Organically Yours: Sanctuary, Book Five by Abbie Zanders (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

not like I have a choice. Ultimately, the orchards are my responsibility, remember?”

Rick scowled. He didn’t like being reminded of that either. He’d suggested more than once that she should turn orchard operations over to someone else in the interest of her health. She didn’t buy that for a minute. Her brothers wanted complete autonomy over Obermacher Farms, and that wasn’t going to happen, not in her lifetime.

“Look, it’s simple. I can’t be in two places at once. I need someone I can trust to get things done out in the field while I’m in The Mill.”

He sat back, a calculating gleam in his eye. “You could bring someone in to help with The Mill.”

“Not a chance.”

The Mill outlet was her baby. Overseeing the making of jams, jellies, ciders, teas, and other fruit-based products they sold was her job. Plus, there was no way she was going to risk her patented recipes in anyone’s hands but her own. No one knew what went into her secret formulas, not even her brothers. Especially not her brothers.

Rick scowled and exhaled again. “All right, Bert. I’ll talk to Eddie.”

“You do that. Just make sure you’re at O’Malley’s when you do because if he steps foot in my orchards again, I’ll have him arrested for trespassing. The only question is, whether or not his ass will be full of buckshot when the cops arrive.”

Tina left the office, letting the spring-loaded door slam shut behind her. She was nearly vibrating with barely repressed anger. It wasn’t even three o’clock, but she already felt as if she’d put in a full day.

She rubbed her forearms through the soft cotton of her long-sleeved tee, resisting the urge to scratch. Sun and stress, both of which she’d had a lot of lately, exacerbated the itchiness. When she got to her truck, she pushed up her sleeves and reapplied the cooling aloe gel she was now taking with her everywhere.

It helped somewhat. Then, she headed back to her trees, cheering herself up slightly with the knowledge that Eddie wouldn’t be there.

* * *

“It’s so frustrating,” she told Doc later that evening.

“What can I do?”

“This,” she told him truthfully.

Doc listened. Even better, he did so without offering useless platitudes or telling her she was overreacting, like her brothers often did. They were allowed to gripe and grumble, but whenever she did it, they accused her of being thin-skinned or hormonal.

“Thanks for letting me vent.”

“Anytime.” His voice was smooth and deep and soothing.

Talking with him had the same calming effect as sipping a cup of hot cocoa while wrapped in a fleecy blanket. She closed her eyes and willed him to say something else, trying and failing to stifle the yawns that were becoming increasingly frequent.

“You sound tired.”

“I am tired. Mentally and physically.”

The long hours she was putting in were hard, and dealing with Rick and Eddie was exhausting. A dull ache had taken up at the base of her skull earlier and spread throughout the rest of her body. It had been an effort just to warm up some soup, take a hot shower, and pull on her comfortable pajamas.

“I should let you go.”

“Not yet, please. I just want to lie here and talk to you and forget about my crappy day. Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something that’ll make me smile.”

He was quiet for a few moments and then said, “My sisters used to dress me up and make me attend tea parties.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. It started as a small bubble of warmth deep in her core and then blossomed. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little. They treated me like one of their dolls. It was awful.”

Contrary to his words, she could hear the smile in his voice, as if it was a funny, if slightly humbling, memory.

“They’re older than you, I take it.”

“Yes.”

“You’re the baby, huh?”

“Yep, just like you.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Five.” He laughed. “It was a running joke in our house that my dad was determined to keep trying until he had a son.” Doc’s voice grew richer, warmer.

“Wow. And I thought I had it bad with three older brothers.”

A wave of dizziness came out of nowhere and washed over her. Tina’s eyes popped open. “Whoa.”

“What’s wrong?”

She blinked several times until the room stopped spinning. “I don’t know. I just got really dizzy there for a second.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just ...” Her stomach began to roil, even as a cold feeling swept over her. “Uh, scratch that. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Tina disconnected the call and rushed toward the bathroom, stumbling several times as her stiff joints refused to cooperate. She barely made it to the toilet before her dinner made a sudden and violent reappearance.

“Where the hell did that come from?” she moaned into the empty space around her, but she knew. She’d been pushing herself too hard, and her compromised autoimmune system was pushing back.

She remained on the floor until she was certain there was nothing left, then crawled back toward her bed. Her head was now pounding, her entire body ached, and she had a full-blown case of the chills.

Her phone was still lying where she’d tossed it, the blinking light indicating a new message. She picked it up and forced herself to focus.

Doc: What happened? Are you okay?

Doc: Do you need anything?

Doc: I can be there in thirty, faster if you need me to be.

Doc: TINA. Let me know you’re okay. Please.

Doc: Thirty seconds more, and I’m driving down there.

Despite feeling like crap, Doc’s texts made her smile.

Tina: I’m okay. I think I picked up the flu.

She’d barely hit Send when a message came back.

Doc: What can I do? Do you need anything?

Tina: No, just rest.

Three dots appeared and then disappeared. This happened several more times before the next text came through.

Doc: Okay. If you need anything—and I mean, anything—call me.

Tina: I will, thanks.

Doc: Get some rest. Call me in the morning and let me know how you’re doing.

Tina managed to send him a