The Last Harvest(86)

I start to turn, when she reaches for my arm.

“And, Clay. Remember your promise. Love is a beautiful thing. You’ve seen how precious life is. How precious time is. Don’t let it pass you by. You don’t have to be alone anymore. She’s going to need you, like you were before. God is giving you a second chance. Don’t waste it.”

I look back at Ali, the halo of light caressing her skin as she twirls a stem of wheat. Her hazel eyes are so warm and bright. She’s wearing the peaceful smile I’ve always known. A ripple of wind rushes over her, making her skirt flutter against the top of her knees. She’s more beautiful than ever.

“I promise,” I whisper.

I take a deep breath and walk toward Ali. She reaches out for my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. I feel a rush of euphoria, a calmness pass over my soul. We walk hand in hand away from the breeding barn and into the wheat.

Into our future.





59

I TAKE Ali upstairs to my room; it’s the one place that doesn’t remind me of death. Noticing the trash bags covering the windows, and how wrong it looks, I hurry to take them down, which floods the room in hazy light.

Ali sits on the edge of my bed, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. The freckles have faded so much over the past year that you can hardly see them anymore.

I sit next to her. Being with her like this—in my room, the same dress, the scent of her hair—it’s like déjà vu, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes, a depth that hadn’t been there before, which tells me, on some level, she remembers everything. I can hardly stand being this close to her and not touching her. The agony, the waiting, everything we’ve been through.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” I swallow hard. “Something I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

“Clay—”

“I love you, Ali,” I blurt. “And I want to marry you.”

She takes in a short inhalation of breath. “Yes.” She smiles, her warm hazel eyes filling with tears. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that? Yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

When I reach over to wipe the tears from her cheeks, she leans in and kisses me. Her lips are soft, warm and wet. I keep waiting for her to pull away, but she seems to crave the closeness, the intimacy as much as I do. She runs her fingers over the back of my head, my back, before moving on to the buttons of my shirt.

I hold on to her hands, pressing my forehead against hers. We stare at each other, breathing in time.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask.

“We’ve waited long enough.”

She kisses me again, deeper this time, and it feels like I’m diving off a cliff at the quarry—life or death can be waiting for me below, but it doesn’t matter.

As she takes off my shirt, I unzip the back of her dress, nice and slow, giving her plenty of time to stop me. She doesn’t. I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long, and now that it’s here, I’m scared.

I let out a shuddering breath as she smooths her hands over my stomach, my muscles tensing under her touch. She shrugs out of the straps of her dress, letting it pool around her waist. I kiss her shoulder, her neck, her collarbone; her skin seems to warm beneath my breath like sunlit honey.

She starts to unbutton my fly. It’s so tight. But as soon as she gets the top button undone, the rest of the silver buttons pop open. We both laugh a little.

Swallowing my nerves, I run my hands up her thighs, under the skirt of her dress, when she stands abruptly and I think this is it—I’ve gone too far, but she only pushes the rest of her clothes to the floor, stepping out of the fabric.

I stare up at her in awe. Her tousled hair, her flushed cheeks. It’s like I’m seeing her for the first time.

She pulls me to my feet, kissing me, helping me out of the rest of my clothes. I feel so vulnerable under her gaze, but it feels right, like everything in my life has been leading me to this moment.

She eases down on the bed, her dark hair spilling over my pillow, her beautiful skin touching my sheets. I can’t believe she’s here, that this is really happening, but I can feel it in every part of my body, every bit of my soul, pulling me toward her, like this is home.

I lower myself on top of her. She takes in a deep gasp of air, and I freeze. Everything inside me wants to keep going. But I don’t want to hurt her. My body trembles with restraint.

“Do you want me to st—”

She leans forward, kissing me. Her tongue is no longer timid, it’s strong and insistent, full of need. She pulls me into her. I groan with how good it feels. I was worried I wouldn’t know what to do, but it’s like my body knows. I try to be gentle, but the way she’s grabbing onto me, the way our bodies seem to fit together in perfect symmetry is more than I can bear. Together, we’re striving for something higher than ourselves. We’re all tangled up in each other to the point where I’m not sure where I end and she begins. It’s like we’re one person. One entity, moving in time.

Every care, every worry vanishing—I feel myself disappearing into her. Everything’s building … mounting … yearning. And in one moment, an explosion of images race through my mind—her black eyes, her body slick with blood when she climbed out of the cow, the dead cat clutched to her lips—but I can’t stop. I keep going, moving inside of her, until there’s nothing left of me. A flurry of blood and darkness and desire and need. Life and death in a single impulse.