“Planting.” She tries to keep her tone casual, but the need to sniffle at the end of the word undercuts her efforts. “Sunflowers. I wanted to... needed to...” What had driven her to do this again? It’s difficult to remember exactly what was going through her mind when she came out here, so frazzled by Everett’s confession and what it meant for her and Charlie’s plan. All she can recall is the strong, almost overwhelming urge to do something that might communicate to Charlie even a tiny sliver of the expansive affection that she feels. A parting gift, whether he decides to stay or go. “Because of Grandma Ellen,” she concludes, even though she hasn’t actually communicated a whole coherent thought.
“That’s...” His smile is especially wonderful coated in theblue hue of the night. “Acorn, this isn’t how—” Charlie’s eyes land on the bag of seeds, and his words fall apart into laughter. “Where did you get those?” he asks.
Gretchen stares, unsure what’s so funny. “The pantry.”
He covers his mouth, trying to hide his amusement. “This is... this is very sweet,” he says. “But it’s... You aren’t going to grow anything. Not with roasted seeds thrown into a single pit in the shade.”
She looks at the five-by-three-by-six-inch hole she dug beneath the weeping willow, then at the dirt covering her hands to the wrist, then at the half-empty resealable bag of David Original seeds. She doesn’t know much about planting anything, but she can now see how at least two or three of the choices she’s made are probably not strictly correct.
Tears threaten to fall again as she stands.I need to tell him. Now. Everything. She takes a step closer. “Charlie, I—”
Her words are interrupted by his wrapping the sweater around her shoulders, tying it into a knot in the front. It’s such a thoughtful gesture, so tender, that it takes her breath away, and the rest of her confession gets lost in her throat.
“And please stop going out at night without a sweater or a jacket or something.” And the fact that he cares enough to lecture her undoes her further.
“Charlie, we need to talk,” she says.
“Yes, we do,” he agrees. “That’s why I came to find you.” Charlie sticks a hand into his hair, his fingers dragging through the golden waves tinged with the night’s blue-blackness. His eyes won’t meet hers. “I need to tell you I’m not marrying you tomorrow.”
Oh. She figured that might be the case after she told him that the marriage wasn’t necessary if he was willing to wait a few monthsbefore selling the farm. But that he’s saying he isn’t going to marry her now, before she’s even told him about the reality of their circumstances... Well, that stings a little. “Oh. Okay. I... Okay. That’s—”
“I’ve decided I want to stay at Gilded Creek.”
She nods. He’ll be glad to know that it won’t have to be forever. “I underst—”
“No, you don’t,” he interrupts, sounding annoyed with her already. “Please, let me finish. I have a lot more to say.”
Charlie takes a moment to turn his head, as if studying the land around them. When his eyes arrive back on Gretchen, he studies her the same way before speaking again. “When I was growing up, this place was so full of all the things I thought made a good life. A life I wanted for myself when I got older. But after my grandmother died, after my grandfather couldn’t live here anymore, and I took over... it wasn’t at all like I remembered. It was so hard, and it was... god, it was so fucking lonely. All of the happy memories I had turned bittersweet. I went from feeling like I belonged here to the farm becoming this thing that was constricting me, squeezing the life out of me. And along with the money troubles, I thought... I thought it was time to give up. Accept my failure and move on. That the life I thought I could have here didn’t actually exist.”
Charlie reaches out and adjusts the sweater around Gretchen’s shoulders, smoothing out a stray piece of yarn. “But then you showed up.”
Her eyes narrow and she tilts her head, requesting he continue.
“I told you once that the family part of this being a family business is what made me love it. Working with you, seeing youcare so much about the farm’s success, rising to every challenge, appreciating all of the beautiful parts of Gilded Creek I’d been taking for granted, it started to feel like it used to. I started to love the work again, love this place again. I felt like I belonged. Life got... better.”
The tears she’s been holding back fall from Gretchen’s eyes, and she doesn’t bother studying to see what kind they might be or how to use them. She wants her brain completely focused on the man in front of her as he parts his lips to continue speaking.
“I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence. That it wasn’t you making me feel that way, but... Acorn, I need to apologize. I’ve called you a liar. More than once. Demanded your honesty. But I haven’t held myself to that same standard. I’m sorry that I haven’t been truthful with you. Or with myself.”
Oh god, Gretchen thinks. She doesn’t think she can handle finding out Charlie has been keeping a secret too. “Really, you don’t need—”
“You said you didn’t want anything from me, not even my friendship. But I want something from you. And it isn’t some ridiculous marriage of convenience.” He looks down at his boots, as if he’s shy. It reminds Gretchen of all the times he broke eye contact with her in those early days. All the times he blushed. Charlie slowly lifts his head and takes her hands in his, not caring that they’re mud-caked. “The truth is this: I want to stay here. And I want you to stay with me. I want to work together every day. Sleep together every night. Plant a field of sunflowers together, one that will actually grow. I just want to be together for as long as we can. I want you to be my family. And even if it doesn’t work out and I wind up stuck at Gilded Creek for the restof my life, it’ll have been worth it.” He pauses and takes a deep, slow breath before continuing. “Loving you... loving you will always be worth it. And I do love you, Gretchen Acorn. I do.”
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Gretchen whispers, “Charlie...”
His eyes close as if she’s dealt him a blow. “You don’t want to stay with me.”
The absurdity makes her let out an inappropriate bark of laughter. “No, I do! Oh my god, I do want to stay with you. And to be your partner, in every sense of the word. More than anything. But it won’t be forever. Or it won’t have to be forever. If you—if we—don’t want.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow.” And, really, how could he? Without context, this sounds like absolute nonsense. It goes against everything she’s been telling him. But there’s no suspicion in his expression. Nothing that indicates he won’t believe everything she says, once she stops botching it. That’s a relief. Such a relief.
“Everett lied,” she says. “He told me the curse was eternal, but it’s not. It’s only until the hundredth anniversary of his death. Which is December fifth of this year. As long as you stay until then, he’ll get to go Up, and you’ll be free to leave.”
“I— But why? Why did he...”
“At first, he figured exaggerating the curse’s terms was the best way to get me to take it seriously, and then he kept rolling with it because it got me to stay. And because he kind of sucks, like as a person.”
Charlie’s grip on Gretchen’s hands momentarily tightens. His jaw tenses. “So after all of this... I can... I can just leave whenever?”
