Chapter Text
She meets Matt on a day that’s cornflower blue, wind ruffling the fields as she sits contentedly on the church steps. It’s a fine day, just about warm, and Adam is eating fruit snacks out of a pouch.
“Hi,” she hears from beside her. Mid-squish, she looks up, the sun blocked by a figure now standing there.
“Hello,” she greets, uncertain. He doesn’t look scary, but strangers often are despite themselves, and she can’t help but be wary. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” His voice is pleasant, almost musical. “I’m new to town; I was hoping you could point me in the direction of somewhere to stay.”
“Oh, sure,” says Adam, breaking into a smile. Even strangers can be kind, and he seems nice enough. “I know the good folks and the bad folks; which are you?”
The man smiles at her, and it rests easy on his face, like he does it a lot. “I like to think I’m one of the good ones.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, then.” Adam brushes invisible crumbs from her hand and then offers it to the man. “I’m Adam.”
The man takes her hand delicately, his own warm and solid in hers. “Matt. I’ve never met a girl named Adam,” he says curiously.
Adam gives him a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders, brushing down the skirt of her dress. It’s yellow gingham, and it reminds her of sunshine, bright and warm. She likes the color yellow. She hopes it likes her.
“Well, now you have.” She offers her pouch of fruit snacks almost without thinking, like she did in third grade with Rebecca Sullivan. Then, it had made her a new friend. Perhaps it will now, as well.
Matt doesn’t seem to hesitate at all, which is refreshing. He dips his fingers into the pouch and draws one out.
“Strawberry,” Adam says after she gets a look at it. “Those ones are good, taste like summer.”
“Is that so?” Matt carefully places the snack into his mouth, holding it there and sucking thoughtfully.
Adam laughs at him. “You have to squish them. That’s all the fun of gummies, squishing them between your teeth. Go on, try it.”
Matt gives her another smile and his jaw moves in a chew. Adam loves that moment, the burst of flavor from between her teeth, the satisfying smash of softness yielding. Matt looks pleasantly surprised by it.
“It’s nice,” he says, and he may just be being polite, but it makes Adam happy, anyway. “You’re right. It tastes like summertime.”
“I told you.” Adam smooths the front of her skirt down as she stands, knocking dirt from the heels of her cowboy boots. “I won’t steer you wrong, promise. Come on; I’ll show you where the nice inn is.”
“What’s the difference between the nice inn and the other one?” Matt asks, stepping in closer to her as Adam beckons him along. The sun is bright despite the floppy hat shading her eyes, and it warms her face.
“There’s a real good tree out front of the nice inn,” says Adam with an adjustment to her hat. She can’t quite see Matt with all the sun in her eyes, and she doesn’t like not being able to look at people. “No trees at all at the other one, not a speck of shade on the whole property. They only built it ‘cause they thought two inns would mean more people’d pass through.”
“That doesn’t seem like very sound logic.” Matt has a voice like he’s smiling all the time, even though Adam can only sort of see his face when she squints.
“I think sometimes, folks build just to build,” Adam comments. “People like seeing things they made with their own two hands, but they don’t think about making the rest of the sandwich because they already made the bread.”
Matt makes an agreeable humming noise. “I think you’re right. Isn’t there a saying about that? Not seeing the forest for the trees?”
“Sure,” says Adam. “There’s sayings about most things.”
“I guess that’s right, too.”
Adam finally manages to tug the bridge of her hat into a position that shields her eyes a bit, and she tries to get a good look at Matt without letting on that that’s what she’s doing. She’d been distracted by offering him a fruit snack—speaking of which, she pops another into her mouth; she’s down to her last two—and then by the general vague anxiety of speaking to a stranger.
He’s very decent to look at: long, dark hair pulled back into a shiny, floppy bun; gently tanned; clothes like he’s from the city, all sharp, defined edges and shiny accents.
“Where are you from?” Adam asks, mostly for her own curiosity, but also because it’s odd for a stranger to be passing through. They only get new people every once in a blue moon, and they’re always people traveling through, transient souls.
“California,” says Matt. Adam should have known from the accent. It’s all drawn out vowels and smooth consonants. “Have you lived here your whole life?”
“Near enough.” Adam kicks a clod of dirt with the toe of her boot, and it crumples, collapsing into a clump. “My parents moved from a few towns over when I was so little that I don’t remember it. I’ve only ever known here, but I like it, so I don’t mind so much.”
“Do you ever want to leave?” Matt asks, his hands tucking into his pockets.
“Used to. Not so much as I get older. I don’t need to see the world, do I? I’ve got a little world right here.”
Matt turns a smile on her. He has very pretty brown eyes. “That’s a nice way to think about it,” he says quietly. “Do your parents still live here?”
Adam’s smile fades at the corners before she perks it up again. “No, they’re both gone, actually. Years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Matt’s own expression fades into something solemn, and Adam won’t have any of that, not on a day so bright and beaming.
“It was years ago,” she says again. “No, it’s just me now. But that’s not so bad. I have a birdbath.”
Matt’s mouth turns up in a smile again. Adam feels very successful. “What else do you need?” he asks.
“That’s what I say.” Adam offers him one of the last two fruit snacks. “They might be a little warm, on account of my hand. Sorry if that’s gross.”
“Makes them easier to squish, doesn’t it?” Matt says, and he takes the little green gummy apple from her hand. He’s so nice about it that Adam almost feels bad for keeping the clearly superior blue raspberry one for herself.
Adam crumples the silver foiled packet in her hand. “So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You’re a pretty far way from California.”
“My brother’s always been a traveler,” says Matt, chewing slowly. “He found himself settling in a few towns over, and I wanted to be nearby, but give him some space.”
“That’s so sweet; you must be really close,” Adam says.
“The closest. He’s my best friend.” Matt has a little smile on his face, fond and warm. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Nope, just me. Oh, here it is,” says Adam, leading Matt toward a squat building shaded by a big apple tree. “See, I told you it was a good tree.”
“You did. You’ve been very helpful so far; I should just trust you,” Matt says. “I guess this is where we say goodbye, then.”
“Just for now,” Adam replies. “I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again. It’s a small town, and I’ll know if you’re avoiding me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Matt makes an ‘X’ over his chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Tell the owner I sent you,” Adam suggests. “He seems like a grouch, but he’s really nice if you give him a chance. And don’t take any of the candy in the jar on the counter. They’re gumdrops from last Halloween, and you’ll chip a tooth.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Matt gives her another smile. “I hope I see you around.”
He pulls open the door behind him and disappears into the building, and Adam takes a moment to deposit her wrapper into the garbage can that Eddie keeps in front so people stop littering near his door. Not that Adam would have littered if the garbage can wasn’t there, but it’s convenient, at any rate.
That was a pleasant little conversation, she thinks as she pivots to begin making her way home. He was certainly the nicest stranger that Adam’s met recently, not that she has much occasion to meet any at all. Still. He was nice. She hopes that she gets to see him again.
Her wish is granted unexpectedly when she’s digging around in her garden a few days later, forehead beading with sweat, cut-off shorts sticking uncomfortably to her thighs. She’s got a hand shoved into a bag of dirt, hair in sweat-slick tendrils against her neck, when a voice pipes up from behind her, amused, “Are you having fun?”
Adam attempts to blow the hair out of her face as she twists to see Matt, hands in his pockets, watching her with a curious look. He’s wearing different clothes, of course, but they’re similar to what he’d worn when they met: black jeans that zip at the ankle, a solid-colored red t-shirt, and sleek, bright white tennis shoes. He couldn’t look more put-together if he tried, and here’s Adam rolling around in dirt and weeds.
“Not exactly,” Adam admits, belatedly pulling her hand out of the bag. She swipes her wrist over her face, hoping to remove the worst of the dirt. “But if I don’t get the weeds up, they’ll overtake my daisies.”
“Not much of a gardener myself,” says Matt. “What do you like to plant?”
“Oh, a little bit of everything.” Adam feels herself perking up already. She loves talking about her gardens. “The front is only for flowers, really more decoration than anything, but I have much more exciting things in the back garden. Here,” she adds, brushing her hands off on her shorts. They’re still filthy, but some things can’t be helped. “I’ll show you.”
She moves to stand, but Matt takes a few steps forward and offers her a hand. With a grateful smile, she takes it, and he hefts her weight easily when he pulls her up. She only stumbles a little, thankfully, and Matt doesn’t mention it.
She leads Matt around the back of her house, nudging the gate open and turning to beam at him.
“Welcome to my garden,” she says. “I’ll give you the whole tour. This is so exciting; everyone ‘round here has already seen it, old news to them.”
“Happy to be of use.” Matt has his hands in his pockets, and he’s looking curiously at the beds that line Adam’s backyard.
“Okay, tomatoes and bell peppers are here,” says Adam, steering Matt to the left with a hand on his arm. “I had carrots, but the critters got to those. Then’s daffodils and daylilies, which I just had to put together—after that’s my little gnome statue, his name is Herman—and then we have my sunflower patch—after that’s—”
“Slow down, slow down,” Matt laughs, resting a hand over hers on his arm. “I’m not in a hurry. We have time.”
“Right. Sorry.” Adam takes a breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay. Well, this is my sunflower patch. They’re not all that much to look at right now, but once they grow up, they’ll be beautiful.”
“I believe you. You must have a green thumb. Everything looks amazing.” Matt steps forward, bending to gently touch the puckered middle of one of the mid-bloom sunflowers. “Really, it’s beautiful back here.”
Adam is smiling so wide it hurts. “Thank you,” she says, demure. “It’s just what makes me happy, is all. Plants respond well to people showing them a bit of joy.”
“So do people,” Matt agrees, turning from the flower to level another smile at her. He’s got such a nice smile. He has dimples and everything. Adam finds herself looking at the flowers instead of his face. The sun must have gotten to her; she feels warm across the bridge of her nose, and she feels a bit lightheaded. She swipes her hand across her forehead, looking at it with dismay when she realizes how much dirt she must have just wiped on herself.
“Where were you on your way to, this morning?” Adam asks as she tries to discreetly smudge her forehead against her upper arm. He looks all done up to her, though she may not have the best judgment when it comes to such things.
“Nowhere in particular, I guess,” says Matt, tucking his hands into his pockets. Adam doesn’t know how he’s doing it, honestly. Not that she’s been looking, but they’re very tight jeans. And maybe Adam is looking, just a bit.
But he’s new, and exciting, and his smile makes her feel all-over pink. So maybe she’ll let herself look. She’s not hurting anyone.
“And you just happened upon me and my garden?” Adam asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. She wishes she wasn’t quite so dirty. Matt looks very clean.
Matt shrugs a shoulder, still smiling. “Small town,” he says. “I’ve been hoping we’d run into each other again, anyway.”
“You have?” Adam asks. She really, really wishes she wasn’t quite so dirty.
“Of course.” Matt dimples at her again. “You’ve been kind to me, even when I was a stranger to you. I think that’s enough of a reason to want to call someone a friend, don’t you?”
“Well,” says Adam, her stomach aflutter, as she tries to tame her wild grin into something respectable. “I suppose it is. I guess I wouldn’t be much of a good friend if I didn’t invite you in for some sweet tea on ice, as it’s so hot out, and you bothered to come all the way over.”
Matt looks surprised, and pleased, she thinks. Hopes. “That would be amazing,” he admits, and he brushes wisps of hair from his face. Adam tries not to watch his fingers. “I haven’t had much in the way of sweet tea, not the way they make it here, anyway.”
“You’re in for a treat,” Adam informs him, beckoning him along to the back door. She wipes her hands off once more on her shorts before she grabs the handle, not that it does much good. “My sweet tea could knock the fin off a dolphin. From how good it is,” she clarifies, when she turns in her back hallway to see Matt looking at her with bemusement. “Too much sugar, that’s what my mama always told me was the secret to a real killer sweet tea. You can’t be too light-handed.”
“It’s in the name,” Matt agrees. He’s peering around curiously—not nosily, as Adam might expect. Adam feels a vague sort of self-consciousness about all her little knick-knacks, the bits of untidiness, the pan, dirty, on the stove. But Matt doesn’t mention any of those things (as he wouldn’t, Adam reminds herself, as people don’t). He just follows her on into the kitchen, and leans on the back of one of her old wooden chairs as she opens the fridge.
“I didn’t see many people out today,” Matt comments, and when Adam turns with the pitcher, he’s looking at her refrigerator magnets. There are only a few: Adam doesn’t have cause to pick up souvenirs from too many places. There’s one from the Greensboro Science Center with a big penguin on it, and another that’s faded from time but used to proclaim that books were windows to the soul. “Is this a quiet sort of town?”
“I suppose so,” Adam agrees, closing the door of the refrigerator. She sets the pitcher down on the counter so that she can retrieve a few ice cubes from the tray in her freezer. They tinkle on into the glasses and pop and crack when she pours the warmer tea over them. “I don’t think of it like that. I guess it is mostly older folk—You’ll find it’s not quite a party town.”
“I didn’t figure. I’m looking for quiet, actually. I’m always around all this noise—” At that word, he wrinkles his nose, and Adam can’t help but think he looks cute, feels a swoop in her stomach that says the same thing. “—and I’m sick of it. I just want to be close to my brother and mind my own business.”
“There’s quite a bit of minding one’s own business around here,” says Adam, offering Matt a glass, which he takes with a grateful smile. “The people do tend to keep to themselves. I don’t want you thinking we’re unwelcoming to strangers,” she says with a frown. “It’s not like that at all. Why, the preacher’s new as well—You’ll meet him soon, too, I suppose.”
Matt’s polite smile changes a little. Just a little, but Adam is watching, so she catches it. Her stomach swoops again, but this one’s different.
“Unless,” she says quickly, earnestly, “Unless you’re not the churchgoing type. I didn’t mean to assume.”
“I guess I’m not the type,” says Matt, and his smile is back to polite. “That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”
“Well,” says Adam, busying herself with getting the tea back in the fridge. She feels like she needs to be doing something with her hands. “That’s just fine. I find the new preacher a bit phony, anyway, if I’m being honest.”
“Oh?” Matt asks. Adam realizes he’s still standing and waves him into a seat, taking one beside him with her own glass. The cold tea is a welcome balm to the heat racing up the back of her neck.
“You must think I’m such a gossip,” Adam fusses. “Putting ideas in your head about folks you’ve never met. Don’t mind me at all; I’ll zip up.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” says Matt. He takes a drink of his own tea, then leans his chin into his hand, giving her one of those dimpled smiles. “I like listening to you talk.”
“Oh,” says Adam, that heat on the back of her neck crawling into her cheeks. “Oh, that’s so kind; I know I can go on a bit.”
“What better way to learn about the town than to get my info from the nicest person I’ve met?” Matt counters. “I wouldn’t take tips from the owner of that inn, by the way. He doesn’t seem to like anyone.”
“He’s a big softie once you get to know him,” Adam says, taking another sip of her tea. “Eddie’s got a rough ‘n tumble exterior, but it’s all Jell-O inside.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Matt says doubtfully. “So who else should I avoid, other than the preacher?”
“Oh, stop,” Adam flutters, flapping a hand at him. “Don’t avoid him. He’s a perfectly fine man, I just don’t prefer his style of preaching. And I liked the old preacher,” Adam admits.
“What happened to them?” Matt asks. There’s a soft tinkle as he takes a drink.
“He had to leave, real abrupt, here one day and gone the next. Not like Kenny,” Adam says, shaking her head. “I’ve known him for years, and he wouldn’t have left his—well, he wouldn’t have left like that.”
“Odd,” Matt says lightly. “I wonder where he could have gone.”
“Nobody seems to know,” says Adam, and try as she might, there’s a frown on her face now. “Town’s best guess is he felt called to try and help out somewhere else.”
“What a shame,” Matt says sympathetically. “Maybe he’ll be back again someday.”
“I hope so,” Adam muses. She looks out the window for a moment. A butterfly flutters past the glass, and she smiles. There’s no time for melancholy when the world is so beautiful. “Anyway,” she says, waving a hand to dispel the vague aura of gloominess hanging around their heads, “tell me more about yourself. What do you do for work?”
“Oh, odd jobs, here and there,” says Matt, tipping his head from one side to the other. “I’m pretty crafty; I’m good at finding solutions to problems.”
“Well, I’m glad to have you around, then.” Adam tilts her glass toward him. “I’m terrible at problem-solving, myself. Are you any good at math? I was awful at math.”
“I know my times tables.” Matt has really got to stop dimpling at her. She’s going to be a wreck by the end of this conversation. “What about you; where do you work?”
“There’s a few farms down the road a ways, keep horses,” Adam says. “I’m good with horses; I always have been. I try to live fairly frugally, so I don’t need much to get by, and the locals are very generous.” Well. Some of the locals. But she just said she wouldn’t gossip anymore.
“That’s good.” Matt swirls the last of his tea, ice clinking pleasantly against the sweating glass. “I’m sure I’ll meet more of them, looking for work. I could just drive to the city, I guess, but I’m trying to stay away from all of that.”
“Nearest big city’s not for miles, anyway,” Adam replies. She waits until Matt drains his glass, then offers her hand to take it from him. “But that’s nice, isn’t it? Seems about like what you’re looking for.”
“More or less, yeah.” Matt slips from his seat, standing up. “I won’t cause you any more trouble today.”
“No trouble at all; the opposite!” Adam exclaims, nearly dropping one of the glasses as she rushes to stand as well. “It’s nice to have the company. I don’t—tend to have folks over very often, as you might’ve been able to tell.”
“Nothing wrong with preferring your own company,” Matt says, offering her another one of those smiles that makes her feel weak-kneed.
“That’s a very generous way of saying that,” Adam says. She gives him a smile of her own. “It’s a nice way to say lonely, isn’t it?”
“Are you?” Matt asks curiously. “Lonely?” he clarifies.
It gives Adam pause where it shouldn’t. She can feel droplets of condensation running down the backs of her hands as she keeps holding the glasses, staring at Matt.
“I,” she says. “I suppose I am. A bit.”
“Then I’m glad we met.” Matt sets a hand gently on her elbow, his palm warm where it’s cupping the knobbly end of bone, and he takes a few steps with her to the sink to set down the glasses. “So you don’t have to be lonely anymore.”
Adam tucks her smile down toward the sink, busies herself with running water into the glasses. “Well,” she says. She’s not sure what else to say.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, right?” Matt says, leaning back and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Like you said, it’s a small town.”
“Of course,” Adam says, and she turns toward him, wondering if they’re handshake friends or hugging friends or, really, any kind of friends at all.
It turns out that they’re neither. What Matt does is very gently grasp her hand in his, and then bring it to his mouth, kissing the back of it.
“I really am so glad that we met,” he says, while Adam’s still frozen in place. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
“Me too,” Adam finds her voice to say.
Thankfully, her knees wait until Matt’s actually left to wobble so badly she needs to lean back against the kitchen counter.
Maybe things are actually going to be interesting around town for a little while… she can only hope.