I don’t think I’ve ever been so giddy-nervous in my life. I can’t sit still. I pace my tiny apartment while flipping my cell in my hands. It’s April and beyond emails, it’s been months since I’ve talked to Jesse. Last night he emailed he was going to call. Tonight. Eight P.M. Eastern Standard Time. So much happiness surges through me that I could fly, but then there’s this nausea—nerves.
Two months ago, Jesse made it to Southern California. He was eating dinner at a diner and an older man who was also sitting alone started a conversation. The man owned a farm, said he needed help, and Jesse told him he’d like the job. Since then, Jesse’s lived in one of those weekly rent motels, and he’s emailed several times to tell me all he’s learned. Stuff he didn’t know about farming, tricks of the trade, and of the gentle patience of this man’s teaching.
I’ve been equal parts happy for Jesse for the experience and fearful, wondering if he would choose to stay in California over coming home, but then my stomach drops. It’s not like I’m going to be here much longer myself. I found out last week that I can move in early to the dorms, which means, after graduation, I’ll be leaving town.
Jesse was happy for me, and I’m happy for me, too, but will our paths ever cross again?
Seven fifty-nine and my mouth dries out and my extremities tingle. What if he forgets? What if he doesn’t call? What if my cell is on silent and he did call and I missed it? I check my cell, the volume’s up, and as I breathe out in relief, my cell rings.
I place the phone to my ear. “Jesse?”
“What’s going on, Tink?”
I smile as my eyes become wet. God, he sounds incredibly good. “How are you?”
“Good,” he says. “For the first time in my life, I’m sitting on the beach at the Pacific Ocean, and this was a moment I had to spend with you.”
I think of our names written in second-grade script on the map in his room. I walk over to my bed, stand on it and press my hand to California. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” His voice goes deep and the sincerity in it is the equivalent of a hug.
“How has it been?” I ask. “How is the farm and the trip and did you end up figuring out what was wrong with the strawberries?”
Jesse chuckles and the sound is the best caress in the world. “Still figuring out the strawberries; the farm is fine and as for the trip, why don’t you take a look for yourself?”
There’s a ping, and I pull down my cell to find a text waiting. I open it, and see a picture of Jesse’s palms. I switch Jesse to speaker then enlarge the photo. All the air rushes out of my lungs, and I place a hand to my chest. The lines on his right palm have changed. “You know your way.”
“There were a lot of long, restless nights battling some demons. I lost a few rounds, but I won some, too. I know what I want now. I know who I am. I’m going to stay out here for another month or so to help with some things, but then I’m coming home, Tink. I’m coming home to you.”
“What about your land?” I’m nervous asking. He loves his land, so do I, but Jesse needs to do what is best for him.
“I’ve learned a lot by working the farm out here and one of those things is how to work with the local extension office, government agencies and grant funding. There are people who want to keep family farms alive, and that’s what I’ll be as compared to the corporate ones. It’ll be an uphill battle, but Marshall and I think this is one I can win. Be on the lookout for some action on the land, Tink. I’ve called in some favors, and the farmers I’ve helped out over the years are going to be doing the initial work. I’m putting in crops this year, and I’ll be buying some cattle once I get home. I’m going to be a real farmer.”
Joy and sadness at the same time. The curse is broken. He left his land, he’s happy and he’s coming home to what he loves. And he’ll be coming home when I’m leaving.
I take a deep breath and focus on the positive. That’s what Glory and Pastor Hughes have taught me to do. It’s what has kept me together when times get tough. Jesse and I will be okay. An hour away from each other will be nothing as compared to a continent away. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Me, too.” He goes silent and then clears his throat. “I’m hoping you’ll still want me.”
“I will.” Grateful, I close my eyes. “I will.”