“Well, when?” She giggled nervously, thinking maybe it was time to offer the apple. He was through with the water but made no move to give her back the glass. The sun was hotter than it had been in days, and she ached for the shade of the shed.

“When you leave,” was all he said to her. There was no smile, no playful grin to relieve the shock on her face, no gentle reach for her quivering lip. She was too embarrassed for words. Her eyes misted over, and she stared at him for several seconds. There would be no more playful walks behind the shed, no more conversation or laughter. The love affair had ended before it began. His coldness toward her spoke it even if he didn’t say it. But like the rest, she had been proud; she kept the hurt inside and in secret where it belonged.

“Well then,” she said softly, “lemme not hold you up.” She snatched the jar out of his hand, walked past him fast with a stiff back and high head, stared down his compadres so hard they couldn’t help but meet her eyes this time, and not a tear fell from them until she was inside the back door of the store.