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the same thing, mostly because it bugged him when I did. I climbed out of the car and leaned against the door. Since it was Sunday, Nanna would be in the back kitchen, baking apple and pumpkin pies to sell at the farmers’ market. I made myself turn around to get my knapsack out of the back of the car so it wouldn’t look like I was staring at the road, waiting.
    When I popped my head back out, he was there. I jumped, startled.
    “Easy,” he said softly, taking my bag so it didn’t drop. He put it on the hood of the car and then rested his arm on the window beside me. He blocked out the sun, which shone so brightly behind him he was a black silhouette.
    “I didn’t see you,” I said lamely.
    “A friend was waiting for me. I had him drop me at the end of the lane.”
    “Oh.”
    He was really close. I could see the flecks of light gray in his black eyes. I didn’t even know irises could come in that color. My breath felt wispy in my chest.
    He leaned closer still, his mouth hovering near mine. “Why don’t you show me to the dry well, Jo.”
    I swallowed. “Okay.” He pulled back and I felt the ridiculous urge to grab his arms and keep him there. This heat better break soon. It was making me stupid. “This way. The main well’s back there behind the barn, but if you need an apple branch we’ll have to go to the orchards.”
    We went down the gravel lane into the apple orchard, the humid heat like water between us. He didn’t seem affected, even though he was wearing jeans. I was in a long skirt and tank top, praying I wasn’t visibly sweating. My braid hung behind me, bumping my lower back as we walked. His hands were in his pockets. He tossed his hair out of his face.
    I took him into the rows of the older trees, the hot air full of the sweet smell of rotting apples. Bees drifted lazily in between the trees. He dropped his gaze to the ground, searching.
    “There,” he said finally, pointing to a low branch. “We’ll have to cut one down. It needs to be a Y shape.”
    “Sure.” I doubled back to the previous row and plucked a hand saw out of a large barrel of assorted tools. I was very aware of him watching me as I reached up and sawed the branch off. I patted the trunk. “Sorry,” I whispered. He’d probably think I was barking mad for talking to the trees,but Nanna and Granddad both did too, and I’d picked up the habit. He didn’t say anything, just smiled.
    “You’re handy with a blade,” he finally said.
    I shrugged one shoulder. “I grew up here.” I handed him the branch and he stripped the leaves off. The gray bark shone like silver.
    “It’ll do,” he approved. “In the old stories there’s an island of apple groves called Avalon. It’s the fruit of love.”
    “I thought it was temptation.”
    “That too.”
    We made our way to the barn and I took him around the back where the well was, its round concrete cover hidden in masses of soapwort and yellow trefoil. He circled it three times.
    “Tradition,” he explained. “You’re supposed to circle wells three times.” He put one end of the V in each hand and pointed the straight part of the stick away from him. I grinned. He arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you laughing at me?”
    “Just a little.”
    He nodded. “It’s looks a little silly, but this is how it’s done.” He winked at me. Warmth tickled my belly. “Let’s take a walk.”
    We wandered through the fields, past the shadow of the barn, and among withered stalks of corn. I was in my favorite place with the most beautiful guy I’d ever seen. It felt like we were the only two people in the world with the blinding light and the cicadas. It was strangely romantic. I glanced athim surreptitiously but he was staring at the ground, though I did get a glimpse of a teasing half smile quirking one side of his mouth. I wanted to believe it was for me.
    We walked for at least ten minutes, doubling back toward the barn. We were on the border of the pumpkin patch when the