“Of course.”
Darcy and I head downstairs and she picks a stack of country records for the record player. We bicker over which sides are the best first, fully knowing we’re not making it all the way through them. It’s late and we have to be up for the horses tomorrow.
But for now, we dance. I twirl Darcy around while she giggles. We drink whiskey from the bottle, not to get drunk, but just feeling the buzz. We sway to slow songs and steal whiskey-flavored kisses. I savor the feeling of her skin on mine.
It’s a fitting ending to a beautiful summer together, one that I think has changed me forever.
Because when I look at Darcy, I can’t see anything but forever.
FORTY-EIGHT
DARCY
Stormy’s sittingon her perch on the porch, watching Bill, Maggie, and me unload their RV. I just waved Jake off, sending him on to his new place in Huntington. I’m actually glad Bill and Maggie came back when they did so I don’t have time to mope.
“It’s good to be home,” Maggie sighs, giving me another hug as Bill carries the last bag in. “I’m so proud of everything you did.”
“Here, let’s talk about it over dinner. I put some stuff together for us.”
Maggie pulls me close. “Thank god. I couldn’t eat another camping meal. Life on the road’s for your mom’n’em.”
“It’s certainly not for me,” I say, and, arm in arm, we walk into the house.
Bill and Maggie regale me with stories from the road, and then they turn the tables.
“How was your summer, Darce?”
And suddenly, my eyes heat and my nose stings. My chest aches.
It was great. Amazing. Incredible. Life-altering.
Maggie’s hand lands on top of mine. “You know you’re allowed to cry here.”
So I do. Irrational, body-wracking sobs. Letting everything go at last.
“Oh, honey, it’ll be alright,” Bill says, while Maggie gets up to hug me.
“No, it’s actually, good tears?” I sniffle. “I finally know what I want. But . . . I’m afraid to ask for it and what it means.”
Neither Bill nor Maggie says anything, taking their seats at the table again. “I wrote a book. A whole book. For the first time ever. And I hate that my parents are right, but I’m happy here. But I don’t know if you even need me or if you’re just being nice.”
“Trust me,” Bill grumbles. “We do.”
“We were hoping you’d want to stay,” Maggie says, glancing at Bill. He gives a slight nod. “And . . . we want to offer for you to start earning your share of the farm.”
My eyes widen and my jaw drops. “What?”
Bill gives me a wry smile. “The place is as much yours as it is ours. And we aren’t getting any younger, so if you want it . . .”
My lip wobbles again. “But, how?”
Maggie grins. “We’ll work toward something, but eventually, we need to transition out and,” she gestures all around her, “this will be yours.”
“If you want it,” Bill adds. “And there’s plenty of time to think about it.”
This is it. What I want. Right? If Jake weren’t in the picture I wouldn’t even think twice about accepting.
This was supposed to be my summer of finding myself, of rediscovering what I want from life. And I did. I want more of this: the farm, writing. But I also fell in love, and I want more of that too.
