Savor It

Chapter 38. Sage

I finally made my way back to my garden a few days ago. I knew if I let it go much further, I’d kill off any chance at fall flowers, so I figured it was time.

Also, I have decided to pursue my grower’s license along with my business license so I might start selling the blooms professionally. Who knew having my heart crushed would lead me to finally take a risky leap? Women with newfangled bangs and Taylor Swift in all her eras are sighing collectively at me.

I was all but too late to save the garden, though. I think there must be a whole gopher megalopolis that has taken up residence. And, because I am not in a sound emotional state, I had to call all around Oregon to locate a humane relocation service. They can’t come until next week.

For now, I have decided to make the gophers my friends. I am currently sitting on the border of my destroyed dahlia patch, tossing pieces of a tortilla to one that keeps popping up to snatch them. Maybe if I keep them fed, they’ll go easy on the rest of my plants.

I also have Gary in my lap, a steady supply of treats being doled out to him to keep his depression at bay, with Sable at my feet.

If an artist were to paint this whole scene, I think they’d name it Me and My Demons.

The gopher suddenly scurries back down in his hole with a renewed surge of panic just as I hear Rosemary and Ginger start to bray in the distance. Sable jumps up with a booming bark.

“What the…” I trail off, then recall Nina Andersen telling me they’d be heading back this month. Last year, they kept putting off their return until after the holidays, so I was honestly surprised they were returning for fall this year.

I should probably have warned her that I’ve added some additions to the farm, but they’re not typically this noisy. I take a deep, steadying breath of cool, briny air. Test out a smile to make sure my cheeks can still do it naturally, then push up from my seat with Gary in my arms, ready to welcome them home.

Gary jerks violently when we round the corner and propels himself from my grasp with a chorus of noise. He’s too fat to fly, but he does his best to do something between that and a running waddle when he sees Indy across the meadow. The bird and his girl collide in the distance, Indy falling to her knees with an unrepentant cry.

I turn just in time to see Sable nearly knock Fisher to his ass when she jumps up on his chest.

I pull my flannel robe tighter and self-consciously pat at my hair while something claps inside my chest. I try to hold still, I really do. I’m not certain he’s not a mirage. Maybe this is some sort of fertilizer-induced hallucination. But my feet keep carrying me his way nonetheless, and he keeps getting closer and more here. And then he’s there before me. A little too thin, hair a little too long, ears just sort of too big. Still walking around with far too much of my heart.

God, I’ll kill him if he’s here on some whim. If I’ve been clawing my way through missing him only to have to start over again.

“What are you doing here?” I croak. I want it to sound flat or wary, but it’s so obviously full of hope. His eyes fill with tears, bright green with all the gray mist floating around at his back.

“I seemed to have lost an earring,” he says. “Have you seen it?”

My hand automatically goes to it in my ear. I’d found it three days after he left, in the corner of the sunroom.

“And,” he adds, stepping dangerously close, “you knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this if I’d opened it here.” He holds up my journal. My first tear escapes and my chin starts to tremble.

“It was a gift,” I say. “I want you to have it.” And then, “I’m keeping the earring either way.”

He huffs a laugh and loses a tear of his own. My hands are quivering with the need to grab for him, but…

“What are you doing here, Fisher?”

He blows out a shaky breath, his hands moving restlessly like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching for me, too.

“We’re moving,” he replies.

I slap my palms over my eyes. “You can’t,” I sob. “You can’t move your life just for me.”

He pries my hands away and looks down at me, one side of his mouth tugging up apologetically. “First of all, you can’t tell me what to do,” he says. I let out a watery laugh. “Second of all, I’m so sorry I left.” His voice cracks on the last word, and oh, god, I feel my face doing that scrunching thing, my lips locking together and trying to hold back a gut-wrenching sob.

He presses on. “I fell in love with you, and with this place, and it should’ve been enough to make me stay. I should’ve been able to show Indy that, too, but I was scared to fuck it up again. We’re better than how you found us, but we’re still working on ourselves.” He makes a frustrated sound. “Can I hold you? Please?” I step into his chest in answer and we both shudder in relief. “We both know that life changes,” he continues. “But for once I’d like to be the one to change it, for something great. Something Sage.

“So yes, I can move my life here. Indy and I both made that choice. I currently have a month-to-month lease agreement for that house back there.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder to the Andersen place. “I also have connections with the Main Street Business Coalition. More commonly known as the mob.” He pulls me even closer. “I can move to be with you, because I’m doing it for me, too. Me, and Indy, and this menagerie of pets, and Walter, and your brothers, and most importantly, for Martha O’Doyle.”

I let out a blubbering, happy sound. “But what about work?”

He grimaces. “I am, technically, unemployed once more.” He chuckles. “But I’ve got some things in mind,” he states. “Plus a few other ideas in the works. All I know is that I can cook anywhere, Sage, and I didn’t want to wait for the logistics and the minutiae to work out before I could start a life with you. I want every minute of it, every second.”

“Starhopper?” I ask, like I still need him to convince me before I’ll let myself feel the gravity of his words. The place is still under construction, and I’d wager it will take a few more months to be fully ready.

He shakes his head. “That job’s already promised to someone,” he says. “But I’m not opposed to taking a lesser role there for a while, and I do happen to know the boss. She’s not pleased with me, but she is happy for me right now.” He shrugs. “Nothing’s for certain, except that I certainly fucking love you.” I push up and kiss him because I think I’ll die if I don’t. He hums and I almost weep anew when I hear it. “I did promise a Taco Tuesday and I should try to see that through, at least.”

I can’t stop myself from touching him now. I reach up and trace his face, and he nuzzles into my palm. Real and warm and mine.

“You once told me you thought you were a lot of nots,” he says. “I want you to know that to me, you’re everything. I love that you’re full of terrible puns that you’re not afraid to follow with profound wisdom.” He thumbs my temple like he’s caressing my mind. “You’re all the shapes made perfectly to hold me, and you’re all my favorite colors.” His lips press against my chin. “You’re definitely my favorite flavor,” he says lowly into my ear, and I feel my laugh rumble through our embrace softly.

“I love you so much,” I have to say.

“I love you, too. Please bring me home.”