16. Golden Hour
JVKE
16
GOLDEN HOUR
They drove through the storm for as long as possible, until Dakota could no longer make out the lines of the road in the thick downpour.
Stopping at the first hotel they came to, an anomaly in the midst of endless miles of fields and farms, they were half-way greeted by the vibrant hotel staff.
“Bruh. There ain’t no room here,” the teen desk clerk said, barely making eye contact over the phone in his hands. “Booked solid for FFA all week.”
Dakota tapped his knuckles on the counter. “Cool… bruh…”
“Don’t,” Sadie warned.
Dakota smiled and tucked her under his arm.“But, bruh, could you, like… maybe tell me and my bussin’ girl, here, what's the next hotel heading east? We just wanna get outta that storm. It's super sus.”
“No cap?” The kid looked up.
“No cap.” Dakota rolled his eyes as the kid finally put his phone down, took a too-long look at Sadie—in Dakota’s opinion—and nodded in completely foolish understanding. “Oh. Bet.”
He typed on the computer, like the utmost professional he was, and sighed like he was solving world peace. “Bruh, you won’t believe this.”
“I bet I will,” Dakota grumbled.
“There’s, like… no rooms available for a hundred miles. The inn is, like, full.”
“Who knew there were so many young people hopin’ to further their lives with entrepreneurial farming?” Sadie said, chipper and totally at ease in the crook of Dakota’s arm.
“I’m in the FFA, ya know?” the kid said proudly, pointing at the fish hook on his hat which apparently signified membership. “You a farmer, ma’am?”
Dakota held her just a little closer. “She’s a barista and a voracious reader. Hates farmin’. Thinks it's totally sus. Thanks for your help.”
He turned Sadie, Gus mildly hissing in her arms—because the one thing he had in common with Dakota was a venomous hatred for youth slang—and began leading them out of the hotel, back into the storm.
Sadie yelled over their shoulders, “Have a grood day!”
And the Future Farmer of America responded in kind.
“We started a revolution, Kota. People everywhere will be using grood before you know it.”
“I doubt that pubescent is going to start a revolution.”
“Ya never know. He is in the FFA, after all, and you just said pubescent, so crazier things have happened.”
She looked up at him with a small handful of berries already in her lap and her feet on the dash again.
Finally tucked safely in the parking lot of a rest area, they’d been playing war for the better part of the evening with no sign of the storm stopping.
Dakota threw down a Jack at the same time as Sadie.
They both screamed, “War!” and smacked three cards down, turning over the fourth. Landing the highest card, Sadie cheered, laughed like a villain, and grabbed her winnings, adding them to her deck.
“I can’t believe you won again! This game is rigged!”
“And you, sir, are a poor loser.” Continuing play, she slapped her hand onto another winning stack and slid them into her deck.
“No, I’m a suspicious loser, thank you very much. Not poor. And I suspect you’re hiding somethin’ over there.” He gave her a look-over and lost another round. “You’re a barbarian, Edwin. Absolutely ruthless.”
Sadie shrugged and said noncommittally, “Eh. I’ve been called worse.” She hesitated, catching herself, and put another card down.
Dakota paused, watching her.
“Are you gonna play?” she asked, looking at their pile rather than him.
He wasn’t sure why, but Dakota thought this was important. Her playfulness had slipped into truth. A tiny blip she likely hadn’t meant to let fly.
“Who’s called you worse, Sadie?” he asked.
She laughed but not in her eyes or deep in her throat—the laugh that made Dakota feel as though he could memorize the sound and use it to find happiness on any gloomy day like the one outside his window. This laugh was half-hearted and vulnerable. Not his Sadie.
“Sadie, look at me.” He put his cards down and put his hand on hers, leaving them both on the console between them. In two days he’d touched her hands more than he had in three years. Like once given the chance, after waiting for so long, he couldn’t help but offer her whatever small amount of affection she’d accept.
“Who called you worse? What happened?”
“It isn’t a big deal, Kota. I don’t know why I even said anything. We don’t have to talk about it. Really.”
“I want to.” He let his thumb pass back and forth over her hand. A glorious warmth bloomed in his chest when she didn’t pull away.
“Is this what your dad meant?”
“What do you mean? What did he say?” Her eyes lifted, looking through long, full lashes.
“He said he didn’t want you to get hurt… again. He warned me.” He cleared his throat, remembering the strength in Mr. Mills’ handshake and the sincerity of his words. “Said he’d hunt me down.”
“He did not…”
“Oh, yes, he did. And I believe him. Have you seen that man’s eyes? He’d have fun with it too.” He lowered his head, watching his fingers just barely touch hers. “At first I thought it was me… that hurt you.”
“It wasn’t you.” Sadie flipped her hand over, meeting his palm to palm, and took a steadying breath. “It was Tanner. His name was Tanner.”
Tanner. He hated that name. He suddenly felt as though he could commiserate with Ryan, however misguided his friend had been in his battle with Danger. What kind of name was Danger anyway? Just as bad as Tanner, that's for sure.
Dakota didn’t even have the full story, but what he did have was the urge to hunt Tanner down with Mr. Mills and rip his own shirt off before pummeling Tanner into the ground.
He swallowed down his sudden, explosive rage, and tentatively asked, “Do you want to tell me what Tanner did?”
“You know… I already told you I didn’t have many friends growin’ up. We moved a lot and traveled for my parents’ research, so…”
Dakota confirmed with a silent nod, and she continued. “Well, my senior year of high school, I met Tanner. We were living near a private university in North Georgia where my parents worked, and he was the son of the Dean of Students. I couldn’t understand why, but he liked me.”
“I could name about a thousand reasons why.”
She smiled softly. “Well, he pursued me. He was gorgeous and popular and whip smart, and he pursued me,” she said, sounding like she couldn’t quite believe it.
Dakota couldn’t believe how breathtakingly more Sadie was than those simple qualities and was just as baffled that she didn’t see them in herself.
Maybe he should start a list. Or, dang it, poetry.
“It all sounds so pathetic—so immature—when I look at it now, but I think I was just so lonely. Tanner introduced me to his friends, and suddenly I had friends. The closer we grew, the more I felt like I belonged. It made my freshman year so much easier. I didn’t have much in common with most of them. They weren’t believers or readers or adventurous, but for the first time in my life I had people. Aside from my parents and…”
“Your book friends,” Dakota added, not joking in the slightest.
“Yeah,” Sadie confirmed but watched where their hands met. Dakota had flipped hers over and had begun to run his fingers over her hand.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered and smiled, “it's grood.”
He drew a pattern on her palm and waited for her to go on.
Tantalizing. She was tantalizing. And Beautiful.
“I was at a really good point in my life. I loved what I was studying.”
“English lit?”
“Yeah,” she sighed and laughed at herself. “‘Course it was. And I was able to stay with my parents and help them with their schedules between classes and the growin’ list of doctor’s appointments. They were gettin’ older, and it felt like they started needin’ more help.”
“That must have been a hard change.”
“It was, and it wasn’t.” She shrugged but didn’t relinquish her hand from his. “I’d do anything for them. They’re the best.”
“In my limited experience, I’d have to agree.”
Generous. Unselfish. Intelligent.
“Tanner seemed to be understandin’ of me being there for them. They were still both lecturing and had classes to tend to, but they needed help. So, I balanced a lot.” She looked up from where she'd been watching their hands. “Don’t tell my mama I said a lot.”
“Wouldn't dream of it… if you give me her biscuit recipe.”
“Not a chance, Remillard.”
“How long did you date him? This Tanner guy.”
“A year.”
“Oh.” He knew it was selfish, but the idea of Sadie sharing herself with anyone, let alone for an entire year, made him want to scream. “And… what happened?”
“I don’t… I don’t want you to think differently of me, Kota. I’m scared that you won’t look at me the same.”
“Hey, don’t be afraid of me. Ever.” He leaned closer, gripped her hand and pulled it to rest on his chest, then used the other to tilt her chin up and meet his eyes. Wishing he could tell her all the ways he wanted to make her feel safe. To feel loved.
She was sensitive but bold. Gentle. Strong. Kind.
“I don’t expect anything from you, Sadie. I’m your friend. I’ll always be your friend. And there is not a thing you could say or do that would change who you are to me. Do you understand?”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she nodded once, wiping them before they fell down her cheeks. “Things with Tanner grew more… physical… than I was comfortable with. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and then I felt the sting of shame and regret over and over again. I felt more distant from the Lord and distracted from any semblance of pursuing Christ. That shame… it just ate me up inside. It grew like an ugly weed and took root in my spirit.
“I knew things had to change and prayed for forgiveness and strength. But when I finally admitted how I felt to Tanner, thinking I could be honest with him, he didn’t feel the same.”
Dakota waited. Somehow knowing that though Sadie had been hurt, she likely hadn’t snubbed him… run away from him—from a maybe with him—solely because of a rejection from a dumb college boy.
“We broke up. Which… whatever… it was fine. I felt… free. But about a week later, I was called to the Dean’s office—to Tanner’s dad’s office—and accused of plagiarizing multiple major papers I’d turned in that year. Tanner claimed I’d stolen his ideas. His work, writing it off as my own, forcing him to do double. There wasn’t much to the claims, obviously, but it was enough to cause speculation. And enough for the school to rip away the academic scholarship I’d been given.”
“You didn’t fight it?”
“No. The rumors didn’t revolve around just me. My parents’ integrity was also called into question. It was too much for them—for all of us. They were forced into retirement.”
“What a scumbag.”
“That's what Dad called him. My mama pretends like she doesn't know Tanner’s name.” She laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes, and leaned her head on the seat, staring at the rain falling down the darkened windshield.
“My parents lost the careers they loved, and I lost all my friends—who were Tanner’s friends first anyway. But my momentum… my purpose… and my relationship with God… they just kind of slipped away for a while. It’s been hard to get it all back. I did fight for that.”
“Until Good Start,” Dakota said, understanding dawning. “You moved to Sugartree and…”
“And I met you and your sisters and your parents, and Dakota I don't…”
He interrupted her, understanding finally dawning. “That’s it. That's your why.”
“Why what?” She turned her head, still resting on the seat, and looked at him through the darkness.
“Why you said no. Why you’re still saying no… to me.”
Sadie sighed and turned her head away again, closing her eyes.
Dakota studied her profile. Studied the way her eyelashes rested on her cheeks, kissing the skin there. The way she swiped her lips back and forth over her teeth, as if she were going to say something but was fighting herself.
She didn’t want to answer him, and he got it.
Dakota finally understood. She’d given pieces of herself away to someone who hadn’t been careful with her. Who hadn’t treated it like an absolute privilege, just to be near her. He was so proud of the woman sitting next to him now. Of how strong and sure and faithful she was to the Lord and to her convictions. He wanted to shout it into the storm, even though all of it meant he’d had to face her rejections.
She's bold and brave. Genuine. And real… so real to him.
He loved her.
The revelation grew inside of him. A fire brewing in his gut he knew he wouldn’t be able to stifle for long.
He loved Sadie.
The gentle hum of Gus’ snoring and the steady gait of the rain outside were the only sounds between them.
Finally, Sadie sighed, eyes still closed, and said into the night, “I wish I could say yes.”