Embarrassment flashes in my chest. “No, I didn’t!”
“I’ve got the scar to prove it.” She turns her arm over, revealing a silver line running from her elbow to her tricep.
“It was an accident. I stepped on a peach…”
Her nose wrinkles, and she pokes my chest. “Calm down. I know.”
“Dang, Dove. I felt like shit after that.”
“It’s okay, I’m just teasing you.” She puts a slim hand on my arm, giving it a little rub. “You’re the only person who understood how much it all meant to me.”
My mind travels to that afternoon, that moment on the hill looking over it all with her. I’ve thought about it several times through the years, wondering what she was doing, if she remembered.
Now she’s standing in my kitchen telling me she does.
“New rule.” I hold up a finger. “You never have to worryabout making dinner. I actually enjoy doing it, and from what I’ve heard, I’m a pretty good cook.”
“It’s true. Dinner last night was delicious. I love buffalo chicken.”
“When Maddie comes over, I try to make stuff she’ll like.”
“Sounds like Maddie and I have similar tastes.”
I smile down at her. “I’ve got you covered.”
“Sweet!” She gives me a little wink before transferring her coffee to a travel mug. “I guess I’d better get across the street and pick up Haddy. Do you have my number?”
I tap on my phone, pulling up her contact information. “Got it.”
“Text me if you need anything or… I don’t know. If you want to.” She pulls the bag onto her shoulder. “I’ll be on campus all day.”
I polish off my burrito. “I’ll be at the stadium for practice. Do you have any food allergies or anything like that?”
“Not that I know of.” She starts for the door, and I can’t resist. I adopt a sappy, 1950s-style voice. “Have a nice day, honey!”
She snorts, answering in the exact same voice, but adding an awkwardly staged wave. “You too, hon! Don’t forget to take Spot out for a walk.”
“You betcha!” I give her an equally dorky thumbs up.
She steps out the door, heading across the street, and I pause at the window, watching her jog up to Haddy’s door, thinking about someone you’d marry on the spot.
5
DOVE
“It definitely looks like Armillaria.” Dr. Smithfield examines the pictures I took of the orchard on my phone.
He’s a tall man, although everyone seems tall to me since I’m only five-foot-two. He has a thick, white mustache, and he actually could be the Lorax.
“Do you have any clippings or samples we could test or put under the microscope?” His bushy eyebrows furrow as he looks down at me.
My chest sinks at his words. “No, sir. I guess I knew before I came here you were going to say that.”
I didn’t want it to be true. I was still holding out hope we were wrong, that it was some other problem, something easier.
He puts a large hand on my shoulder. “Don’t despair. There’s no cure for Armillaria, but the spread can be managed, even stopped. You will have to excavate and destroy the affected trees, and you can slow the spread byexposing the root crowns to the sunshine and air to dry it out.”
“The air doesn’t get very dry in Louisiana.”
