42Cherish Leander.
That was the name of the twenty year old. Belonging to a nuclear family of four, she was the youngest daughter. She had a brother, Chase, five years her elder.
One fine morning, the two siblings had begun their day, repainting the rusted gate. The paint had peeled through months of harsh weather. Now, the rainy season had passed. Before their country home, a great meadow laid between them and blue mountains. Trees of all kinds grew by the borders, growing only till it braces the tarred main road. Long grasses and purple lilies, crocus of white and yellow, lined the roadside as the frontline of a garrison.
There was a tree, planted just across their homes, bearing red, juicy apples. Cherish loved the season apples. They were especially sweet and large. As she painted the gates, she thought of the following month when the apples, her apples, will be in season again.
A car pulled up on the road, just before her house. The road, by which they were located, is the main road between towns and their country village.
Cherish recognized the silver Porsche. Not many could own such luxuries.
Lance Nolan.
"Chase," she places her brush and gloves on the stool by the pail of paint, "I'll be inside for a moment."
Chase simply nodded, knowing very well the cause of her discomfort. Like the rest of the country town, no one quite welcomes a Nolan into their homes, save himself. "Lance! What brings you here?" Cherish turned to the long driveway between them and their home.
"Just thought I'd give my friend a visit." Lance said. He was a young entrepreneur of six-and-twenty. Always clad in the formal attire of coat and tie. 'Just a visit' was not what Cherish thought of as something of Lance's wont. He was taller than her, lean and bald. Completely. Without a single hair growing on his head. Either shaven or of ailment, she never found out. She had never thought of finding out either. Though, it didn't mean that he was not charming.
Passing her were rows and rows of apple trees. Her father owned this orchard, their home being the very centre of it. Tall white washed walls enclosed the area. Keeping a distance between the apple trees and wild forestry outside. The singular apple tree belonged only to her, for she had planted it when young.
Once she closed the door behind her, she walked into the kitchen to the right of her. The window opens, overlooking dawn in the east, shadowed by dusk. She could see both Lance and Chase quite clearly between the trees. Talking amiably. Lance gave a package to Chase. It seems to be of some importance.
"What is that man doing here?" Mrs. Leander appears beside her. Cherish had heard her come in. The petite woman in her late-40's carried a basket of laundry by her side. Her short curls shone in golden brown by the morning rays. Very few telltale lines graced her face. From her frown, and almost crossed eyebrows, Cherish could tell that her mother wasn't too pleased.
"That man's bad news! I wish your brother wouldn't allow him here so often." Mrs. Leander went on in her hoarse voice, one that tells of her motherhood. Cherish gave no reply, only meeting her lips to the cup of water she had poured out for herself. Her eyes had fixed into a gaze, never leaving the gate.
As her mother went off with the house chores, Cherish watched on. Setting the empty cup in the sink, she set out of the house again.
"I had better get going Leander." Lance excused himself after checking his watch. "I've got a meeting to attend in an hour."
"All right then!" Chase's brown hands shook his pale one. "Don't let me stop you!" Lance gave a short wave goodbye, and a nod towards Cherish, before leaving in his car. Cherish will always remember his blue eyes. They would wan in the sun. And become sapphire in the dark. She had seen his eyes both in the dark and in light. Such hours he had visited their home; such times she had seen them.
"Are you just going to stand there or will you finish up?" Chase said, painting as he did. He smiled to himself, for he had once again caught his sister in a pensive mood. Cherish released herself from her thoughts. She puts on her gloves and began painting again, ignoring her brother. Her mind drifted off once more, to the waning blue eyes.