currently enjoying the white clover dotting the late springtime grass beneath her feet. Edna had volunteered her place for the joint couples shower Amy was throwing for Rachel and Tessa, and since the weather was nice, the lush orchard was the perfect setting.
The tables Mike had transported in his pickup truck from town hall filled the space between the house and little red barn, some designated especially for gifts or food, the rest vacant for seating, and all were laden with fresh flowers, some cut from Amy’s mother’s yard, some from Edna’s. Fortunately, both yards possessed such a proliferation that even using so many left plenty to spare.
“Does everything look pretty?” Amy asked Edna, who stood glancing around, fists planted on her hips.
“Reckon it does,” Rachel’s grandma said. “You done good, Amy.”
Amy smiled at the simple praise, feeling almost like her old self for a change. She’d always enjoyed doing things for others and making people happy. Though she still suffered from the recent realization that she also wanted something more. And that she didn’t quite know how to go about getting it.
“And don’t you worry none. Your day’ll come soon enough, too,” Edna said.
Amy tried to hold in her sigh. Thanks for reminding me, Edna, that I have Destiny’s worst case of always-a-bridesmaid syndrome. And that people probably feel as sorry for me as I’m feeling for myself lately at having my two best friends get married in the same summer. But she knew Edna meant well, so she only said, “Thanks, Edna. I just hope Rachel and Tessa enjoy the afternoon.”
They both looked up to see a couple of cars crossing the old stone bridge that spanned Sugar Creek and led into the orchard. A third could be seen turning in next to the Farris-Romo Family Orchard sign out by the road.
“Looks like the party’s startin’,” Edna said. And over the next twenty minutes, nearly all the guests arrived, which meant most of Destiny’s population. As luck had it, even Mike and Lucky’s parents were still in town, allowing them to come, too.
And so Amy did what she did best—she continued buzzing about, greeting people, serving up punch, setting out food. The more she buzzed around, after all, the less time she had to think about everything weighing on her. Like her virginity.
Sometimes she didn’t think about it at all. Sometimes she almost pretended to herself that she was like all the other girls, that she had a sexual past. She knew her friends thought she’d done it with Carl back in the day. At the time, they’d assumed it had happened—and for some reason she’d let them. And as years had begun to pass, she’d been glad she hadn’t dispelled the notion. Because the older she got, the more horrifying her virginity became.
Yet she just didn’t know how to get rid of it. She supposed some women in her position would go into the city with friends, go dancing, clubbing, find a man looking for a good time and let him have it. But she wasn’t “some women.” She didn’t go clubbing. And she wouldn’t know how to send those kinds of signals to a man anyway. And as badly as Amy wanted to lose her virginity—as desperately as her body sometimes ached for that—she just couldn’t imagine doing it with someone she didn’t know or care about. Ever. But especially not the first time.
And so she kept the unpleasant and secret distinction of being Destiny’s oldest virgin, and she felt like a loser every time she thought about it.
Which had, unfortunately, been a lot lately. And maybe that was what had driven her to make a move, like Tessa had said, to just do something .
Not that she really thought she had a prayer of ever getting a guy as hot as Logan to fall for her the way she’d officially fallen for him. But the idea of just delivering him, practically gift-wrapped with a bow around his waist, to another woman, made her feel . . . desperate beyond measure. Hence the note. And the
The tables Mike had transported in his pickup truck from town hall filled the space between the house and little red barn, some designated especially for gifts or food, the rest vacant for seating, and all were laden with fresh flowers, some cut from Amy’s mother’s yard, some from Edna’s. Fortunately, both yards possessed such a proliferation that even using so many left plenty to spare.
“Does everything look pretty?” Amy asked Edna, who stood glancing around, fists planted on her hips.
“Reckon it does,” Rachel’s grandma said. “You done good, Amy.”
Amy smiled at the simple praise, feeling almost like her old self for a change. She’d always enjoyed doing things for others and making people happy. Though she still suffered from the recent realization that she also wanted something more. And that she didn’t quite know how to go about getting it.
“And don’t you worry none. Your day’ll come soon enough, too,” Edna said.
Amy tried to hold in her sigh. Thanks for reminding me, Edna, that I have Destiny’s worst case of always-a-bridesmaid syndrome. And that people probably feel as sorry for me as I’m feeling for myself lately at having my two best friends get married in the same summer. But she knew Edna meant well, so she only said, “Thanks, Edna. I just hope Rachel and Tessa enjoy the afternoon.”
They both looked up to see a couple of cars crossing the old stone bridge that spanned Sugar Creek and led into the orchard. A third could be seen turning in next to the Farris-Romo Family Orchard sign out by the road.
“Looks like the party’s startin’,” Edna said. And over the next twenty minutes, nearly all the guests arrived, which meant most of Destiny’s population. As luck had it, even Mike and Lucky’s parents were still in town, allowing them to come, too.
And so Amy did what she did best—she continued buzzing about, greeting people, serving up punch, setting out food. The more she buzzed around, after all, the less time she had to think about everything weighing on her. Like her virginity.
Sometimes she didn’t think about it at all. Sometimes she almost pretended to herself that she was like all the other girls, that she had a sexual past. She knew her friends thought she’d done it with Carl back in the day. At the time, they’d assumed it had happened—and for some reason she’d let them. And as years had begun to pass, she’d been glad she hadn’t dispelled the notion. Because the older she got, the more horrifying her virginity became.
Yet she just didn’t know how to get rid of it. She supposed some women in her position would go into the city with friends, go dancing, clubbing, find a man looking for a good time and let him have it. But she wasn’t “some women.” She didn’t go clubbing. And she wouldn’t know how to send those kinds of signals to a man anyway. And as badly as Amy wanted to lose her virginity—as desperately as her body sometimes ached for that—she just couldn’t imagine doing it with someone she didn’t know or care about. Ever. But especially not the first time.
And so she kept the unpleasant and secret distinction of being Destiny’s oldest virgin, and she felt like a loser every time she thought about it.
Which had, unfortunately, been a lot lately. And maybe that was what had driven her to make a move, like Tessa had said, to just do something .
Not that she really thought she had a prayer of ever getting a guy as hot as Logan to fall for her the way she’d officially fallen for him. But the idea of just delivering him, practically gift-wrapped with a bow around his waist, to another woman, made her feel . . . desperate beyond measure. Hence the note. And the
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