“Has anyone seen Coby?”Jack’s panicked voice carries over the mish-mash of afternoon fall sounds: multiple pairs of boots crunching over the leaves and bees buzzing in the trees. Tractors with wagons hitched to their back, bump along the dirt gravel paths, escorting people to the various varieties of apple trees ready for picking. Jack’s mom prefers McIntosh apples for her pies, so she and Luce continued further into the orchard, while we stayed on the outskirts for the Cortlands.
I pivot on my heel, scanning the surroundings. Sunlight filters below the bowing branches, leaning heavily with clusters of apples and creating multiple shadows. Shadows that Coby could easily hide in.
Suddenly, the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs fill the air as a barrage of apples descend from the tree above. An apple plunks me on the top of the head, and I yelp, covering my noggin with my hands. Jack tugs on my arm, pulling me toward the dirt path, narrowly avoiding Part Two of Newton’s Revenge. My back presses against his chest, warm and firm, and I’m tempted to lean into him. But I don’t have the chance to be weak because his hands fall on my hip, and he whips me around to face him.
“Are you okay? Do you think you need to be checked for a concussion?” His hand works over my head as he feels for a bump, and all the while, my eyes narrow in on his lips, contorted into an adorable, concerned frown.
“I’m fine—but—” I gesture to the tree, shaking violently.
Jack nods. “I should, yeah.” He breathes out, going over to the tree. His hands reach up, obscured by the branches, and then he pulls down a wiggling menace.
“I made it snow apples, Uncle Jack. Wasn’t that funny?” Coby puts his arms out like an airplane, flying on Jack’s palm.
“You could have seriously hurt somebody, bud. You need to apologize to Ms. Desfleurs, one of those apples fell on her head.” He brings him in for a landing near my face.
Coby’s blue eyes meet mine, a hint of guilt hanging there. “Sorry, Aulie. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I couldn’t reach the apples, and it was getting wicked frustrating, you know? But now we’ve got a bunch on the ground to pick from!”
Grant walks over to the collection of fallen apples, picks one up, and promptly pitches it. Luckily, he misses beaming Mrs. Cardew, innocently picking apples from a nearby tree. Startled, she sighs when she catches the perpetrator. Coby and Grant’s reputation precedes them almost anywhere in town.
“Sorry, Mrs. Cardew,” I holler with an apologetic wave.
“Not a problem, dear. Traffic was great this weekend at the antique store, by the way.”
“Happy to hear it! Hopefully, that keeps up.”
“Keep things up with that handsome fellow of yours, and I’m sure it will. I loved that picture of you two, by the way! That bloom of young love—you just can’t beat it!”
My eyes drop to my brown boots and a collection of maple leaves and apples on the surrounding ground. A wave of heat envelops me, spreading from the tips of my ears to the base of my neck as sweat gathers on my palms.
Jack looms above me, narrowing a curious stare on my face. I don’t look back. It was nice of him not to peek at the newspaper, but there have been enough people here making implications about its contents that I’m sure he’s figured out the gist.
I wasn’t acting.
I’m in love with him.
* * *
There isprecious little that a hot cup of cider and a homemade apple cider donut cannot cure. Resting at a picnic table Jack may not have subtly commanded me to sit at, I happily savor the cinnamon and sugar dancing on my taste buds. Currently, Jack is sprinting across the pumpkin patch, trying to catch Coby and Grant who have learned there’s power in splitting up when trying to beat a professional athlete. Coby jumps on a pumpkin, and it explodes under him.
“I’m going to pay for that; I’m so sorry,” Jack hollers to the teenager managing the area. He pushes his sweater sleeves up over his elbows, and the black ink that’s a reminder that we come from different worlds is revealed.
The ember of hope that sparked alive when I thought Jack was flirting with me wilts in my chest. So he’s flirted with me today? Big deal. That doesn’t mean he’s feeling things the same way I am.
On the other side of the patch, Grant picks up a pumpkin and spikes it down atop another. “You know what, better yet, I’ll just buy the whole patch today, let anyone who wants one come in and grab one, and I’ll just—yup.” He finally gets a grip on Grant and tucks him under his arm. With a scowl, he marches to the bench and slumps down with his nephews firmly in his grasp.
“Definitely didn’t need my help, huh?” I laugh as bits of donut crumbs fall from my mouth.
“I handled it.”
“You bought an entire pumpkin patch.”
“Quiet, you.” He shakes his head as Coby and Grant wiggle and bite his arms. “If I let go, will you two sit here and eat your donuts?”
“I want to see the goats again.” Coby whines.
“Later. Donuts. You two. Eat them or don’t. I don’t care, but don’t you dare move from this bench, or I’m canceling our ice skating date on Thursday.”
I wince internally at the chaos they’ll find on the ice rink, but maybe having them in a contained space on skates will be better.
