Page 16 of Dove
At leastsomeonearound here was pleased to see me.
I finished the stalls soon after, the horse’s content to graze out in the far side of the pasture and enjoy the sunny day. Omen had grown tired of being jostled on my shoulder as I worked and had found a nice patch of sun to lay in instead.
Sprawled just outside the door to the stable, he squinted lazily up at me as I passed him. There was no sign of Dove nearby, but I wasn’t surprised. She’d made sure to avoid me like the plague since her heated words earlier in the morning. Honestly, she made sure we weren’t anywhere near each other since I’d been back, the only exception being our parents’ funeral.
I’d heard the mower start up a while ago and imagined she was up in the meadow, mowing the overgrown grass. Most of the surrounding property was taken up by the farmland we rented out, but plenty was left for the hay we grew to sell—and the pasture, which would easily become overgrown with weeds if left unattended.
Wetting my hands at the spicket, I ran them over my sweaty face and used an old cloth I found to wipe myself clean. In the distance, over a small hill, the mower rushed over the grass, Dove manning it perfectly. For some odd reason, she loved mowing the lawn. I found it tedious, but with some headphones blaring music, it was bearable. She’d told me once that for her itwas a way to turn off her thoughts and justbe. Maybe that’s why she was up there now.
The urge to just… benearher came over me, and I decided to head up there.
I squinted up at the sky, noticing how high the sun was. Just a little past noon, it looked like. I’d heard her leave a while ago, which meant we’d both missed lunch, and I knew she likely had another hour to go before she’d be done. Dove would want to finish it all in one go, even if her stomach was growling at her in a demand to feed it. I’d always been the one looking out for her with that. It was easy to get sidetracked on a farm with endless chores, no matter how small they might be, and she had a bad habit of forgetting to break for meals. I’d always been the one handing her a snack, or a sandwich, when I knew she’d gone too long without eating something.
Even though I’d been gone for a while, it seemed that forgetful habit of hers hadn’t changed.
The stairs of the porch creaked as I climbed them, making my way toward the kitchen. I sighed when the cool air hit my overheated skin. Slipping my boots off at the door, I padded into the kitchen.
I was no culinary genius, but I could whip up a damn decent PB&J.
The mower grew louder as I crested the hill, sandwiches cradled in my hand and a water bottle tucked under my arm.
As typical of Dove’s work, the grass was cut in neat lines, and I could tell she was nearly finished. The only spot left, and the section she was currently working on, was back where the animals tended to avoid, which meant the grass was higher, theweeds worse in that area. Her arms flexed as she maneuvered the levers, and when she spun the mower around, she saw me, pulling them back to crawl to a stop. The engine idled for a moment before she leaned down to cut it.
With the loud rumble gone, the quiet grew deafening. Birds cawed quietly in the distance, and the small creek that cut through the property babbled, but our breathing was the loudest thing in the open air between us.
She brought an arm up to swipe at her sweaty forehead, pushing back a loose strand that had fallen from her messy bun. She’d started with it down in the cool of the morning, but as the sun rose, she’d pulled it back off her neck. The sight of her brought back memories: us working on the tractor together, her laughing as I swiped grease onto her cheek, her chastising me for sleeping in too late and making her get a head start on all the work by herself, and sitting by the lake—just the two of us, with the stars above for company.
She always looked like the prettiest girl in the room to me,especiallywith her hair like this, and those moments were some of the best I’d ever had. They’d been on constant replay in my mind these past few years when I’d been lonely and aching for home. The urge to tell her that was strong, to tell her that she’d been what I’d missed the most since leaving. Not my dad, not the farm.Her.
“I brought lunch,” I said in greeting instead, holding up my meager offerings. I hoped it was enough to create a cease-fire for her anger, at least for the time being.
When she made no move to get off, I closed the distance between us, coming up to the side of the mower. She didn’t need to come to me, I’d go to her. I’d always go to her.
I waggled a sandwich at her.
She eyed me for a moment, as if debating whether to take it or not. I heard the growl of her stomach and fought down thecurl of my smile. It was silly, but a part of me was triumphant that I knew she’d be hungry. As much as she was adamant we were strangers to one another now, I still knew her.
At the sight of my suppressed smile, she snatched the sandwich out of my hand irritably and took a bite. The sour look on her face softened as her eyes fluttered closed—as if it were the best damn thing she’d ever tasted—but I knew it was less about my amazing sandwich-making skills and more about finally getting food in her belly.
Heat stirred low in my own at her reaction.
To distract myself, I took a hasty bite out of my sandwich.
Up on the hill, with the smell of freshly cut grass surrounding us and cicadas humming in the trees, we ate lunch together for the first time in three years.
The thought alone had my sandwich catching in my throat, and I cracked open the water to take a sip, helping it to go down. But it didn’t help. Seeing her in the flesh after all this time and being near her… it was almost too much. I cursed the years that had been taken from us and the hurt it had caused.
I cursed my father.
Gulping down one last swallow, I offered the bottle to her.
She licked a smear of peanut butter off her pinky before grabbing for it and chugging the remainder. My eyes gravitated toward the inviting length of her tanned neck.
Then I cursed myself. For my wandering gaze and for not bringing a second water bottle. I should have brought two. I was going to. But I’d put it back last minute.
I’d wanted us to share, for our lips to have rested on the same spot, even if it was only the rim of a Deer Park water bottle.
That seemed like a foolish wish now when I could tell she was still thirsty.
