Page 63 of Always Meant for You
The light catches the edge of his jaw, and for a second, I forget where we are.
He looks up, and our eyes meet.
A flicker of surprise crosses his face, a brief twitch at his jaw, nothing more.
He didn’t expect me here.
The moment lingers. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod.
I break our connection and reach for the largest muffin on the table. It’s oversized, golden-topped, and studded with strawberries. I bite into it without ceremony. The crust gives easily. Warm crumbs fall onto my black blouse and scatter across the floor, dragging what’s left of my composure down with them.
“Oh my God,” I murmur through a mouthful. “That’s good. That is so incredibly good.”
The words tumble out louder than intended.
Silence swallows the space around me. Again.
I finish chewing. There’s no saving the moment, so I lift the muffin slightly in salute. “Really tasty, folks. Truly.”
My father eyes me but says nothing.
“This muffin is delicious, Dad. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I know.”
I watch him and frown. There’s a curious glint in his eyes. I’m about to ask him what he’s thinking when I hear my name.
“Mabel Muldowney, is that you?”
I recognize the voice.
It’s Kenny Garver.
I turn. Abe and Kenny Garver head our way. They haven’t changed much. Sharp green eyes, sun-kissed skin, and that unmistakable farm-boy steadiness. We were in the same grade. Their presence settles me more than I expect.
“Evening, Mr. Muldowney,” Abe says, removing his Muldowney Farms cap and smoothing his hair. “We checked on the goats. The little one’s not doing great, but we secured the pen.”
They work for my dad too?
They must have also lost their land.
Dad flexes the fingers of the hand not holding his coffee. It’s a small movement, but I notice.
“Thank you, boys. I appreciate that.” My father gestures with his chin toward the lines of folding chairs. “I’ll get us seats, Mabel.”
Abe smiles at me, wide and warm. “When did you get back?”
I glance at Dad across the room.
He didn’t mention my homecoming to a soul.
“A few hours ago.”
“What brings you back?” Kenny asks.
I break off another piece of muffin and take my time chewing.
“Do you know anything about these muffins? Who made them?” I ask, shifting the topic.
