Wander and Roam (Wander #1) (6 page)

“Wasted time,” he says. “I’m not going to waste another minute of my life.”

His words hit me hard. For the last six months, I’ve been trying to escape each day through meaningless television shows and novels. Alone and isolated, by choice, I’ve been on the exact opposite path as Sage. Rather than making the most of each day, I’ve been trapped in stasis.

A need to rush back to the yurt, to escape from this too-real conversation, floods me. Instead of giving in, though, I fight the urge to self-isolate. The first step is easy; don’t get up. Non-action always comes easier than action. The second step will be much harder. Continuing conversation is something with which I am out of practice.

“What do you like about the stars?” I finally ask.

“The backward-ness of the sky reminds me I’m somewhere completely different. It reminds me I’m living life, and when you’re living, even something as mundane as looking at the stars becomes novel and intriguing.” He squeezes my hand.

Talk about intriguing. I’ve never met anyone who thinks as deeply as Sage does. In the few conversations we’ve had, he’s challenged me to see the world a whole new way. As much as I want to escape to my safe haven of notebook and purple envelopes, I can’t help but think Sage might be right. Maybe I need to start living a little.

I roll toward him. “Thank you.”

When he leans in my direction, we’re so close, our noses nearly touch. His lips are inches from mine. I can’t stop studying them.

“Abby.”

I roll completely off the blanket then jump up as I rub soil from my clothing. “It’s late. We better get back to the yurt.”

He stares quizzically at me for moment then cleans up the blankets and cushions. We hike back to our yurt in complete silence. I can’t decide if I am more bothered by my feelings of betrayal or my cowardice about living.

A
WEEK
later, I hike down to the isolated boat dock during the grays of dawn. As the sky lightens, the misty outline of buildings appears across the bay. A quick boat ride will bring me back to the small town, and for a moment, I consider escaping.

I can’t help but recall Sage’s first conversation with me.
What are you running from?

I had the
most
disturbing dreams last night. I’ve never been one to remember all my dreams in detail, but this one made an impression on me. It involved Sage. His callused hands, his strong arms, his sun-chapped lips. I had
that
kind of dream.

I couldn’t stay in that small round room any longer. Even in his sleep, Sage tempts me. To be honest, I don’t fully trust myself around him.

Waiting for the breakfast bell by the water seemed a much safer option. I settle onto the dock as the sunrise paints the water. When the purples and pinks of morning tinge the sky, I cannot delay any longer. I need to write to Robbie.

Thirty minutes later, my notebook sits on my lap, but I’ve only been able to write two words:

Dear Robbie,

I don’t even know what else to say. I want to be honest with him. I want to be loyal to him. How can I share my growing attraction to Sage? My heart will
always
belong to Robbie, but after all these months of isolation, my body desires more.

While the farm has more space than I’m used to, I can’t escape my strong connection to Sage. I’m drawn to him no matter where I go.

I almost laugh when I think back to how crowded the dorms were. Hundreds of bodies all crammed into one building. Yet I could ignore everyone and focus on my blissful isolation.
How are these acres so confining?

When the breakfast bell finally sounds, I hurry to the covered eating area. If I’m quick, maybe I can finish my breakfast before Sage even makes his way down here.

“You’re up early today.” With Zachary on her back, Susan stands at the table, arranging today’s choices: yogurt, granola, and bowls of fresh fruits. “I hope you like muesli.”

“Muesli?” I had heard the name before but never knew what it was.

“Just a fancy name for fruit and granola over yogurt.” Susan fixes herself a bowl, adding three scoops of strawberries to the top. “I’ve only left the country once. We went on a skiing trip to the Swiss Alps when I was nine. I was too nervous to actually ski, but I’ve always remembered the delicious breakfasts our hotel served.”

“Do you wish you could have traveled more?” After preparing my own bowl, I try a bite. The sweet berries contrast with the granola’s crunch and the yogurt’s tart bite.

“I’m satisfied with the life I’ve created here. I’ve always been a bit of a homebody, so staying on the farm and taking care of Zachary satisfies me.” She smiles as she rubs his little foot, the only part of him she can reach. “Besides, I get to listen to stories from all the travelers that spend a few weeks on my farm. Since I’ve signed up to be a WWOOFing host, I get to experience exotic places by proxy.”

While Susan appears satisfied with listening to the tales of her volunteers, others’ stories must be a sad substitute for actually being able to travel. To immerse oneself in the smells, tastes, sounds, and experiences of a new culture. I’ve been living life in a similar way, though. Hiding away in my own secluded corner of the world—my old dorm—without joining in the activities all around me.

For a long time, I thought I was protecting myself. Perhaps I was merely extending my pain. Sage’s words from last night have echoed on my brain:
I’m not going to waste another minute of my life.

Maybe I’m done wasting minutes. Maybe I’m ready to start living. It’s so tempting, but the thought of Robbie makes me question everything again and again.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” Sage walks to the table. He must have just left the shower. A towel’s draped around his neck, and he carries his shirt. That’s right, he’s wearing absolutely no shirt at all. I stare at him for a moment, unable to take my eyes off the water droplets falling from his wet curls onto his bronze-hued shoulders. The droplets weave their way down his body, some winding around his muscular arms and others tracing a path on his smooth, golden chest.

“Where’d you disappear to this morning?” He fills his bowl completely to the top with all the fixings. “I heard you tossing and turning, then you were just gone.”

He heard me last night?
I become engrossed in scraping my bowl into the compost bucket. I hope I didn’t verbalize any part of my dream. I can’t even imagine how awkward that would be.

“I was in the mood for a walk.” No need to tell him where I was walking. Best leave
that
information to myself, in case I need to hide another morning.

“Morning, Sage.” Susan collects all the breakfast materials onto a tray after ensuring we’ve had all we want. “Unfortunately, I need you to rototill the left side of the field today. I want to try my luck at growing a new grain next year.”

“No problem. I’ve seen the machine in the shed.” He grins. “I’ll be finished by lunchtime.”

“You’re
such
a help.” Susan mouths her thanks again to Sage. “Abby, could you fill two baskets with cucumbers? I’m ready to start pickling today.”

“No problem.” I help her gather the last of the breakfast dishes. “I’ll have those to you by lunch.”

Susan leaves, and Sage and I sit across the table from one another. Since the dishes are all gone, I can’t even ignore him under the pretense of eating and drinking.

“Disappointing how we’re going to work alone today,” he says. “I’ve grown used to having you by my side this week.”

“Having some space can be nice, too.” But I’m just as sad. I thought I’d look forward to long, solitary hours in the garden, but I’ve grown to love his playful bantering. Sage can make even the most tedious gardening tasks entertaining.

“I have an idea.” Sage beams at me. “Why don’t you join me after lunch?”

Every day after lunch, Sage disappears from the gardens. I assume this is when he’s doing his “practice”, as he calls it. He has guarded his privacy fiercely, never allowing anyone to come along or interrupt him.

Why invite me to join him now?

I’m so nervous, I immediately want to decline his offer. But when I open my mouth, the only word that comes out is, “Yes.”

“Perfect. Let’s meet here for lunch and then you can hike with me.” Sage gives a friendly wave, finally pulls on his shirt, and sets off toward Susan’s tool shed.

I’m left alone at the table with my ever-building guilt. It would have been so much safer to keep our distance for the entire day. I could blame my rash words on a whole bunch of factors, but it comes down to a single reason.

I want to spend more time with him. Something about Sage calls to me. I have a feeling I’m going to be in trouble after lunch. But I’m far too excited about my Sage-time rendezvous to consider the consequences.

S
AGE MEETS
me for lunch. He unpacks our sandwiches, turkey for me and vegetarian for him, along with small bags of fresh fruits and veggies. “I can’t believe you actually said yes.” Sage grins at me before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Why is that surprising?” I can’t meet his eyes. “Do I seem that unfriendly?”

“Not unfriendly. More like… cautious.” Sage studies me while I meticulously examine my sandwich. “Like somebody’s hurt you before.”

Just like that, he cuts to the crux of the matter. I
am
cautious. I
have
been hurt before.
How can he read me so well?

“H-have you ever been hurt?” I finally ask. Anything to get his attention off me.

“Do you mean, hurt by a girl?” The corners of his mouth rise up.

I force myself to ask him the question that’s been on my mind all day. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He had to ask the question I’ve been dreading. I’ve practiced my answer, and I only hope the multiple times I recited it to myself help make my answer sound real. “I… I used to.”

“So we’re both free—” My expression must have been pretty interesting to stop him mid-sentence. “Free to hike now. Are you ready?”

I try to decide between escaping to the isolation of our yurt and accompanying Sage. Going to the yurt would be the safest choice, but Sage tempts me with his eager smile.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers as we hike.

So have I, which is exactly why I’m in trouble.