Page 37 of Apple of My Eye

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Eloise

My Favorite Fruit Trees

– Pear

– Peach

– Lemon

– Apple

– Mango

– Lime

– Pomegranate

– Plum

It’s been a week and even though I can’t remember it, I still haven’t recovered from the most embarrassing day of my life.

I showed up at the Parkers’ to pick up Bring It On ?

Out of all the movies, I couldn’t have requested something cooler like The Shawshank Redemption ?

I’ve been trying not to cave to the magnetic pull that is this disaster, but I can’t help it.

I reread the texts at least once a day, cringing so hard I think I’m giving myself a wrinkle.

I really up and went to the Parker’s three times.

I take a bite of a pear Mom picked this morning.

‘So good, right?’ Mom asks.

I narrow my eyes at her. ‘I still haven’t forgiven you, you know.’

‘What!’ She throws up her hands. ‘For letting you walk to the Parkers’? A walk you’ve done a thousand times?’ She walks over to me and wraps me in a hug. ‘I love you, sweetheart.’

I groan, but I wrap my arms tightly around hers. As U-Pick approaches, so does a fork in the road for our future. I still have no idea if our loan will be approved. I have no idea what my parents will want to do. I have no idea if we’ll keep the farm.

Ironically, my favorite part about the lead-up to U-Pick has nothing to do with apples and everything to do with pears.

At the very south-west corner of our farm there are two rows of Asian pear trees, Mom’s pride and joy.

Every year in early September they ripen with the most beautiful green fruit, dappled with freckles and spots of blush.

Each bite is fleshy and powerful in flavor.

Mom bakes pear tarts and pear bread and slow cooks pears with ginger, and she doesn’t tell anyone, she’s never even told me, but I know she puts pears in her famous applesauce.

It’s what makes it unbeatable. She can’t always win the apple pie contest, but she’s pretty consistent about keeping her applesauce crown.

I’ve helped her out this year, she claims, because all I could eat for the past week was applesauce.

After I fully recovered we settled into a rhythm, a better one than we had at the start of summer.

I didn’t realize how much Nick had thrown off my mornings, which I now get to spend waking up slowly and alone with my own thoughts as U-Pick days loom on the horizon.

Even though U-Pick is where we make a bulk of our revenue, the pickers only cover about a quarter of the orchard, focusing on specific varietals that we grow and prune especially for that purpose—Honeycrisp, Gala, Granny Smith.

We’ve never done U-Pick big like some of the other growers do, instead we pride ourselves on our small and intimate setting, we make sure there’s always one of us in the area to answer questions and we make everyone feel at home.

But this year, things have to change. I came out of my drug-induced haze with renewed energy about the Parker situation.

Nick can social media his way to the top all he wants, but he can’t stop me from doing the exact same thing.

If he wants to drive all these sales to the Parkers’, fine by me, I’ll direct them to our farm instead.

City Council responded about my request for a permit to hold weddings, so I’ve started calculating possible profits in case the loan falls through.

I’ve had large signs made that advertise Anderson Apple Orchards as the only non-insecticide farm in the nearby area and the only one with photo backdrops perfect for family photos in any weather.

D ID YOU GET DRESSED UP TO TAKE PICTURES AT OUR APPLE ORCHARD? Reads one sign, T HEN YOU’LL LOVE OUR UPDATED BARN! F EATURING FOUR DIFFERENT BACKDROPS AND ADJUSTABLE LIGHTING, YOU CAN MAKE SURE YOUR HOLIDAY-CARD PHOTOS ARE EXACTLY WHAT YOU WERE DREAMING OF.

Mom does her part too, preparing for the bake stand at U-Pick by baking apple pies, cookies, cakes, and muffins, anything that she can freeze after partially baking it. The outdoor freezer is so full, I’ve had to drive pastries to Lily’s parents’ place to store them.

‘Eloise?’ Mom asks, taking a slice of pear off my plate. ‘Are you doing OK?’

‘Me? Yeah. My mouth is almost completely back to normal.’

She sighs. ‘That’s not exactly what I was referring to.’

‘Oh. Yeah, I mean, I’m fine I guess .?.?.’

‘I’m just checking in. You seem .?.?. different than you were at the start of the summer .?.?. not as happy. And before you reply, I don’t think it has anything to do with the surgery.’

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. ‘Hmm,’ I mutter in response.

‘I hate to say it,’ she says.

‘Then maybe don’t say it,’ I mumble.

‘I think it was Nick.’

We both stare out the kitchen window. Ever since the surgery debacle, I haven’t talked to him at all except when I texted him to apologize. Business is business, something I feel like I should have known all along.

Shari: GUYYYYSSSSS

Evan: Just when I was beginning to wonder if you were dead.

Shari: SORRY I WAS TOO BUSY LITERALLY RECREATING THE LIZZIE MCGUIRE MOVIE.

Evan: Do I even want to know

Me: Did you ride with an Italian man on a Vespa .?.?.

Shari: YES.

Me: Did he hold your hand and walk you through the city?

Shari: YES.

Me: DID YOU SHARE A PLATE OF PASTA?

Shari: WE DID MORE THAN THAT.

Me: OH MY GOD I’M SO JEALOUS.

Evan: You’re jealous?! I’m the one who has resorted to dating someone named Kevin. Is there a bigger ick than their name rhyming with yours? You’re the one living next to a HUNK.

Evan: Happy for you, Shari, mean it.

Me: Evan, shut up.

Me: Shari, send pics. Tell us everything. Actually, can you voice memo it. I want to know ALL the details. Do not spare a thing.

God, I’m jealous. Reading Shari’s texts gives me a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe if I had her confidence, then I would be in a different position—instead of resenting Nick I could be making out with him behind the barn and secretly plotting his downfall without any complicated feelings.

I could have forgone the drama and instead be having a summer fling that even my mother thinks I desperately need.

The Carnation County Fair takes place right outside of the town hall, which is right off of Main Street where the farmers’ market happens every weekend.

The town hall is a looming old building made out of wood, with high ceilings and exposed beams. When there’s events in the town hall building, the cavernous room is filled with folding chairs.

I’m in charge of setting up the folding chairs today and I’m on my last row when I feel the air in the room go still.

I don’t need to turn around to know who just walked in.

Because I don’t remember seeing him when I went to get those godforsaken movies, I feel like I haven’t seen Nick in weeks.

It’s the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since we met.

I stiffen, my back to the door. I hear Betsy’s voice echoing off the wood floor and I cringe.

‘Lou!’ she trills excitedly, forcing me to turn around.

Nick falls into a quieter step behind Betsy, slowing down so he doesn’t get as close to me. He lingers behind her as she fusses over my outfit, which is a variation of what I always wear—jeans and a white T-shirt.

‘You’re just so beautiful,’ Betsy says.

I redden. I’ve got to get out of here. It’s one thing to daydream about Nick when he isn’t around, but seeing him in person makes the lies, the rejections, the way I’ve humiliated myself feel ten times worse.

‘I’ve actually got to go help my mom.’ I turn to go but Betsy sticks out her hand, grasping me on the forearm with unexpected strength.

‘Just wait one minute,’ she says, her voice laced with a ‘don’t-mess-with-me’ tone. ‘Won’t you try my applesauce? I think it might rival your mother’s this year.’

My gaze flutters to Nick, I can’t help it.

His face is unreadable, stoic .?.?. handsome.

I love Betsy. I’ve known her my whole life and she’s always been nothing but kind.

But being this close to Nick without being able to touch him, to talk to him, is torture.

I take a deep breath. ‘Sure, Mrs. Parker.’

‘Nick.’ She beckons him forward. ‘Give our Lou a taste of that.’ Then she walks away faster than I’ve ever seen her walk, leaving Nick and me alone in a sea of folding chairs, under the bright fluorescent lights of the town hall.

Nick shrugs awkwardly, holding up a giant container of applesauce. ‘I don’t know how she wanted me to give you a taste,’ he says finally, after a minute or two of us avoiding eye contact.

I’m finding it hard to breathe standing so close to him.

‘It’s OK.’ I wave him away. ‘I’m busy anyways.’

‘I know. I’ve been on the receiving end of your busy-ness once or twice, remember?’

I look up, embarrassed, wondering what he’s talking about, but he starts to laugh, setting me at ease. ‘The Craigslist ad was good, I’ll give you that.’

I blush. ‘I’m so sorry about that,’ I say. ‘It was a low blow.’

‘You should have seen the confusion on Mrs. P.’s face.’

I hide my face in my hands. ‘I can’t believe I let Evan talk me into that.’

‘All is fair in love and war.’

I hesitate. ‘Love and war’ hangs in the air. The ache I feel for him, the way I miss him, is palpable, but I can’t think of anything to say. Don’t move back to San Francisco. Can we start over? I want to walk by your side again.

‘You look like you’re almost done,’ he points out. There’s only three chairs left to unfold.

‘Right. I better finish,’ I say lamely.

Nick takes a hesitant step towards me. I gaze up at him, letting myself take in his big brown eyes and thick frame of lashes.

He still smells like himself—mint and cinnamon.

He’s tanner now and more muscular. I didn’t think it was possible for him to get hotter.

I feel like I’m being drawn closer to him by a magnet. I blink and we’re only inches apart.

He leans in closer. ‘It’s not that good,’ he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I stay rooted to the floor. ‘What?’ I whisper back.

‘The applesauce. Hazel’s is much better. She’ll win.’

‘Yeah,’ is all I can think to say in reply. ‘Maybe.’

‘Eloise,’ Nick whispers. His voice is filled with something I can’t place. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘You haven’t filled my absence with Amie?’

‘God. That was really dumb of me. No. We’re just friends, Amie and I. I promise.’

I knew that was the case—I would have heard in the town gossip mill if they did start to date, but even so I feel the coil of anxiety around my heart start to ease.

‘I haven’t seen Amie since karaoke. And I’ve missed you every day.’

I wring out my hands. ‘That’s not fair,’ I whisper.

‘What’s not fair?’

‘You saying you’ll miss me when you’re the one leaving.

’ The words hang heavy in the air between us.

Nick opens his mouth and closes it like he’s unsure of what to say.

I feel deflated, like someone let all the wind out of my sails.

‘That’s what you don’t get,’ I say softly.

‘You get to walk away. This doesn’t really matter to you. ’

A crease forms between his eyes, an expression I’ve only seen on him one time, that afternoon we were trapped in the barn during a rainstorm.

Nick stills, pausing, thinking. ‘No,’ he says softly.

Reaching up to cup my cheek in his palm, he tilts my chin ever so gently until our eyes meet.

‘You’re right about a lot of things. You know everything about soil and bees and apples and pears and, hell, even applesauce.

But you’re wrong about this. It does matter to me.

The Parkers matter to me. I want to take care of them.

I want to graduate and take care of my mom. But you matter to me, too.’

Rationally, I know I shouldn’t take his words so much to heart but I do. Hearing him say I matter makes me feel like my heart is full of helium, it could lift me right up off the floor. ‘Even after I showed up three times at the Parkers’ unannounced?’ I ask in a small voice.

‘Even more after you showed up three times at the Parkers’ unannounced.’

He’s still holding my cheek as he leans forward, moving his hand to the small of my back, his forearm grazing my waist. He pulls me in slowly and I feel my eyes start to close.

I can’t control my own body anymore. My rational thoughts are sounding the alarm, screaming THIS IS COMPLICATED.

YOU CAN’T AFFORD DISTRACTIONS , while my physical body is melting into Nick.

‘Nick?’ Mrs. Parker calls out, her voice bouncing across the wooden floor.

Nick pulls back abruptly, almost dropping the bowl of applesauce.

‘There you are.’ She rounds the corner, coming into view. ‘The judges need the applesauce.’ She beckons for him to follow her before giving me an apologetic look. ‘He’ll be right back,’ she says.

Nick gives me a wide-eyed look as he follows her, mouthing, ‘Wait for me.’

Long after he’s gone my lips are still buzzing with energy from grazing his. Tension is pooling in my low abdomen and my thoughts are spinning. I think about Shari’s texts. I think about how nice it would be to just say fuck it and get some.