Page 90 of Now to Forever

Wren tugs at the square neckline of her dress, the deep-red fabric beautiful against her fair skin as she climbs in the Bronco. “These shoes suck.”

I glance at the leather ankle boots, a far cry from her ridiculous combat boots she usually wears, and back out of the driveway as she tosses a duffle in the back seat.

“Let me know if Luke agrees.” I shift into drive. “What’s in the bag?”

“I’m staying with my grandparents tonight.”

Ford’s already at their farm, home of Cider Hills Orchard, a symbol of all things fall in Ledger. Though I haven’t driven out there in years, the way is still second nature. Ford picked up Zeb and I so many times and drove us out to his parents’property I could find it drunk and blindfolded. Not that I would recommend either.

With the windows down and the cool October air blowing through the cab, I crank the music, Wren smiling as her favorite violin sounds fill the cab and dissipate into the mountains around us. In the late-afternoon sun, the trees are a palette of autumn. Like tubes of yellow, orange, and red paint exploded from the sky and landed on leaves.

I park at the property and a wave of nostalgia washes over me. Hours spent picking apples, riding four-wheelers, and dreaming Ford’s life was mine. Even all these years later, standing at his family farm feels a bit like the moment inThe Wizard of Ozwhere Dorothy’s life goes from being a dusty sepia-toned scene in Kansas to the technicolor dreamland of Oz.

The fields of grass are already covered with cars and ATVs, and bluegrass music floats toward us from a large white canvas tent. Kids run by with a shriek.

“You nervous?” I ask, glancing at Wren.

She eyes my outfit, a burnt-orange sweaterdress that slips off one shoulder and hugs my body like a glove stopping shy of cowboy boots that hit just below my knee. Compared to the sea of denim and flannel that surrounds us, we look lost. “Are you?”

I lift my eyebrows. “I’m at your perfect grandparents’ farm dressed like a forty-one-year-old slutty pumpkin with the first boyfriend of my life, what could I possibly have to be nervous about?”

She snorts. “Good luck with that.” Looking back to the crowd, she swallows slowly, lifting her chin. “I’m going to find my friends.”

Alone, I’m nervous as a bird with its wings tacked down. I’m fully prepared for Ford to take one look at me and tell me he’s changed his mind. But when I spot him through the crowd, carrying a stack of pies and laughing with someone who stops him to talk, my heart flip-flops. His eyes meet mine before dragging down my body, and his expression is full-blown approval. Every ounce of worry dissolves. Because:mine.

“That something I should know about?” Ford asks as he hands me a cider, tilting his head toward Wren standing across from us under the large tent. She shyly tucks her hair behind her ears as she talks to Luke. He’s a cute kid. Instead of the man bun he had on the track, his hair is down, brushing against the collar of his flannel. Hands stuffed in his jeans, he’s just as nervous as her.

“Luke. He’s on the cross country team,” I explain as they laugh. “She has a crush.”

“Don’t like it,” he says as he takes a sip of his cider and keeps his eyes on them.

“Don’t worry.” I bump my shoulder into his. “I gave her rubbers.”

He frowns; I laugh.

On a small stage, the band’s upbeat fiddle-laden song shifts to something slower, couples instantly pulled to the hay-covered dance floor. Around us, under this tent and beyond, tables of pies, ciders, and other fall treats are for sale as well as other fundraising efforts—apple bobbing for the basketball team, pie eating for the football team, even a dunking booth for the swim team. Kids of all ages stand in line to participate, laughing and whispering to one another. Bales of hay and upturned wooden barrels double as tables and chairs. Strings of lights float over us like a million stars in the sky.

“You’re beautiful,” Ford says, rubbing a thumb on my bare shoulder.

I set my cider on a barrel and slide my fingers under his flannel. “You’re not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” he teases, setting his drink down and slipping his hands around my waist, tugging my hips toward him. “Still so one-sided.”

“Fine.” I feign consideration. “I’d let you cop a feel.”

He laughs, pecks me on the cheek, and in my ear whispers, “I’m counting on it.”

Despite the wholesome crowd around us, my body purrs like a dirty kitten.

“We have to dance, you know,” Ford says.

“Oh really?” I look at him. “Says who?”

“Says everyone.” His hands grab mine, and his lips lift as he spins me in a slow twirl. “It’s how it works when you go steady. You have to declare your couplehood to the town.”

“Go steady?” I say through another laugh. “Do people even say that?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking another kiss on my lips, pressing me flush against him with one hand splayed across the small of my back and the other holding my hand. “All the cool kids.”

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