Jodi Lynn Anderson - Peaches Complete Collection

T he Darlington Orchard in Bridgewater, Georgia, had seen its share of love affairs.

Some of them, like the blooming love between Poopie Pedraza and Walter Darlington and the roller-coaster romance between Murphy McGowen and Rex Taggart, had been out in the open, plain as day. Others had been secret, hidden under the shade of the trees, stolen in moments, never revealed.

But even these left traces.

A box of letters sat tucked in a closet on the upper floor of Primrose Cottage, waiting to spill its guts. An envelope arrived at #504 Anthill Acres Trailer Park, regarding the past of an eighteen-year-old girl. A ring dotted with tiny diamonds was removed from where it had been hidden for over fifty years and dropped into a Jiffy mailer.

Poopie Pedraza would have told you it was ghosts of these things being stirred up. She believed in all sorts of ghosts. Ghosts of the peaches that had grown there. Ghosts of dead pecan trees. Ghosts of long walks and swims in the lake. She told everyone who would listen that she believed in lost souls too, because once she had been one.

In the late spring, a nervous little Chihuahua was dropped off by the side of the road five miles outside Bridgewater and left to fend for itself. Judge Miller Abbott, the town justice, lost his wife and wondered how he would ever feel like his heart was whole again. A Mexican boy tucked a tiny box into his backpack and hoped.

Far away, in New York and Mexico City, Birdie, Leeda, and Murphy were blissfully oblivious to the fact that the ghosts were calling them home.

T he grassy lawn of Columbia University was a vivid green, and Leeda Cawley-Smith lay entwined with her boyfriend, letting the suns rays seep into her heavily SPFed skin. They were a T; she was perpendicular to him with her head on his stomach, big black sunglasses shielding her eyes. He had his knees up and a school catalog of summer classes covering his face. Occasionally someone appeared and hovered over them to say hello, as if they were Jackie and John F. Kennedy, beautiful and perfect and sunlit, being visited by their subjects.

I dont know what Im gonna do without you for the next couple of weeks, Eric Woodard said, running his fingers through her loose curls. Leeda rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. He was peering over his catalog at her, his dirty-blond hair messed up from lying on the ground. Whos going to match my socks?

Leeda smiled. She had an obsessive-compulsive habit of matching Erics socks, which were all cashmere and sent by his mother. She also liked to fold anything that was hanging from anywhere. Leeda was very visual. She liked everything in her vision to be orderly.

Ill be back before all your groupies know Im gone and you can get a new girlfriend, she said. Eric rolled his eyes. Leeda liked to tease him about all the girls who constantly hit on him, sometimes right in front of her.

Leeda was headed home to Bridgewater, Georgia, for two weeks come Saturday. It was something she was ambivalent about. There were some things she was thrilled to see again after a whole year away. There were some things she would have been glad to skip. It seemed silly, but the hardest thing would be the two weeks without Eric.

They had met on the bus the first week of school. He had gotten her first name before hed jumped off. Then hed called the dean of her college and had made up some story to find out exactly who she was. When hed showed up outside her second Tuesday econ class, Leeda had been wary. But Eric had assured her that once he set his mind to something he always followed through. He hadnt been lying. He had even known what he wanted to be since he was in fifth gradea surgeon.

Tonight hed make Leeda study with him like he always did. He liked to tease her that he was the reason she had an almost perfect GPA. But they both knew that wasnt true. Leeda didnt like Bs. They made her grade sheet look messy.

There were some ways, though, in which Eric had shaped her life at school. He knew everyone. He was always invited somewhere. He took to people like a swimmer takes to water, and he was always liked. It had been too easy for Leeda to ride his coattails into her group of friends at Columbia. She wasnt sure where she would have been without him in that aspect. She, too, was usually well liked. But not great at making close ties. She was too contained.

If there was such a thing as a white knight, Eric was hers. When he was around her, Leeda felt like she didnt have to worry about anything. It was something she couldnt explain. He was the kind of guy who took care of things. If there was anything she needed, she knew he would give it to her. It made her life feel as smooth as silk.

Youll be batting off all those southern boys, he said, grinning up at her and also looking the tiniest bit worried.

Leeda rolled her eyes. Yeah, you know how Im into guys who drive tractors and drink Bud Light, she said. Murphy McGowen would have said she sounded snobby. But Eric didnt seem to notice.

He opened up the schedule book and showed it to her. Heres the class I signed us up for.

Leeda read the description. Art of the Italian Renaissance. That sounds good. It was a summer class Eric had talked her into. They planned to spend the rest of the summer sitting at sidewalk cafs, seeing movies, and taking advantage of all the city had to offer.

Leeda sometimes felt like her life as a Georgia girl had gone up in a puff of smoke, replaced by a NewYork life that was full of conversations about things that mattered and countless things to do. It had all surpassed her wildest expectations. On Fridays, she and Murphy had a permanent date, no matter who else tried to get in the way. Friday afternoons and evenings were theirs, without fail, to ride ferries, to tramp Fifth Avenue and window-shop, to ice-skate, to lie on the grass in Central Park, to eat falafel from stands, to get crepes in the East Village, to take up seats at diners for way too long while eating rice pudding, and sometimes just to stay cooped up in one of their dorm rooms and cowrite lively, chaotic e-mails to Birdie.

Whats the first thing youre gonna do when you get home? Eric asked, scrunching up his eyebrows thoughtfully, his hazel eyes half caught in the shade Leeda cast. He had a smooth, open face, the kind you liked right away. Even his features were uncomplicated and honest.

Leedas thoughts immediately went to the smell of peaches, which she had almost forgotten, and the Darlington Orchard. She had the same eager feeling about seeing it that a kid might get while anticipating going to Disney World, like it was something huge and far away. But in two days, she thought, it would be New York that felt far away and the orchard that would feel realquaint and quiet and full of shadows and tucked away at what felt like the edge of the world. She didnt know how to explain her excitement to Eric, though. He was more of a facts and figures guy. Theyre reading my grandmom Eugenies will on Saturday. So I guess Ill do that.

Eric looked confused. Didnt shedie a long time ago?

Yeah, last spring. The reading was supposed to be in the summer, but we all have to be there, and Danay and I have both been away. Leeda had spent Christmas with her sister, Danay, Danays husband, and their parents in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, skiing and being civil to one another.