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My chest tightens, and I glance at Ma. This is all happening so fast. My head is still spinning.
‘Actually,’ I say, taking another look around at the candles inside the lanterns that are burnt down to little stubs. ‘Would it be okay if I waited here?’
Sketch’s face falls, and I can sense his disappointment. ‘Alone?’ he asks.
I nod. I don’t really want to be parted from my new husband so soon but the glass lanterns dangling from the weary branches of trees I’ve come to love like old friends gives me an idea. Sketch Talbot isn’t the only one with a surprise up his sleeve and I can’t control the sweeping grin that stretches across my face just thinking about it.
‘I’d just like a moment to walk around between the trees, take it all in,’ I say. ‘Do we have time?’
Sketch twists his wrist, and his glance switches from me to his watch. ‘We have time.’ He smiles back. ‘The ferry is not until ten. But don’t you want to say goodbye to folks in town?’
I shake my head. ‘Anyone I want to say goodbye to is right here.’
I don’t have any friends in town. Not like Sketch, who everybody knows. I can understand him wanting to say goodbye, but I’m much more comfortable here.
‘Okay, if you’re certain.’ Sketch nods. ‘But just so you know, this is the last time I plan on being apart from you for oh… say… a lifetime.’
‘I can live with that.’
Sketch’s laugh is muffled as his lips press against my temple.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘We’d best be on our way too,’ Mr Talbot says glancing at my mother. ‘I’ll have a coop full of silly hens clucking up a storm if I don’t let them out soon.’
Ma nods and I can see the sparkle of excitement in her eyes just thinking about her new role on the farm.
‘Annie, will you be all right alone?’ Ma says.
‘I’ll be more than all right, Ma. Today’s a dream, a wonderful, wonderful dream. Thank you.’
Ma lunges forward and wraps her arms around my neck. ‘Goodbye, Annie love. I’m so proud of you. So very, very proud.’
‘It’s not goodbye,’ I explain, shaking on the outside and excited inside. ‘It’ssee you soon.’
Ma untangles her arms from around my neck and takes a step back to look me up and down with smiling eyes.
‘I will see you soon, Ma,’ I say. ‘I’ll have so much news. I can’t wait to tell you all about France.’ I nod and smile, encouragingly. ‘Thisismy time. But, it’syourtime too. Enjoy the farm. Enjoy it the way I did. I love you.’
‘I love you, too, sweetheart.’ Ma blows me a kiss, and I reach my hand up to catch it and bring my fist close to my heart.
Mr Talbot links my mother’s arm in his and guides her gently away. She drags one foot slowly in front of the other, all the while her head glancing back over her shoulder so she can smile brightly at me. The glisten of sadness in her eyes mixes with a twinkle of excitement, and when she finally nods and turns her head away, I know she’s content to let us both go.
FORTY-THREE
ANNIE
Birds fly overhead, chirping happily, and the early sun shines low and bright in the clear blue sky, warming my face as I reminisce about all the afternoons Sketch and I have spent in this orchard over the past year, all the memories we made. The most recent being the most wonderful and deserving of marking.
I eye up the lantern overhead. It dangles dangerously close to the edge of the branch and it shouldn’t take much to knock it. I stretch my arms out, hug the tree and shake it with all my strength. But my slight frame is no match for the mighty bark and the branch doesn’t budge. I try jumping and knocking the lantern with the tips of my fingers but I can’t quite reach high enough. Finally, I hoist my dress, scale the tree like a giddy child on a summer’s evening and knock that lantern to the ground with determination.
It’s harder to climb back down than it was to climb up but it’s all worth it when I crouch and investigate the mess of broken glass and wax scattered in the grass. Taking care not to nick myself I pick up the sharpest piece. I think about when Sketch first brought me to this garden and showed me the initials his parents carved on their wedding day. I never thought that less than a year later I would be standing in the same spot as Sketch’s wife.
I’m giddy with excitement as I wonder if someday Sketch and I will bring our children here and show them our initials. I pat the trunk of the old tree like you might stroke a beloved pet, and run the tip of my finger over the sets of letters. Concentrating on the spot under our initials I drag the glass up and down through the thick brown bark. The glass doesn’t glide as easily as I thought it would, and it cuts me a couple of times. I wince as a drop of bright red blood trickles down my fingers, but at last I can drop the glass and suck on my finger as I stand back to admire my handiwork.
A + S
Sept 3rd 1959
