“What are the odds?”
“What are the fucking odds?” I answer, grinning as I drop another handful of berries into my bucket.
It isn’t long before Mrs. Gibson finds us between the rows.
“Truck is packed and ready to go,” she calls, smiling as she approaches.
Aiden looks over at me. “You ready to head out?”
“Yeah.”
I lift the strap of my picking bucket over my head and pour the berries into the larger bucket we’ve been filling together. Aiden grabs both buckets and starts walking back toward the tents.
“You did really good,” Mrs. Gibson says as we follow. “Hope you had a good time.”
“I did. It’s beautiful here. Peaceful. I can’t wait to come back.”
“Well, you'd better come to the next farmers' market,” she says, pointing down the road. “Next month. All the neighboring farms bring their goods.”
“I’ll definitely come.”
When we reach the tent, Aiden sets the buckets onto the scale. Mrs. Gibson glances at the number and waves a hand.
“These are on us.”
“No, let me pay you. There’s about fifteen pounds there.”
She shakes her head. “No, no. You’ve purchased plenty already, and this is for a good cause.”
She grabs a small crate and pours the berries inside.
“I had a couple of peach trees bloom early this year,” she adds. “Had the boys pack you a few crates.”
“How much do I owe you for those?”
“On me, boy,” she smiles, already knowing she’s won the argument.
Aiden laughs softly, walking around the table to hug her. “Thank you, Mrs. Gibson.”
“How about the blueberry honey?” he asks. “They finish it?”
“Oh yes! Packed those too. Thank you for taking it for us.”
“You got it.”
He steps back. “Alright, Mrs. Gibson, we should get going. We’ve got a long day ahead. We’re starting the jam and breads today.”
“It’s too good to see you, Aiden,” she says, looking at him with obvious affection before turning to me. “May, it was lovely meeting you. Please take care of my boy.”
I smile. “I will, Mrs. Gibson.”
Aiden grabs the crate, and after saying our goodbyes, we head toward the truck parked just across the road.
As we get closer, I notice a brown horse standing quietly along the fence line, watching us.
“Hi, beautiful.”
The horse doesn’t move as it studies me with calm, curious eyes.
