Page 44 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“Afraid so. But you won’t let that stop you, will you?”

I shake my head. “Nothing could stop me.”

Jeralds smiles, picks up his knife and slices the mangled cherry pie. “Grab one of those plates, would you?”

23

JERALD

Thunderstorms in Georgia come fast, we’re no strangers to them. When the clouds turn gun-metal grey, May and I pack up right quick. While I fold the blanket, she holds the basket. Relieving her of it as soon as I can, I take her hand, blanket under my other arm so we can make a run for it.

Lightning strikes a tree up ahead, splitting it down the center. May screams.

I yell, “You alright?”

Over a cacophonousthunder-crack, she shouts back, “Never seen one hit that close!”

“Me neither!”

We get to my car, and I can’t believe it, but I left the top down.

My hair is plastered to my face.

She’s still wearing my hat, raindrops cascading fromthe brim.

Hersmile, in spite of all of this, is still there, and she isabsolutely beautiful.

I drop the basket and the blanket, take her face in my hands, and kiss her with all my might. This is like no kiss I’ve ever given.

My heart is in it.

I never knew it was absent until it showed up and smacked me in the head when I met May.

A fresh roar of thunder breaks us apart, and I realize that she lost my hat mid-kiss. She’s gazing at me, smile growing before she asks, “Care toswim home?”

“Thought we might float in this.” I jog my chin to the car.

May laughs, eyelashes fluttering to help her see. Heck, every part of her is dripping now. So I should be getting her home.

I lift her up and plunk her on the seat, not bothering with the door. Snatching the basket and blanket first, I plant them in the back, and grab my hat last, clapping it on my head while May grins at me like there’s no rush.I leap over and slide into the driver seat.

She yells, “All aboard!” snatches my hat and puts it on her head. “Didn’t you hear me say I’m keeping this?”

I laugh, dig out my keys, and holler, “Hot dog!” as the engine starts.

The car lurches, but the tires gain no traction.I look over my shoulder and try again. “Uh oh!” Jumping out I call to her, “Get behind the wheel!”

May scrambles to my seat, holds on and looks to me for direction.

“Okay! Hit the gas!”

“Which one is the gas?”

“The pedal on the right!”

She puts her weight on it, tires fighting the mud. I use every ounce of muscle I’ve got to push while the rain pelts me like it’s got a vendetta.

I can hear May’s voice, but can’t make out a word. One more shove and the tires break free.

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