Pick Your Battles: Chapter One
Drawing Battle Lines
Ford
Ford Evans struggled to wrap his brain around the size of four-hundred acres. Now that he was in charge of the buildings on his buddy’s apple farm, he figured he’d better get a feel for the size and scope of the property.
He grabbed his tablet and headed to the front of the property. Might as well start his initial survey of what needed to be done at the driveway and work his way in a logical pattern.
Ford had grown up in Miami and he knew blocks, square yards, and linear feet, but not acres. A walking tour of the entire place would help.
He’d been at the farm for the better part of a week, but building a compost facility had taken up a shit-ton—hah—of his time. Now, the Worminator was up and running, so Ford could turn his mind to the rest of the property to see what needed fixing, what needed rebuilding, and what tasks would take priority.
The To Do List would be long. Actually, the To Do Lists would be long. He was sure he’d have at least a dozen lists by the time he was done with his initial survey of the place. The thought had him grinning. He would never run out of things to do on the farm. It was perfect.
Who would have thought a kid from Florida would find his place on an apple farm in Vermont, land of winter and snow?
The thought sent chills down his spine, even though it was a warm spring day. Hurricanes? Sure. No problem. You could prep for those. He’d been building window coverings and filling sandbags since he’d been in kindergarten. He knew to always have a go-bag ready. The army had reinforced all those lessons of preparedness.
What the hell did a builder—a construction guy—do in the winter in Vermont? Building snow forts wasn’t quite the same as putting up new houses.
Although the family business back in Florida had turned more to commercial buildings. Not Ford’s favorite. He liked the buildings to have souls. He actually preferred restoring to building new, not something his family business did.
Older buildings had character. Newer ones were more about cost per square foot. Which meant fewer corners and less interesting shapes. Square boxes stacked on and beside square boxes.
He liked buildings that were unique. Things that had potential. Restoring that potential was the best part of being a builder.
His dad and older brothers, all seven of them, would disagree. They liked efficiency and safety. Straight lines and secure foundations. Nothing wrong with any of that, but it wasn’t Ford’s thing.
His only younger sibling, Mara, didn’t have a single interest in the family business. As the only female in the house, and the youngest, she’d gone out of her way to find something else to be interested in. Baking. Which had made the rest of them happy.
Ford had joined the army in a search to find his own place as well. He’d found his way into special forces and had enjoyed doing good around the world. But the army was a young man’s game and after a couple of tours, Ford had figured it was time to go home.
But that hadn’t fit. The family business was firmly established. With so many brothers, there hadn’t been a lot of open space in the company, and nothing Ford enjoyed. He’d been not much more than an errand boy and odd-job doer. Boring as hell.
So, here he was in Vermont. On an apple farm.
Not something that he’d ever thought about before. But his best buddy from the army, Knox Malssum, had inherited one. Then he’d talked Ford into taking a chance on working with him. Knox wanted Ford to be in charge of the buildings, the fences, and whatever else needed doing.
Like the Worminator. The name still made him laugh. Knox’s woman, Thea, was into regenerative farming. Something else Ford had known nothing about.
After building the Worminator, Ford knew more about compost, regenerative farming principles, and the vision Knox and Thea had for the farm. It was fascinating, and he looked forward to being part of the team, bringing this farm back to life in an environmentally healthy way.
Today, he’d start with a farm-wide tour and evaluation of all the structures. Once he had a prioritized list and inventory, he could make some decisions, figure out what needed his attention first.
The apple farm sat along a quiet secondary highway in Vermont. He figured he could stand there for a couple of hours before a single vehicle passed. The road led to a town with the ridiculous name of Phail in one direction and a bunch of even smaller towns in the other.
For a kid from a big city, it was bizarre. Quiet. So many trees and so much green. As different as Kansas was from Oz. He nearly groaned aloud. His sister’s loud love of musicals had drilled dozens of the songs and the storylines into his head.
Mara would love to know she had him thinking in musical terms, so he never planned to share that with her.
Ford shook his head at himself and pulled his mind back to the task. Inventory and evaluation. With the property being so large, it was going to take a while. Certainly more than a day.
He pulled up the first spreadsheet and wrote Roadside Fence on the first tab. The wooden fence bordering the property looked to be at least fifty years old, maybe closer to a hundred. It was worn and matched the feel of the farm. The typical triple-rail fence was in fairly good shape. He paced along both sides to the property line, looking for sections in need of repair.
He took pictures and added notes about those sections to his spreadsheet. Then he added the color-code. Green. This project could wait.
From the road, where not a single vehicle had passed, he could only see glimpses of the first farmhouse. The property had two, but the second wasn’t visible from here. Neither were any of the huge barns.
Apple trees dominated the landscape, popping up everywhere. Before he’d arrived, he’d imagined the farm as an orderly march of trees in rows. Some of the orchard was like that, but Knox had told him many of the sections had been planted in the 1800s. No modern machinery for harvesting meant the owners had scattered the trees in a friendlier manner. This space had originated as a small family venture and had grown over more than a dozen decades.
Right now, blossoms had fallen, and apples were budding. It was going to be interesting to watch them grow.
When he reached the first building, Ford studied it from the farm road. It appeared people had added to the huge farmhouse several times over the years. He’d bet there were tons of interesting nooks inside. With a sigh, he decided not to go in. Instead, he labeled it as green as well. Damn it.
His buddy Knox had chosen the second farmhouse for the team’s living spaces. That building was newer and had been updated maybe forty or fifty years before. With plumbing fixtures in various pastel colors, it cried out for help. It would need to be done before Ford turned his attention to the bigger one nearer the road.
They would both be a lot of fun to work on for years to come.
A large field of gardens and apple trees separated the two farmhouses. Well, gardens was pushing it. They were overgrown disasters, and he was glad they weren’t his problem. He’d rather fix plumbing and run electrical wire than pull weeds any day.
But his eye was pulled to the garden, anyway. More accurately, his gaze was pulled toward the woman studying the garden with her phone in her hand.
Jolie Malssum. Knox’s little sister. She’d arrived the night before in a flurry of smiles and long, long legs.
Ford ripped his gaze away from those legs and the fine ass that topped them. He had no business lusting after her.
From the first time he’d seen her, she’d intrigued him. When he and Knox had been overseas, privacy had been nonexistent. When one of them had a video call with family, the entire team met the families.
The instant he’d seen Jolie, he’d felt like an electrical overload had zapped him. The woman was gorgeous. Happy and friendly. She always wore a smile.
But she was Knox’s little sister. Ford wasn’t screwing things up at his new home by doing anything about the need that roared in his system anytime she was near.
Hell, even when she wasn’t.
Maybe he needed a new tab on his spreadsheet. How to keep his mind—and his hands—off Jolie Malssum.
Jolie
Jolie Malssum imagined the disaster in front of her as a garden in full bloom. It could be beautiful and would bring so much life to the property.
At one time, she’d bet there’d been two families who’d lived in these farmhouses. She could see the imprints of two large kitchen gardens in the weeds. And another few smaller flower gardens. Perhaps two herb gardens as well.
The property had probably once been two. Had interconnected families lived here, sharing the bounty of the apples? Had they merged over time into one family?
That was the opposite of what had happened in her family.
This farm had belonged to her great-uncle Jay Malssum. A man they hadn’t known existed until she and her siblings had received letters from a lawyer saying he’d died and left them this farm.
Why hadn’t their grandfather Fox ever mentioned his brother? What had pulled the two men apart?
And why had Jay wanted Fox’s grandkids to have the property?
Jolie blinked her eyes to rid them of the tears forming. Fox had died a year before, and she missed him so much. The man had taken in her, Amber, and their three older brothers when their parents had died in a car crash.
Jolie had only been seven. She wished she had better memories of her parents. The others told her lots of stories about them, but she’d love to have her own memories, too.
At least she had decades of memories of Fox. He’d been the best grandfather. Taking in five kids was a lot, but she didn’t remember him complaining.
Okay, that was a lie. The old man had loved to complain and grump. He’d moaned about pollution and climate change and selfishness. But never about taking them on. Never about the cost or the work of raising five kids.
He’d been more of a cranky on the outside, sweet on the inside kind of man.
It was through his encouragement that she’d developed her love of plants, along with her deep respect for the planet and the creatures inhabiting it.
The Abenaki people take care of the earth. We owe her everything and we need to fix her. You can’t pollute the shit out of a planet and think things are okay.
She grinned at the memory. Fox had tried hard to reduce his swearing around her, but when he got worked up, he’d forgotten. A lot. She’d giggled so hard at some of his words, and he’d made her promise to never use them herself.
So while she thought them a lot, cursing out loud didn’t happen very often. When it did, she always sent Fox a silent apology.
“What happened with you and your brother, Fox? Family was so important to you. Why didn’t you try to fix it?”
Of course, he didn’t answer. Neither did his brother. From what Jolie’s brother Knox had learned so far, the two men had more similarities than differences. Same crusty exteriors. Same marshmallow insides.
She wanted to be part of bringing this farm to life. Jay had wanted that. Was this his way of reaching out? Had he even known that Fox died the year before? Of a heart attack as well.
Jolie shook herself out of her thoughts and opened her phone. She should make a list of everything that needed doing. It was going to be a long list. Several long lists. This place was full of potential and she couldn’t wait to dive in.
These gardens weren’t priorities, but they’d need to be helped at some point. When she had time and motivation, she’d find out what they needed. Even though she wasn’t passionate about gardens, she took a few pictures to help her remember the state of disrepair.
Time to see the rest of the land. When she’d arrived the previous night, she’d followed the farm road to the orchard. It had been lit up in the distance, and when no one answered her knocks at the farmhouse, she’d investigated.
It had been too dark to see much, but she’d had an impression of peace. The shadows of nature never bothered her like the shadows in cities. Here, the shadows were simply nature resting. Exactly like Fox had taught her when she’d been afraid of the dark.
Shortly after they’ve moved in with their grandfather, Jolie had been too scared to sleep in the dark. Sharing a room with Amber had helped, but she’d felt like a coward crawling into bed with her sister.
One night, Fox had taken her outside to sit on the back porch with a couple of blankets. He’d pointed out constellations, shown her how various plants acted differently in the night so they could rest.
She’d learned which animals enjoyed the night and which slept. Watching the bats fly overhead had soon become a favorite pastime.
Bats. The farm could use some. They were excellent predators and helped control harmful bug species. When she toured the farm today, she’d look for signs of them. If there weren’t any, she’d build a few bat boxes to see if she could attract them.
Owl nesting boxes too. Owls were also excellent predators and would help the farm thrive.
She should probably talk to Thea and Knox to see what they thought before she went ahead with plans, but she couldn’t imagine any objections. Thea wanted to improve the biodiversity of the farm because that was the best way to improve the compost. And compost was key to regenerative farming. Helping the land heal from all the harm humans had caused. Giving the soil life and embracing the diversity of nature.
Jolie didn’t know a lot of specifics about apple farms yet. She’d find out what the trees needed before she got too deep into her plans. The last few weeks hadn’t allowed her a lot of time for her own pursuits, but she could make up for that now.
Every biome had different needs and challenges. Vermont was so unlike the Carolinas where she’d done her schooling and post grad work. The principles would be the same, but the details would differ.
Eliminate invasive species harming the native plants. Encourage good predators. Increase the variety of flora and fauna. All keeping in mind the main crop of apples.
It was going to be fun.
The basis of all her plans was going to be the pond Thea told her was in the back part of the orchard. Jolie hadn’t gone that far yet, but was looking forward to exploring.
She shoved her phone into her pocket and turned to the main driveway. Ford Evans was walking down from the top of the drive. The man looked yummy in his jeans and a t-shirt that stretched across his chest. He wore a plaid flannel shirt over top, making her smile. “Trying to imitate a true Vermonter? I didn’t think it was legal to buy plaid flannel in Florida.”
He grinned at her. “If you order it online, no one has to know.”
She laughed. The crush she’d had on Ford since the first time she’d seen him during a video-chat with Knox showed no signs of abating.
The men had been working for the army overseas. Special forces, she thought, but her brothers never mentioned specifics. Ever. She suspected Ford would be the same.
Not that she wanted to know the things they’d dealt with in the army. Her three brothers had all been deeply affected by what they’d seen overseas, but none of them talked about it. She hoped they at least they talked with each other. No one should deal with that kind of trauma alone.
Thinking of what they’d faced in the army always reminded Jolie that her own problems were small. And in the past. Now that she was in Vermont, they were behind her.
Ford waited for her as she crossed over the overgrown garden beds. Her imagination pictured him waiting for her to take her on a date. Or haul her into his arms for a kiss.
Silly imagination. The man was only being polite.
His smile widened as he spotted her rubber boots. “Nice. I didn’t realize adult boots came in that kind of pattern.”
She lifted one of her bright blue boots, covered in images of yellow cartoon ducks splashing in the rain. “These are one of my favorite pairs.”
His eyebrows shot up. “One of your favorites? How many pairs of rubber boots do you own?”
That made her laugh. “Probably a dozen.”
His eyes widened. “Why? I think most people get by with one pair. Or none. Lots of people have none.”
She grinned. “Most people don’t get to work outdoors in all weather. They don’t get to play around in ponds and creeks and rivers.”
That made him smile. “Very true. Although, to be fair, most people probably don’t want to.”
She shook her head. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“Tell me.”
“What?”
“Tell me what they’re missing.”
She tilted her head to study him and decided he was serious. “They’re missing out on seeing nature in action. Watching how species thrive in less than ideal circumstances. Life on the edges of water echoes life as it began way back in the primordial age. It’s fascinating to study a biome and see how one slight change can affect all the species living there. From plants to bacteria to insects to fish to birds. And then there are the animals that use that water for drinking and cleaning. By studying how the species adapt, we can figure out how humans can adapt to the changes as well.”
She drew in a deep breath and laughed at herself. “Sorry. You probably were just being polite and didn’t want to hear all of that.”
His answering grin had butterflies playing in her belly. “Actually, it’s fascinating. Tell me more.”
His deep voice had shivers running over her skin. She was officially ridiculous. Her brother’s best friend had no interest in her, and she needed to remember that.
Plus, she’d screw it up, and then she’d have to deal with the awkwardness she created or leave. While she’d been on the farm for less than twenty-four hours, she felt like she’d found home.
So, she couldn’t screw it up.
