“This one has a split down the side,” she tells me, turning it so I can see the bright center barely peeking out. “But no bugs, no ants, so we’ll use it!”
She drops it into the basket and continues up the row.
“You’re really good at this.”That’s better.
I’ve graduated to five words, even if they are pretty obvious words.
“I’d better be. I’ve been doing it a long time.” Hesitating, she puts a hand on her hip before turning to fix me with those blue-green eyes. “Mamma told me her daddy’s spirit lives in these trees.”
She blinks thick lashes at me, and prickly heat races across the back of my neck. She seems to be waiting for my reply, so I swallow air and clear my throat.
“His… huh?”Wow, Maverick. Just wow.
“I know.” She returns to the tree, feeling around again. A sharp pull, and another peach goes into her basket. “You know the story, right?”
My brow furrows, and I shake my head no.
Dove leans close, and the air squeezes from my lungs. I swallow the spit gathering in the back of my throat and inhale her beachy-peach scent. Dove always smells so good. I anticipate this visit every year, and every year, I go home with her scent haunting my memory.
Her eyes hold mine, and the blood rushes from my headto my groin. Her pillow lips tighten, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss her… then I pray to all that’s holy I don’t pop an inappropriate boner like I seem to do all the time these days.
“He took his life right here in this very spot,” she whispers.
Boner gone, my eyes widen. “Why did he do that?”
She straightens, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. “My grandmother was gone. I guess he didn’t want to go on living without her.”
My stomach pits at the thought. “What happened to her?”
“Car accident. She went out for a walk one night and never came back.” Dove’s expression is solemn. “The driver said he never saw her, said she just came out of nowhere.”
“Dang,” I hiss, and she slides her hand into mine.
My entire arm electrifies. The world around us seems to still. The birds quiet, the bugs stop humming. It’s only our breath, holding hands as we consider this terrible story of loss and heartache. Of a man who loved a woman so much, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.
My mind travels back through my own family’s history. “My grandfather didn’t live long after my grandmother died either.”
“I know.” She nods. “I heard our moms talking about it once.”
“He had CTE, so it’s not exactly the same…”
“It’s fate.” Dove releases my hand, pulling the strap over her head and placing the basket on the ground. Then she grabs me again. “Want to see something?”
I blink at her, confused. “Sure…”
“Come on!” She takes off running through the trees, holding my hand again.
I’m still trying to understand what she meant.Whatwas fate? Our families sharing a tragic history? The two of us being here together? The two of us, period?
But she’s jogging now, dragging me with her.
Her thin, flower-printed dress swishes around her legs as she weaves through tree after tree, taking sharp turns. I do my best not to get hit in the face by the low branches.
“Where are we going?” I grab a limb before it smacks me in the forehead.
Our hands break apart, but she keeps going. I pull up quick when I round a tree to find her completely stopped.
She turns, holding both my arms again in a way I really like. It’s like she’s sharing something special with me, holding me close, pulling me emphatically into her world.
