I climb in my truck and drive – I don’t often leave this small town of mine, so it takes me a while to navigate my way down there, and I have to keep my eyes pinned to the road every step of the way to make sure I don’t miss a vital turn and accidentally skip over her. If I miss her down in Ordor, I might not be able to find her again...
But finally, I make it to the town, and I follow the signs that lead into the festival where she must be selling her wares. I haven’t even tried one of her pies yet – it's a silly thing, but suddenly, it strikes me as so important.
The festival is already bustling with people by the time that I get there, and it makes finding her all the harder. But I know she is here, I know she is close, and I know what I have to say to her. I know what I need her to hear...
I navigate my way through the crowds until I arrive at a section of stalls selling all kinds of food. The smell of baked dough wafts through the air, and I follow the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla until I reach a van that I have seen before.
And there she is. Behind the counter. She’s serving a mom and her daughter, a big smile on her face as she puts on a little extra caramel sauce and hands it to the youngster. I pause for a moment, just hold back and smile. She is so beautiful, so radiant with life and energy, that it almost hurts to look at her dead on.
But then, her gaze lifts, and she sees me standing there. I approach her counter, and the rest of the crowd holds back for a moment, as though they can tell that this is important – too important for them to interrupt.
"What are you doing here?" she murmurs, but there is a smile on her face as she speaks. I know she is glad to see me.
"I couldn’t let you just leave like that," I reply, looking up at her over the stack of fresh-baked pies in front of her.
"What are you saying to me, Hank?” she asks. I know what she needs to hear, and I am not willing to hold off on telling her.
"You said that you haven’t put down roots anywhere for a long time," I reply, not taking my eyes off of her. This woman – there is something about her that makes me feel safe. Like I’m doing the right thing, no matter what. I want to pull her into my arms and hold her tight and kiss her again, say all the things that need to be said without actually coming out with the words. But if she needs to hear them, I’ll give her everything that she’s asking for.
"But you can put them down with me," I say to her. "You can come back with me, to the cidery – you can make that your home. I know that you felt what I did last night, there’s no way that you could fake that – whatever is happening here, Honey, it’s meant to be."
She stares at me for a long moment. I can tell that she is torn, pulled in two different directions, not sure if she should pack it in and leave with me or stay right where she is and get security to escort me right on out.
Slowly, she takes off her apron, slips out the back door of her van, and stands before me. She is so close that I can smell her inimitable scent, see the soft curve in her lips. I want to pull her towards me and kiss her so hard that she can’t think of anything else, but I am not going to lay a finger on her until I know for sure that it is what she wants.
"You mean it?" she asks. I nod.
"Always."
She reaches out for my hand, her touch making my whole mind slide into a blank. She smiles at me.
"My mother did name me after an apple," she reasons, a playful tone to her voice. "I suppose it only makes sense that I spend the rest of my life in an orchard, now, doesn’t it?”
I scoop her up into my arms and kiss her without another word – there’s nothing else to say, everything that I wanted to communicate with her has been circling down to this moment. She laughs and hangs onto my shoulders, and plants a kiss on my cheek. There are tears in her eyes again, but this time, I can tell that they are happy ones.
"Guess that makes me the apple of your eye, huh?" she teases lightly, and I groan and plant a kiss on the tip of her nose.
"You’re lucky you’re so cute," I warn her. She circles her arms around my neck and gazes up at me.
"I’m sorry I left," she whispers. "I didn’t want you to... I haven’t felt this way about anyone before. Not in my entire life."
"Neither have I," I confess, as I run my fingers through her soft, curly hair. "But I couldn’t just let you go. Not after knowing that we had something so good."
"Agreed," she replies, and she shakes her head. "I haven’t put down roots in a long time, but..."
"It’s easier than you think," I assure her. "Especially when you have the best apples in the state to make your pies with."
"My pies!” she exclaims, and she looks over her shoulder at the van – a small queue of people has formed outside of it, all of them looking admiringly at the romantic declaration of love that we are sharing right now.
"Come on, put on an apron," she orders me, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside the van.
"What?" I ask.
"I need help serving these things!" she replies, and she
