“Never thought you’d turn out to be such a tease!” Micah throws a handful of hay at me. I duck behind the stall, but a few strands still cascade down on me.
By the time I walk around to the door, Micah has made himself comfortable. With his arms crossed behind his head, cap pushed low into his face, and his long legs propped up against the stall, he looks so relaxed, I could almost forget that I tipped him into it.
“Well, anyway, I…learned something new about youandmyself!” He winks.
“Still an ogre.” I snort, ready to throw myself into the admittedly soft and comfy-looking hay, when my phone vibrates against my leg. “Sorry,” I huff as I pull it out.
“This is really turning into a thing,” Micah complains, but I barely hear him as my eyes dart over Colin's messages.
Checking in how it's going!
Just in case here’s some motivation…
I don’t wait until the picture finishes loading, quickly locking my phone and pushing it back into my pocket as deep as it will go. My heart pounds in my ears and my cheeks burn.
“Hey, everything alright?” Micah sits up, brushing the hay off his shoulders and picking it out of his hair.
“Yeah.” I swallow thickly, then clear my throat, but the odd tightness in my chest won’t go away. “I just…I should finish this.” I gesture at the hay that’s littering the ground. No priority in a barn, but sweeping should help clear my head.
“Oh, uh…yeah, sure.” Micah climbs out of the box.
I don’t look up until he has passed me.
The sound of bristles scraping over the ground makes me whirl around.
Micah has grabbed another broom and starts sweeping the stray bits of dirt, grass, and hay together. He smiles when he notices my stare. “Will be done much faster like this.”
For a moment, the urge to storm past him and run away from this situation is overwhelming. I grip the handle of my own broom tightly. Then I swallow, nod, and start sweeping as well.The silence between us feels tense at first, but slowly, I allow the monotone task and Micah’s quiet presence to take over and soothe my mind. Right now, I just want to be here, not worry about what’s waiting for me back in Bonham.
When I look up, I find Micah already looking at me. I give him a smile, hoping he’ll understand everything underneath the silent gesture; the apology as well as my gratitude that he’s putting up not just with this dusty-ass barn, but also me.
Linden, July 19th
Mom's hand comes to rest on my head, the comforting weight a gentle pressure as she reaches over me to set down a platter with leftovers from the farmer's market stand.
“For my hard-working men.” She smiles and ruffles my hair.
I tip my head back to smile at her, then take in the goodies on the plate. There’s cherry pie, sweet rolls with cherries folded in, cinnamon rolls, and two chocolate muffins with smudged frosting. Overwhelmed by everything cherry, I pick one of the cinnamon rolls, though I set my plate aside for now. Most of my attention is on the sheets in front of me.
Over the past hour, I've tried to wrap my head around the aspects of the harvest and everything that needs to be done afterward.
A farm always plans for the next year before this one is over.I can almost hear granddad say it.
Dad spread his work all over the dining table half a minute after I sat down with a cup of coffee. I had intended to only take a short break from studying, but now there was no way to sneak back to my room before all this was talked over to Dad's content.
The baked goods now barely make up for the hour I've spent staring at numbers in neat rows in endless columns.
However, when I take a distracted bite of the consolation-cinnamon roll, its softness takes me by surprise. It's perfectly chewy, even if it must have been standing out all day, the cinnamon just sweet enough without overpowering the nutty notes of the filling.
“Oh wow, these are great!” I say, halfway through my second bite.
“Micah helped me make them this morning,” Mom singsongs, suspiciously chipper.
“Ah, of course. He cooks and bakes at the Nook, too.” I hesitate, but Bonham hasn't come up in conversation until now, so I figure it can't hurt to share a little bit about my life there. “It's always really good.”
“Really? Maybe I should ask him for some recipes so I can make them for him next time.”
“Mom, there won’t be a next time. Micah's graduating in the spring and will probably join the NFL after. He won't have time to come cherry picking for us.” Nor would he want to, I'm sure.
