Dad and I spent the rest of the day at the farm before moving on to something I didn't even know existed—his flower garden.
Out of everything on his property, I think this was the one he treasured most. He had built a small wooden fence around it, and unlike the rest of the farm, he wouldn't even let me step inside.
"I promise I won't touch anything. I'll just admire them," I begged for what was probably the tenth time.
"You can admire them from a safe distance," he said, waving me off. "Don't come near my babies."
"Rude. Considering I'm your actual baby."
He gave me a look. "Says the thirty-year-old woman begging to see flowers."
I gasped, placing a hand over my chest. "Using my age against me again? Low blow."
"Effective, though."
I crossed my arms. "I'm leaving."
"Finally. Some peace and quiet."
I spun around. "I heard that!"
He only smiled as I stormed away, pretending to be offended.
I made it halfway to the house before stopping.
Then, for reasons I absolutely did not want to admit, I changed direction.
It was nothing.
I wasn't going there because of him.
I was just curious. That was all.
I just wanted to see.
The back of the property was quieter than the rest of the farm. As I walked closer, the white building came into view through the trees. It was still too far away to make out much, but my heart had already started pounding.
My steps slowed.
I looked down at my hands and realized they were shaking.
What if it was him?
The thought came so quickly that I almost stopped breathing.
What if it wasn't?
What if he remembered me?
I swallowed.
This was a terrible idea.
I turned around and took a few steps back toward the house.
Then I stopped again. Turned yet again and started walking forward.
The closer I got, the quieter everything became. The noise of the farm faded behind me until all I could hear was the sound of my own footsteps against the dirt path.
I stopped in front of the gate, staring at the house.
What was I even going to say?
Hi. I'm your neighbor's daughter. Also, there's a chance we met ten years ago and you helped me out in a way I haven't forgotten.
Absolutely not.
I shouldn't have come in the first place.
I was about to turn around when the front door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She looked to be in her late fifties, with a warm expression and a dish towel tucked over one arm.
She looked surprised to see me.
"Hello dearie, can I help you?"
I opened my mouth, suddenly very aware of how suspicious I probably looked standing outside someone's house.
"Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I'm Yareli. My father owns the farm next door."
Her expression softened immediately.
"Oh, Job's daughter?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"He's mentioned you before."
That surprised me.
"He has?"
She smiled. "Of course. He speaks very fondly of you."
I glanced past her shoulder, toward the inside of the house.
I wasn't even sure what I was looking for.
A sign. A clue.
Something. Anything. Or more accurately, anyone.
"Is the owner home?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Before she could answer, a voice came from somewhere inside.
"Martha?"
The woman turned.
"Yes, sir?"
"Who is that?"
My entire body went still.
Martha looked back at me, then over her shoulder.
"Ah, yes. It's Yareli, Job's daughter from the farm next door."
There was a pause.
A long enough pause that my heart started beating harder.
I waited.
For footsteps. Or a face.
Anything at all.
But nothing happened.
"Hm."
And that was it. Nothing more.
Martha turned back to me with an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry. He's not very social."
I forced a small laugh.
"Oh, that's okay."
But it wasn't.
I looked toward the doorway one last time.
The man I had spent years wondering about was just on the other side.
Close enough to reach.
Yet far enough not to.
•••