“How many should I dig?” I ask him.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got three plants old enough. That’s all I’d take,” he explains. “Goldenseal is getting rare up in the Appalachians because of the mountaintop coal mining. We have to conserve what we can.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of mountaintop coal mining but it just never really hit home, I guess.”
“Well, right now, our own Gauley Mountain is the point of a bitter feud. The coal company wants to blow the top off it and, you know, some of the people here are for it. They know they’ll get hired to help for a time. Mostly everybody else wants to preserve the mountain. We’re a tourist town now and it’ll hurt business and mess up the water supply.”
“I had no idea,” I say, shocked.
“Most people don’t. Hey, there’s an EDA meeting tomorrow evening if you want to come and find out more. Having a famous eco-author there couldn’t hurt,” he winks at me.
“Oh, yeah, maybe. Where at?” I ask as I dig up the third root from the larger plant.
“The middle school. Six o’ clock.” I get a flash of the old brick building with the too large ‘AMS’ on the front. I had so many good times there. Back in a life that seems like a figment of my imagination.
“So, how do you know so much about this?” I ask, remembering that Missy was unsure of what Dillon’s job was here in town.
“I’m working here on a Federal Government grant. It’d be easier to show you, really. I’m not sure if I can explain it right,” he says, as he leans back on his heels. “You could come by anytime. See what I do,” he flashes his full I’m-yours smile sure to get me weak in the knees.
It works, even though I’m not actually standing up. My nervous system is going into fight or flight mode. All these feeling and thoughts confuse my body.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, as I wrap the roots up in the cheesecloth.
“Why not?” he asks, stubbornly.
“I’m going to be so busy here helping Missy with momma. Then, I’ll be going back right after the wake.” I don’t want him to get his hopes up.
“But, you can’t,” he declares. “You’ve just gotten here.” He reminds me of when he was younger and didn’t get something he wanted. He didn’t often throw a fit—unless it really meant a lot to him.
I’m just going to cut to the chase .
“Do you really have a tattoo of my name on your arm, Dillon?” I ask, coldly.
He looks baffled and tilts his head to the side in thought.
“Yes,” he coughs, and rubs his left bicep and then over his heart.
Does he have two?
“I just don’t think that’s fair to your girlfriend,” I say, wincing.
“Of course, you think you know everything, don’t you?” he scowls.
“I know that she doesn’t like it and what’s the point of putting her through that when...” I can’t finish my sentence.
What should I say? I’m never going to be yours again. I guess that would work since I’m not her anymore. You should cherish what you have instead of waiting for this idea of what you thought you could have—in another parallel life that never came to fruition.
He stands up in one swift move and walks away from me, runs his hand through his messy hair and pinches that little V that forms between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. I stand up, too, and decide to stand my ground.
“I mean, what do you want from me, Dillon?”
“What do I want!” he shouts. He never shouts! I hold my hands out and put my mouth in a crooked line like I’m saying ‘bring it on.’
“I want you, Sadie. I’ve always wanted you.”
“Dillon,” I interrupt.
“No, you should know, Sadie, I told you the truth the last time we spoke.” He clenches his teeth and his square jaw becomes more angular. “I’ve never stopped loving you, ever.” His fists tighten until his arms look like they’re about to pop.
“And I WANT you to be my wife. I want to make babies with you and see them
“Well, it looks like you’ve got three plants old enough. That’s all I’d take,” he explains. “Goldenseal is getting rare up in the Appalachians because of the mountaintop coal mining. We have to conserve what we can.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of mountaintop coal mining but it just never really hit home, I guess.”
“Well, right now, our own Gauley Mountain is the point of a bitter feud. The coal company wants to blow the top off it and, you know, some of the people here are for it. They know they’ll get hired to help for a time. Mostly everybody else wants to preserve the mountain. We’re a tourist town now and it’ll hurt business and mess up the water supply.”
“I had no idea,” I say, shocked.
“Most people don’t. Hey, there’s an EDA meeting tomorrow evening if you want to come and find out more. Having a famous eco-author there couldn’t hurt,” he winks at me.
“Oh, yeah, maybe. Where at?” I ask as I dig up the third root from the larger plant.
“The middle school. Six o’ clock.” I get a flash of the old brick building with the too large ‘AMS’ on the front. I had so many good times there. Back in a life that seems like a figment of my imagination.
“So, how do you know so much about this?” I ask, remembering that Missy was unsure of what Dillon’s job was here in town.
“I’m working here on a Federal Government grant. It’d be easier to show you, really. I’m not sure if I can explain it right,” he says, as he leans back on his heels. “You could come by anytime. See what I do,” he flashes his full I’m-yours smile sure to get me weak in the knees.
It works, even though I’m not actually standing up. My nervous system is going into fight or flight mode. All these feeling and thoughts confuse my body.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, as I wrap the roots up in the cheesecloth.
“Why not?” he asks, stubbornly.
“I’m going to be so busy here helping Missy with momma. Then, I’ll be going back right after the wake.” I don’t want him to get his hopes up.
“But, you can’t,” he declares. “You’ve just gotten here.” He reminds me of when he was younger and didn’t get something he wanted. He didn’t often throw a fit—unless it really meant a lot to him.
I’m just going to cut to the chase .
“Do you really have a tattoo of my name on your arm, Dillon?” I ask, coldly.
He looks baffled and tilts his head to the side in thought.
“Yes,” he coughs, and rubs his left bicep and then over his heart.
Does he have two?
“I just don’t think that’s fair to your girlfriend,” I say, wincing.
“Of course, you think you know everything, don’t you?” he scowls.
“I know that she doesn’t like it and what’s the point of putting her through that when...” I can’t finish my sentence.
What should I say? I’m never going to be yours again. I guess that would work since I’m not her anymore. You should cherish what you have instead of waiting for this idea of what you thought you could have—in another parallel life that never came to fruition.
He stands up in one swift move and walks away from me, runs his hand through his messy hair and pinches that little V that forms between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. I stand up, too, and decide to stand my ground.
“I mean, what do you want from me, Dillon?”
“What do I want!” he shouts. He never shouts! I hold my hands out and put my mouth in a crooked line like I’m saying ‘bring it on.’
“I want you, Sadie. I’ve always wanted you.”
“Dillon,” I interrupt.
“No, you should know, Sadie, I told you the truth the last time we spoke.” He clenches his teeth and his square jaw becomes more angular. “I’ve never stopped loving you, ever.” His fists tighten until his arms look like they’re about to pop.
“And I WANT you to be my wife. I want to make babies with you and see them
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