Chapter 5 BOY FROM THE CITY

"Hey, John, do you have a minute?"

John had just gotten out of his car the following day, quickly turning to face Paul, who was closing the gap between them. Paul had a satisfied expression on his face as if he had examined every inch of the cat that had caught the canary. Carly, who stood behind him with her arms crossed and her baseball hat pulled down firmly over her eyes, was even more apparent. She seemed dissatisfied.

"Sure, what's up?" John said as he came to a halt beside him.

"Listen, I need you to do something new today," Paul said before pointing to a slope on the opposite side of the road. "I've been planning on expanding that big field across the road, and I've sketched up a line where I want a new fence to put up as soon as we can have the holes drilled."

"That's alright with me. Did you intend for me to do that?"

Paul smiled and took out a shovel. "If you don't mind my asking? I assumed it'd be something different than hay, and I'm eager to get those posts in the ground."

John reached for the shovel. "How many posts are we referring to?"

"About fifty," Paul answered hurriedly, waving his hand behind him. "That's why I'm assisting you."

Carly moaned out loud as though on cue.

John grimaced. "Are you certain it's a good idea? I have nothing against her, but I doubt she can say the same for me."

"Then it's about time you two buried the hatchet," remarked Paul decisively. "Listen, I've heard all about the difficulties you've had when doing the hay. Trouble like that breeds rage, and rage breeds neglect. This farm can't take much more neglect, so I'm asking you, could you two please try to get along?"

"To be honest with you, Paul, the problem isn't on my side," John stated gently. "She seems to be the one who has a problem with me."

Paul's expression became more solemn. "So, she and I had a little chat about it this morning. I believe we made some progress on it." Paul turned to face his daughter, still pouting a few feet away. "Allow's just say I hope she doesn't let this continue to be a problem."

John shifted his gaze away from him and toward Carly. Her eyes remained red with rage, but what else could he do? Refuse?

"All right, I'll do it," John muttered softly, putting the shovel over his shoulder.

"'Atta, John.' Thank you very much, "Paul said. "Why don't you go over to the field on the four-wheeler?"

John almost winced again at the prospect of sharing one with Carly, but to his amazement, she got on the back of the truck behind him as he drove them over to the field. It was challenging to focus with her body plastered against his back, but it was a welcome relief from the continual squabbling.

They drove across the road to the field, readily locating the line where Paul wanted the posts to be dug. He'd spray-painted the grass to indicate where each post's hole would be excavated, and his last orders were to drill holes three feet deep and at least a foot wide in all directions. John knew they'd be there for most of the day since there were fifty holes to dig.

"I suppose I'll start with this one," John remarked, selecting the first hole closest to the old fence. Because each post was roughly 10 feet apart, they wouldn't be too far apart over the day. Carly proceeded to the next spot and started digging without saying anything.

Everything was okay for the first 10 minutes or so. Even though there was no discussion, there was no squabbling, and they worked on their holes in quiet. But it was too lovely to last, and he could hear Carly scowling at him from behind when he tossed a clump of dirt.

"Can you please try not to toss that dirt near my hole?" she said furiously, giving him a Carly look he had been used to at this time.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. He dropped the second mound more softly, not far from his first hole. Another five minutes passed before he saw that Carly was now dumping dirt into his pit!

"Please keep an eye on that," he murmured as he turned to face her. "You're getting it in mine now."

Carly glared, then adjusted herself to toss it in the other way. It didn't take long for him to see she was pitching it on top of the next hole in the line, which wasn't a good choice either.

"If you toss your dirt there, we'll simply have to dig harder on the following set of holes," he pointed out.

"Why do you have so many rules?" she sassed as she came to a halt in her digging.

John shook his head. "We already have a lot of things to accomplish today without adding to it."

"Why don't you simply let me dig the way I want to and leave me alone?"

"At the very least, Carly, we should attempt to get along out here," he said firmly. "Since we're going to be out here all day, let's be kind to one other."

"Who says I don't want to be nice to you?" she questioned, her lips pursed.

"Fine, whatever," he grumbled to return to his hole. He was sick of trying with her and failing every time. If she wanted to be grumpy all day, he'd let her. She did, however, stop putting dirt into the next hole and began to construct her piles that were far out of each other's way.

The following hour or so passed calmly after that. It took them around twenty minutes each hole, sometimes longer depending on whether or not they struck any stone beneath, but they ultimately moved along at a steady clip.

John found it amusing that he could never move too far away from her no matter how rapidly he worked. He'd leap a hole ahead, and she'd complete hers before jumping to the next one just next to him. The regularity with which she did it seemed too rapid to be a coincidence, and he deduced that she was striving to stay up with him, even if she would never say it aloud.

John began to work more quickly because he saw a chance to build a game out of it.

Much quicker.

It got to the point where he was gasping for air while digging his trench, and he sped ahead to the next one in record speed. He observed Carly make an expression out of the corner of his eye, most likely one of despair at realizing he was now far ahead of her. She immediately began working much more swiftly, and in minutes, she had caught up to him.

John was trying hard not to chuckle as their little game became nearly too obvious.

Then the most incredible thing occurred.

Carly caught his eyes at an inopportune moment as he dashed forward. He couldn't stop the wry grin that had arisen in response to their quiet acknowledgment of what they were doing. And, to his amazement, he saw a smidgeon of a grin on her face.

It was all downhill from there. He grimaced at her every time he finished a hole. Even if she were joking, she would frown at first. She'd create a proud look after completing her hole, often sticking her tongue out at him. It reached the point where they'd chuckle every time a hole was made when the verbal mocking started.

"They're never going to get me now," John remarked as he sped forward to the next one.

"In a minute, I'll have you are eating those words," she sassed back.

"Please, as if you could keep up with me," he retorted jokingly.

"I just have to wait till your delicate city hands become burned, and then I'll win for sure," she said as she finished her final hole.

John buried his shovel in the earth and raised both hands. "There are no blisters here, and my sensitive city hands seem to be doing better than yours."

Carly grinned. She took a hiatus and rested her hands on her jean-covered waist. John couldn't help but appreciate her shape as he returned her gaze. When she wasn't scowling, she was a lovely young lady.

He wasn't expecting a little clump of dirt to fly near his face. When he glanced over at her, she giggled hysterically as she attempted to return to her hole.

"Oh, so you want to play dirty, huh?" he said, bending down to pick up a little clump of dirt.

"I bet you couldn't hit me from this distance," she challenged him.

"We'll see," John said, firing it across the short field, but it disintegrated before reaching her.

"See what I mean? Terrible; I assume they don't train you to throw in the city," she chuckled.

"Lucky for you, I learned to toss on the farm," John remarked as his arm rewound.

The second throw caught her off guard, exploding into her hips in a bit of clump. John almost fell over laughing as she surged forward with another mound, eager to repay the favor. Her pitcher's arm fired three rapid pitches, striking him in the back or buttocks. Carly ran around him many times in a victory lap, as the labor of digging the holes was soon forgotten.

"Where did you acquire that arm? I don't recall you doing sports in high school," he replied after brushing away all the grime.

"I didn't need athletics, John; working here is plenty for my muscles," she said flatly.

"No way, show me those firearms," he said.

Carly approached him with her sleeve rolled up. She flexed a muscle, revealing a modest bicep to his gaze. He rapidly measured it with his hand.

"Meh, just weak," he joked before pouring himself one. "It isn't anything like this one."

After touching his arm, Carly rolled her eyes. "Please, I believe Rory has stronger arms than you."

"Because he spends his whole time working it by pulling the cigarette up to his lips."

Carly burst out laughing. "Stop it; you're making me pee."

"You're in luck since there are a lot of holes to select from here."

She raised her hand. "Seriously, stop!"

She took a few moments to catch her breath before returning her gaze to him. John could see a pleasant grin on her face, and he prayed that all that time carrying that wrath was now done.

"At the very least, you dig holes better than you stack hay," she eventually observed, lifting an eyebrow.

"You could teach me how to do it then," he said. "Don't think I haven't seen that you never stack."

"Are you going to make small me stack hay?" she inquired. "And here I thought you were a huge, powerful guy."

"I'm just saying that you better be prepared to get it back if you're doing it out."

Carly rolled her eyes before smiling. "Absolutely, yeah," he says.

They worked their way down the field for the next couple of hours, continuing their fun activities. The dialogue never went any further than that surface-level taunting for a good reason. Just getting her to this stage appeared to John to be a breakthrough. If they could at least have fun together while they worked, maybe all of their anger would fade. He didn't expect it to happen overnight, but he'd take them if baby steps were required.

When they arrived at the final two holes, they labored at breakneck speed to see who could be the first to finish. John had a significant edge since he had been leading all day. But he was getting a horrible blister on one of his hands, which slowed him down significantly.

It wasn't enough of a slowing to make a difference. He lifted his shovel high, the final heap of earth dumped behind him. "Please give it up for John Wyatt, your reigning champion!"

Carly grinned as she completed the remainder of her hole. "Is that all you've got to hang your hat on? Digging holes?"

John gave the nod. "Any success I can have, I have to rejoice."

Carly laughed. "I suppose I'll just hand it to you."

"Do you imply the final triumph is mine?" he joked.

She sighed amusingly. "Of course, anything."

He leaned on his shovel, grinning. "You know, this wasn't such an awful day."

She cocked her brow at him. "You like digging holes all day? Are you sure living in the city hasn't taken away your common sense?"

"No, I meant that it was enjoyable, you know, turning it into a game like this made the time go by faster."

She nodded, much to his amazement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right; it wasn't all that horrible."

"It seemed like old days again."

John regretted the words as soon as they came out of his lips. Carly tensed immediately, and the same look returned to her face.

"Well, it's not like old times again," she grumbled, moving from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye.

John glanced at her. "What do you mean?" He was perplexed by her abrupt shift in mood.

Carly sat with her hands on her hips. "If things were like old times, Logan would still be here, but he isn't, John."

He hadn't even had time to respond to the allegation. Carly quickly turned around and began marching down the slope. Even the sight of her finely sculpted rear couldn't make him feel better.

How did I get my foot so rapidly in my mouth?

John placed his shovel on the back of the four-wheeler and began riding toward her. A hundred yards distant, he came up to her and drew up next to her.

"I'm sorry, Carly; I didn't mean what I said; I simply meant it was great to work with you without bickering."

John could see tears in her eyes as she glanced across at him for the first time. "Please leave me alone."

"I promise I'm not trying to harm you on purpose; I'm not trying to do anything; I just want to be normal again."

Carly shook her head in disbelief. "We can't go back to normal, not now; I thought it wouldn't hurt so much after all this time, but it still aches."

He turned off the four-motor wheelers, prompting her to stop walking. "I'm sorry. It was nice to be friends again, like it used to be, Carly. I just hoped we could be friends like we used to be."

She then riveted her gaze on him. "Perhaps we aren't meant to be friends, John."

Carly dashed off again, rapidly crossing the road and making her way up to the house, leaving him stunned.

I was so close to making progress, but now I feel so far away.