Page 76 of Heart of the Sun

“It is.” We turned and meandered across the grass, and then stepped onto a flagstone path that led to a firepit surrounded by portions of tree stumps fashioned as seats. Emily sat down on one, closing her eyes and tilting her face to the sun, a ray of light washing over. She was free of makeup, her long hair held back in a ponytail, and she looked young and fresh and beautiful. She looked more like the Emily I’d once known, and because of it, my heart squeezed. I remembered the way I’d stared at her across our family campfires or through gaps in branches as we grasped oranges in our palms…the way I used to fantasize about planting my lips on hers. I let myself stare at her now the way I had then, my gaze moving over her luminous skin, to her light brown lashes which were thick and feathery, and down to her pillowy lips. And even when she opened her eyes and focused her crystal blue gaze on me, I couldn’t look away. I swore the scent of orange blossoms tickled my nose and that yearning stirred again. “You always did wear sunshine well.”

Her eyes grew soft, and her lips parted as she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes again. She tilted her head back a bit more. And for a few minutes she was silent, but I didn’t mind because it gave me even more time to study her to my heart’s content, to reacquaint myself with each freckle and feature. Perhaps it was pointless, and even unwise, but drinking her in felt like feeding a different kind of hunger, and one that had gone mostly unacknowledged but was there all the same.

“Before we started on this journey, I’d forgotten what quiet is like,” she finally said, opening her eyes. “I didn’t realize how loud the world had become. My world anyway. And I… I’ll miss the hustle. It will be hard giving that up. But this has reminded me to seek out the quiet sometimes too. It’s reminded me what peace really feels like.”

I stepped over to the tree stump seat next to the one she was on and sat down. “Hey, Emily?”

She turned to me. “Yeah?”

“I owe you an apology too.” I squinted out to the fields and the rolls of hay behind her for a moment and then met her eyes. All day, I’d been thinking as we’d walked, going over everything that happened since we’d crash-landed in the middle of Nowhere, Illinois. “I’m sorry for what I said, about you being a sellout. You worked and climbed and didn’t give up, just like you took control of a speeding horse and buggy. I was wrong and I’m sorry. You didn’t end up where you were because of anything other than your talent and tenacity.”

Her cheeks flushed and she smiled, and it was almost shy. “Not that it matters now. All that… It’s over.”

The sun shifted, hitting my eyes and I squinted at her. “You still have the telethon,” I said. “And the marathon…”

I’d said it to make her smile and it did, but the smile didn’t last. “Do I? That’s beginning to feel like a pipe dream too.”

“That was my point. You’re good at making pipe dreams a reality.”

“It might not be up to me,” she said. “But I would like to find some way to help. Or maybe perform. Even if it’s only for a few people. Or… I don’t know. Military bases once they get set back up.Ifthey do.” She sighed. “Maybe there’ll be an opportunity for me to be useful too.”

I watched her. Ah, she felt useless and without value. And I had certainly contributed to that. Hell, at the time, I’d believed it. But I didn’t believe it anymore. Emily was brave when she needed to be. She had gumption and nerve, and she was quick on her feet. She had the charm I didn’t and enjoyed putting it to use.Little Showboat.“I guess we’ll see when we get there,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

chapterthirty-two

Emily

We enjoyed an incredible dinner of vegetable stew and bread baked over the firepit, and for a brief few hours, the world felt almost normal, if a bit primitive. I’d spoken to Tuck earlier about appreciating the quiet. And the simple but delicious dinner with Tom and Jane and their boys made me realize too how little time I’d made to slow down and enjoy what was now so precious: good food, kind people, a feeling of safety, and later, a warm bed and walls surrounding me.

I’d had all those things, and never really paused to appreciate any of them, so focused on attaining goals that were somewhere beyond where I was in that moment. I would have done anything to snap my fingers and fix the current state of the country, but even if I could, I would take lessons from this experience. It’d only been a week, and I already felt changed in ways I was sure I’d be discovering for a long time to come.

Jane opened a bottle of wine, and we shared it as Tuck and Tom talked,Tom pointing things out here and there around the property. I sighed, the alcohol and the fire making me feel warm and woozy. I looked to my right where I could see their garden off to the side of the house. “Is anything still growing?” I asked.

Jane followed my gaze. “A few things. I brought them inside earlier like Tuck suggested. We also have a cellar of preserved food. If we’re very careful, we can make it until spring.”

Spring.That word opened a small window of hope inside of me. Although…even when the weather turned, how would farms plant and harvest without trucks delivering the supplies they needed to do so? I’d grown up on a farm and knew that as much as the earth provided, we depended on gas to run our equipment, and a hundred other things that came from sources outside our operation.

“Is this farm how you make a living, or did…do you and Tom do other work?”

“Nope, this is our business. We’re considered a specialty farm. We grow pumpkins and horseradish, primarily.”

“Did you grow up on a farm?” I asked.

“No. No, my father was a lawyer, and I grew up in the lap of luxury in Chicago, actually. Tom and I met and married there. But it’s been eighteen years since we moved.”

“You just picked up and left Chicago to start a pumpkin farm?”

“Seems like a strange choice, right?” She laughed, but I didn’t sense any offense. And honestly? It might have seemed like a strange choice last week. But certainly not now.

“But we love it. It’s simple, and most days are slow, but once you live a life like this, you begin to understand how all those things you used to believe were real, just…aren’t. I don’t think we were meant to live in a rat race. How many people spend their lives going to jobs they hate only to barely pay their bills?Coming home to stare at a television set that rots their brain while eating food that makes them sick?”

I thought about that. I didn’t disagree with her. Even if that particular existence, for the time being, wasn’t likely being lived by anyone. Now the Midwest was in survival mode. But I got her point because I hadn’t wanted that life either. I never had. I had wantedmorethan that. I wanted to be rich and famous and adored by millions. I wanted to eat organic produce and grass-fed animals. Who didn’t, if they had the choice? Who wanted to worry about bills or money or losing their property the way my parents were?

And Icouldsee wanting to be surrounded by the great outdoors. I liked nature. I’d grown up in one of the most beautiful places in the country, natural beauty all around.

“What did you do before this?” I asked. We were skating around the fact that the world was changing drastically, but honestly, I needed a few moments—at least that—to pretend that life was somewhat normal. We’d been stranded. We were on a road trip and depending on the kindness of strangers tonight for a meal and a roof over our heads.

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