Bet The Farm - Staci Hart Page 0,58

heart climbed into my throat and stuck there.

It should have felt complicated. I should have shied away from the thought. But instead, I found hope. I found possibility. I found the thrill and fear that Jake could be everything for me, if we could uphold each other’s trust.

And if he felt the same way.

17

Heights

JAKE

From my perch in the hayloft window, I could see all that Olivia had done in a sweeping panoramic.

Below me bustled what appeared to be the entire town and half the town next door, the hum of the crowd far enough away that I couldn’t make out a single voice other than the occasional burst of laughter or a cheer from the direction of the carnival games.

I’d spent the day going about my duties—heifers needed milking regardless of the holiday—and for a while, I kept myself busy in the barn where I could keep an eye on the animals we allowed to be petted, ready to pounce should the need arise. But it never did.

Little kids and plenty of adults stood beyond the pens, cooing and smiling at the animals. Olivia had rented a tent, and we’d put up a temporary pen for the goats and the piglets with a farmhand inside to help the kids and make sure no one got bitten. The calf pens were busy with people bottle feeding them through the fences.

I didn’t think there was an unhappy face in the whole place.

Other than mine, I supposed. But that was just how my face looked.

But even I couldn’t muster up a complaint, seeing everyone so happy. The delight on their faces as they fed a calf or held a carrot as a baby goat nibbled on it. After work, I’d gotten myself cleaned up and wandered around. Picked up some barbecue, had a couple of beers. Within about an hour, I had enough peopling, so I’d put Bowie to bed, snagged a sixer, and climbed up in the loft to watch.

It had taken me a long time for me to get what the Fourth of July was all about. Mama and I never celebrated, and it wasn’t until I moved here that I even participated. But I didn’t see the magic in it—it made me feel like an outsider until I became a citizen.

Something happens to you when you stand in a room and pledge your allegiance to a country where you’ve always lived but never belonged. A door opened that day, and when I walked through it, the meaning of days like today changed. People tended to forget the hope that this country was built on, but when you chose this place, when you fought to be here, when you had to earn your life … it all meant so much more than hotdogs and fireworks. Days like today reminded me of everything I had to be thankful for. And all because of Pop and this farm.

I owed him everything.

I took a sip of my beer in an attempt to open up my throat.

I’d unknowingly skipped out on my refugee review when Mama died. I thought they’d take me, send me to Croatia. I didn’t even know the language, didn’t know a single soul. And if they’d deported me, I never would have been able to come back. So I ran. And since I missed the review, I was up for immediate deportation. Keeping me here required a fight with government lawyers, which are some of the best in the country. To win, we needed the best. And the best wasn’t cheap.

Sometimes it felt like I’d be paying off that debt until I took my last breath.

I’d happily work my fingers to the bone to honor it.

The crowd below me contained faces I knew and plenty I didn’t. Some I hadn’t seen in years, some I saw every day. But there was a sense of unbridled joy that floated up into the trees and to the stars, and I caught it as it rose. I watched Olivia as she watched the sunset from her porch, unable to ignore the deep gratitude I felt for her, for all of this.

Sentimental but true. The last few weeks had run smoothly now that we were working together. Occasionally, she’d mention the bet, and I’d just make a joke and change the subject. Because the truth was, I hoped she won.

I didn’t want her to go.

Granted, I still thought she was bonkers. She ran into everything she did full tilt, no hesitation. She had a thought,