Free Down From the Clouds by Marilyn Grey

loved her more than anything on the planet, I conceded to both.
    We let the windows down as we drove to Lancaster County. Spring air revived us, along with Third Eye Blind and Michael Jackson. As I twisted and turned down country roads, we sang along and held hands. When Meatloaf came on we sang as loud as possible. Ella climbed onto her seat and stuck her head out of the sunroof. Hands outstretched, face toward the sky, hair tossed in a million directions, she inspired me. Inspired me in more ways than I can express.
    Finally, we pulled up to the place Pop and I had parked so many times before. I parked under an oak tree and opened Ella's door.
    "This is beautiful." She placed her hand over her eyes and looked around. "How did you find this?"
    "Pop owns this land. His house was right over there." I pointed across the hills to a large, secluded colonial house with ivy climbing the sides. "That's where I grew up."
    "He owns all of this?"
    I breathed in the lilac scent. Then closed my eyes and imagined Pop putting me on his shoulders and running at full speed. We'd both tumble and laugh as we rolled down the hill. He couldn't do it once he hit eighty-five, after his heart attack. So we walked down together. His arm linked with mine. Took us forty-minutes to get to the same apple tree that we ran to in five.
    I didn't mind. Loved every second with him. Just like I did with my Ella.
    She walked to the blooming lilac. "I love this smell."
    "Pick some off," I said, walking toward her.
    "I couldn't." She leaned in and inhaled. "I always feel bad breaking branches. Look at it." She smiled. "So full of life and beauty. If I cut some off it will smell good for a few hours, but lose all of its life."
    I moved the hair out of her face and ran my fingers along her cheek. I stopped at her chin and pulled it to mine. "I love you more than I did yesterday."
    She closed her eyes. I kissed her. And stopped. And kissed her again.
    Ten minutes later we raced down the hill. Like kids again. She pulled her skirt up as we crossed a small stream, then walked up the other side.
    When we reached the top of the hill, Ella gasped and covered her mouth. Eyes darting around. Taking it in. She looked at me and laughed. "I can't believe you grew up here. This is amazing. It's like the Secret Garden meets Huckleberry Finn."
    I laughed. "The apple tree is over there."
    "Wow. I thought apple trees were done blooming by May?"
    "It's a Rome Beauty apple tree. Pop planted it for my grandmother when they moved here. She loved the pink and white flowers that came every year around this time, but she hated the apples."
    Ella smiled and walked toward the tree. "What's wrong with the apples?"
    "They're okay. Better for baking pies. Pop and I weren't so good at that, so we let the animals eat the fruit and gave some away to the neighbors. Or he'd let me set up a stand on the side of the road and sell some fruit. Never made much, but it was fun."
    "I love this place, Gavin." She smelled a flower from the apple tree. "Who owns it now?"
    "No idea. Never saw his will, if he has one. Don't know how much he owed on the place. I wouldn't want to live here though. I want a new life with you."
    She sat on the tire swing and lifted her feet. "So little Gavin sat on this swing?"
    I walked behind her and gave her a push. "He did."
    My hands shook. Beads of sweat dripped down my neck when I saw the mound of dirt next to the tree, underneath the carvings I made as a kid.
    Ella hopped off the swing. "Ready?"
    "I forgot a shovel."
    "Have no fear." She shook her purse and pulled out a small shovel. "I come prepared."
    "You are too much."
    "It's the fallout from my type A organization skills. Hoping to get rid of that a bit and be normal again."
    I took the shovel and sunk it into the earth, trying not to think too much about what I would discover.
    Ella sat on her knees next to me. The shovel hit something hard. I dug around and pulled out a box. Plain wood. About the size of a ruler on