Page 46 of Till The Cows Come Home
“It’s not mine though, Miles. It’s yours. The entire town is acting like I got the farm back, and I didn’t. I’m trying to work through it, but I don’t even know how to balance the awkward grasp I have on things now.” I set my forehead to his chest, exhaling in frustration. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are, love,” he said, threading his fingers through my hair, squeezing me closer. “I know you are.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Miles
It brought me great joy to bring our products to the community, but what I loved even more was watching Sage dole them out. She said things with purpose and thought, kindly allowing people to be curious. No one felt embarrassed asking her questions, and I could see why the community wanted her involvement. She was contagious. Her kindness. Her smile. Her passion. It inspired everyone within the town’s limits.
Seeing Sage’s smile falter because I hindered her ability to immerse herself into this world, even if it wasn't intentional, broke me. My ownership over her past caused turmoil, and I felt guilty as I realized my expectations were perhaps a little unrealistic. Sage wasn’t going to waltz back into her barn like she used to because she was right. It wasn’t hers. Which meant I had to be more mindful of welcoming her, instead of leaving her to re-acclimate alone. All those mornings I’d assumed she probably preferred to be by herself, but I never considered how out of place she may have felt.
“Hello,” she waved a hand in front of my face, “Is anyone home?”
“Sorry, I was just dreaming about all the graduation parties I’ll be able to throw with all the money you’re making me.”
“Well, while you’re over here daydreaming, I sold out the stand. Again.”
“How do you do it?” I clicked my tongue, shaking my head in disbelief.
“You’re not the only one with charm,” she teased, shooting me a wink.
Shaking myself out of the depths of my own thoughts, I approached the table. Even though I knew it would be empty, the barren scene I stumbled upon still surprised me. We’d sold out two weeks in a row now which was drastically different from the fifty percent sales numbers I was hitting when I was alone.
I began clearing the empty tables, mindlessly balling the tablecloths and stuffing them inside an empty crate until I noticed Sage. She meticulously cared for each item she was clearing, dusting off debris, and wiping every surface before carefully arranging anything that needed to make its way back to the farm. Ashamed, I pulled the crumpled fabric from the crate and began folding them properly. No matter where I turned, I could feel Sage’s influence.
Do better.
When we were all packed up, we hopped into the truck and I turned towards her, pausing long enough that she looked up at me, questioning why we weren’t moving yet.
“I’m going to say something and you’re not going to interrupt. Actually, don’t even answer. I want you to take in my words without feeling pressured to respond.”
After a deep inhale, I emptied the contents that’d been swirling restlessly in my head.
“I want you to use the farm. I know it’s hard for you, but I’ve been thinking and I’d like to think that even if you weren’t god’s gift to this earth, I’d still let you use it for the good of thecommunity. I’ve seen the kids at the library, they could use the outdoors. The Sage they see there isn’t the Sage sitting right here with me. If you could work something out with Jane hours wise, and you want to do it, I want you to say yes. That’s all.”
She opened her mouth momentarily to respond, but no words came out and after a few moments, she closed her lips. Her stare etched into my profile, but eventually she just scooped my hand into hers and settled back into her seat. Intermittent glances were stolen, but for the majority of the ride her gaze was set out the window, following the winding road.
I hoped that she wasn’t marinating too thoroughly in my words because she truly deserved every last thing I offered, and it saddened me to think she could be overthinking her way out of agreeing. There was nothing I wanted more than to spend the day with her, actually showing her the way I did things, but I had a romantic dinner to plan and I knew her presence would be the ultimate distraction. After a couple minutes, we arrived, and the gravel crackled under my slowing wheels until we came to a full stop. Neither of us moved and after a few long moments, she spoke.
“I make no promises. I’m going to talk to Jane and see what she thinks, but don’t get your hopes up.”
Unbuckling, she leaned over the center console.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly, the hairs on my neck rising to meet her words.
An abrupt kiss met my cheek and before I could respond, Sage hopped out of the truck, looking up at me from the ground.
“I can’t wait to have dinner with you later,” she confessed.
“Me too, Sage. I’d invite you to stay, but my plans would be anticlimactic if you saw them unfold.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.” She giggled, blowing me a kiss as she walked away.
Sage had sent me shopping when things got slow this morning, which I had used as an opportunity to gather what I needed for dinner. Ruby had divulged her love for chicken dinner, and I laughed at the stereotypical farmer’s answer of meat and potatoes. I was told to go heavy on the thyme and honey, and if I had to choose one accompaniment, let it be gravy. Luckily for me, it was peak season, and I didn’t have to outsource a single ingredient due to Sage’s simplicity.
Root veggies, a bird, and some spices were manageable and when I reached my kitchen, I began unpacking my market bags. A close-by vendor had beautiful tri-colored carrots, and I’d been anxiously eyeing them, watching as the supply depleted and the clock ticked, thankful when Sage shooed me away and they still had a few bundles left. I grabbed those and potatoes before stopping by the butcher tent, opting for a beautifully plump whole chicken.
It took a few short minutes to make fresh butter, and when mixed with the fresh thyme and rosemary it was to die for. I carefully pulled the bird's skin up, creating a pocket for me to lather on my herbal compote. When I was satisfied that every inch was covered, I popped it into the oven, heading to the barn to create some sort of romantic ambiance. Sage didn’t know if we were going out or staying in, but something told me she’d be happy here, so I was committed not to cut a single corner.
