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Bree listened to the DNR guy, Darren, introduce himself and explain the scope of the class. There were ten students, including her. She recognized several but didn’t really know anyone except for Stella. They’d often shared a practice room back in the day when Stella played the violin. Bree had given her a few lessons and had loved their time together. What the woman lacked in skill, she more than made up for in flamboyant kindness.
Bree spotted the wire mesh basket in Stella’s hands. Everyone else had a container or bag of sorts. The two men each had green net bags like the ones her avocados came in. All her mother had told her was that they’d meet here, go foraging and then come back to the community room for a quick demonstration on cleaning and preparing what they’d found. She hadn’t considered bringing a container.
But then, that was a logical deduction and Bree wasn’t exactly into logic. She believed people could change, when in reality they couldn’t or wouldn’t. Not to mention, she’d been told a thousand times that her head was too filled with notes and chords to return the milk to the fridge.
Bree scanned the paper calendar. She looked forward to today’s hunt for black morels. Next week was ramps—whatever those were—and fiddlehead ferns. Her stomach turned at the last one. Memories of an argument over trying something as harmless as fiddlehead ferns rang through her thoughts. She should have ended it with Philip back then.
She zeroed in on wild asparagus in a class three weeks from now. She’d never realized her favorite vegetable could be found out in the wild. She’d assumed it was grown in gardens, having only purchased it in a grocery store.
Bree had never had a garden of her own. She wouldn’t have begun to know what to do with one. Hours of daily practice on the cello had been a priority all her life. She’d missed out on a few things. Maybe a lot of things, but she wouldn’t trade her music for anything. Or anyone. She’d realized that almost too late.
She wouldn’t miss out today. This class promised something different than her usual routine. Right now, Bree craved different. For the first time in a long while, she felt free. Free to do whatever she wanted before following her dreams. A few weeks of relative leisure before the hard work began. Toiling under the tutelage of an orchestral composer for the next two years was a dream come true and one that would require all her focus.
“If no one has any questions about the paperwork, I’ll collect it now, and then we can head out.”
Bree snapped out of her thoughtful haze, helped gather up the signed waivers and handed them to Darren. “Here.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a tight nod, barely looking at her.
Bree couldn’t help but look at him, though. His fingers were bare of any rings, and he had light brown hair that curled even though he kept it short. Despite the gray-green uniform he wore, she pictured him as a flannel shirt kind of guy. Like the lumberjack on those paper towel commercials. The breadth of Darren’s shoulders hinted that he might not be a stranger to chopping wood.
Her pulse skittered when he caught her staring. His eyes were blue—bright blue and wary.
Bree smiled, hoping he understood that she meant no harm. She’d recently broken up with a man who’d nearly robbed her of her dreams. She wasn’t about to risk another relationship that might trap her where she and her music had no place to grow.
“Let’s load up.” Darren made his way to the door as if he couldn’t get out fast enough. Away from her.
Bree laughed under her breath. Was she scary? All she’d done was smile. Okay, maybe she’d checked him out thoroughly. But who’d blame her? He was a good-looking guy. Not that she’d do anything about it. She wasn’t even window-shopping.
But if she were...
Another laughable thought. Still, Darren Zelinsky made for one very handsome display.
“Come on, honey. This is going to be fun.” Stella patted her arm.
Bree had a feeling that might be true, but her curiosity had been piqued. “So, what’s his story?”
“Darren?” Stella shook her head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later. Come for dinner?”
Imaginings of a sordid, operatic tale tickled her curiosity. Bree wanted to know more. She leaned close. “I’d love to.”
Stella wrapped her arm around Bree and squeezed. “You know my door’s always open. Tonight we can cook up what we find.”
Bree giggled. Something she did little of but always with Stella. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“My plans are always good ones.” Stella winked and headed out the door.
Bree dashed back into the kitchen for a couple of plastic storage bags to gather up those morel mushrooms. The last one finally to leave the building, she squinted at the sudden brightness outside. Three in the afternoon on the last Tuesday in April and the weather was perfect. The sun finally shone between puffy white clouds after a couple of days of gray rain.
Bree noted that everyone had already loaded up and waited for her to get in the van. Her stomach clenched. Did DNR Darren mind that she’d held them up? He didn’t look too pleased.
The only seat left was the front passenger seat, next to him. She climbed in and glanced his way, but he was busy counting heads.
When he finished, she asked, “So, where are we going?”
“State land not far out of town.” He didn’t sound annoyed and concentrated on backing out.
Breathing easier, she asked more questions. “Do these black mushrooms grow out in the open?”
“In the woods.”
“Oh.” She glanced at her brand-new light gray flats and frowned.
Obviously she hadn’t dressed right, but then, she wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of gal. Her idea of a hike was walking the shoreline here or her parents’ neighborhood in Royal Oak. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it outside, but living in Detroit didn’t exactly invite running wild outdoors. She’d spent a lot of time inside practicing, where her imagination ran wild within the confines of a music room.
She noticed Darren’s hands as he gripped the steering wheel. They were strong hands with scrapes and calluses. Nothing like the spotless manicured hands belonging to Philip. Darren was very different from the professionally polished man she’d dated far too long.
Another bomb she’d soon drop on her parents. She’d not only quit her position with the symphony to accept a music residency out west but also discarded her parents’ chosen husband for her. The seemingly perfect man, but Bree knew better. He wasn’t perfect for her.
The chatter and laughter behind them grew louder as they turned off a main road onto a dirt one. Bouncing along, Bree grabbed the handle on the door and glanced at Darren. His face looked carved out of stone. Obviously he wasn’t having fun.
“Do you do this often?”
“What?”
“Give these kind of classes.”
“This is my first.” He drove slower and concentrated on the pathway ahead. He took another turn onto what couldn’t really be called a road but had tracks proving vehicles had traveled it before.
Real chatty guy.
Bree bit her bottom lip and stared out the window. It was pretty here in the woods. The tender green leaves were just beginning to unfurl, way behind the spring growth downstate. She spotted a small tree with buds bursting into a white flower here and there. “What’s that tree blooming over there?”
Darren looked where she pointed. “Juneberry tree.”
“Oh.”
“The fruit is edible.”
“So, where’d you learn all this?”
Darren shrugged as he took another turn. “My grandmother taught me what to look for when I was a kid.”
Bree melted when she thought of this big, gruff man as a small boy following his grandmother around, learning about wild food and where to find it. “Neat.”
He grunted agreement, slowed the van to a stop and turned in his seat toward the passengers in the back. “After you get out, please stay near the van for instructions.”
Amid grumbles from one of the elderly men, Bree peered through the windshield. They’d stopped in a small clearing surrounded by trees. The vehicle path went deeper into the woods, but evidently they were here, wherever here was. And it was bound to get interesting scouring the area with this group of rowdy seventy-year-olds.
Bree turned when she felt a pat on her shoulder. Looking into Stella’s eyes, she chuckled when the elderly woman wiggled her eyebrows. As if she and Darren had hit it off. More like she’d made him angry, considering the way he barked orders.
She glanced at him, shocked to find him watching her. “What?”
“You getting out?”
Of course she was getting out. What did he think, after they’d come all this way she’d stay in the van? “Yes. Why?”
“No reason.” He shrugged and exited the vehicle.
Bree watched him walk around the front. He tapped lightly on the hood as if dreading this. She knew irritation when she saw it. What was his problem, anyway?
Bree pocketed her phone and grabbed her bag. Maybe she should try to find out.
Chapter Two (#ulink_98424fa4-aefa-5036-8f60-2cf548cc8d2d)
Darren glanced at Bree as she slid from the passenger seat of the van, and he shook his head. She was dressed in light-colored cropped pants and shoes that were barely more than slippers. He’d be surprised if she stayed clean. Unless she was the prissy type that wouldn’t get her hands dirty. She’d go home empty-handed if that were true.
She looked nothing like his ex-girlfriend, but Bree came from the same place. Overdressed for roaming around outside, she might as well have been cut from the same cloth as Raleigh.
He had ten people to look after. He needed to quit focusing on one. It was up to him to show them respect for the woods. And that meant staying alert. “Gather around, please.”
Darren passed out plastic whistle lanyards to each person as they stepped close. “Stay in pairs at all times, and if you get turned around, just blow your whistle. I’ll find you.”
He waited for them to slip the whistles over their heads, and then he held up the wild edibles pamphlet. “Open your booklet to page three, and take a good look at the picture of the morel mushroom. Notice the pattern and the shape, with the bottom closed around the stem. That’s what we’re looking for. Stay away from the blobby-looking ones. They’re false morels. There are also caps that are open on the bottom like an umbrella. They’re edible, but use caution. They make some people sick. I’ll go through what you find before we leave to make sure they’re all safe. Any questions?”
Stella raised her hand.
“Stel?”
“We shouldn’t eat them now, right?” She knew that but was trying to help him out.
He hadn’t even thought about mentioning it and appreciated the reminder. These people didn’t know what they were doing. This was a novelty. A vacation treat. “Right. They need to be cleaned of grit, and there might be a rare stowaway bug inside. Morels are way better cooked, in my opinion. I’ll show you how to clean them when we return.” He checked his watch. “Okay, we’ll meet back here in forty-five minutes.”
“Darren, will you find the first morel for us before we split up?” Stella asked.
He noticed everyone nodding in agreement. Okay, maybe he wasn’t so good at leading this class. They had no clue what to look for and where. He’d almost sent them away without showing them. All because he’d been in a hurry to get rid of them. Especially Bree.
He gestured for them to follow and headed for a wooded area, keeping his gaze focused on the ground. “They’re dark, a blackish-tan triangle. Look around these ash trees. See the gray bark?”
He noticed that Bree watched his every move and copied it. She bent down low but didn’t touch anything. “Oh! Is this one?”
He leaned close to her, still bent over and staring at the ground. He could smell her perfume, or maybe it was her shampoo. Whatever it was, it stopped him cold like a sucker punch to the gut. The soft, flowery scent teased his senses and begged him to move closer.
He didn’t.
He couldn’t go there. Some things might smell good at first but ended up rotten. Spoiled rotten. He’d found that out much too late.
He took a knee and waited for the rest of the class to gather round. “This is exactly what we’re looking for. Morels. Take care where you step and look around. Where there’s one, there are bound to be more. Pinch off the stem so the roots stay in the ground. Like this.”
He offered the mushroom to Bree.
“I get the first one?” Her fingertips grazed his palm as she scooped it up and dropped it into her plastic bag.
“You found it.”
She grinned at him. Proud of herself.
Another sucker punch. The jaws of attraction snapped around him like a rusty old trap digging in deep. He couldn’t let it poison his blood. Or his brain by giving it room to grow.
“Here are some!” one of the women announced, not far away.
Darren stopped staring at Bree and jogged over to inspect the finding. Sure enough, his class was on a roll as another morel was found, then another. “Good job. I think everyone’s got it.”
He pulled a small red onion bag from his pocket and joined the hunt.
“Why that kind of bag?” Bree came up from behind him. She had several mushrooms bulging from the bottom of her plastic grocery store variety.
“It lets the spores fall and reseed.”
“Oh.” She didn’t wander far from his side.
Why’d she stick with him? He’d hoped she would have joined Stella’s group of three ladies. He heard laughter and shouts as more found mushrooms, and Darren silently thanked the Lord for small favors. They hadn’t been skunked on his first class.
“Should I pick these little ones?” Bree asked.
He stepped closer. They were small white morels yet to mature. “Go ahead. They’ll get picked by somebody else if you leave ’em.”
“So, people come way out here?”
He nodded. “A lot of people. I’ve run into campers from downstate, Ohio, even Indiana, up here picking on state land. Gather as much as they can to enjoy or sell.”
“I’ve had morels before at a golf club dinner but never gave much thought to where they came from.”
Local ingredients were desirable, and some of the finer restaurants in town paid top dollar to serve local morels. Darren didn’t frequent those places anymore. The places Raleigh had dragged him to. Give him plain cooking at Dean’s Hometown Grille in town any day. But his breakup had chased him from going there. Too many sympathy glances and gossip.
After Raleigh left him, Darren didn’t go anywhere he might run into her. He’d stayed away from downtown Maple Springs, where she lived with his best friend, Tony. He’d stayed away from Bay Willows and the memories there, too. In fact, he pretty much stayed away from women in general. Too often they tried to turn him into someone he wasn’t, like Raleigh had. She’d told him that he’d never change and was stuck in a rut doing the same thing all the time.
Maybe that was true, but Darren loved what he did. He’d grown up here, where the summer residents and tourists bloated the population from a mere two thousand to ten times that number, crowding out those who lived here year-round. Some of his friends had tried to emulate them in manner and dress. Tony had been one of them. Never content to embrace where he came from, Tony wanted more. Tony wanted too much and took more than he should have.
Darren glanced at Bree and spotted a mushroom at her feet. He bent to pluck it. If she wanted to know where morels came from, today’s outing answered it. A person couldn’t put a price tag on finding these. “They come from right here.”
“I almost stepped on that one.” She laughed and kept walking forward, slow and hunched over. Her hair fell like a curtain, draping her face from view. Her gray slip-ons were dirty at the toes, and her pants had streaks of dirt on them, too. She wore a gold-colored windbreaker that made her easy to spot. That color also made her eyes glow. Like a cat’s eyes.
Darren wasn’t real fond of cats. Even his parents’ cat drove him nuts with all its hollering for attention, only to run away if he tried to pet it. Women were like cats in that way. He preferred dogs. Dogs didn’t tease.
“Ooh, here’s another couple.” She picked them properly and foraged on, poking her fingers under dead leaves and raking through the clumps of grass here and there.
Well, she wasn’t prissy. He’d give her that. He found a few more as well and checked his watch. Twenty minutes to go. He stood and glanced around the woods. Stella was out of sight, as were several others, but he heard lots of chatter. No one lost. That was good. Real good.
