“You okay, Mrs. Jenny? Do you need me to stay?”
Her eyes glide from me to Taron, and she softens. “No, honey. You go on and enjoy the festival. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
Stepping around the table, I give her a tight hug. “Thank you.”
My hand is back in Taron’s as we walk across the rows of tents, past the zydeco band at the end playing “Jolie Blonde.” I hesitate a moment. It’s my favorite zydeco song… But Taron gives me a tug, and we continue toward the pavilion, where picnic tables are arranged in a line and a group of ten kids to grownups sit in front of peach pies with bright red and white checked bibs tied around their necks.
We watch the first round, with me gagging and laughing. Then Taron spots the antique car show. He pulls me to a row of cars from old beaters to slick race cars. He’s especially interested in the glossy Model T. The owner, a man from Ferriday, is glad to tell him all about it. Watching them talk, I’m surprised to learn my man is a car geek.
My man… the words sprang into my mind unbidden.
Can I call him that? My heart says an emphatic yes, but we’ve never had the conversation… Am I his?
While they talk shop, I survey the fair grounds. Banners are all around celebrating the 70th anniversary of the festival. I catch sight of my brother standing with his arms crossed beside another, older man inside the Official Peach Grower’s tent. The way he talks, considering, thoughtful makes me miss my daddy.
Daddy always loved the Peach Festival. It was his favorite time of the year—and not just because it signaled the end of our hardest-working days. It was symbolic of what he’d accomplished. He’d gone from nobody to being a leader in our small community.
An old, familiar ache is in my bones, and my brother’s eyes catch mine. He smiles, and I do a little wave. Taron walks up behind me, putting his hand on my waist, and I see the change in Sawyer’s expression, like he’s just seeing for the first time what’s been under his nose for two weeks. I’m not sure if I should be worried or glad.
“What else do you want to do?” I blink away from whatever my brother is thinking and smile up at his friend.
“Oh, I’ve done this a hundred times. What would you like to see?”
He narrows his eyes as if he’s thinking. “Princess Peach. I want to see what kind of supermodels they have competing this year.”
“It’s a pageant for six year-olds.”
“Which you didn’t win. Those kids have to be on beauty-pageant steroids to beat you.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“I still want to see what kind of rigged system they’re running here. You could win a pageant soaking wet in a burlap sack.”
I shake my head, laughing. “I didn’t want to be in it.”
“Stop making excuses and lead the way.”
We’re intercepted by a hawker guiding us to the Ferris wheel—something I’d so much rather do than revisit my childhood failure.
One look at my face, and Taron buys two tickets for us to go all the way to the top and come back down again. We’re in our car, and I scoot in close to his side, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and thinking about all the good things… my product line being a success, having this wonderful man on my arm… I overheard Sawyer saying we’d had our best harvest in years, thanks to the extra hands. So many good things. My heart is so full of gratitude.
The wind blows in short gusts laced with the metallic scent of rain the higher we rise. A storm is moving in, and I think about what’s building between Taron and me. Our love is wild like a tornado, consuming and fierce… yet at the same time, it can be soft and gentle like a butterfly, like the way he’s touching my cheek right now.
My eyes flicker up to his, and he smiles. “Noel Aveline LaGrange.” So much love is in his eyes, it takes my breath away. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Dark lashes frame his pale eyes, and I slide my thumb over his full bottom lip. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”
That gets me a sexy smile. “Can boys be pretty?”
“You can.” Scooting closer, I put my chin on his shoulder. “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”
“I’m pretty happy, too.” His arm tightens around me. “I wish…”
His voice trails off, and my chest aches. I know what he wishes. It’s what I wish for every night he holds me as we sleep. I wish he weren’t leaving. I wish we could be together always. I wish the best things in my life didn’t always seem to end.
I wish our love would last.
Lifting my chin, I meet his earnest gaze. The lights flicker in his eyes like a million promises we have yet to make.