“Stop correcting Beau’s terrible grammar and go get the bigger bag of charcoal.” Cletus kicked Billy’s chair. “These flames aren’t adequate to cook my sausage.”
I was fighting another grin when Duane leaned close, removed the pie from my hands, and set it back on the table. He slid his hand back around my waist, sending lovely tendrils of warmth through my body. “Ignore them,” he whispered, his hot breath on my neck making me shiver. “They’re just trying to get you to make more pie.”
“I don’t mind,” I whispered back. “The crust recipe made enough for two, so it’s just a matter of making the filling.”
“Go show Jessica around.” Beau flicked his wrist toward us, waving us off while giving me a conspiratorial look. “She hasn’t been here in years. Go show her the upstairs.”
“The upstairs?” Duane made a face. “There’s nothing upstairs except the bedrooms.”
“He means, go spend some time being physically intimate with your pretty girlfriend until dinner is ready,” Cletus supplied, not sparing us a glance. He was frowning at his coals. “We’ll make a ruckus and call you down when it’s time to eat.”
Duane scowled at Beau. Beau shrugged, the arch of his eyebrows and his pleased smirk were positively devilish.
“We’ll go inside and unpack the groceries for tomorrow,” Duane said pointedly, and continued to glare at Beau.
“You do that. You go unpack those groceries.” His twin nodded, still looking unrepentant. “You unpack those groceries so hard.”
Before Duane could lean over the table and assault his twin, I added with my biggest, cheekiest smile, “Then we’ll go upstairs and be physically intimate until dinner is ready.”
I heard Billy choke on his laugh. Beau guffawed.
Duane glanced at me, his eyebrows half suspended between wonder and disapproval. I winked at him.
“That all sounds just dandy,” Cletus agreed, his tone level, as though I’d just said Duane and I were going inside to wash the floors. Then he added, “But work up an appetite, woman. Because you’ve never tasted fine meat until you’ve eaten my sausage.”
“CLETUS!”
***
We did unpack the groceries.
But other than a few quick kisses in the kitchen, we weren’t physically intimate and Duane didn’t take me upstairs.
I didn’t mind. I wanted to talk to him, make sure we were okay. Thankfully, things between us were easy and fun, leaving me feeling silly that I’d planned my elaborate dinner ambush. Looking back over the last few days of minimal contact, I realized I’d overreacted. I could have stopped in at the auto shop or called him after work.
I decided he hadn’t been avoiding me. I’d inflated the meaning of his lack of contact in my head.
After unpacking the groceries, he walked me to the woods surrounding their house and we used familiar trails to navigate the forest.
“This path leads to the creek,” he said, holding my hand in his and helping me over a felled log with unnecessary—but not unwelcome—solicitousness.
“The one that feeds the lake?”
“Yep.”
I grinned. “I haven’t been out there in…goodness, in years.”
“Want to go?”
I vehemently shook my head. “No. You’ll just push me in.”
He grinned briefly in response, the short smile quickly waning into a frown. “Ashley spent a good amount of time on these trails while she was here. Every now and then, when she wasn’t holed up inside the house, taking care of Momma, one of us would walk with her down to the creek.”
I glanced at Duane, saw his mood had turned introspective. “Do you miss your sister?”
He nodded, frowning at the path. “Of course. I missed her when she left the first time, and I miss her now she’s gone again.”
I stepped closer to him and squeezed his hand, giving his side a quick hug. “I bet she misses you, too.”
He nodded once, then turned his face away as though searching the trees to makes sure we were on the right trail.
Then out of the blue, he asked, “Do you really need more than three restaurants?”
I faltered a half step, but then quickly recovered. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Daisy’s place serves great breakfast and pie. The Front Porch makes a first-class prime rib. I don’t see why you need more restaurants.”
I realized he was making a reference to our conversation on Saturday, when I’d stated that Green Valley only had three restaurants.
“It’s not about the number of restaurants.”
“I know.” He frowned, shook his head. “I guess I don’t see what’s out there that’s so much better than what’s here. Is Green Valley so boring that all you can think about is escape?”
As I studied him I realized his question didn’t necessarily denote a change in subject. His sister Ashley had left home when she was eighteen and hadn’t returned until just recently. And then she’d stayed only long enough to take care of their dying mother during the last six weeks of her life. Ashley had left again on the day of the funeral, left Green Valley and her six brothers for her life in Chicago.
“There’s nothing bad about Green Valley—”
“But nothing great either? Nothing worth sticking around for?” Duane pulled us to a stop. His eyes pierced me and his gaze felt almost physical, like a beseeching touch. I knew he wasn’t trying to make me feel bad about my dreams. He was trying to understand both my motivations and perhaps the reason why his sister had left so many years ago, and kept leaving.
But I didn’t see Ashley’s desire to leave Green Valley as anything resembling my desire to see the world.
I sighed, my eyes skittering away so I could gather my thoughts. I didn’t know how to explain my longing to wander and how it had nothing to do with my hometown. If I’d been born in New York City or London or Paris, I would still want to leave. I wanted to explore and experience and know.
“Have you ever heard of the German words wanderlust or fernweh?”
“You used wanderlust on our first date. And I read a book some years ago about hiking, and the title had the word wanderlust in it. It was about people who love to hike and catalogued some of the great hiking trails around the world.”
“Wanderlust in German basically means to love hiking, but it’s been repurposed by English speakers to mean a love of wandering. I remember the first time I heard the word fernweh; in German it means farsickness. It’s like, some people have homesickness and that’s considered normal, acceptable. Missing one’s family and friends, what’s familiar, I think everyone can understand longing for home. But I realized that the strange anxiousness I’ve always felt to be elsewhere was called fernweh. I have fernweh. How most people long for the familiar, I’ve always longed for the unknown. Heck, if I could manage it, I’d love to see Mars. I love to explore. And don’t think it’s an easy concept to explain or, for people who don’t have the same desire, to grasp.”
Duane frowned and nodded, his eyes moving away from mine. He was lost in thoughtful contemplation, but I could see he didn’t really understand. Usually I accepted my friends and family’s lack of comprehension, wrote it off as me just being too nutty, too much of a circle surrounded by squares. But for some reason I felt a swelling, desperate need for Duane to understand. Therefore I grabbed his other hand and tugged on it until he was looking at me again.
“This desire, to explore, has nothing to do with where I am. It has everything to do with where I’m not.”
“So, it’s about newness? Being in a new place?”
I shook my head, carefully entwining our fingers. I found I needed to touch more of him, I needed the connection. “No. Not really. It’s like, here we are,” I glanced around the brilliance surrounding us, fading colors of autumn on the Smokey Mountain path, dusky blue sky overhead giving way to nightfall, “someplace awesome and spectacular. But, can you imagine? If you had the chance to see a thousand places that were equally spectacular? I want to see the Colosseum in Rome, and St. Peter’s. But I don’t want to go on a tour during a vacation. I want to live there, know the city, learn the people, eat the food. I want to sketch Michelangelo’s paintings—even though I’m no artist. Then after a time, maybe a year or more, I want to see the Yangtze River, see the Great Wall of China. And after that, the Redwood Forest. And after that, go diving in Fiji, or maybe visit castles in Ireland.”