The Longest Ride

fork against her plate. “I know,” she said.

“How would you know?”

“Liz, the gal from the arena office, called,” she said. “She gave me a rundown on your rides. She and I go back a long way, remember?”

He hadn’t expected that, and at first, he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he speared a piece of the sausage and chewed, eager to change the subject.

“Before I left, I mentioned that Sophia will be coming by, right?”

“For dinner,” she said. “I was thinking of blueberry pie for dessert.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I already did,” she said, pointing with her fork toward the counter. In the corner, beneath the cabinets, he spotted her favorite ceramic pie dish, rivulets of blueberry juice seared onto its sides.

“When did you do that?”

“Last night,” she said. “I had some time after we finished up with the customers. Do you want me to toss together a stew?”

“No, that’s okay,” he said. “I was thinking I’d grill some steaks.”

“So mashed potatoes, then,” she added, already thinking ahead. “And green beans. I’ll make a salad, too.”

“You don’t have to do all that.”

“Of course I do. She’s a guest. Besides, I’ve tried your mashed potatoes, and if you want her to come back, it’s better if I make them.”

He grinned. Only then did he realize that – in addition to baking the pie – she’d tidied up around the kitchen. Probably the house as well.

“Thanks,” he said. “But don’t be too hard on her.”

“I’m not hard on anybody. And sit up straight when you’re talking to me.”

He laughed. “I take it you’ve finally forgiven me, huh?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m still angry that you competed in those events, but I can’t do anything about it now. And besides, the season’s over. I figure you’ll come to your senses before January. You might act dumb sometimes, but I’d like to think I raised you better than to act dumb all the time.”

He said nothing, reluctant to start an argument. “You’ll like Sophia,” he said, changing the subject.

“I should think so. Since she’s the first girl you’ve ever invited over.”

“Angie used to come over.”

“She’s married to someone else now. And besides, you were a kid. It doesn’t count.”

“I wasn’t a kid. I was a senior in high school.”

“Same thing.”

He cut another piece of pancake and swirled it in the syrup. “Even if I think you’re wrong, I’m glad we’re talking again.”

She forked a piece of egg. “Me too.”
     

     
    For Luke, the rest of the day took on a strange cast. Ordinarily, after breakfast he’d immediately start work, doing his best to cross items off the to-do list and always prioritizing. Some things had to be taken care of immediately – like getting the pumpkins ready before the customers started rolling in or checking on an injured animal.

As a rule, time passed quickly. He’d move from one project to the next, and before he knew it, it would be time for a quick lunch. The same thing would happen in the afternoons. Most days, feeling a little frustrated that he hadn’t quite finished a given task, he’d find himself walking into the farmhouse just as dinner was about to be served, wondering how the hours had escaped him.

Today promised to be no different, and as his mom had predicted, it was even busier than it had been on Saturday. Cars and trucks and minivans lined both sides of the drive, nearly back to the main road, and kids were everywhere. Despite the lingering soreness in his knee, he carried pumpkins, helped parents locate their kids in the maze, and filled hundreds of balloons with helium. The balloons were new this year, as were the hot dogs and chips and soda, at a table manned by his mom. But as he moved from one duty to the next, he would find himself thinking about Sophia. From time to time he checked his watch, sure that hours had passed, only to realize it had been a mere twenty minutes.

He wanted to see her again. He’d talked to her on the phone on Friday and Saturday, and each time he’d called her, he’d been nervous before she picked up. He knew how he felt about her; the problem was that he had no idea whether she felt the same way. Before dialing, he found it all too easy to imagine that she’d answer with only tepid enthusiasm. Even though she had been both cheerful and chatty, after hanging up, he’d replay the conversation, plagued by doubts about her true