Page 60 of That Weekend in Paris
The woman who showed us to our rooms overhears our conversation and says from the front desk,“If I may recommend the lane to the left of the château. It will lead you to the orchard at the back of the property. The sunset from there is very beautiful.”
“Sound good?” I ask, looking at Dillon.
“Yes, perfect.”
We thank the woman and leave through the front of the château and then follow the map toward the recommended lane. In the distance, we can see a grove of trees.
“That must be the orchard,” Dillon says. “Oh, I wonder if the trees have peaches on them.”
“Let’s go look,” I say, and we head that way.
It takes us ten minutes or so to reach the edge of the orchard, and sure enough, the trees are heavy with fruit not yet ripe.
“That has to be what heaven will smell like.”
“It’s wonderful,” I agree.
We wind our way through the rows of trees, and it’s a little magical witnessing the beauty of the fruit.
“It’s a miracle, don’t you think?” Dillon says. “How much fruit one tree can bear. Do you ever wonder why there’s hunger in the world when we can grow things like this?”
“I think that’s more of a people problem,” I say, “than God not giving us enough tools for food.”
“That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” I say. “But then most things in this world are people problems.”
We walk on a while longer, quiet as we simply take in the beauty of the place.
Dillon breaks the silence first. “It’s so easy to think that our own little piece of the world is the best there is and that there’s no need to see other places, but that really isn’t true, is it? There’s so much to see in this world and so many wonderful things we miss if we don’t venture out.”
“It does take some courage, though. I think that’s why a lot of people don’t leave what they know. It’s risky, scary.”
“True,” Dillon says, “but the most rewarding things in life come with a little risk, don’t they?”
We’ve stopped under one of the trees most heavily loaded with fruit. Dillon turns to face me, and suddenly we’re caught in a stare of awareness. The sun is setting behind us, pink rays of light streaming through the tree branches, darkening the color of the fruit even more. I realize how very much I want to kiss Dillon in that moment, and I can see that she sees this on my face. Her lips part, and she says my name, softly. I take the invitation I hear in her voice and lean in, down, down until my mouth finds hers. We kiss for a long, drawn-out time, and she tastes every bit as sweet as I imagine the fruit on the trees around us will taste when they’re fully ripe.
When I finally pull back, I feel how much she wants me to continue. But I lift my head and blow out a rush of air.
“We should stop,” I say.
“Should we?” she asks, her voice teasing and serious all at the same time.
“Not because I want to,” I say.
“Why, then?”
“Because there will come a point not too far into this where stopping will feel like it’s not an option.”
“And if I said I don’t want you to stop?” she asks softly.
“Hmm.” I make a low sound in my throat and reach for her hand. “Come on, we’ve got some exploring left to finish.”
I start to run then, pulling her along behind me. It would take only another word of protest from her, and I would stop right where we are and finish what we started.
Dillon
“Now a soft kiss – Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.”
