Mr. Jamison’s eyes appear hooded with concern. “Yes. I suppose we need to do that sooner rather than later.”
I hug him, and his scratchy voice is soft against my ear. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I pull back and grin, relieved to have found a solution. “I’ll see you soon.”
Once outside, I notice George standing next to my car with his back toward me. My bag hangs off his broad shoulder, and a slight breeze tousles his hair. His gaze is directed at the horizon where a few dark clouds remain in the distance.
“Hey,” I greet, trying not to startle him.
He turns around and offers me a sincere smile, his cerulean eyes filling with emotion.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“I hope so.” He looks forlornly at the ground. “I’m so sorry about today. I feel like I let you down again. I’m a complete idiot.”
Placing my fingers under his chin, I lift his face and look right at him. “You’re not an idiot. You are amazing.”
My comment seems to appease him, and I wrap my arms around him in a tight hug. We stay like that for over a minute, neither one of us budging.
“Good luck,” he mutters.
“I don’t need any luck,” I giggle, pulling back from him. “I’m working up a plan for my boss so both parties are happy. A plan to scout the area further east, closer to Savannah, for the Global Dynamics expansion. If he approves my plan, you’ll get mighty sick of me.”
“Oh yeah?” He presses his top teeth into his lower lip to suppress a happy smile. “Madison, I don’t think I could ever get sick of you.”
“Good answer.”
I stand on my tippy toes and boldly kiss him on the lips, my hands tangling in his dark hair. And I don’t care if Kip or anyone else on the farm sees us. I’m pumped and anxious to get this deal behind me. Anxious to move forward and help Ralph set up a plan for George to succeed.
“Mmmm… Madison,” he moans, kissing me deeply.
When we finally pull apart, we’re quiet for a moment, studying our fingers laced together between us. I’m grateful for George. I’ve learned more from him in the short time we’ve been together than from anyone else.
I don’t view his autism as a disorder. I view it as a gift.
There is something incredible about the way he sees the world and the way he sees me. His profound, deep sense of clarity and honesty has taught me a lot in the last week. And I know I’m undoubtedly ready to slow down and search within myself for what I need. For what I want.
I’m pretty sure I want George. But I know I need to move forward carefully and with the best of intentions.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb softly against my cheek.
“I’ll miss you too. I’ll call you. And you can text me anytime, okay?”
His lips lift on one side of his face into a half smile. “Okay. But you should know I’m not very good at texting.”
“I’ll be the instigator,” I assure.
George opens the car door for me, and I get in. I start the engine and roll down the window. “It’s all gonna work out. You’ll see.”
He nods and bends low to kiss me a final time. “See you later. Love you.” He wrinkles his nose andshakes his head. “Oops.”
I laugh and palm my heart, remembering his grandmother’s advice:
One mustn’t ever forget their I love yous.
I drive away and watch him through the rearview mirror, waving like a little kid. It’s exactly like the first day we met when I stopped at his produce stand, one hand on his hip, the other signaling goodbye with broad strokes through the air. Only this time, his smile isn’t overzealous. It’s melancholy as if he doesn’t believe he will ever see me again.
“Sweet George. I’ll be back, I promise.” As I turn onto Paradise Road, my whispered vow hangs heavy in the car’s interior. I know my actions reinforce trust, something I owe George moving forward.
