The Harland Creek Series Read online

  The Harland Creek Series

  Small Town Romance Box Set Books 1-4

  Jodi Allen Brice

  The Harland Creek Series

  Small Town Romance Box Set Books 1-4

  Jodi Allen Brice

  Copyright © 2022 by Jodi Allen Brice

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Copyright © 2022 by Jodi Allen Brice

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Volume One

  Promise Kept

  Chapter 1

  Heather Smith pulled in front of the aging white farmhouse and put the old Chevy Impala in park.

  She rubbed her sweaty palms on the nicest pair of jeans she had and tried to calm the nerves fluttering around in her stomach like a multitude of hummingbirds.

  She’d spent the last of her cash on gas to drive all the way from Georgia to Mississippi.

  She’d forgone getting a hotel and had driven through the night, except to pull over at rest areas and rest her weary eyes.

  Everything she owned was in her car.

  She killed the engine and stepped out of the car. She slung her backpack over her shoulder.

  The white house was cute and homey with a big front porch that looked over the land. She held up her hands and shielded the sun from her eyes and looked over the rolling fields of colors.

  She’d never seen so many flowers.

  “Are you gonna stand there all day or come on in?”

  Startled, she jerked her head back at the house at an old woman yelling from the front porch. She nodded frantically and hurried toward the house.

  “My name is Heather Smith. I’m here for the job.” She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the older woman.

  She was wearing a white shirt with oversized overalls and a tan safari hat. Her face was old and weathered, but she looked to be in pretty good health.

  “Maybe I have the wrong address?” Heather pulled her phone out of her backpack and punched in some numbers.

  “No, honey. You’re not at the wrong address.” The woman’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “My name is Agnes Jackson. I don’t live here. Just spending the day with Elizabeth. Can’t exactly leave her alone just yet.”

  “I am not an invalid,” a voice called out from in the farmhouse.

  Agnes laughed and rolled her eyes. “Come on in, Heather, and let’s get you some lemonade. You look plumb tired.”

  Heather hurried up the steps and tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of the door. But Agnes had a hand behind her back, hurrying her inside before she could check herself.

  She pressed her hand to her blond hair, smoothed it back, and swallowed the nervousness rising in her throat.

  “Come on in the kitchen.” Agnes didn’t wait for her but continued walking. A honeybee hovered over the woman’s hat.

  Heather glanced back to make sure the door was shut and no more insects could come inside.

  She stepped into an older kitchen that looked like it belonged to a woman who experienced a lot of life. The original hardwood floors had seen their share of scraped knees and spilled spaghetti. The cabinets were oak and the countertops were laminate. There were tiny curtains that hung over the farmhouse sink that looked over the backyard. The counters were clean but cluttered with small appliances and stacks of paper. A white toaster, coffee maker, and Crock-Pot sat along the counter, and judging from their appearance, were well used.

  The small oak table was littered with newspapers and some colorful fabric.

  “Here, sit on down.” Agnes shoved the fabric to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair for Heather. She obligingly sat.

  “Where are you from, Heather?” The bee landed on her hat and seemed to be waiting on her answer, as if the insect were interviewing her too.

  She stilled at the question. Nowhere.

  It was the truth.

  She swallowed and plastered on a smile, like she’d been taught. “Georgia.”

  Agnes turned from the refrigerator and smiled broadly. “Really? What part?”

  “Atlanta.” She really hoped the woman wouldn’t ask any more questions.

  “Oh, I just love Atlanta.” Agnes poured a cold glass of lemonade and set it down in front of her.

  Heather picked up the glass.

  “Don’t drink that!” A white haired woman hobbled into the kitchen using a walker.

  Heather froze, the glass poised halfway to her mouth.

  “Well, that’s pretty rude, Elizabeth. I expected more out of a Christian woman like you.” Agnes scolded. The bee was on the move again and landed on Agnes’ shoulder.

  Elizabeth moved to the empty kitchen chair and sat down slowly. She sighed and shook her head.

  “I didn’t make that lemonade. Bertha did.” Elizabeth shook her head

  “Oh. I see.” Agnes grabbed the glass out of Heather’s hand and dumped the contents in the sink.

  “Who’s Bertha?”

  “Bertha Billings. One of the women at our church.” Elizabeth gave her a slight smile. “She means well but can’t boil an egg. She dropped the lemonade off with a pound cake.”

  “Where’s the pound cake?” Agnes frowned. “I didn’t see it sitting out with the lemonade when I got here this morning.”

  “That’s because I tossed it out in the backyard.” Elizabeth winced and rubbed her hip.

  Agnes opened the screen door and peered out. “It’s still there. And it’s kept its shape. Didn’t even break apart when it hit the ground.” She looked over her shoulder at Elizabeth. “Wanna bet how long it stays?”

  Elizabeth let out a chuckle. “The last time I threw something out she cooked, it took a couple of weeks until a possum came. Didn’t eat it, just rolled it away like a tire.”

  “I bet it was going to make a house out of it.” Agnes looked thoughtful.

  “Probably. It was hard enough.”

  Heather snorted. Both women looked at her. She quickly covered her amusement.

  “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

  “Why not? It’s funny.” Agnes sat down and fiddled with the fabrics. “Do you want me to take this to Mattie?” The bee flew around Heather’s head. She ducked. It went back and landed on Agnes’ strange hat.

  Elizabeth sighed. “Please. I meant to do it before I went to have surgery. Since I’ve gotten home I feel like everything had gone to seed.”

  “That’s why Heather is here. To help you get better so you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

  Elizabeth turned her astute eyes on her. “You said your name is Heather Smith? I have to admit I was expecting someone older to apply for the position.”

  “I’m stronger than I look. I’m a hard worker, and I’ll do anything extra that you need. Household chores, cooking. I have experience in helping the elderly recover from surgery.”

  Agnes barked out a laugh. Elizabeth shot her daggers.

  “The last person who called Elizabeth elderly is picking his teeth up off the ground.”

  Heather’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “It’s okay, child. Ignore Agnes.” Elizabeth kept her gaze on her. “I heard you tell Agnes you
are from Georgia. That’s a long way from home. Won’t your family miss you? What if you get bored out here in the country with an old lady and her flowers?”

  “I won’t. I don’t have family left.” She clasped her hands in her lap. This was her last chance. The last chance she had to have a roof over her head and maybe finally find a home. A real home.

  “I put the ad in the newspaper. I didn’t think people your age read the newspaper anymore.” Elizabeth cocked her head.

  “I happened upon it at the library. They put newspapers online.”

  Elizabeth looked at Agnes. “I didn’t know that. Did you, Agnes?”

  “Nope. But then again the only thing I use newspapers for is for my garden.” The bee made its way to the woman’s shoulder.

  Heather opened her mouth to warn the woman, but Elizabeth spoke first.

  “Heather, do you mind letting me and Agnes speak privately?”

  “Not at all.” Her stomach was a knot. She stood and looped the backpack across her shoulder. She headed to the front door and out onto the front porch.

  “Well, Elizabeth, what do you think?” Agnes cocked her head at her friend.

  “I don’t know. I mean it’s not like I’m in a wheelchair or anything.” Elizabeth didn’t know what to think of the young girl. She hated having to rely on anyone, let alone a stranger.

  “Look, you’re out of options. You have a farm to run and are just coming off surgery. You need the help. If you don’t take her, then Bertha will be over here every day bringing you poison cake.” Agnes glared.

  Elizabeth snorted. “I don’t think it’s poison. Just not for human consumption.”

  “Or animal consumption by the looks of things.” Agnes crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Here’s what I think.”

  “Oh my. Here we go.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

  “I think you should hire her. Besides, doesn’t the Bible say something about entertaining angels unaware?” Agnes lifted her chin.

  “I don’t think angels charge a fee,” Elizabeth countered.

  “Whatever, woman. You know what I mean.” She scowled.

  “Fine. Tell her to come back inside.” Elizabeth sighed.

  Heather felt hot tears rising in her eyes. She blinked them away.

  She had hoped to make a better impression on Elizabeth but had failed.

  She sat down in one of the wicker rockers by the door. She heard the women talking but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  She couldn’t bear to hear what kind of excuse they would come up with to tell her she wasn’t what they were looking for.

  The door opened and Agnes poked her head out. “You can come back inside, Heather.”

  Their conversation was over. It had been too quick. That was a bad sign. She could feel it in her gut.

  She stood and followed the old woman inside slowly.

  Elizabeth looked up at her with tired eyes. “How about we give it a trial period. Let’s say a week.”

  “Really? I mean yes, thank you.” Relief poured through Heather. “I’ll work really hard, I promise.”

  She had her chance at a new life. She had to make sure she didn’t blow it.

  She just had to make sure her secrets were secure and locked away.

  Chapter 2

  Elizabeth motioned for Heather to sit. Agnes poured the tea from the kettle on the stove. “There’s a lot to be done here on the farm. And well, I’m old and set in my ways.”

  “That means she’s ornery like a bull,” Agnes said happily and took a sip of tea.

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her friend. “I’ve lived here on Harland Creek Farm all my life. After my husband died, I turned it from a cattle farm into a flower farm.”

  “The farm is named after the town?” Heather took a drink. She wasn’t really a tea drinker, but this was really good.

  “Yes. My last name is Harland. My great grandfather settled here first. They named the town after him.”

  “Is there really a creek?” she asked. She’d much rather talk about Elizabeth than herself.

  “Yes. Although it’s not as big as it once was.” Elizabeth smiled. “It runs at the back of my property and separates my farm from the neighbor’s farm.”

  “You have a lot of land. I noticed the flowers when I drove up but couldn’t tell what kind they were.”

  “You know anything about flowers?” Agnes leaned forward.

  “Not really. But I’m a quick learner.” She added the last sentence in a hurry.

  “I have different flowers at different seasons. Right now, I have hyacinths, baby’s breath, daffodils, and tulips.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot. I noticed how colorful everything is when I drove up. How do you harvest them?” She frowned. Was that even the right word?

  “I usually do it. I have some help in the community. Usually hire the high schoolers to help but every year help gets harder and harder to find. The younger people are moving to the big city. Seems like they are wanting out of Harland Creek.” Elizabeth’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Heather knew the old woman was worried about her future.

  “Just like my niece.” Agnes sighed heavily.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “If I hadn’t had surgery, I wouldn’t be in this bind.”

  “Woman, you had to have surgery. You’ve been putting off getting a new hip for years,” Agnes scolded.

  “Yes, well, it seems there is never a good time to get old.” Elizabeth took a sip of tea and shifted in her seat. Heather caught the wince on her face.

  “Are you hurting?” Heather asked.

  “I didn’t take my pain pill this morning. I was going to do it after the physical therapist came and forgot.” Elizabeth rubbed her brow.

  Heather stood up quickly and looked around. “Where do you keep it?”

  “Over there by the sink.”

  “By her bag of prunes,” Agnes chirped.

  “I told you I didn’t need you to buy me any prunes.” Elizabeth lifted her head.

  “When I had my gallbladder taken out, I didn’t go for a week. Thought I would blow up like a balloon.” Agnes gave her a wide-eyed stare. “I was just looking out for you. You’ll thank me later.”

  Heather bit her lip to keep from laughing. She quickly found a glass in the upper cabinet and filled it with water from the tap. She’d noticed the refrigerator was old and didn’t have a water feature. People out here were probably not worried about their water being purified like they worried in the city.

  “Thank you, Heather.” Elizabeth struggled to open the childproof bottle.

  “Here, let me.” Heather took the bottle and opened it with ease. She eyed the instructions and poured out one tablet into the older woman’s wrinkled palm.

  She placed the bottle back where she found it and took her seat.

  “How often does physical therapy come see you?” She pulled out a notebook and pen from her backpack.

  “Three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

  “Do they give you exercises to do on their days off?” Heather scribbled a quick note.

  “They want me to walk every day. Not too much, but enough to where I’m not so sore. The physical therapist left a piece of paperwork on the counter.”

  Heather stood and looked through the paperwork until she found the sheet. She brought it back to the table and nodded.

  “She needs help with the housework.” Agnes pointed out. “She can’t be sweeping and bending down to use a dustpan. And she can’t walk upstairs just yet. Thankfully, her bedroom is downstairs.”

  “I can do the housework. And any other errands, like grocery shopping.” Heather nodded.

  “Heavens, yes. You don’t want Bertha bringing more food over here.” Agnes grew wide-eyed. The bee made its way up to rest on the top of her hat.

  Heather cleared her throat. “Ms. Agnes…”

  “Just call me Agnes, dear.”

  “Agnes, don’t be alarmed, but there’s a bee on your ha
t.”

  She narrowed her eyes at her. “You’re not allergic to bees, are you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “You’re not a bee hater, are you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Heather answered slowly.

  “Good.” Agnes set her cup down and stood abruptly. “Now that you have some help, I guess I’ll be on my way, Elizabeth. I’ll run this over to Mildred. I’ll find out when the quilting bee is and let you know in case you feel up to it.” She gathered up the fabric in her arms. “Now, you call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks Agnes.” Elizabeth gave her a tired smile but didn’t get up.

  “Nice to meet you, Heather.” Agnes gave her a nod. The bee took flight and followed her out the door.

  “I think I’m going to take a nap.” Elizabeth slowly got to her feet. Heather stood up beside her in case she needed assistance. “There are three bedrooms upstairs. I’d prefer if you didn’t stay in the one with my sewing machine. Too much material spread out everywhere. Once I’m fully healed, I want to get started back on my quilting. You can choose from the other two bedrooms. There’s a bathroom across the hall. Go ahead and get your things if you brought them.” Elizabeth looked out the window at her car.

  “I packed my things in case you hired me. That way I wouldn’t have to go back and get them.” Truth was, there was nowhere to go back to.

  “Good.” Elizabeth gave her a look of approval. “I’ll let you get settled, and then when I get up, we can start supper and talk about your duties while you are here. I’ll show you around the farm as well.”

  “Ms. Harland?”

  “Call me Elizabeth.”

  “Ms. Elizabeth…”

  “Just Elizabeth. No need to add Ms. to it.”

  “Elizabeth.” She nodded. “I need to know if you are allergic to anything. Foods, medicine…”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up.

  She saw a girl go into anaphylactic shock when she was given a peanut butter sandwich at one time in one of the foster homes she frequented as a child.