Page 90 of Happy Medium
He shakes his head, feigning annoyance that she once again didn’t dress appropriately for the weather. She’s pretty sure he knows that she does it on purpose at this point, because she still gets a thrill from each little exasperated gesture that proves how much he cares. Love, she’s found, is a lot like the gotcha euphoria she used to experience, but steadier. Reliable. Something she can hold on to for longer than one rapturous moment.
“You’re missing Everett again,” Charlie says. It’s not a question. He can see it on her face. He’s gotten even better at reading her with practice. Actually, he’s so good at it now, she doesn’t think she could keep something from him even if she put all of the power of her Eichorn DNA into it. And it’s nice, so nice, to be known that well. To no longer have to hide anything.
“It’s too quiet here without him.”
Charlie takes a sip from his mug, probably disagreeing with her declaration, considering all of the bizarre one-sided conversations he no longer has to endure. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he says, then gestures with his chin toward the construction equipment in the property’s far northeast corner. “They’re pouring the foundation tomorrow.”
It was Gretchen’s idea to turn a portion of Gilded Creek Farm into a nonprofit. It was also her idea to approach Mrs. Van Alst with the proposal. She loved everything they wanted to do and promptly donated enough money to cover their start-up costs and then some. They broke ground on the Rachel Van Alst Education and Community Center shortly before Thanksgiving. In partnership with an organization that matched them with their new part-time farmhand, Raul, they’re going to start hosting formerly incarcerated people interested in agricultural careers for paid seasonal internships. That’s just the first step, though. Day camps for kids, cheesemaking classes, barn dances, local school visits with the goats—Gretchen and Charlie have big plans to make Gilded Creek Goat Farm a place that welcomes everyone where they are (and ideally leaves them a little better off than when they arrived).
“You could go somewhere, you know,” Gretchen says, resting her elbows on the railing, mug cupped between her hands.
“I could,” he agrees, not bothering to look at her.
“Move to Taipei. Make your living playing pool.” Her game face isn’t what it used to be, and she cracks a small smile, knowing he’ll respond the way he has each time she’s brought this up in the last few days, concocting different fantasy lives for him—part insecure, part joking, maybe part serious.
Charlie smiles as he turns, one side higher than the other, and Gretchen’s heart breaks and mends simultaneously. “Well, Acorn, as fun as that sounds...” He wraps his arms around her from behind and rests his head against hers. “I’m already right where I belong.”
Gretchen leans into him as she looks out over the land. The distant mountains, the now-dormant sunflower field that bloomedbig and bright at the end of summer, Sleepy Jean and the rest of the herd browsing the pasture. It’s such a perfect scene that she could almost mistake it for one of her old paintings. Too good to fully trust. But the warmth radiating in her heart (and her body, thanks to the shawl and Charlie’s touch) reminds her that it’s all real—no bullshit anywhere to be found.
