He turns and starts down the hill toward the house. “Noel’s a serious person. She’s got plans, and she doesn’t fall in love with just anybody. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever had a serious boyfriend.”
“Okay.” I won’t say I’m sorry to hear it.
“Whether you ask her or not, she’s going to wait for you.” He reaches over and takes the bucket of peaches. “I’ll kick your ass if you hurt my sister.”
Emotion hits me hard in the chest. Slowing my stride, I watch him stalk away from me, jogging up the back steps and into the house.
Noel is there, but I don’t go to her. I need to think. I need to decide my next moves and what I’m going to say. Either way, I’ve got to tell her the truth before I go.
12
Noel
The Peach Ball sounds like a big event, but it’s really more a reception with live music and dancing. It’s the final event of the festival, and the organizers go all out with a cash bar and heavy hors d’oeuvres… Still, it’s not an evening-gown and tuxedo type of thing.
Either way, I got a new little black dress to wear, and I’m hoping to make it a special night… A memory I hope will last us a while.
Taron is down at the cottage, and I’ve done my best to hold it together all day. Last night he slept in my bed, which is a first. Usually, I slip down to his place late in the evenings then back to my room before the sun comes up. It’s safer that way.
Sawyer knows something’s going on between us. He knows we slip off to the pond and the reservoir, and we make breakfast together every morning and sit up talking at night. He knows Taron’s taking me to the ball tonight, but I don’t know what he’d say if he knew we were sleeping together. I don’t want to fight with my brother before he leaves the country.
So I’ve been being careful, secretive, but I couldn’t stop Taron last night. He got in my small bed and curled around me like a koala. This morning, he taught me his signature hoecake recipe, which he says he got off the Food channel on TV. We had ice cream, and we rode the three-wheeler down to the pond once more. Now I’m waiting for him to come to the house to “pick me up.”
Leon is taking Betsy, and he left about thirty minutes ago. As part of the growers association, Sawyer took off after lunch to help set up or tear down or basically just be a presence. Mindy Facetimed me wanting to see my dress, which she helped me pick out the day I told her I was going with Taron.
“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous!”
“You think?” Turning side to side, I look at the short black dress only held up by thin straps crossing my back.
I want tonight to be perfect. I want everything to go just right.
I need everything to go just right. It’s a memory I’ll hold for a long time…
My dark hair is styled over one shoulder, and I put on waterproof mascara. God, I don’t want to cry, but I’m afraid I might.
“Now I’m wishing I was going.” My friend is in her bed in bright red pajamas eating popcorn from a big green bowl.
Her curly dark hair is in a bun right on top of her head, and any other day, I’d be right there with her.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Binging Pretty Little Liars for the third time.”
“Is it bad that I think Alexander Skarsgård is so hot in that?”
“Alexander Skarsgård is an actor.” Mindy adopts a clinical tone. “You can appreciate his hotness even when he plays a horrible character.”
“Noel?” Taron’s voice in the kitchen makes my stomach jump.
“Gotta run!”
“Have fun tonight! I want to hear all about it!” She blows me a kiss, and I hit the end button.
Giving myself one last look in the mirror, I grab my special lotion and rub a quick pump on my hands and shoulders before opening the door.
Taron takes my breath away. He’s standing in the hall in his boots, dark jeans, and a navy button-down shirt with a tan blazer on top.
“Damn.” He exhales the word on a hot breath.
His blue-green eyes glow with desire. They travel like a caress from my hair to my shoulders and down my legs.
“You like it?” My voice is small, quiet, and he closes the space between us, pulling me into his arms.
For a moment, we hold each other. My arms are around his waist, and his are around my shoulders. I’m completely engulfed in his rich scent of clean soap and cedar. Our breath rises and falls together. Don’t let go…
I think of the words we’ve never said. The words our bodies have spoken so many times—every time we’ve touched each other, teased each other, kissed each other or made love… The words echo in my head and in my aching heart.
Akela’s nails click on the wood floors as she trots into the room and sits beside us, waiting, as if she knows this is our last night as well.
Taron’s arms relax, and he clears his throat. “We’d better take off if we’re going.”
His chin drops and he wipes a hand across his mouth. He almost seems like he wants to say more. I want to say more… So much hangs in the air between us.
“Wait a minute!” I dig in my purse and pull out my phone. “My arms aren’t long enough.”
He takes it from me and holds it up. I do my best to help him get us head to toe beside each other. It’s a crooked shot, but we’re smiling, our cheeks are together, and all those feelings glow in our eyes. He gives it back to me, and I take one more selfie of just our faces before slipping it back in my tiny handbag.
“Now?” Lacing our fingers, Taron guides me through the kitchen and out the back door to the old Chevy truck.
Inside, I scoot all the way across like always, so I can rest my head is on his shoulder. The lap belt is across my waist, and I hold his hand with our fingers still threaded.
We don’t speak. On the radio is an old country song about a man who loved a woman until he died, and I close my eyes, wondering if such a thing is possible. If Taron might love me until he dies. I know I’ll love him…
It hurts so much, but I’m determined not to waste these precious moments borrowing heartache from the future. He’s still here with me. I can still touch him, smell him. He’s still mine right now. I’ll have plenty of time to miss him when he’s gone.
The civic center is transformed for the party. White twinkle lights are wrapped around potted trees lining the room. Tables are arranged on one half of the hall with white tablecloths and small candles in the centers. A band is playing a mix of country, rock, and standards at the other end, and people are dancing.
I catch sight of my brother talking to Dutch Hayes, and I can guess what’s going on there. Sawyer’s been worrying himself sick over what’s going to happen with the orchard while he’s gone. I wish he’d talk to me about it. I’m perfectly capable of keeping things up and running, but he likes to follow the old ways.
He gets up every morning at the ass-crack of dawn, gets in his truck, and drives twenty miles per hour to meet with the old timers at the Denny’s in town and talk about the almanac predictions and whether or not the migrant workers will be back next spring.
Spoiler alert: They always are.