Wait for Me

I’m standing beside a line of men along the back wall with their arms crossed, watching the pageant and the spectacle surrounding it. I recognize some of them from that first meeting at Denny’s. A few I’ve seen talking to Sawyer in the fields, and I realize they’re part of the community of growers.

What would it mean to build a life here with them? It’s miles away from Nashville, but it feels more like home than anything I’ve ever experienced. Warmth is at my side, and I look down at my girl smiling up at me.

“Seen enough?” She’s happy, and I love seeing the glow in her eyes when she looks at me.

“I get it now. That little girl actually looks like a peach.”

Her chin rises, and she nods as if I’ve cracked the code. “Next year you can be a judge.” The words catch her short, and a splinter of pain cuts my chest.

I don’t want to think about next year and where I’ll be or how far away. I put my arm around her waist and turn her to the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

I want to spend the night holding this beautiful creature in my arms.

The yellow cake turns golden brown, and I look over her shoulder. “Just a few more seconds.”

Noel is in front of me, holding a spatula as she watches her first batch of hoecakes frying in the pan.

“It’s just like making pancakes.” She reaches out and quickly flips all four of them, perfectly browned.

I kiss the side of her neck, holding her waist, loving the feel of her back against my chest. The weekend is here, and Sawyer told everybody to sleep in—which naturally means we’ve been up since dawn stealing every moment we can find together.

Last night I held her so close to me as she slept. My face was in her hair, and I did my best to memorize her scent, feel her body against mine, doing everything in my power to imprint her on my mind. I never want to forget how she feels in my arms.

The Peach Ball is tonight, and she said she’d go with me. We’ve done our best to stay in the moment, but we can’t avoid the truth any longer. It’s my last night in town. Tomorrow, I leave before dawn, and it feels like a lead weight pressing on my chest.

My face is at her shoulder, and I take another deep inhale as she plates the small corn cakes. Then she turns in my arms and puts her hands on my chest.

“I decided to change the scent on the one I sell.” Her head tilts to the side and she smiles up at me. “I’ll still make this scent, but it’ll just be for me.”

I don’t know why this makes me so happy, but it does. “Will you send me a bottle?”

“I’ll give you the one I have. I’ll put it in your bag.”

Raking my fingers along the side of her hair, I lean down and kiss her cheek, just as the door swings open and Leon storms into the room. We step apart, but I’m sure he saw me holding her, kissing her.

Either way, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Breakfast ready?” He pulls down a plate without making eye contact.

Noel is back at the stove, spooning four more cakes onto the hot griddle. “Almost. Unless you want eggs.”

“Nah, this is good.”

I put a few strips of bacon on to fry and walk over to restart the coffee pot. My eyes are on Noel moving around in those cutoffs I love. I’m making a mental picture when Sawyer joins us, growling about too much noise in the house to sleep.

Noel cuts up the last peaches in the refrigerator, and we have a quiet breakfast. I think it’s about more than simply the end of harvest and exhaustion. I think it’s because the fact of what’s coming is settling in. I’m leaving in the morning, then a few days later Sawyer will leave. Neither of us will be back for a long time.

Breakfast is over, and we all carry our dishes to the sink. Leon immediately starts to load the dishwasher, but Noel stops him, pulling him into a brief hug.

“It’s your birthday weekend. Go pick me some peaches, and I’ll make ice cream.” He starts for the door, and when our eyes meet, she nods. “Go with him.”

A sweet smile is on her lips, and I head out the door, following Leon up the hill. It takes longer today, searching the near-bare trees. Primarily under-ripe fruit is left, but we’re able to find a few new ones that have turned since the pickers left.

We celebrated Leon’s actual birthday a few days ago, but the festival seemed to take over everyone’s attention. He’s been unusually quiet the last few days, and I wonder if it’s because of a certain teenage girl.

“So…” We’re walking side by side past the short trees. “You and Betsy?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His brow is still lowered, and he searches a branch, finding two more peaches.

After putting them in the bucket I’m holding, he cuts those hazel eyes up at me.