I stroked the soft bow of her bottom lip when she finally breathed a quiet good morning. “I never want to leave your arms.”
I pulled her to a seated position, bare body clinging to my chest as I worked her shirt over her head and down her arms. “Someday, Augusta Belle. Not today, but soon.”
She sighed, stretching each leg out and allowing me to pull the discarded denim up her thighs. “Someday we’ll roam the open road like gypsies. You can sing music, and I’ll be your dedicated groupie.” Her cherub cheeks and innocence were sweet enough to make my jaded heart crack.
“We’ll get on that just as soon as you graduate high school.” I plopped a chaste kiss on her nose once I’d bundled her up sufficiently.
“That’s too long.” She scrunched her nose, eyes watering at the edges.
“It’ll be over before you know it.” I locked our fingers. “In the meantime, I’ll keep writing music, you’ll keep swimming and breaking records.” I pulled the ancient door open and pushed a finger to my lips. “Old man’s probably passed out on the couch, but he’s a light sleeper some nights.”
Two front teeth punctured her bottom lip, and she nodded, eyes trained on me.
I smiled, pulling her a little closer to me and mouthing the words “I love you.”
She used sign language to repeat my sentiment, then I pulled her quietly down the hallway and out into the cool morning air.
Our footsteps sped up as the morning light bathed the far-off horizon in a warm glow, dew burning off the tall grass and wetting my sneakers with every step.
We rounded the bend and angled up the steep hill to the top of the ridge.
We’d definitely gotten a late start this morning. She was usually safely tucked in bed by this time of morning, her parents none the wiser that she’d spent the night out. I paused as we reached the first giant hemlock that flanked her driveway.
Her eyes finally locked with mine, and I whispered a kiss across her cheek.
“I may have kinda sorta saved you the first day we met, but…” I breathed another kiss along her temple. “You’ve been saving me every day since then.”
One lonely tear dampened the cotton at my throat, making my own eyes burn with something too strong for either of us to swallow.
“I wish I didn’t have to go back there,” she finally squeaked.
I pulled away, squinting away my own tears from the warm dawn light and focusing on the soft skin at her throat. “Where’s your necklace?”
Her hand moved to her throat on instinct, searching for the little golden cameo she’d been wearing every moment since I’d given it to her. “It’s in my room somewhere. I took it off a few nights ago for a shower and just misplaced it.” A frown slid across her face.
“Well, as soon as you find it, put it back on.” I pushed a lip between my teeth. “I’d save you again if I could, Augusta Belle.” I meant it, every word.
She nodded, trying to control more tears, I could tell.
My eyes glanced up to the still, silent windows of the house at 101 River Ridge Drive.
A bright golden ray cracked through the dappled leaves and kissed the soft waves of her hair.
Her hands finally broke from my grip, and she backed away, moving into the bright sunlight before throwing me an air kiss and a reluctant half smile and then turning to run away with my heart.
I watched her sprint all the way up the driveway before darting around the side of the house where I knew she’d scramble up the old trellis and onto her roof, before sneaking back in through her window and getting ready for her day as if she’d never been gone.
I lingered for a few minutes longer, waiting for what, I wasn’t sure, before I turned and headed back the way I’d come. I retraced my steps back down the ridge and home to my tiny single bed and the worn old quilt that’d kept me warm since I was a kid. Except this time, it smelled like Augusta Belle.
My footsteps sped up as I rounded the last corner and darted across the small yard and through the front door of my home.
“Up early this morning, son.” Dad’s whiskey-clogged voice rang in my ears.
“Went for a jog. It’s gonna be a beautiful day.” I clapped the old man on the back, glad to see he was at least up and off the couch, a rarity this time of day.
Nerve pain usually kept his body so buckled and bent he could hardly make it off the couch. That’d been part of the reason I’d moved to Chickasaw Ridge. To help him. The other because my mama had found herself doing another ninety-day stint in rehab, and I just couldn’t make the bills on our small rental alone.
“Sure is a beautiful day, son. Sure is.” He took a long drink of water as he stood at the kitchen sink that overlooked the field and ridge beyond. One of his hands clutched at the chipped countertop, hip twisted to one side as he favored some painful ache.
