I saw Cash waiting for me in the airport terminal, and he took my breath away. After three more months of chemotherapy after last summer, my oncologist used the word cancer-free. Although it wasn’t quite remission yet, I took it and ran with it.
I took a moment to watch him, watch him in the wild, while women, both young and old, had a hard time diverting their eyes from his looks. All of the Atwood boys were ruggedly handsome, but there had always been something special about Cash. Maybe they could see his heart like I could. Of course, it could be his bright blue eyes, his dark hair, and the way his chest and arms were somehow bigger than last summer. He’d said in his letters that he’d been bucking hay a lot in the spring, which was usually done in the summer, but Dillon Creek hadn’t gotten a lot of rain this year, and it was oddly warmer than most years.
He was looking for me.
I ran my hand through my shorter auburn hair, feeling insecure about its length, about my body, about me.
“Just breathe, Scar,” I told myself. “It’s just Cash.”
But something between us had changed last summer.
Our letters had turned to love.
Our words had turned into plans.
We’d talked about sex and what it would mean if we went through with it.
I’d daydreamed about Cash while in Chicago.
I had written my name in my notebook and signed it Scarlet Atwood.
One night, while on the phone, our conversation had changed, and it’d made my body grow warm.
And so I stood there, watching Cash. My body felt the new things for Cash. Scary things, feelings I could no longer control.
After I took a long, deep breath and put some lip gloss on, I opened the door to the terminal, threw my shoulders back, and walked to him with confidence.
He threw his arms around my waist, and I felt his body against mine. Our hearts strummed together, the old tune we’d always played. The piece was light and airy, and in some parts, it was softer and more romantic.
“God, you look beautiful, Scar,” he whispered against my neck.
Chills rippled down my spine.
Our bodies lingered there for a moment while passersby looked awkwardly at our embrace, perhaps questioning our youth and the position our bodies were in.
If they only knew the price we’d paid to get here.
He let go, and it was too soon.
I looked into his eyes. “Something has changed about you, Cash.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I got my license.”
“Ah, it’s freedom.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back.
He grabbed my luggage, and we walked hand in hand to an old red Ford.
“Scar, meet Red. Red, meet Scar.”
The age of the truck was reflected on the paint; once maybe a bright red had become a well-worn orange with rust that sat in places most exposed to the elements.
“Nice to meet you, Red.”
Cash opened the truck door with a loud creak. “Didn’t have a lot of time to get her fixed up before you came home.”
Cash drove us to Dillon Creek.
“I can’t believe my grandparents allowed you to come get me by yourself.”
“I might have made a few promises.”
“Like what?”
“I will drive five miles under the speed limit. I will not take my eyes off the road. I will give you a big hug when I see you. I will make sure you know that they wanted to come.”
We laughed, and everything was all right in the world. It hadn’t been that way for me in an awfully long time. Maybe the difference was that I’d allowed my heart to fall for Cash. I’d allowed myself to love and to be loved. Sure, Cash and I were young, but when you knew, you knew.
I could feel Cash’s stare.
“I’ve missed you, Scar. So much. Sometimes, the letters and phone calls just weren’t enough.” He reached over and placed his hand on my thigh, and my face went flush with want.
“I’m going to pull my hand back now. Not because I want to, but because I made your grandparents a promise—two hands on the wheel at all times.” He grinned and begrudgingly pulled his hand back.
I watched him as he drove, seemingly so natural behind the wheel, as if he’d been doing it for years.
He looked over at me. “What?”
I shook my head, and my face grew warm again. “I just missed you—that’s all.”
Grinning, he quickly took the outside of his hand and touched my face. “How’d the appointment go last week?”
“Good. Scans went well. I’ll do another follow-up in three months.”
“Did your mom go?”
At first, I wanted to lie because I knew this was a sore subject between Cash and me. But I couldn’t do that to avoid the hard stuff. If we couldn’t do the hard stuff, then we had no chance at a future together.
“No, she had to work.”
I saw his jaw tighten.
I removed my seat belt and scooted to the middle seat, where I buckled in. I placed my head on his shoulder, my hand on his thigh. “I wanted to go alone.” Which was mostly the truth. I’d wanted to go alone out of fear, but deep down, I thought the little girl inside me needed her mom.
With the low hum of the tires against the highway, I saw the familiar signs of home—no rush hour traffic, the cow pastures, redwood trees, the ocean, the occasional billboard advertising the Benbow Inn, Humboldt Soup Company, water companies for marijuana growers. We passed Humboldt State University, College of the Redwoods, the bird refuge as we drove the open road of Highway 101.
This is where I belong.
This is where my heart is.
In this truck.
With this boy.
In this place.
I’d never been so sure of anything in my whole entire life. That I knew to be truth in its purest form.
Cash leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m going to take you home to see Erla and Don, but I have a surprise for you, so when you’re done, give me a call, and I’ll come pick you up.”
Cash and I drove out to Centerville Beach. It was nice, being able to go farther out of town than we used to. The horses and the four-wheeler could only get us so far.
Cash grabbed a blanket and a picnic basket from the back of the truck, and we laid the blanket down on the sand. Set the picnic basket down.
Cash opened the picnic basket and took out two waters and two sandwiches. “Turkey, lettuce, cheese. No tomato or onion, right?” he asked.
“Nailed it. And I’m starving.”
He took his sandwich out after handing me mine. “Surprised Erla let you out of the house without eating.”
“Since the cancer, she doesn’t force me to eat anything.”
But I saw his body language change when I mentioned the cancer. His movements became rigid, tighter.
“Hey,” I whispered and took his hand and pulled it to my lap. “I’m okay. See?”
Cash met my eyes. “I know.”
He tried to hide the fear, but I saw it staring back at me in the form of an uncertain smile. I knew he felt helpless, and watching me suffer was probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to live through.
We ate our sandwiches and listened to the ocean waves that poured in against the shore.
The ocean in Northern California wasn’t like the ocean in Southern California. It was sneakier, colder, and meaner. It has been known to snatch children, adults, and pets off its shores that got too deep, too close.
But it was absolutely beautiful from this view as the bright orange sun dipped into the ocean.
It is truly amazing how quick sunsets actually are, I thought to myself.
Cash removed an old, empty bottle from the picnic basket.
“What’s that?” I asked, wadding the parchment paper from my sandwich into a ball.
The Dillon Creek Meat Market has the best sandwiches in the county.
He retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a note. Handed it to me.
Cash Atwood and Scarlet Brockmeyer. Forever and always. June 2008.
I grinned at Cash as I leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. I quickly pulled away, for fear it might get too far and too out of hand here on the beach.
It dawned on me. My list.
“Item number eight!” I squealed.
I took the bottle and dropped the note inside. We abandoned our spot and walked to the water’s edge just as the last wave left the shore.
I looked at Cash.
“Well?” he said.
And I threw it as far as I could into the ocean.
We couldn’t hear the glug or the splash over the waves that continued to crash against the shore. We quickly turned and ran back toward our blanket, where we collapsed together and faced each other on our sides.
“I like your hair,” he whispered. “But I would have loved you without hair for as long as you’d have me.”
And with that, he gently and slowly put his lips to mine, and I opened to him. Our mouths explored one another, and heat moved through us and against us.
We tried our best to keep things calm between us, but when I felt him harden against me, he stopped and said, “Nope. Not here.”