Page 16 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

He sounded curious. If there’d been a gram of judgment, she would have reflexively gone off about how hard she’d studied, the hours that sometimes seemed impossible to claw her way almost to the top.

But Jackson, his hair blowing a little around his face like a tipped, dark halo, regarded her with zero guile, only curiosity and a touch of wonder.

Meghan had never felt so exposed in her life.

“Yes,” she whispered after a long silence, feeling like she was agreeing to something she didn’t quite understand.

*

“Can you drivethrough the orchards?” she asked, after the silence stretched.

She’d taken so much of his time already.

Jackson didn’t question. He just did it.

“Huh.” Meghan leaned out to look at the foliage and beginnings of some fruit. “I thought these would need serious pruning.” Meghan noted the apple, pear, plum, apricot, pecan and peach trees. “G. Millie had a caretaker living here for years, and he did the basics and G. Millie, would supplement with a gardening crew, but I think that ended when the caretaker retired and moved closer to his daughter and her family a few years back.”

Meghan wanted to get out and walk the orchard. Touch the bark. Look at the leaves, the buds. Think. Imagine. But her stupid ankle. And using the crutches hurt her bruised ribs and hip when she was in the house going to the bathroom. She could just imagine how ungainly she’d be in the overgrown grass.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been here,” Meghan said, hating that it had been G. Millie’s death that had brought her here.

“You can flagellate yourself all you want,” Jackson said. “But regret buys you nothing but grief and wallowing. Y’all had a close relationship growing up, and may have gone your separate ways, but when it mattered you stepped up to help Jessica put on the party for Chloe and Rustin. Worked weekends helping in the garden. Lucas and I and a couple of friends helped Storm prune the orchard trees in February after a storm.”

That got her attention. “Pruned? You?”

“And like I said, Rustin’s brother and some friends. Storm told us what had to be done, and we did it.”

“I can see that. I was expecting more dead wood, damage, death.”

“Climate here’s not ideal for plum trees—Storm told me that. Their lifespan’s not as long, but they are the right kind and healthy so far. Want to see more?”

“Yes, and more of the berry fields if you have time, Jackson.”

“You thinking of becoming a farmer, Megs?”

She thought he meant the question facetiously, but a quick glance at his face revealed only curiosity. Jackson looked wide open.

“You must suck at poker.”

“Why?”

“You’re transparent. No subterfuge.”

“Am I supposed to be insulted?”

“Just stop,” she said.

He drove through the orchards to where there was a hodge-podge of other berries. Meghan was thrilled to see the small green berries—more than she’d anticipated, though she imagined the soil likely needed amending. And then preventative disease measures—whatever those might be. Jessica had been researching like she was cramming for a master gardener exam—if they had those.

Jackson stopped in the middle of the row where all they could see was a different varietal of unripe blueberries. Meghan also saw grapes, brambles with not yet ripe raspberries and blackberries.

“I stopped.”

So sweet. So literal. And dang it, probably tasty.

“I meant metaphorically, I think.”

“Huh.” He looked straight ahead and then back at her. “Not sure how to take that,” he mused.

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