The Orange Blossom Spring
"Every spring, the orange groves of Jaffa bloom with intoxicating fragrance—and every spring, diaspora daughter Leila returns to find old flame Sami waiting among the trees."
The Orange Blossom Spring
The fragrance hit Leila before the airport doors closed—orange blossom, carried on sea wind, the smell of everything she'd left behind.
"You came."
Sami leaned against his truck, older now but still the boy she'd loved at seventeen.
"I always come."
"You always leave too."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Ten years of this. She'd return for blossom season, they'd fall into each other, and she'd fly back to Chicago with bruised lips and a bruised heart.
"Why do we keep doing this?" Leila asked among the trees.
"Because we can't stop." Sami handed her a blossom. "Because once a year isn't enough but it's all we have."
"I could stay."
"You won't. You have your life."
"And if I wanted this life?"
Silence. The blossoms trembled.
"Don't say things you don't mean," Sami warned.
"I mean it." She stepped closer. "I'm tired of leaving. Tired of spending eleven months missing this."
"Missing the oranges?"
"Missing you. The oranges are just an excuse."
He kissed her then, ten years of spring visits compressed into a moment.
"Stay," he breathed. "This time, stay."
They made love among the orange blossoms, fragrance wrapping around them like promise.
"Ya Allah," Sami groaned. "I've dreamed of this. You saying you'd stay."
"I'm staying."
"Really?"
"Really." She pulled him deeper. "I'm done with half measures. I want this. All of it."
They came together with the blossoms as witness, ten years of longing finally flowering.
"Marry me," Sami said afterward, petals in both their hair.
"Now?"
"Before you change your mind." He smiled. "Before another spring passes with you on a plane."
"I won't change my mind."
"Then say yes."
"Na'am," she whispered. "Under the orange blossoms. Where we started."
"Where we continue."
The trees bloomed on around them, filling the air with promise—spring after spring, flower after flower, love refusing to be seasonal anymore.