by D. F. Jones
She could picture him as a young man, thinner than he was now as she’d seen in old photos. With his hair fluffed on top and cut short at the sides, wearing those awful parachute pants. She giggled at the mental image and blurted out the next line of the story.
“And you hit Mom in the face with your Frisbee.”
He nodded, almost proudly. “I did. Not intentionally, of course.”
“She still likes to dramatize how she had a mark on her cheek for a week after that.”
“She does. But I rushed to her side, and that was the beginning of a love story like no other.”
The warm feeling his words gave helped ward off the chill of the sudden breeze. And they served to heat up her conviction that no one would harm this tree. It was integral to her very existence, wasn’t it? She’d made a wish so many years ago that the tree would bring her a love like that. So far, it hadn’t happened, and if they took the tree away, would it ever?
Cash hadn’t been successful in scheduling a meeting with anyone on the Kennesaw’s Planning and Zoning Commission. He’d reached out to several people who’d helped him when he had first approached them with the proposal for the food truck court. One was out of town, two had been in meetings all day, and the last one hadn’t responded. He’d hoped they might have an idea of how to expand the parking lot without cutting down Rachel’s tree. As for himself, he was fresh out of ideas.
Once he’d positioned his trucks for the day, with his staff ready to handle the lunch rush, he drove to the park to check on Rachel. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him, but something in her eyes had told him otherwise. Maybe it was his imagination working overtime, but the only way to know for sure was to see her again.
He imagined she’d be huddled under the tree and her sister, Bella, would be bored and playing on her phone. He’d brought a half-dozen of Rachel’s favorite donuts—French crullers—as a peace offering. She wouldn’t turn those down, and he’d have a chance to talk her out of her crazy stunt. Then maybe they could find a solution together.
When he parked, his view of the tree was blocked once more by a crowd of people. He passed a van with the logo of a local TV station, and a news crew was hovering over Rachel with cameras and microphones. There was no sign of Bella as he approached, but the guy in the tie-dye T-shirt looked familiar.
It was Luke, Rachel’s father, and he stood to the side as the news crew conducted their interview. Cash made a beeline for him, despite his fear that her protective dad might not be pleased to see him, either.
“Hey, Mr. Diaz? I thought that was you.”
Surprise raised the man’s grey, bushy brows, but otherwise, his face was placid. He’d been watching his daughter carefully, likely ready to break up this party if anyone disrespected Rachel. A twinge of jealousy coursed through Cash—that was his job. Or had been.
“Cash. I’d heard you were back in town.”
It was a non-committal statement, but there was an undercurrent of mistrust. He supposed he’d earned that, although he couldn’t take full responsibility for his and Rachel’s breakup.
“Yes. And I’m so glad I ran into Rachel. Is she okay with all of…this?” He nodded at the news crew and the growing crowd.
Luke folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on his heels. “I’d say she’s doing a great job. Once she sets her mind to something, she can be quite fierce.”
“Oh, I know.”
It was then he heard her voice above the din. He moved to get a better view, noticing the microphone held to her face by a woman, who he assumed was the reporter.
“My main reason for this protest is to save the trees and green space from being destroyed to expand the asphalt. But I also have a very personal reason. I chose this particular tree because it has importance for my family.”
Curious murmurs rose from the group, and the reporter put the microphone back to her own lips and asked, “Would you tell us about it?”
“Of course. My parents met under this tree, many years ago. It’s been lucky for us. That’s why we come here often and make wishes on this tree. We call it the Love or Money Tree. It may look like all the others, just an ordinary oak. Maybe it’s crazy superstition on our part, but when was the last time any of you made a wish on asphalt?”
One woman in the crowd quipped, “Every time I’m hunting for a place to park.”
That evoked laughter, and then all eyes returned to Rachel. Somehow, she had made a silly thing seem important. The reporter had placed the microphone to Rachel’s lips again, and she continued her speech.
“I’m not doing this to gain attention for myself. This park has memories and meaning for everyone who comes here. While I welcome food trucks being here for people to eat, I object to the idea that cutting up a chunk of the park is the only way to make it happen.”
A man on the edge of the crowd spoke up. He was elderly with a rumpled jacket and a ball cap. A sleek golden retriever sat by his side, tongue lolling out of its mouth.
“So, what do you propose? They’ve already set this thing in motion. You can’t fight city hall, as they say.”
The downturn of her mouth showed her growing frustration. But the man had spoken the truth. Even with the publicity she was getting, it was going to be a challenge. She sat a little straighter and addressed the man.
“I wish I had the answers, sir. Maybe find additional parking nearby? Or scrap the idea altogether? It was my hope that by calling attention to what was happening, as a community, we could come up with a better solution.”
More murmurs among the crowd. Good. At least she had them talking. The reporter wrapped up her interview, and people began moving away. When Rachel’s eyes locked with his, he knew he hadn’t imagined her interest. There was a glow in her deep brown eyes that seared him to the core.
When those eyes narrowed a second later, he knew he still had some work to do to get back into her good graces.
Every time she felt she had won, Cash Bradford was there, smirking, bringing her down again. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
And why did she tingle in all the right places when he was near? It was highly annoying.
The reporter and news crew left, and so did the people. Several of them had been videotaping with their phones, and the news crew promised her interview would be broadcast that evening and on their website. She was becoming a minor celebrity, having been dubbed, “The Tree Girl.”
Her father handed her a bottle of water, and she raised it to her lips. Her stomach gurgled, and she glanced back at Cash, who was holding a pink box in his hands. He stepped forward, opening the box.
“I brought crullers, your favorite.”
Mentally cursing him for the gesture, she accepted one, nonetheless.
“Thank you. This doesn’t change how I feel about you, by the way.”
“It’s a peace offering. Can’t we agree to disagree and start over?”
She rolled her eyes. When she had a hard time getting the cruller to her lips due to her partially bound arms, he knelt next to her.
“Here.” He held a cruller to her mouth, and she hesitated. Then a smile slowly grew, and she bit the thing.
“Mmmm…you know my weakness.”
He laughed, glancing over at Luke, who watched the proceedings with a wary eye. Then her father grinned and reached into the pink box which lay open on the grass.
“Don’t mind if I do, Cash. These are my favorite too.”
Cash tenderly fed her morsels of the sweet, crumbly treat, causing a shiver when her tongue met his fingers. His pupils dilated, and she knew he felt it too.
She pointed to her water bottle, thirsty and desperate for a distraction from the intimacy. She wanted to stay mad at him, but her resolve was losing traction. Had she been unfair to him? After all, he was the one who left her. She had to admit, a certain amount of resentment lingered over his departure.
But he had asked her to go with him, and it was apparent his time in Florida had help
ed his career.
He held the water bottle to her lips while she drank. Once she settled back against the tree, she asked, “Guys, would you check social media to see if we’re getting any hits? The usual sites.”
Cash pulled his phone from his pocket. “If I see anything, I’ll share it on the local sites I know, where we advertise the food trucks.”
“Thank you. I can’t believe you’d do that, when I’m standing in the way of your precious food truck court.”
He looked up from the screen, his gaze too intense for the conversation.
“I’d do anything for you, Rachel. I have to make up for lost time.”
Chapter 5
Cash had stayed with Rachel for an hour, then went to check on his trucks. He helped make tacos until the rush died down, ran some errands, and finally made it home when the sun was low on the horizon. He stared at the contents of his refrigerator. After cooking all day, the last thing he wanted was to cook for himself. He grabbed his denim jacket and left his apartment.
He wondered how he had succumbed so quickly. He’d seen Rachel only yesterday after years apart, and now he was falling in love with her all over again. Did they really have a soul-deep connection?
That’s how it felt. Well, he had to admit that while the physical attraction was the strongest of his feelings, Rachel had his heart too. He wouldn’t rest until he knew whether she would give him another chance—or reject him forever.
He made it to the park before twilight. Rachel was walking to their car with her father. Cash pulled up next to them and lowered his car window.
“Hey, I’m going for sushi. Wanna join me?”
They both stopped and stared at him. They exchanged glances, then Luke said, “It’s okay if you want to go. I have to check on the shop, anyway.”
Her facial expression showed a dozen emotions in the space of a few seconds. She’d always been an open book, not one to hide her feelings. When she smiled and walked toward his car, his heart leapt.
Then she was seated next to him, and he promised Luke he’d have her home before long. The restaurant was one of their old haunts, a few blocks down from the park. He hit the gas before she had a chance to change her mind.
As they pulled out of the parking lot onto the road, he asked, “Hungry?”
She didn’t look at him but stared out the window. “Yep. Going viral works up an appetite.”
“Really? That’s great.”
“Yeah. Almost a million views and tons of comments. People have vowed to call the Kennesaw’s Planning and Zoning Commission, and Parks and Rec. It’s taking off like I hoped it would.”
He drove south, past the vacant lots and strip malls. Tucked away at the end of a supermarket parking lot was their favorite sushi bar. A small, dingy place, it still had the best food around. They were seated right away and ordered their usual—she had seaweed salad and a California roll, and he ordered the smoked eel.
While they ate, she seemed to relax. They reminisced about places they’d been, people they knew. They were reconnecting again, and it felt good. He couldn’t help imagining how the rest of the evening might go.
Then she laid a bomb on him.
Rachel knew it was now or never. If Cash truly wanted to make amends and start over, she had to clear the air. She didn’t have the time nor the patience for silly romantic games.
Her heart couldn’t take losing him again.
“You said you want to make up for lost time, yet you never tried to contact me when you came back to Georgia. If you hadn’t happened to see me in the park, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”
Despite her conviction that she had a right to confront him, her hands were shaking. Nothing had ever been easy with him. But it had been a love worth fighting for, and that’s why she had to get to the truth. Now.
His stammer was kind of cute, though.
He drank some water and dabbed at his chin with a napkin, stalling. She’d clearly caught him off guard. Good.
“I…I did try to find you on social media. You had a boyfriend at the time and seemed happy. So, I left you alone.”
That relationship had been short-lived, as the guy had turned out to be a jerk. It was bad timing all around.
“Well, that didn’t last. Even if you had reached out, I probably wouldn’t have responded. I was really hurt when you left.”
She had meant to be tough and strong during this conversation, but her voice broke with emotion on the last sentence. Cash’s deep blue eyes showed sympathy and something else—pain. Maybe he’d been hurt too.
He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. The warmth traveled up her arm, suffusing her skin. His voice had softened to a near whisper.
“I’m so sorry, Rachel. If I could go back in time and make different decisions, I would. Seeing you again made me realize there’s no one else I want to be with. The fact we don’t always agree doesn’t mean we’re wrong for each other.”
His words echoed what her father had told her so many times before—if you truly loved someone, nothing could keep you apart. He and her mother had faced their share of trouble, and making decisions together hadn’t always been easy. But somehow, they worked it out, and they’d been married for over thirty years.
“I know. I couldn’t believe you were real when I saw you yesterday. I thought we’d never see each other again.”
He squeezed her hand, then let it go. He winked at her and stood, holding out his hand.
“Let’s not waste any more time then. Come on.”
He paid for the meal, and they left the restaurant. His arm felt good wrapped around her shoulders, and she leaned into him as they walked. The last of her fear was slipping away. Maybe he did deserve a second chance. Perhaps she did too.
When they reached his car, he went to open the door for her. An impulse hit her like a lightning strike, and she grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled him close. When his face was an inch from hers, she pressed her lips hungrily to his mouth.
The sharp intake of his breath indicated his surprise, but his arms came around her, crushing her body. All that mattered was this kiss—this long-overdue, wonderful, exciting kiss. His mouth claimed her, tasting, exploring like a brand-new lover would.
But it was achingly familiar, and that added a layer of emotion to her passion. When he slowed and pulled away, she released her hold on his shirt and a nervous laugh bubbled up in her throat.
“Whew. Well, we still know how to kiss.”
He opened the car door and helped her into her seat.
“Yes, ma’am. I had no doubt.”
As he drove, they held hands. They talked softly, anger and resentment fading away like the last of the dusty pink clouds on the horizon. Night had come, and they were back together.
Chapter 6
Cash awoke the next morning, still on a mental high from his date with Rachel. They’d made out like randy teenagers in his car, parked in front of her parents’ house on the darkened street. Images and sensations still lingered in his mind and on his skin. He whistled while he walked to the kitchen, and he knew it was going to be a pleasant day. He planned to take a picnic lunch to Rachel as soon as his other tasks were done.
While he waited for his coffee to brew, he checked his phone. As he scrolled through his emails, his heart thudded—Tarkington Pritchett, a prominent member of the Kennesaw’s Planning and Zoning Commission, had consented to give him fifteen minutes of his time—starting in an hour.
He quickly responded to the email and gulped down his coffee. He had maybe twenty minutes to prepare if he was to make the meeting on time.
His pulse was racing as he pulled into the parking lot of city hall. The words of the old gentleman in the park who had warned Rachel about not fighting city hall echoed in his ears. He hoped that was just a worn-out cliché and that he’d find a way to reach a compromise about the park situation. Or at least get a dialogue started with someone who might have some pull.
Pritchett met h
im in the hallway outside of an empty conference room. After exchanging pleasantries, he ushered Cash into the room and closed the door. A tall, imposing man, he had a kind face, weathered with lines and crinkling around the eyes when he smiled. In his deep, resonant voice, he got straight to the point as Cash was seated.
“I rarely agree to meetings like this, but your phone message had me intrigued. What’s this about a woman tied to a tree in the park?”
His look of consternation, tempered by amusement, gave Cash some hope.
“It’s true, odd as it sounds. A friend of mine is very passionate about preserving the green space of the park, which is being razed to make room to expand the parking lot. To bring attention to the problem, she is spending each day tied to a tree. She refuses to quit until the trees are saved.”
“Ah, a publicity stunt. Quite clever, but I’m afraid her efforts are in vain.”
“She’s gained the attention of the local news, as well as thousands of views of her video on social media. Can the Commission afford bad publicity?”
Mr. Pritchett scratched his balding head and sat back. The amused look had faded, replaced by a serious expression.
“It wouldn’t be the first time and certainly not the last. No, we don’t encourage bad publicity, but it’s tough to please everyone. And weren’t you quite vocal about gaining the permits to put this food truck court in the park?”
He’d seen Pritchett at the numerous meetings he’d attended while campaigning for the food truck court. He hadn’t counted on Pritchett remembering him so well.
“Yes, I did. And I still want that to happen. Isn’t there some sort of compromise? Can another section of the parking lot be expanded? Or maybe find alternative parking so the trucks taking up spaces won’t matter?”
Pritchett’s dull green eyes rested on him, regret the foremost of the emotions Cash read there. He shook his head.