“Maybe. But if not, I’d just call Maria.”
I smiled. The bartender brought our cheeseburgers, and we dug in while watching the sunset bloom across the sky. “We’ve been talking so much about me, but what are you going to do when you go back home?” she asked between bites. Unlike me, she’d removed the bun and was using a fork and knife to eat the burger; she did, however, dig into the fries with gusto.
“Same thing I always do. Work the farm.”
“What’s the first thing you do in the mornings once you start work?”
“I make sure the eggs are collected, and then I move the prairie schooner.”
“What’s a prairie schooner?”
I thought about how best to describe it to someone who’d never seen one before. “Remember when I told you that chickens like shade? That’s what a prairie schooner does. It’s like a big, open-sided tent that’s mounted on skids, with nesting boxes along one side. But, anyway, chickens like to eat bugs, and they also poop a lot. So we have to move the prairie schooner every day to make sure they have a clean and fresh environment. It also helps to fertilize the soil.”
“Do you move it with a tractor?”
“Of course.”
“I want to see you drive a tractor.”
“You’re welcome at the farm anytime.”
“Then what?”
“It depends on the season. I’ll check the greenhouse or the crops or see how harvesting is going or work with a new batch of chickens or turn the fields over, and then there’s the whole management and personnel side of things, as well as interacting with customers. It goes without saying that something is always breaking or needs repairing. I wake every day with what feels like a thousand things to do. You’d be amazed at what it takes to move an egg or tomato from the farm to a grocery store.”
“How do you pull it all off?”
“My aunt does a lot, as does the general manager. I’ve also learned to prioritize.”
“I don’t think I’d be cut out for a life like that,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m responsible, just not that responsible.”
“You don’t have to live that life. You’re going to be famous.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
“Trust me,” I said, knowing I’d never been as certain about anything.
Once we finished eating, we wandered down the beach to the Don. The beachside restaurant was half full; I saw others taking in the evening from loungers at the poolside. Another couple was making their way from the hotel to the beach; lost in their own conversation, they walked past without seeming to notice us. Morgan stopped on the sand just steps from the deck and turned toward me. Staring at her, I thought again that I’d never seen anyone more beautiful.
“I guess this is it,” I said.
She seemed to study the hotel before turning back to me. “Thank you for today,” she said. “For everything.”
“My pleasure,” I said. “It was the best day I’ve had here.”
“Me, too,” she said, with such tenderness that what happened next seemed inevitable.
I closed the gap between us and tugged her gently toward me. I saw her eyes widen ever so slightly, and for an instant I wondered if I should stop. Though she’d kissed me twice, I think both of us knew this one would be different, that this kiss would carry with it emotions that neither of us had anticipated until this very moment.
But I could no longer help myself, and tilting my head, I closed my eyes as our lips came together, softly at first, and then with even more passion. I felt her body press against mine, and when our tongues met, warmth surged like an underground current through me. Wrapping both arms around her, I heard her give a deep-throated purr, and her hand wound its way up into my hair.
As we kissed, my mind searched for answers, trying to grasp when and how it had happened. It might have been while we were in the kayaks or when I heard her sing or even while we had dinner together—but I suddenly understood that I’d fallen in love with this woman, a woman I’d met only days ago; already, though, I felt as if I’d known her forever.
When we separated, my feelings threatened to overflow, but I forced myself to remain quiet. We simply stared at each other until I finally let out a breath, not realizing that I’d been holding it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Morgan,” I said, my voice almost hoarse.
“Good night, Colby,” she answered, studying my face as if committing it to memory, and minutes later, as I walked down the beach, I found myself reliving the kiss, certain that my life would never be the same.
Beverly couldn’t stop thinking about cameras in the bus stations.
How could she have been so dumb? Hadn’t there been a zillion movies and television shows where the government used those cameras to catch spies and criminals? Oh, she knew electronic surveillance wasn’t quite as sophisticated as what Hollywood portrayed, but even local television news confirmed that cameras were everywhere these days. They were installed on street corners, in traffic lights, above the cash registers at small businesses. She’d remembered their presence when she took Tommie to the convenience store to get him something to eat, so why hadn’t she considered something even more obvious?
With shaking legs and racing mind, Beverly somehow made it to the table, and she was still sitting there when Tommie wandered into the kitchen. He plopped into his seat, wiping the sleep from his eyes. To steady her fraying nerves, she forced herself to rise. She poured him a bowl of cereal, added milk, and brought his breakfast to the table along with a spoon.
She flashed a quick smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was barely holding it together, then went to make his lunch. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple, along with change for milk from the cafeteria. No Doritos or Fritos or Oreos or Nutter Butters, sadly, but right now it was all she could do to keep from glancing out the window, expecting to find Gary standing in the yard.
“I heard someone last night,” Tommie eventually said.
His words nearly made her jump. She tried to remember the last time he’d spoken first in the morning, without her having to coax it out of him. When his words finally registered, she felt another surge of anxiety.
“That was probably me,” she said. “I was up late cleaning the kitchen.”
“I heard someone outside.”
Water was dripping from the faucet, the plink-plink-plink steady and rhythmic, clashing with morning birdsong. An old truck puttered along the gravel road, and she saw an arm wave from the window before it vanished from sight. Mist rose from the fields as though a cloud had dropped from the sky.
“There was no one outside,” she said. “I would have heard them.”
“He was on the roof.”
A year ago, Tommie had begun having nightmares. She thought it had something to do with the television he watched, or maybe the book Where the Wild Things Are. In his early nightmares, he would awaken with cries, claiming that he was being chased by a monster. Sometimes the monster was like a dinosaur; other times it was a wild animal or a hooded figure of some sort. And always, always, Tommie swore that the monster was calling his name.
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
“I was awake. I could hear the music from the kitchen.”
Had it been Gary, she told herself, he would have already been in the kitchen. Had it been Gary’s associates, they would have already loaded Tommie and her into the black SUV with tinted windows. Trying to keep her own worries in check, she found the hair wax and smoothed down Tommie’s cowlick, even though her hands were trembling ever so slightly.
“I’ll check after you go to school, but it was probably squirrels.”
“It called my name.”
Beverly closed her eyes, feeling a sigh of relief. It was definitely a dream, thank God. But the relief was short-lived, washed away by her earlier dread like a sandcastle in a rising tide.
“I was singing in the kitchen along with the radio. That’s probably what you heard.” Her voice sounded strangely tinny and distant to her ears.
Tommie glanced up at her, looking suddenly older than his years and younger at the same time. “Maybe,” he finally said, and she decided to change the subject.
“If you want, you can bring a friend over after school.”
“I don’t have any friends here.”
“You will,” she said. “I’m sure there are lots of nice kids in your class. Maybe you’ll get to know them better on field day. You said that’s coming up, right?”
He shrugged, and with that, he grew silent as he finished his cereal. Afterward, he tipped the bowl up, drinking the milk. Beverly thought again that she should eat as soon as she got him off to school, since she hadn’t had much the day before. She felt like she could write a book for people who wanted to lose weight; she’d call it The Too-Broke-to-Eat Diet.