Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I heard her soft footsteps descending the stairs and pushed a button. The soft strains of Edwin McCain began playing just as Emily rounded the corner, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “You found a CD player.”
I glanced at the small battery-operated piece of equipment. “They must have dug it out of storage,” I said. “There’s dust in the crevices. And the most recent CD is from 2003.”
She smiled as she approached, candlelight flickering over her expression as the singer sang about who he’d be for the woman he loved. “I haven’t heard this one in a while,” she said.
“It’s from a collection of love songs from the nineties. Not exactly our decade but I thought maybe we could have that dance.”
Her eyes met mine. “The dance,” she whispered. “The one that will make everything right.”
“Maybe even temporarily,” I said. “Even that.” The dance that should have been but never was.
She took a step toward me, and I offered her my hand, both of us watching as our fingers laced together slowly. I pulled her close and she tipped her head back to look at me. “Even that,” she agreed.
I brought her body flush with mine, so much more familiar even in the last hour, though I’d known her all my life. We swayed in the candlelight, and the dance felt beautiful and somehow sad too, both a reclaiming and a reminder that time was so fleeting and that all too soon, this moment would be a memory. But I was determined to gather as many as possible, fleeting though they might be, because deep in my heart I had this feeling that I’d need to cling to them later.
Emily lay her cheek against my shoulder, and I turned my face so I could breathe in the scent of her skin. The song came to an end, and we danced to the next one, and then the next, collecting as many moments as we could. And when the music began to slow, the batteries dying, we both stopped moving, staring into each other’s eyes as the last drawn-out note faded into silence. Emily lifted her chin and looked up at me, her eyes sad, though her lips were tipped. “I imagined we would have rented a room in the hotel and gone up there after the prom.”
“What would we have done there?”
She kissed my neck, her lips lingering. “How about I show you?” she whispered against my skin.
We got back in bed, sharing our memories and laughing about pranks we’d pulled and fights we’d had. Then we made love again, exploring each other leisurely until the candle burned out.
We stayed at the ranch in the middle of nowhere for three days, a brief respite from the uncertain world, a celebration of survival, and a sharing of hearts. We ate food from the pantry, but took as little as possible, mindful that this family might return. Hoping that they would. We tended to their horses and replenished what we could from the stable. We made coffee over their firepit and watched the sun rise behind the hills. And we danced in candlelight. Those hours were sweet, and dreamlike, and I knew no matter what came next, those three days would forever be seared into my soul.
My Emily. My wildflower. The thorn in my side. A silken-voiced troublemaker. Little Showboat. She was kind and unpredictable and slightly wild, even if she’d let herself be tamed for a while. But for that stretch of time, she was completely and utterly free. We both were.
We cleaned up their house, and then Emily wrote a note, leaving it on their kitchen counter next to the school trip itinerary. I stopped and read it as Emily did a final check of the rooms upstairs.
Dear Garcia Family,
Our names are Emily and Tuck and we stayed here for three days. We cared for the horses and ensured that they’re all healthy and injury-free. We also added one more to your herd, a palomino that we found walking alone on the road that we named Providence. She was quickly accepted by the others and they’re all doing well.
We hope you reunited with your son and that the three of you are home and reading this together. We pray that you are.
We are taking the car in your garage, and if there is any way to return it, we promise to do that. And if there’s any way to pay you for the rental and the mileage, we vow to do that too.
(I also took a few feminine items, and hope with all my might that the world is such that I might replace those someday soon.)
We want to thank you for the three days of peace your home brought us as we’d been traveling since the solar flare hit. Our journey was filled with challenges and setbacks, and we saw the worst of humanity on display. But we also saw the best, and I hope you saw it too. It’s what we have to hold on to now in this new, chaotic world. And if this journey has made anything clear, it’s that that is how we’ll all survive. With the kindness of strangers, and the help of our friends.