Inod. “Goodthinking.”ThenIturn toAziz. “No, don’t.”
Aziznods and goes about running his booth as if we aren’t there.DaisyandIare both sitting on the grass,bent over awkwardly to avoid the diagonal braces between the legs and the bottom of the table, andIam hugging my knees to keep my legs from sticking out and trippingAziz.Dowe stay here until it’s time to go meetJace?Maybethat’s our only option.IgiveDaisyan apprehensive smile.
“Howlong have you lived inCipherSprings?”Iwhisper toDaisy. “Isthis your first time at the fall festival?”
“Secondtime,” she whispers back. “Mysister,Laurel, andImoved here a year and a half ago.JustbeforeIstarted working at theCoffeeLoft.”
“Whatbrought you toCipherSprings?Family?”
Sheshakes her head. “Weneeded a place to live and decided that nowhere was off limits.Everywherewas a possibility.Isuggested we blindfold one of us, spin us around, then stick a pin in a map of theU.S. and see where it lands.Kindof likePintheTailon theDonkey, except it wasPintheSisterson aTown.
“ButLaurelis a researcher—not by trade; she works in human resources—but she researches everything.Spreadsheetsand a complex rating system were involved.Hercalculations came up withCipherSprings.Which,Iguess worked out, because she metGavinnot long after, and they got married six months ago.Exceptthen they moved toCharlottesville.”
“Doyou miss her?”
“Yes.She’sbeen my best friend since birth.Theoneperson who was always there for me.Myroommate for twenty-three years.”
“Oof,”Iwhisper. “That’srough.”
Shenods, and then she chuckles quietly. “Butshe also claimed the status ofBossofMewhenIwas like two, so sometimes it’s also nice.”Daisymust be hungry because her stomach growls.Thenshe asks, “Doyou think we’ll need to stay here untilJacecomes?”
“Maybe,”Isay, shifting my awkward position a bit to give my neck a reprieve.
“Here,”Daisysays. “Letme help.”Thenshe shifts her position enough that she can reach her hands past my pretzel-shaped legs to my neck, and starts rubbing.
Hertouch sends so many sensations through me thatIcan’t even breathe.Hertouch is soft and gentle, yet still firm enough to make my cramped muscles relax.Andit’s brought her near enough to me that if it wasn’t for my knees residing at my chin, it’s almost like she’s hugging me.Ican even feel her breath on my arms.
It’sfine thatIcan no longer breathe because there is so much electricity flowing through every part of me that it seems to have taken the place of oxygen.Idon’t need air;Idon’t need food or water.Ican live off her touch.Iclose my eyes and turn all of my focus to soaking in the feel of her massaging my neck.
Okay, apparently my body doesn’t agree about not needing food because my stomach growls even louder thanDaisy’sdid.
Itisn’t five seconds later beforeAziz, not saying a word, crouches down like he’s getting something out of one of the bins, and reaches under the tablecloth to hand us two individually wrapped pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.
“Thankyou,Aziz,” we both whisper at the same time.
ThenDaisygiggles. “Wereour stomachs really that loud?”
Weeach unwrap our cookie.I’vealways liked pumpkin cookies okay, but would never choose that flavor if there were other options available.They’realways dense and dry.ButIam hungry, soItake a bite, and it’s the best pumpkin cookieI’vehad in my entire life.It’slight and fluffy and moist and not too sweet.I’mpretty sureIcould eat them for every meal without feeling terrible after.AndI’dnever get sick of them, either.
“Thiscookie is amazing,”Daisyquietly moans after taking a bite. “AndIam so hungry.”
AsIfinish chewing my final bite—and wishingIhad about five more of the cookies to eat right now—Daisyasks, “Sowhat about you?Howlong have you lived inCipherSprings?”
Iwad up the wrapping from my cookie and work to stuff it in my pocket that’s bent up as awkwardly asIam soIcan throw it away later. “ExceptwhenIwas away for college,I’velived in this area my whole life.”
Hereyebrows shoot up. “Really?Yourentire life?Youspent from birth to age eighteen living in the same home?”
Ishake my head. “No.Welived a bit east of here whenIwas little.Mymom wanted to live by the woods so the deer would come right to our house.”
“Anddid they?”
Inod. “Yep.Untilthe summerIturned five.Thenthere was a big forest fire in the hills that came right up to our house.Itdidn’t get our house,”Iquickly add, so she won’t get worried, “but it came very close.Wehad to stay in a hotel in town for a couple of days.”Ilet out a single breath of a chuckle. “It’sfunny—Iremember looking out at those hills from our hotel room window at night, thinking that the fire looked so beautiful.Iwas too young to think about the destruction at the time.”
“Butit was destructive?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah.Itleft those hills that my mom loved so much pretty barren.”
“Isthat why you moved?”
