The Idiot (CARVER BROTHERS #2) by Dianna Roman EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Dianna Roman
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Murphy
Each time I think I’ve made progress on this orchard, all I have to do
is look in any direction to prove me wrong. The rows upon rows of
trees, inundated with ripening apples, are a daunting sight. I’m one
man trying to do the work of two.
There’s certainly no time for self-pity. I’m the last man in the
Malone family and this is Malone Orchard. Sighing, I climb up onto
the tractor. The carburetor sputters as I turn it over.
Not now. Please, not now.
Just make it through the season. I’ll work on you all winter. I
promise.
It answers with a chuff and then a rumble, coughing to life.
Stepping on the clutch with a grateful heart, I drive further down the
path between the trees than I would like. I can just carry my picking
bags a little farther until I catch up to where I park it and the wagon.
The less I have to start the old beast, the better.
My cousin Danny sure picked a great week to take off to a music
festival with his girlfriend. Not that I’d be much better off if he were
here. I’m thankful he helps out, but not all relatives are created
equal. If Dad were still alive, we’d have been done with this pass
already. That man was a force to be reckoned with.
Mom would be out here if she weren’t at work, but I’m glad she
got stuck on day shifts at the hospital this month. She’s got no
business being on a ladder with her bad hip, and she’s on her feet
enough as it is in the ER. No fifty-five-year-old should have to have
two jobs, anyway. I need to buckle down, so she doesn’t try picking
up my slack when she gets home.
I told Dad before he died that I could handle this. I hope he’s not
looking down, seeing how I barely manage it most days.
God, I miss him. I miss his affability and the wonder that was his
work ethic. It’s been three years, and I still feel like I’m a sullen
toddler trying to fill a giant’s shoes. He must have been exhausted
every single day of his life. How in the hell did he do all of this?
Jumping down from the tractor, my knee lets out a pop, and a
discomforting twinge shoots up my leg. I don’t know why I thought
enlisting in the Army for a term after high school would be like a
vacation from the orchard. Point and shoot. Stop the bad guys. Who
needs to run? Only cowards run.
Boy, was I wrong. It was like the damn Boston Marathon every
morning. Thirty miles a week for four years—I’m lucky I have any
cartilage left.
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