Page 44 of Ember Meadow
“Ha-ha. That bit isn’t getting old at all.”
“Well, you would know,” I say. “Get it? Because you’re old.”
“I’ve heard the best jokes are the ones you have to explain.”
“I think I heard that somewhere too.”
Miles laughs a real, actual laugh and I almost fall off my horse in shock. If I make a big deal about it I’ll probably never get to hear it again, so I laugh with him.
“My Aunt Millie is a much better jokester than me. Sometimes she’d say something and I wouldn’t get the joke until hours later,” I smile, missing her again.
“Are you still close with your aunt?” Miles asks. There’s no judgment to his tone, no prying question. Just curiosity.
“Yeah, she raised me for most of my childhood. At least, the formative years. We talk more in a week than I ever have with my parents.” I look down the path in front of us, concentrating on the wheatgrass swaying along the sides.
“I still can’t believe your parents just shipped you off. That should be illegal.”
“It was better that way, I think. After I got over the whole ‘leaving my friends and family thing’ I loved living in Juniper Ridge with my aunt. She’s so much fun. Stern at the right times, but my best friend when I needed it. I’m lucky to have her in my life.” I can’t help but grin. Miles is looking at me with a lightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, setting off nervous sparks in me.
He clears his throat, looking ahead. “Do you still live with her in Idaho?”
“No, she moved to New Mexico a couple of years ago. It hasn’t been the same since she left.”
He nods, still focused on the path ahead. We are starting to come out into a clearing, the sun almost set behind the mountain. It’ll probably only be another twenty or so minutes.
“Where are we heading, anyway? Won’t it be too dark to ride?” I ask. Miles picked me up at the Old Cabin in his truck, driving me up to the barn by the main house where the horses were. We left from there and while I could tell we were heading in the direction of the Old Cabin at first, I’ve lost track of where we are completely.
“You’ll see,” is all Miles says before taking off again, leaving me in the dust.
I kick my heels in, and Sundance runs after him through the last of the aspen trees. My hair whips in the wind behind my back. When I catch up to Miles, he’s slowing down in the middle of a golden field of grass. It’s untouched by cattle tracks, standing tall except for the skinny path taken by our horses.
He stops in the middle of the field, dismounting. I follow suit, my boots hitting the ground with a quiet thud.
“Mac,” he calls from the other side of the horses. “Come here.”
I follow his voice until I see him standing in the middle of the field right as the sun hits the valley between two mountain peaks in front of us. And then, the most magical thing I’ve ever seen in my life starts right before my eyes.
The field starts to glow in the light.
The sun hits it at just the right angle that the golden grass illuminates, shining around us. Gold turns into a burnt orange as the sun creeps lower behind the mountain. The grass around us is ablaze. I’ve never seen anything like it. I spin around, taking in the entire field.
Miles stands in front of me, hands on his hips and a smile on his face. “This is Ember Meadow,” he explains. “We call it that because every night at sunset, the light makes it look like it’s set on fire. My great grandpa used to come out here with my grandpa every week to see it, and on down the line until me. I haven’t been out here with my dad in a few years, but sometimes I come out here on my own. I’m not sure how it works, right place at the right time I suppose.”
“It’s breathtaking,” I whisper, running my hands across the tops of the grass. Miles adjusts his hat, stepping into my space. His warmth reaches out to me, pulling me closer.
“It is,” he says, but his gaze never leaves mine. I’m lost in his deep brown eyes sparkling in the golden light.
The grass comes up to my waist at least, taller in some spots. It feels like we are in the middle of a flame, light dancing all around us.
“I don’t know how you aren’t out here every single night.”
“I used to be,” Miles laughs, his fingertips brushing against mine as we stand shoulder to shoulder in the middle of a field on fire.
I turn to face him, and he does the same. As if there’s an invisible pull between us. He picks a single blade of wheatgrass, bringing it up to my face and delicately brushing the end of it across my nose.
My eyes flutter shut, and when they open back up, he’s smiling back at me, bigger than I’ve seen him smile in years. I echo it with a smile of my own. Then, we’re both laughing. I feel like I’m floating into the sun.
Miles’s hand brushes against mine, holding my fingers so lightly I almost can’t feel him. If it weren’t for the warmth he always seems to be radiating, he might be an illusion. I take a step closer and place my other hand on his chest.
