Hank grins, “And you forgot the basket!”
Happy to prove him wrong, I smirk, “I take it you didn’t look in the trunk. No, why would you? But if you had, you’d find all the fixins for a proper picnic stashed away.” I tap my temple.
“Perhaps we can get a ride from you, Fred?” Pop suggests, “If you have the room.”
Mr. Kearns frowns by the probability that he’ll have to decline. “I drive a pickup truck.”
Our folks look at each other, and Pop surprises Ma with the heartfelt confession, “I’ve always wanted to ride in the back of one of those!”
“Raymond!”
“Well, I have. It’s settled then.”
“But your heart!”
“Needs more fresh air, I agree with you!“ He looks like he’s lost thirty years, light shining from his eyes. “If there’s one thing that nearly dying has taught me, it’s to take advantage of fun when it’s handed to you.”
Hank grins, “I’ll sit in the back with you, Pops!”
Conceding defeat, Ma throws up a gloved hand. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit in the front with you and your lovely wife.”
“It would be my honor, and please call me Fred.” He tips his hat.
With that settled, we walk to the parking lot, two seemingly miss-matched but happy families.
As they drive away, May and I wave goodbye.
It sure is a sight.
My old man waving from the bed of a black Ford pickup, and my kid brother happy to be along for the ride.
22
MAY
We’re tucked under a tree in the farmlands that surround Albany, the shade lowering the temperature by at least ten degrees. It’s a warm day, and Jerald removed his jacket, sitting back on the wool blanket in his slacks, suspenders and button up, wing tip shoes still on.
I didn’t wear a hat today, since I don’t own one that matches my yellow dress I love so much. But I do have yellow shoes, and that works just fine. Smoothing knots from the beautiful drive I smile, “Is this your Mother’s basket?”
He’s pulled so many things from it I’ve begun to believe it’s bottomless.
“No, I keep this for fancy occasions.”
My eyes widen. “Truly?”
“No.”
I laugh which makes him smile.
There are two plates, a pair of glasses carefully wrapped in a checkered tablecloth, silverware my mother would die for, a loaf of bread, sandwich meat, a block of cheese, and an entire cherry pie. He leaves the tablecloth inside, but places matching napkins next to a milk bottle.
“What’s in there?”
He holds up the yellow liquid. “That’s a shame.”
“What is?”
“Looks like the milk went bad while we were at church.”
I frown at it because that doesn’t seem plausible. I’ve seen curdled milk before and it’s never this color or consistency. Glancing to him I see the smile shining back from striking, green eyes. “Jerald Cocker! What is in that milk bottle?”
He laughs, “Apple juice.”
“You are a handful.”
Smirking to himself as he grabs a glass, Jerald says, “Perhaps I am.”
I tilt my head. “What did you mean by that?”
“By what? Here’s your juice.”
“Thank you.” I take a sip. “Mmm. Just now, when I said you were a handful, you had a look on your face like you were talking about something else.”
“Did I?” He places the cap back on the juice, and balances it against the basket. “What do you plan to do after high school?”
Jerald stretches out, propped on his elbow while he listens to me say, “Perhaps at first I’ll get a job. We could use the extra money, and studying has never really interested me.” His eyebrows lift up his hat. I reach over and pull it free to place it on my own head. “How do I look?”
“Like the sun found some shade at last.”
The way he said it took my breath. I whisper, “That was an awfully sweet thing to say.”
“I meant it.”
Feeling my heart thumping hard, I glance away from his piercing gaze. “I just might keep it then.”
“It won’t be the only thing I’ve left behind when I leave tomorrow.” My gaze drifts to meet his. “It won’t be the only thing I have left behind with you, when I shove off.”
“What else will you be leaving?”
He taps the center of his chest.
His expression is so serious I don’t know what to do with myself. There’s a heat that’s shown up in places I’ve only begun to think are important. I blink a few times, before my eyelashes drop to the juice. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’m squeezing this glass.
“Am I scaring you, May? I don’t wanna do that.”
What is this throbbing sensation between my legs? Whatever it is, I don’t want it to go away.
“You’re not scaring me. It isn’t that.”
He rises up onto his hand. “It isn’t?”
“No.”
“What is it then?”
“I don’t know,” I breathe.
Jerald leans over the food he laid out so nicely. I can see slivers of gold tucked into the pale green of his eyes. There’s blonde stubble poking out where he missed while shaving. But it’s his lips that have me mesmerized, and I can see his tongue just behind his bottom teeth.
Am I leaning closer?
Why yes, I am.
I think this just might be a moment I’ll never forget.
Our lips meet, the best feeling I have ever known. The world has washed away, taking its sounds and smells with it. I’m breathing in his skin, feeling goosebumps sing into mine as his arm wraps around me, so he can pull me closer. But the food has other plans, and suddenly we’re laughing as we smash the bread. In his haste to pull back, Jerald loses his balance and his elbow lands in the cherry pie, dead center.
I cover my mouth, and Jerald looks up, eyes shining. “Guess we better eat?”
“Here,” I laugh, dragging a napkin over his elbow, folding it for a clean spot and doing my best. “This will be a stain.”
“Worth it.” He
