Page 32 of Hauling Ashe

“I don’t want you to miss home.” He drops the officer act and softens his voice.

Taking the pot from his hands, I lift the flower to my nose. Geraniums don’t really have a fragrance other than earthy but clean, but I lower my lids to hide the sudden prickle of tears welling in my eyes.

“This was so sweet of you.”

“They aren’t exactly roses,” he scoffs, but his gesture is more precious than an entire bouquet. “I hope they don’t mean a bad omen, like death or despair.” He grins extra wide after speaking.

Chuckling, I blink back the lurking tears and lift my face. “Actually, they mean hope. My son read To Kill a Mockingbird in high school, and he thought it was cool that a character named Mayella had a name similar to mine. I’m Mae Ellen. He told me how she planted red geraniums and he learned they were a symbol of hope and beauty in her unhappy life.” How metaphoric I’d found his explanation. Maybe I surrounded myself in beautiful blooming plants to disguise the ugly unhappiness in my marriage.

“But actually, they are considered a protective plant in some cultures, according to legends.” I peer up at him. “And that’s probably more than you wanted to know about geraniums.”

Reaching for my hair again, he scoops the loose locks behind my ear. “Whatever they mean, I just want to make you smile.” His eyes avoid mine while he continues to wrap my hair over my ear.

With his words, my smile grows wider, and I giggle like a teenager. What’s happening to me? And what’s going on with him? He’s been sweet throughout the day, and I can’t dismiss the concept of a switch being flipped. Was his visit to that blues bar last night a turning point for him? He spoke rather passionately about music during our lunch. Whatever it is that has shifted his mindset, today’s been a good day, and he has made me smile often.

I set the plant securely in the back seat, fastening a seat belt around it to keep the pot upright and smile once more at the gift. Tucker chuckles at my attention to the flower before we both climb back into the car.

There’s one last place to visit in Kansas. We head for Brush Creek, where the Rainbow Curve Bridge goes over a marsh. Still a single lane road open to cars, we decide to park in a small lot and walk across it instead.

“Another bridge to cross.” He arches one brow at me.

“Another bridge.” Other than the physical ones, we’ve crossed several between the two of us and this white arched structure feels symbolic. A rainbow is a symbol of hope just like a red geranium.

After the brief walk—we agreed it felt good to stretch our legs—we continue on our drive, eventually taking a sharp left turning us due south until we connect with an alternate route labeled Highway 69. There are a thousand jokes waiting to be said here but I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting off naughty thoughts of Tucker, our bodies flipped and exploring one another. Mouth. Lips. Teeth. The struggle against my physical attraction to Tucker has grown triple-fold throughout the day, but I keep my flirtatious behavior in check.

Baxter Springs is the final destination suggested in Kansas, but we bypass the visitor center as it’s closed.

“Fun fact. I think the name Radiator Springs in the movie Cars came from this town. The owner of Old Riverton Store was interviewed for the movie as well.” Several locations we’d already hit and more to come are represented in the movie, and once again I think of Wyatt and Owen. How quickly they’ve grown. How close to being men they are. How much further they still need to blossom before becoming thriving adults.

“We need to find a place to stop for dinner before all these places close, and maybe we should find a hotel,” Tucker eventually says.

“Motel,” I remind him, emphasizing the m. We aren’t near any major metropolis and although we’ve seen advertisements for commercial hotels ahead, I’d still like to find another mom-and-pop place. To my surprise, a quick internet search comes up with only chain hotels and limited availability.

“There’s only one with two rooms.”

“Book it,” Tucker states, and I click the reservation. With the night’s lodging settled, we park on Main Street and walk to a café. We decide on burgers, review our day, and chat a bit about his work. He already knows I own the flower shop and garden center, and I’ve explained its background. He finally offers more about his company.

“Impact was born from necessity. I have extensive history with marketing and media, and Mach had been working in the industry for years as well. We decided to combine our efforts and open our own office when I was thirty-five.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I’ll be fifty soonish.” He cheekily grins, brushing off the exact date. “Anyway, we had a major client but took on several others, working with them on branding and social media influence specifically. It’s a market that’s boomed in the last decade.”

“What drew you to marketing?” Everyone has a reason they were attracted to an industry, but Tucker hesitates as if contemplating his answer.

“Family business. I had experience in their marketing department first.”

“But eventually, you wanted to break out on your own?” I ask, putting words to his past.

“Something like that.” He drops the French fry he’d been holding in his hand and reaches for his glass of water. Drinking half of it in one hearty gulp, he sighs afterward. “We need to drink more water as we ride.”

“If I drank more water, we’d be stopping even more frequently for bathroom breaks.”

“I can’t imagine us stopping any more than we already are,” he mocks, sarcasm deep in his throat while his crooked smile lets me know he’s joking.

Still, for a moment, I wonder if he’s regretted our day when I’ve enjoyed it. “You didn’t have fun today?” I hate that I’m holding my breath while I wait on his answer.

The corner of his mouth tips upward even further and he meets my gaze. “Yeah, I had fun.”