Page 81 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

I’d been put to work there, doing minor repairs on her roof and cleaning out her gutters while she and Grandad sat on the porch drinking sweet tea. He’d been spending more and more time with Mrs. B, and I wondered if there was something more going on. It was not a conversation I really knew how to bring up, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer anyway.

A yawn claimed me as I ran the towel over my head to dry my hair. I hadn’t slept a wink last night. I’d laid in bed tossing and turning, not having a clue what I should do. My loss of sleep hadn’t provided any answers to the big life picture, but I had figured one thing out. I did know I couldn’t let Daphne go home without knowing how I felt.

I was pretty sure she already knew. The last night we’d spent together was more than just hooking up. I’d seen the emotion in her eyes, felt it in her body, heard it in her breaths, and I was sure she’d done the same. But I hadn’t actually told her.

I loved her. I needed her to know that. And, also, that I was willing to do long distance. It wasn’t ideal, but neither was being in love with someone and never speaking to or seeing them. If she agreed, I was prepared to log some serious frequent flyer mileage.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and glanced out the window, where my gaze fell over to the Moore farm. I’d only seen Daphne once today. It was this morning when she helped Miss Rhonda out to the sunroom, and they’d had their coffee. I waved, and she waved back. She’d made it clear that she wanted to focus on her aunt before she left, and I was doing my best to respect her wishes, but it was not easy being so close to her and keeping my distance.

At least I knew I wasn’t the only person Daphne was avoiding on her final day in town. Nadia had tried to convince her to go out to Southern Comfort tonight, but she’d declined, saying she wanted to spend the time with her aunt. Which I believed, but I also suspected it was more than that.

From what I’d seen, this town had gotten under Daphne’s skin. She might not want to admit it, but I’d seen how affected she was by the community. And I knew how much she hated goodbyes. But tonight, me going over to see her, was not going to be a goodbye. It was going to be an I love you; I want to try and make this work.

My entire body was buzzing with adrenaline and nerves as I headed down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I checked in on Grandad. He was in his recliner with his head back and his eyes closed. Dini was curled up on his lap.

I thought about leaving a note but figured he’d call if he needed me. I was reaching for the front door when I heard his voice.

“You headin’ over to getcha girl?”

I stepped back and turned, wondering if he was talking in his sleep. He was looking right at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You heard me. You always did like to leave things till the last minute.”

“What are you talking about?”

His bushy brows rose as his chin dipped, and he peered at me over his black-rimmed glasses with a knowing expression.

“What?!” I questioned again.

“You think I don’t know you’ve been sniffin’ around that girl? From the first time she showed up on our porch, you were a goner.”

“A goner?”

Grandad and I didn’t have relationship talks. The only talk he’d had with me was when I was with my high school girlfriend, Rachel. He told me to ‘strap up if I didn’t want ankle biters running around.’ And I’d been with her three years and thought I was going to marry her.

“You fell head over heels for that girl before she even said hello.”

I could argue with him, but he wasn’t wrong.

“I’m glad you’re gonna do somethin’ about it. I was worried you were gonna be lonely.”

“Lonely?” I took two steps into the family room.

“I’m movin’ out.” He dipped his head in a decisive nod. “Vera asked me to move into the boarding house. She needs a man around, and I’m tired of hearin’ that damn whistle blowin’ every morning.”

“What? You can’t move to the Boarding House. This is your home.” I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing. This farm was everything to him. It was the reason I’d been so stressed for the past few years, trying to keep it for him. For the‘Mitchell Legacy.’ “I don’t have to use the whistle. I can figure out?—”

Grandad raised his hand, cutting me off. “Idohave to move. It’s not the same here since your Meemaw…” His words trailed off, and I saw moisture glistening in his eyes.

I wasn’t sure what to say or do as I stood feeling helpless. He sniffed and lifted his hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger dipped below his glasses as he wiped beneath his eyes.

“I was just letting you know what’s goin’ on, not openin’ the floor for debate.” Grandad picked up the remote and turned the TV volume up before shoeing me with his hand. “Now, what are you doin’ still standin’ here? Go getcha girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Ha.” He let out a forced laugh. “And who’s fault is that?”

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