The words were like a blast of cold water.

“I’ll definitely be here through harvest. Probably for a long time after that. I won’t leave you in the lurch,” Audrey said slowly, feeling off-center. She recognized the hollow feeling in her stomach as homesickness. But there was also a flutter of anticipation.

She wanted this experience, even if the thought of visiting someone every day was a bit daunting.

What a perfect way to fulfill her goal to learn to socialize. “I would love to exchange labor for learning.”

“Excellent.” Lillian gave a nod of approval. “I believe we’ll do quite well together.”

In the garden, Gabe motioned with the pitchfork. “Are you planting in this row first?”

“That is the plan,” Lillian called. She smiled at Audrey. “That’s where our short salad greens will go.”

Audrey eyed Gabe, wondering how he knew a certain row would be planted first. And she couldn’t pull her gaze away as he rolled up his sleeves and started turning the soil. The way his steely muscles bunched under the uniform shirt dried her mouth.

“He’s done that a time or two, hasn’t he?” Lillian noted. “Mako was an excellent teacher.”

Audrey caught the sadness in Lillian’s tone. “You knew his father?”

Lillian smiled. “He and my husband were friends, and after my husband passed, the sergeant and I grew to be close.”

Audrey saw the slight curve of Lillian’s mouth and understood exactly what she meant by “close.” “But you hadn’t met Gabe before?”

“No. When his boys visited, they stayed home with Mako. And Mako, well, he preferred to deal with people in small numbers.” Sadness filled the woman’s face. “I’m sure that was why he chose to exit the world the way he did. Being in a hospital would have… He wouldn’t have done well.”

Exit the world? Did she mean the man had killed himself? The thought was like getting hit in the chest. “But Mako had Gabe…and his other sons.”

“And he loved them dearly. He knew they’d come running to help out, but Mako wasn’t a man to tolerate weakness in himself.” Lillian shook her head. “Such a narrow vision is its own kind of failing.”

“His poor sons.”

“Yes.” Lillian’s brow creased. “I must say, Mako led me to believe Gabriel was a friendlier sort. This chief is quite reserved. I do wonder how difficult Mako’s death was for him.”

“I think…very difficult.” Audrey had heard the sorrow in his voice when he’d talked about Mako. Gabe’s body had so many terrifying scars. Would the suicide of his father-substitute add scars on his soul, as well? No wonder his face was etched with hard lines.

As Audrey watched, Gabe reached the end of the row.

After stowing the pitchfork, he returned, and his gait held a slight limp. “Ready for planting, ladies.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”