The screen door creaked on its hinges, groaning like an old memory as Anna stepped onto the porch of the house she hadn't seen in nearly twelve years. The wind carried the thick, sweet scent of honeysuckle and red clay, and beneath her feet, the boards still flexed in the same spots they had when she was seventeen.

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It was the same porch where they'd kissed for the first time. The same porch where she’d told him goodbye.

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She drew her sweater tighter across her shoulders as the rain started again—soft at first, then steady, soaking into the cracked driveway and the worn wooden steps. Her rental car sat behind her, streaked with the rust-colored dust of backroads that once knew every inch of her teenage life. Jasper County clay—it never really let go of anything.

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The house was empty now. Her parents had both passed within the last three years, and it had taken her a while to come back and face it. Inside, boxes waited to be packed, old photos clung to the walls like the whispers of a past that hadn’t quite given up.

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Anna wandered to the edge of the porch, her eyes tracing the silhouette of the house across the field. His house.

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Jake’s.

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It had been repainted—a soft gray now, with a wraparound porch and blue shutters. She could tell someone had loved it into its new shape. The old barn behind it still stood like a stubborn mule, and she swore she could still see the tire swing that used to hang from the pecan tree.

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A flash of lightning lit the distant sky, followed a second later by thunder rolling over the hills. Just like that night.

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She closed her eyes.

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They had been seventeen and wild, all laughter and desire, barefoot in the bed of Jake’s rusted Ford, lying on a patchwork quilt that had belonged to his grandmother. They’d snuck out after dinner, hearts thumping like drums, fingers laced together as they took that old dirt road past the cotton fields and the Miller farm.

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“I heard it’s gonna rain,” she’d whispered, as they climbed into the truck bed.

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He had smiled and leaned in closer. “Let it.”

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Half a moon peeked through a sky mottled with clouds, and they stared up at it, teenagers pretending time wasn’t chasing them. College was coming. Futures that would split them apart. Her scholarship to New York University. His father’s expectations to stay and run the land.

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But that night, none of it mattered.

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Then the rain came—soft, then heavy—soaking their clothes and plastering her hair to her skin. They’d climbed inside the cab, dripping and breathless, and she could still remember the sound: the pounding of her heart and the staccato drumming of the storm on the roof and hood. His fingers had trembled as they brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. And when they kissed, it had been the kind of kiss that writes itself into your bones.

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She had loved him. No matter how many years had passed. No matter how far she had run.

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The Georgia rain hadn’t washed it away.

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A voice behind her startled her.

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“Anna?”

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She turned.

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Jake stood at the base of the porch steps, soaked from the rain, his hair darkened and shirt clinging to his chest. But his eyes—those stormy gray eyes—hadn’t changed.

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She swallowed. “Jake.”

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He didn’t move at first. Just looked at her like he wasn’t sure she was real.

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“I heard someone was at the house,” he said, his voice soft. “Didn’t think it’d be you.”

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“I wasn’t sure I’d come,” she admitted.

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They stood there for a long moment, the rain falling between them like a curtain, years pooling in the silence.

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“I saw the house,” she finally said. “You fixed it up nice.”

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He gave a small nod. “Did most of the work myself. After Dad passed, I figured it was time to do something up right.”

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Anna looked down, her throat tightening. “I’m sorry.”

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“Me too.”

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They watched the field for a while, the same field that once held all their secrets, the same place they’d danced barefoot under thunderclouds and kissed and loved like the world was ending.

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“You stayed,” she said.

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He nodded. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

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She hesitated. “And… is there someone? In your life?”

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Jake looked down, his boots sinking slightly into the wet clay. “There was. For a while. But to be honest, no one ever felt like… you.”

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She blinked, not sure how to answer.

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“I thought about you,” he said. “All the time. Wondered if you ever thought about me much.”

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She smiled faintly, her eyes glistening. “Every time it rained.”

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He climbed the steps slowly, stopping beside her. Neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much left to say that hadn’t already been said with silence.

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“I came back to say goodbye,” she whispered. “To this house. This place.”

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“Well, I’m glad the rain brought you home.”

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She looked at him—older now, rougher around the edges, but still him. Still the boy who’d kissed her under a thunderstorm and whispered that their love could be enough. She wished she could go back. Change things. Tell him not to let her go.

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But life had its own way of unfolding.

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“I leave tomorrow,” she said.

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“I understand.”

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The rain eased, falling softer now, like it knew it had done enough. Jake reached out and touched her hand—just once, gently—and she let him. His fingers were warm, familiar.

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“I still love you,” he said quietly.

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She closed her eyes and let the truth of that sink into her skin like the rain.

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“I never stopped,” she whispered.

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He didn’t ask her to stay.

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And she didn’t ask him to leave.

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They just stood there, surrounded by memories, looking deep into each others eyes, and let the Georgia rain do what it always did to them.

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The next morning, Anna drove down the old dirt road, now paved over and lined with mailboxes that hadn’t been there when they were kids. But the air still smelled the same. The fields still held the echo of laughter and bare feet running. And as she reached the edge of the property, she slowed the car and rolled down the window.

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It was raining again.

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And she knew, deep in her chest, that no matter how far she went—no matter how many years passed—there was two things that familiar rain wouldn't ever wash away.

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All the beautiful love they made and Jake, who still waited for her in the Georgia rain.

 

 

-Mark Gammill