A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(66)

“Problem is, I can’t paddle with you standing in front of me,” Landon said.

“I could try.”

“Okay, but just for a second. Okay?”

Charlie took the paddle and clumsily dipped it into the water on the right side, then the left, and after about four strokes his arms ached. And shook.

“Okay, that’s all of that,” Landon said. “You’re not quite ready for that, but I’m sure you’ll get there. Get back down so I can get us in.”

“Not yet, okay?” Charlie begged.

Landon laughed. “Okay, champ, we’ll take a couple more turns.”

It was the best day of his life. Troy called him to go inside and wash up for dinner. He had to fetch his backpack and his clean shirt. His mother made that eggplant thing that people loved, but Charlie didn’t love it. He ate a lot, however. He’d completely forgotten lunch and was starving. Everyone at the table seemed completely charmed by his appetite except his mother, who was a little put out.

So to make up for it, he helped with cleanup while his mom settled Winnie in her room for the night. He didn’t mind. He and Troy talked about the day, about all the things that went on at the beach in the summer when the weather was good. And in the fall during football season when most of the teenagers gathered on the beach for their parties and bonfires.

Then he had to struggle to stay awake, waiting in the great room for his mom. Finally at about eight, she was finished. Troy and Grace were out on the deck so Lin Su said goodbye to them, then locked the front door behind them when they went to the car.

They had driven a little while when she said, “You had a very big day. I’m not sure you were careful of your health.”

“I was totally careful,” Charlie said. Then he yawned. “You ever think about moving here? To Thunder Point?”

She laughed softly. “We can’t afford to live in Thunder Point.”

“Well, we can be poor anywhere. And you said Mrs. Banks is doing good.”

“Well,” she corrected. “She’s doing well.”

“We should think about it. Troy said it’s a good high school.” He yawned. Then moments later his mother woke him to go inside to bed. He’d slept the whole way home.

Fifteen

Ginger blossomed with the flush of true love. She had Matt on the weekends and because of that fact Grace was more than willing to work by herself on Saturdays. But with the onset of August the days of summer were fast coming to a close for farmers. She cherished every second she could lie in his arms because she knew that soon his time would be at a premium.

“I have an important question,” he said to her.

It was Saturday morning and there was no reason to get up early, except to eat. Soon they might starve, she thought. “You have me in a very vulnerable position. I’ll probably say yes to anything now.”

“It’s a serious question,” he said.

“Sounds grim.”

“Will you stick with me through the harvest?” he asked.

How she loved looking into those black eyes when he was serious. “It sounds like I’m not going to see very much of you. We’ll manage somehow. I’ll come to Portland and if you can’t get away I might come to Portland a lot.”

“You understand we work seven days a week...”

“Do you work after dark?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“We sleep the sleep of the dead after dark,” he told her.

“I’ll still feel your body close to mine.” She ran her hand over his chest and down. Then she laughed and stopped her hand.

“Something’s funny, miss?”

“Not so much funny as remarkable. If I keep touching you I’ll never get breakfast! Yes, Matt, I’ll still be your girl when all the pears are in.”

“Weekend after next we go to Sal’s vineyard. At least it’s closer to you than the farm, but I won’t have very much time. I’ll try to spend a night or two with you.”

“Do you need my help with the grapes?” she asked. “I’m sure I’d be good with them—I do specialize in flowers.”

“I’d like to say yes but in fact it might be a distraction. Not because I’d keep touching you when we should be picking grapes but because these early grapes are fragile and only trained hands can deal with them. The later grapes, the ones that come after the pears, they’re heartier.”

“Grapes, pears, grapes again...” She kissed him. “A girl hardly stands a chance.”

“Throw the potatoes in there, too. But we hire harvesters for those—they’re not as tender. But then come the cold, silent days of winter. I’m really good in the sack in winter,” he said.

“You’re not that bad in summer...”

“Will you stick with me through the harvest? Even when I seem unavailable and distant and tired?”

“I don’t know why you even have to ask. Of course I’m yours through the harvest. Through many harvests if you want it.”

“That’s exactly what I want, Ginger,” he said, solemn. “I want to marry you.”

She was a little surprised. “I didn’t think you were quite ready to chance it again.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’d be taking a chance. How about you?”