Whenever we came back from medical visits in the city, no matter how late, Mom would always bring Matty home that same night, so I would turn instinctively.
“Mom, what did the doctor say about Matty—”
But I froze.
The person who had come back was not Mom.
It was Chris who should have been enjoying his wedding night in the city.
Even from several feet away, I could smell the lingering wine from the ceremony clinging to him.
“Nadine,” he said, frowning slightly, “why are you awake at this hour? And why is the light off?”
The dim yellow bulb cast a soft glow on his tired face, but it couldn't hide the happiness in his brows, or the subtle arrogance of someone who now entirely belonged to the city.
In the past, I would have run right into his arms, tears of longing rolling down my face, letting him pinch my nose and tease me for being a little crybaby.
But now, as he moved toward me, I automatically stepped back and acted like nothing was wrong.
I've just finished harvesting the crops and have just got home. I'm dirty."
In the summer, when the daytime heat became overwhelming, villagers often harvested crops at night with flashlights.