“Can we taste an apple?” Mom asked.
“More than that, you’re welcome to pick as many apples as you can carry back on the ATV. My treat.”
Mom clasped her hands together. “Thank you! This is a moment to treasure, Sam. What a sweet memory this will be.”
Sam took her mom’s syrupy words in stride. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
Her parents drifted toward the old section of trees. Genevieve ambled toward the new, Sam following.
“Thanks for being great with my mom and dad.”
“Anytime.” He bent and moved a large stick out of her way. “Does your dad have a problem with his eyes? I noticed that something seemed different about his left eye.”
“Very perceptive, Sam. Most people don’t pick up on that.” She hadn’t known her dad any other way, so she herself didn’t tend to see anything out of the ordinary when she looked at him. She settled her braid forward over her shoulder. “He was in a car accident before he met my mom. A piece of glass punctured his left eye so badly that it couldn’t be saved. He has an artificial eye.”
“It looks a lot like the real thing.”
“The doctors did a great job. They left all the muscles around the eyeball intact, which is why he still has some movement in the artificial eye. Just not as much as a real eye. Also, it can’t dilate. Nor can it change color slightly, the way real eyes do in different light.”
“It seems like he’s adapted well.”
“Apparently he had a hard time adapting immediately after it happened. But over time, he’s learned to deal with it. He’s less coordinated than he was, but he was never an athlete to begin with. He positions himself so that his artificial eye is the one next to a wall or sits at the end of rectangular tables so he can see everyone better. He’s a very defensive driver and doesn’t drive at all at night.”
Sam made a thoughtful sound.
“He has to see a chiropractor fairly often because the way he holds his head, angled to the side, throws him out of alignment. And, of course, he and his eye doctor are very, very careful of his remaining eye.”
They strolled together between healthy green branches.
“My mom has to tell him when his glasses are dirty on the side of the artificial eye. Otherwise, he’d never know.” She rose to her tippy toes to reach for a Honeycrisp. Too high.
Sam adroitly snapped it from its branch. After shining it on his shirt, he handed it to her.
His eyes met hers. So much lived in his expressions.
She took a bite. The apple gave way with a satisfying crunch. Firm, tangy, juicy.
As they walked, they talked about the changes she’d advised him to make to his website and social media accounts.
His gorgeous accent flowed over her like poetry. His hard body moved with grace. His size and sturdiness reassured her.
Sam Turner was a man who knew his own mind. He was comfortable in his skin. He was also secretive and occasionally prickly. He had a grip on what was important and what wasn’t. The more she dug past his closed-off exterior into his character, the more she found decency and goodness at his core.
The National Park Service had entrusted every growing thing and every structure on these acres to Sam’s care. She shouldn’t be surprised that a man who had a way with growing things also had a way with women. Like these trees, and partly because of Sam, she was starting to thrive in this soil.
It had been a long, long time since she’d felt for anyone the way she was starting to feel for Sam. The rush of emotions. The glittering hormones. The awareness.
She needed to be careful. Super careful. Dr. Quinley had told her that the absence of Oxy would leave a void that needed filling. It had. Intellectually, she knew the hole needed to be filled by God and God alone. So why was she instinctively tempted to fill that void with Sam? If she let herself go there, then she’d be exchanging one crutch—painkillers—for another crutch—a man.A man who had, let her not forget, informed her from the first that there would be no romance between them.
What if she told him about her interest, and he shut her down? (Highly likely.) What if, by some miracle, he eventually reciprocated her feelings (unlikely) and then ended up shattering her heart (likely)? Where would she be then? Devastated. And what effect might that have on her recovery? Detrimental.
She’d be wise to do what Dr. Quinley advised: focus all her energy on confronting and dealing with her issues so that she could hope to stay clean in the future.
The sound of her mom’s laughter traveled to her, and Genevieve angled a look at her parents. Dad had made a basket out of the hem of his polo shirt, and Mom was giggling as she added apples to it.
What exactly had her mom and dad done all those years ago?
Genevieve
