starlight.
And yet...
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. That someone—or something—was out there, watching. But strangely, the sensation didn’t feel threatening. Not at all.
Elsbeth pressed her palm against the cool glass, her breath creating a small cloud of condensation. “Is someone there?” she whispered, though she knew no human ears could hear her through the closed window.
The night remained still, but the feeling persisted. A watchful presence, attentive and...protective. That was the word that surfaced in her mind. Whatever was out there wasn’t meant to frighten her. If anything, it felt more like a guardian.
“Mom?” The word escaped her lips before she could stop it, soft and hopeful. Her mother had always promised she’d watch over her, even after she was gone. Was this her spirit, keeping an eye on her daughter’s new beginning?
But as she gazed deeper into the darkness, a realization washed over her. This presence didn’t have her mother’s gentle energy. It was something else entirely, something wilder, more primal. Yet somehow...familiar.
Elsbeth leaned her forehead against the cool glass, tears welling in her eyes. The ache of missing her mother mingled with this strange new feeling, overwhelming her senses.
Movement caught her eye. There, among the moonlit wildflowers, a shadow shifted. A large, bulky form moved with surprising grace through the field, pausing occasionally as if scenting the air. Her breath caught in her throat. Was she seeing a ghost? Some spirit of the land?
The creature stopped abruptly, as if sensing her gaze, and turned toward the house. Two eyes reflected the moonlight, looking directly at her window.
A bear!
In that moment, something passed between them, a connection that resonated through her entire body. It was the same inexplicable feeling she’d experienced when Philip’s fingers had brushed against hers in the field, that same electric current of recognition.
Elsbeth took a sudden step backward, her hand releasing the curtain, which fell back into place with a soft swish . Her heart thudded in her chest as she pressed her hand against her mouth, an unexpected burst of laughter escaping between her fingers.
“I’m losing my mind,” she whispered to the empty room, her laughter edged with something like hysteria. “Completely losing it.”
First Philip, now imaginary bears prowling through her wildflowers? The stress of moving, of starting over, of carrying her mother’s dreams on her shoulders…it was clearly taking its toll. She was seeing connections where there were none, feeling things that couldn’t possibly be real.
But deep down, she knew. What she felt was real. The connection to Philip…the bear…
It was more real than anything she had ever known.
Yeah, she was surely going crazy. But if this was what crazy felt like…she’d take it.