As the book of Ecclesiastes puts it: In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good.
And what was one more year of not quite knowing which direction to go?
One part of my life was all figured out—the most important part. Every night when I drove home, I pulled up my aging truck behind Lark’s VW and then went inside. And there she always was, waiting for me. It gave me a thrill every single night. No lie.
Even though we were very busy, we were happy. Lark smiled more easily now. She slept easier, too. These days, when she rolled over in bed to seek my body in the sheets, it was for love.
And pleasure. We had plenty. Take that, Paradise Ranch.
Every night it was an effort not to speed toward home, just to be close to her. But now I drove very carefully through the well-kept center of Norwich, where the cops had nothing better to do than ticket people who drove over twenty-five miles-per-hour on Main Street.
As I rolled up Turnpike Road toward our little lane, my phone rang. After checking the rearview mirror to make sure no cops were behind me (Vermont had a very strict no-cell-phone law) I answered it.
“Honey, my parents are here,” Lark said in a low voice.
“What?” That wasn’t part of our birthday plan.
“They brought you a gift. It’s so nice that I didn’t even give them a hard time about showing up unannounced. Just wanted to warn you before you get here.”
“Okay… I’m three minutes away.”
“Love you, Zach.”
I never got sick of that. “Love you, too.”
Dropping the phone into the cupholder, I tried to rearrange my expectations. Now we’d be dining with the Wainrights. They were really nice to me—nicer than I’d ever expect a couple of Boston intellectuals to be toward the farm boy who was shacking up with their only daughter.
I’d really wanted Lark to myself tonight. Ah, well. There was always tomorrow night. And the one after that.
Sure enough, there were a couple of extra vehicles on the part of the gravel drive that doglegged over to our cottage. I recognized the Wainrights’ Volvo, but there was a late model Highlander there as well—a hybrid. I didn’t know anyone who drove a vehicle as new and sporty as that one.
Did we have more guests?
Outside our door, I took a minute to brush as much of the farm dirt off my boots as I could. Then I plastered on my meet-the-parents face and went inside.
“Happy birthday!” Jill Wainright called as I stepped into the door. She was holding a glass of lemonade and wearing a dress. So we were probably headed out to dinner somewhere. Maybe I could at least get a quick shower first.
“Thank you!” I said, giving her a smile. “The big two-four. I feel ancient.”
Lark’s father rolled his eyes beside her. “You shouldn’t, since you’re dating an older woman.”
“Good point.” Lark was eight months older than I.
“We’re taking you two out to Carpenter & Main,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to smile. The restaurant was one of two in Norwich, but Lark and I favored the casual, college town fare across the bridge in Hanover. Carpenter & Main always made worry that I was using the wrong fork. The food was really good, though. So at least I had that. “Let me just clean up real quick.”
“You go ahead,” Jill said, still giving me a strangely bright smile. “Then we’ll give you your birthday present.”
“But you’re taking us out to dinner,” I pointed out. “I don’t need a gift.”
She gave me that grin again. “Oh I really think you do!”
Huh. “Back in five,” I promised.
Literally the second I stepped out of the shower, Lark handed me a beer. I was still naked and dripping on the mat when she put it in my hand. “Split this with me?”
“Sure?” I took a swig.
“Try not to freak out about my parents’ gift, okay?”
I gave her a kiss—my first of the evening. “I won’t freak out. But, why? Is it not my style, or something?”
She chewed her lip. “No, it is. You’ll see.”
“You could give me a clue.” I rubbed the towel through my hair.
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m not spoiling it.” She took a sip of our shared beer and then handed it back to me, readying herself to walk back out of the bathroom.
Then I had an alarming idea. “Where are your parents staying tonight?” Our little house wouldn’t really accommodate guests. Our couch didn’t even pull out.
“At the Norwich Inn.”
I smiled, because at least one of my birthday plans was still intact. “Okay. I’ll throw on some clothes.”
After I’d donned a newer pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, I found everyone in our small living room. “Thanks for waiting. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
“First the present!” Mr. Wainright announced, while his wife and daughter both grinned like crazy women.
“Uh, okay. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Thinking of you!” Lark’s father boomed. “We’ve been worrying about you! That’s why we bought this.” He walked over to the front door and opened it.
I followed him, but everything outside was the same as it had been before. “I don’t get what you mean?”
He laughed. “The car, son. We brought you the car. Your truck just isn’t reliable enough, and you drive so many miles every day just to live here for Lark.”
What? My gaze landed on the Volvo. Lark had once said they were thinking of upgrading, and might want to sell. “You traded up from the Volvo?”
“No, we had a better idea.” Mr. Wainright held up a keyring with a bow tied on it. “Happy Birthday.” He handed it to me.
The key said Toyota. And when I pushed the button to unlock it, the shiny Highlander blinked to life. “That car looks so new,” I said stupidly.
“It’s one year old. Has nine thousand miles on it. Four-wheel drive, because you need it in the snow on those dirt roads. And it’s a hybrid.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Won’t cost a mint to fill it up.”
“You brought us a car,” I said, still not quite believing it.
“I knew he’d freak,” Lark said. “They brought you a car. Mine does just fine for my three-mile commute.”
“You can’t gift me a car, though.” I was still staring at the SUV. It didn’t look like something I’d ever own. Too new. Too upscale.
“Sure we can. Look.” Lark’s dad waited until I tore my eyes off the shiny toy parked in my driveway and met his gaze. “You need this. We can give it to you, so we did. You don’t have to spend any more time on repairs, because it’s warrantied under their pre-owned program for a while. And you take such good care of Lark’s Bug that it gets better mileage now than it did before.”
“More than that,” Jill broke in, “you take such great care of Lark. You moved out of your friends’ home to be with her. You work harder than any other twenty-four-year-old we’ve ever met. Take this. Drive it. Enjoy it. And we promise to bring you just a sweater or a case of beer on your next birthday.”
Finally I laughed out loud. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say. Nobody ever gave me a car before.”
“Nobody ever gave you anything before,” Lark said. “And yet we still have everything we need.”
That was startlingly true.
“Drive it down the hill for dinner,” Mr. Wainright said. “Let’s eat.” He pulled his own keys out of his pocket and moved off toward the Volvo.
“I’ll ride with Zach,” Lark said, darting ahead to open the passenger door. “Ooh! Leather seats!”
“No way.” I followed her over to the driver’s side and opened the door. “Jesus.”
“You just took the Lord’s name in vain!” she yelped, because I never did that. But the car’s interior was beautiful. It had all the latest gadgetry—a Bluetooth stereo, a GPS system. Satelli
te radio.
When I sat down and put the key in, it hummed alive with a sound that was absolutely nothing like the old Ford. “Wow.”
“That is the sound of you not lying under your truck, trying to fix everything again.”
I drove down toward Main Street feeling like a car thief. “This is so much nicer than anything I would have bought myself. This is an Ethan car.”
Lark grinned. “But so what? You might drive it for the next ten years. Why not be comfortable? There are even heated seats. If we want to break it in on New Year’s Eve, our butts will be warm.”
“Oh, Beverly,” I teased. “Let’s not wait until New Year’s. It’s my birthday.” I swung into the parking lot behind the restaurant and found a spot.
“Happy Birthday, honey,” Lark said with a little smile. “Ethan is about to enjoy a nice meal with my parents. I know it’s not the evening we planned, but…”
“It’s perfect,” I finished. Then I leaned over and kissed her. “And there’s always later tonight. We can cross off a few more items on our to-do list.”
“I’m in,” Lark said.
And she was.
T h e
E n d
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Upcoming books from Sarina Bowen include: Hard Hitter and Pipe Dreams in the Brooklyn Bruisers series, and a new co-written book with Elle Kennedy. For all the latest news visit www.sarinabowen.com. And turn the page for a list of Sarina’s books.
Also by Sarina Bowen
THE IVY YEARS
The Year We Fell Down #1
The Year We Hid Away #2
Blonde Date #2.5
The Understatement of the Year #3
The Shameless Hour #4
The Fifteenth Minute #5
* * *
THE BROOKLYN BRUISERS
Note: links for this series lead to the North American editions.
Rookie Move
Hard Hitter
* * *
GRAVITY
Coming In From the Cold #1
Falling From the Sky #2
Shooting for the Stars #3
* * *
AND
HIM by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy
US by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy
* * *
TRUE NORTH
Bittersweet (True North #1)
Steadfast (True North #2)
This book is copyright Sarina Bowen 2016. This digital copy is for your own enjoyment only. It may not be shared or distributed in any form without the author’s express permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN: 978-1-942444-23-7
Sarina Bowen, Keepsake: True North #2
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