“I’m gonna miss you, Princess!” Griff said to Audrey.
“Back atcha, Griff,” his girlfriend said, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“This is so you don’t forget where you belong while you’re yukking it up in Paris.” He set something on the table, and I squinted to see what it was—a wooden fruit crate so small that it would fit in the palm of Audrey’s hand.
“That’s so cute!” she squealed, lifting it. “I love it. It’s for…soap?” she guessed.
“Sure,” Griff rumbled.
But there wasn’t any soap in the little crate. Audrey lifted out a small wad of red tissue paper. She fumbled with that for a moment, finding a tiny satin bag inside.
And then she lifted a sparkling ring out of the bag.
There was a silence at the table as we all registered what Griff had done.
“Omigod,” Audrey stuttered. “It’s… It’s beautiful.”
Griff did not get down on one knee, I noticed. That was probably because Audrey was sitting on his knee. “Princess, will you be my wife?”
“Yes!” she shouted. “But you weren’t supposed to spend money on a ring! Our budget is a house of cards.”
He wrapped his big arms around her middle. “I think I heard a yes in there somewhere.”
“You!” Audrey teared up. “Of course I want to get married. I’m just surprised.” She looked around the table at all the gaping faces. “Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Griff?”
“Only about you,” he said quietly, kissing her on the cheekbone. From the look on his face, you might guess there was nobody else in the room. Or in the world.
Audrey turned and dove into his arms, and that’s when everyone woke up and cheered.
“What happen?” demanded Maeve in my lap. She’d been quietly finishing my ice cream during the grownup drama.
“Uh…” My throat was oddly tight, and I tried to think what to say. How do you explain something like that to a two-and-a-half-year-old? Griffin just won the lottery. Someone loves him above all others.
Leah swooped in and pulled her daughter off my lap. “Griff and Audrey decided to get married,” she explained.
Maeve just yawned.
“Say goodnight to Zach,” her mother said. “It’s past your bedtime.”
“No!” But Leah carried her toward the stairs, with Maeve protesting the whole way.
Isaac appeared in the doorway, bearing two bottles of chilled champagne.
“Awfully sure of yourself,” Audrey said again, pointing at them.
“You love it,” Griff argued, and then they were kissing again.
I looked away, as I always did. Everyone assumes they know why talk of sex makes me uncomfortable. They think it scares me, or I don’t know what to do with it. But that’s bull. I know exactly what I’d like to do with it.
With her.
My traitorous gaze found Lark in her chair, digging a tissue out of her handbag for Ruth, who had happy tears tracking down her face. Lark’s cheeks were pink from working outside in the sun all day. Someone handed her a glass of champagne and received a glittering smile as thanks.
“God, I miss champagne,” May sighed, dropping herself into Leah’s empty chair beside me.
“Me too, sister,” Jude agreed. “Well, I’m not really a champagne guy. But once in a while I miss the hell out of my old pal Jack Daniel’s.”
With champagne bubbles bursting against my tongue, I wondered whether I was a champagne guy. Probably not. These things were likely decided by fate. That rich guy Lark had been dating probably drank it regularly.
“My brother is engaged,” May said, testing out the concept. “Thought I’d never see the day.”
“Me either,” I admitted.
“Those two just kill me,” May said. “It gives me hope, you know? Vermont is the forty-ninth most populace state in the union. Not exactly a generous dating pool. Last June Griff was stomping around our place looking blue, and then Audrey showed up out of nowhere.”
I remembered it well. I’d put the donut on her flat tire myself.
She nudged me with her knee. “Who are we going to find for you, Zachy?”
Your best friend? “Uh, I don’t know if I’m dating material.”
“If my brother can find someone to love his grumpy ass, and even Eeyore here is married—” She jerked a thumb toward Jude, who grinned. “—then it’s really astonishing that you and I are single.”
I, for one, was not astonished. “Many are called, but few are chosen.”
Jude quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a Star Wars quote?”
“No!” I barked out a laugh. “It’s Matthew 22:14.”
“No wonder I don’t know it,” Jude said, unconcerned. He set down his soda glass. “I’d better get home. Sophie’s probably back from her coworker’s birthday party. Night, guys.”
I watched him congratulate the happy couple, thinking about the parable I’d just quoted. A biblical king had invited the whole countryside to his son’s wedding. And when the king came in to see the guests, he saw a man who “had not on a wedding garment.” The king asked for an explanation of the man’s lowly attire, and none was given. So the king had his servants “bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
When I was a boy, the preacher had explained that the man’s disrespect was the cause of his downfall. But I’d always sided with the poor slob who’d shown up underdressed. Even now that I had a good job and friends who were good to me, I was never going to forget that I’d been bound up like the man in the story and tossed off the premises.
Part of me was always waiting for it to happen again.
* * *
When my watch beeped the next morning I opened my eyes to find myself alone in my bunk. Disappointment settled into my chest until I realized that Lark had enjoyed a peaceful night alone in her bed.
That’s a good thing, asshole, I reminded myself.
It was Friday, which meant no farmers’ market with her either. I got up and headed for the dairy barn, passing Lark’s door on quiet feet. I hoped she’d enjoyed many hours of blissful sleep.
This morning May had gotten up even earlier than the cows. She’d driven Audrey to Boston Logan airport for a seven a.m. flight. When Griffin walked into the dairy barn alone, Dylan handed him the shovel. “You’re on shit patrol.”
His brother grunted. “Should I bother asking why?”
“You’re late,” Dylan pointed out. “And I assume that’s because you spent the night getting epically laid.”
“That’s not a punishable offense,” Griffin muttered. But he took the shovel anyway and started cleaning out the gutters while Dylan and I finished the milking.
Afterward, I helped Griffin carry some of his belongings into the bunkhouse. “Which bed do you want?” I asked him, standing there with a plastic bin of his belongings.
Chuckling to himself, Griffin removed Kyle’s made-up mattress from the lower bunk on the left. He set it on the floor for a moment while he swapped the empty mattress from the top bunk into the lower spot. Then he replaced Kyle’s mattress and pillows onto the top spot.
“He’s going to kick your ass.” I chuckled.
“Watch ’im try.”
We ate breakfast, which was a somber affair without Audrey. Everyone was used to her cheery smile and the way she flipped omelets and pancakes with the grace and precision of a circus performer.
In spite of the cooler temperature, Lark was wearing the same pair of white shorts which had driven me insane during our first market day together. I stopped sneaking looks at her when she handed me a plate heaped with scrambled eggs and bacon. It was the sort of feast I hadn’t enjoyed often enough growing up.
After breakfast I followed Griff to his house to start work on packing up the kitchen. I heard a car on the gravel drive and looked out Griff and Audrey’s window to see Lark pulling up in her little car.
“
I brought the bins and boxes that May left for us!” she said, coming through the door with a smile. “Where do you want ’em?”
“You’re the best, Wild Child,” Griff said. “Can you help pack some stuff up?”
“Of course.” Lark opened the refrigerator door, a bin at her feet. “You want these leftovers?” she asked, holding up a plastic container.
“Hell yes, woman,” he growled. “That’s my lunch. Don’t toss anything Audrey cooked. I’m heading into a dry spell, here.”
Lark snorted. She moved on to the cabinets next, packing the dishes into boxes while Griff and I disconnected the old refrigerator and carefully eased it from its spot against the wall. He had to remove the front door and its hinges to get the thing outside.
“So now it’s demo time?” I asked Griff after we wrestled the old fridge out onto the driveway.
“This wall goes first,” he said, laying a hand on the one between the kitchen and the dining room. “I ordered a new cabinet for this spot. It will have a counter top and a couple of bar stools. To open up the place a little.”
“That’s going to look great,” Lark said, coming to peer through the doorway at what would become the view. “It will let in more light. And someday Audrey will be able to keep an eye on the kids while she cooks whatever gourmet feast she’s whipping up.”
My gaze went toward the front of the house as I pictured that. And when I checked Griff’s face, there was a secretive little smile on it. Like maybe he’d thought of that already. I let myself indulge in his fantasy for a second, and liked what I saw—setting up a house for my family.
My family. A small, mythical crew of people who got excited when I came in the front door from work.
Pretty hard to envision, really.
Griff shut off the gas line and we tore out the stove next. “I’ll haul these away later,” he said after we’d set the stove next to fridge in the driveway. “I need to do some cider pressing before lunch.”
“How about I take the hardware off these cabinets?” Lark offered as we got back to the kitchen. “Got a screwdriver?”
“In the basement,” Griff said.
“I’ll get it for her,” I offered, picturing Griff’s basement. The place resembled a torture chamber. I didn’t know if Lark’s nightmares could be cued by basements, but it was better if we never found out.
Griff put his hand on Lark’s shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Wild Child.” He checked his watch. “Gonna be a long day until Audrey texts me.”
“She’ll be fine,” Lark said. “Flying to Paris is no more dangerous than driving to Boston.”
Griff scowled.
“Hey,” I offered. “It’s not gonna happen like in Castaway. Audrey is not going to crash-land on a desert island just because you got engaged last night.”
His face only became grumpier. “Get out of my brain,” he grumbled before exiting the house.
When I turned around, Lark was smiling at me. “Okay—how did you know he was thinking about a fifteen-year-old Tom Hanks movie?”
I shrugged. “We watched it a couple of months ago. And I listen to the man quote movies all day long.”
“You are adorable,” she said.
I liked the sound of that for a few seconds until I realized that she’d said the same thing to a puppy we met at the Hanover market the week before.
Ah, well. I went to the creepy basement to fetch Griff’s toolbox, and she was singing to herself by the time I came back.
* * *
Two nights later, I came to consciousness in the dark because I heard her voice. It wasn’t singing. Not this time.
“What the fuck is that?” Griffin slurred.
The next shriek woke me up fast. I lurched from the bed and beat a fast path to Lark’s room.
“Stop!” she yelled as I opened her door.
“Shh, shh!” I whispered. “Hey, it’s okay.” I eased the door shut behind me and sat down on the edge of the bed. When I put a hand on her arm, she jerked with surprise. “You’re fine,” I said in a low voice. “Shh.” I pushed the hair out of her face and used the same clucking sound with my tongue as I used with the dairy cows when they got spooked.
It worked, too, which never failed to amaze me. Even though Lark didn’t always wake up, she calmed right down when I spoke to her in the night. As her face relaxed and her breathing evened out, I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. Even though I knew I my role was coincidental, I comforted her. Not someone else.
The door to her room opened slowly, and I turned my head to see Griff standing there in his sleep pants frowning at me.
For a second, a fear borne of my former life froze me in place as I pictured the scene from Griff’s perspective—me hovering over a girl’s bed in the dead of night.
“Everything okay here?” he whispered.
I nodded, my mouth dry. My heart hammered against my ribcage.
But Griff only stared at me a moment longer before turning to go. He closed Lark’s door gently behind him.
With my pulse still racing, I sat there for a while, worrying. Lark still had trouble sleeping, and now Griff was going to know she was suffering. She hadn’t wanted to worry anyone. It embarrassed her.
Lark rolled over in her sleep, muttering something unintelligible, and I reviewed my choices. I could go back to my own bed, which would look less weird to Griff. But she might start yelling again.
And she was holding my hand. I didn’t want to take it away.
I pulled back her quilt and slid into the bed. The mattress depressed under my weight, jostling her slightly. She rolled immediately in my direction, one sleepy hand landing on my chest.
“Come here,” I whispered.
She did, too, burrowing closer, resting on my arm. I shifted her partway onto my chest. When I turned my head, my nose grazed her sweet-smelling hair.
If there was a heaven, it would be something like this—my arms full of sleeping girl. I thought it would take me a long time to fall back to sleep, but the feel of her chest rising and falling over mine put me right under.
It was light out when I woke up again. Sunday was the only day of the week that my watch alarm did not go off. Since we were going to have so many long hours this fall, Griff had given every guy a morning to sleep in. And Sunday was my day to sleep through the milking.
I always enjoyed my late morning, but this one was the best ever. I came to consciousness slowly. Warm was my first reaction. And then I smelled melons. It was the soft scent of Lark’s hair. And I felt the warmth of her body, pressed up against mine.
Bliss.
I was in a fine, sleepy haze. I arched my back a bit, stretching. And that’s when I became aware of the fact that my erection was basically pressed against Lark’s bottom.
Quickly, I pulled my hips back and executed a fast roll onto my stomach. It wasn’t my smoothest move. But I lay there wondering how long I’d been holding her like that, while my body betrayed my desire for her.
Lark was silent, so maybe she hadn’t noticed. It was hard to imagine how to word my apology, anyway. Sorry my sleeping subconscious decided to press my dick against your ass.
I knew it was a perfectly ordinary physical reaction, but that didn’t make it less mortifying. You can’t grow up where I did and not feel shame. At Paradise Ranch, a boy would be beaten for asking curious questions about sex. Forget having any.
There was a quote from Deuteronomy which every boy at Paradise Ranch had been made to memorize: If one of your men is unclean because of a nocturnal emission, he is to go outside the camp and stay there.
I remember praying before bedtime not to spill my seed in my sleep, so that I wouldn’t be thrown out. Four years had passed since I left that place. But its lessons were still burned in my soul.
While I lay there thinking things over, Lark eventually yawned and stretched. Her eyes opened, then blinked at me. “Hi,” she said, looking startled.
“Hi. I suppose you can guess why I’m here.”
&n
bsp; She reached over to put a hand on my back, and the warmth of her touch seeped through my T-shirt. “I’m not surprised that you’re here. I’m only surprised that you’re still here. So I guess it’s Sunday.”
My laugh was so sudden that I snorted. Smooth. “You’re right, it is.”
She smiled at me with her eyes closed. Then she snuggled closer, her bare foot finding mine under the covers. “We have a very unusual friendship.”
“That’s right,” I whispered. And I won’t lie—the fact that she’d said we were friends made me ridiculously happy.
“What do you do on Sundays after I’m finished snuggling you?” she asked sleepily, her foot sliding against mine.
“Today I’m taking Ruth to church, because Daphne isn’t here to go with her.”
“Wow.” Lark’s eyes opened again. “That is so nice of you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No it isn’t.”
Her hand rubbed sweetly up and down my back. I was aroused, but hiding it well. And since there was no danger of anything happening between us, I just relaxed into the sensation. Her gentle touch sent tingles up and down my spine, leaving my skin buzzing everywhere.
“I’m sure Ruth appreciates the company,” she said. “And I’ll bet you’re not a big fan of churches. You must be pretty ticked off at Christianity.”
“Nah,” I said drowsily. “I don’t blame religion for my troubles.”
“Really? Because I’m kind of pissed off on your behalf. Anyone who uses the church to justify throwing their own people away is an asshole.”
I smiled against the pillow, loving Lark’s touch, and the way she sounded all fired up in my defense. “They just got it all wrong. I feel sorry for them.” That was true on my better days, anyway. And today was already one of my better days.
“That’s big of you. I’m not so sure about religion myself. Maybe I’m a jerk for saying that, seeing as I did some heavy-duty bargaining with God recently.”
“I’m glad He listened,” I said quietly.
She sighed. “There’s a saying—there are no atheists in foxholes. But I’ve never been a good believer.”
“I am,” I said simply. “Especially now.”