Suzanne turns her playful gaze on me. “And you said?”
“I’m afraid Jesse is going to have to deal with growing up.”
She laughs, long and loud. Suzanne is one of the most amazing people I know. She owns one of the largest farms in the county, if not the largest, yet lives like a pauper. Every couple of months, Dad tells Mom he doesn’t understand why she won’t sell her property, that she would be rich if she did. But Dad doesn’t understand Suzanne and Jesse Lachlin—how they love their land as if it were flesh-and-blood family.
Suzanne is one of those people who ages beautifully. Somehow her green eyes are sharper, her mind quicker than when she was younger, but within the past few months, she seems to get winded faster and her endurance is shot. Though Jesse won’t outright admit it, the way he looks at her when she’s glancing away from him tells me that he’s worried.
“I can’t believe you two are going into high school,” she says. “Time flies.”
I suppress a sigh, because to sigh at a party, no matter how quietly, is rude. Time hasn’t gone by fast enough. I can’t wait to be older—to move out of my house, to be on my own, to have a job, an apartment, to be in love…Twenty something feels forever away, especially when, this year, turning from thirteen to fourteen felt like ten lifetimes.
Jesse looks at me, as if he can sense the shift in my mood, and bumps his knee into mine.
I return his glance and shrug with a small smile. A non-verbal, I’m okay, and, no, I don’t want to go home yet. He raises his eyebrows in a Should you?
I shake my head and turn my wrist to check an imaginary watch. I have time.
Jesse inclines his head toward the woods that lead to his farm. We can leave and go hiking across the fields whenever you’re ready.
A slight nod from me. Okay, but in a few. I move the plate, which has a small puddle of melted chocolate ice cream, a fraction to let him know that I have no idea what to do with it. He nods like he understands, then takes my plate from me as he stands.
His jeans don’t reach his ankles. Instead, they stop about an inch short. Jesse has been doing nothing but growing over the last month. For a while, I think he was concerned he wouldn’t hit a hundred and ten pounds before high school. Now, at his current rate of growth, I’m concerned he’s going to run out of skin and his bones are going to pop out of his body. He wears his favorite T-shirt, the one that has a T-Rex trying to clap his hands, and there is a silent countdown to how many more times he’ll be able to stretch that material over his head and squeeze it over his shoulders. The blue University of Kentucky baseball cap his gran bought him in fifth grade, the one that was too big, is starting to settle nicely upon his red hair, and his voice, within the past month, has dramatically deepened.
Jesse’s changing, and it’s awkward, because I’m not. I’m still the shortest of our graduating eighth-grade class, and my body is still like it was in fifth grade. Mom’s threatening to take me to the dermatologist for acne medication, and I swear there is enough steel in my mouth from braces to stock a small manufacturing company.
Glory offers her plate to Jesse, and as he takes Suzanne’s, she grips the arms of the chair and edges forward as if she’s going to stand. Jesse shifts all the plates to his left hand and offers his gran his right. She accepts it and slowly rises to her feet. “I need to use the little girl’s room.”
Suzanne releases Jesse once she’s steady on her feet. Jesse moves ahead of her, opens the screen door, then follows Suzanne into the house, leaving Glory and me alone.
I link my fingers together and rest them on my knees. I glance at Glory out of the corner of my eye, feeling like it’s proper to start some sort of conversation with my hostess, but I don’t know what to say other than the obvious. “Thank you for having me this evening. The cake was delicious.”
“What did you dream about last night?” Glory asks.
“Um…” What type of question is that? “Nothing.”
“You did.” Glory tilts her head in this very airy way. Somehow, she appears cool in the humid night. “Did you know dreams are messages from the universe?”
I look over my shoulder toward the inside of Glory’s house, and I’m disappointed when Jesse doesn’t walk back out to save me from this strange conversation.
“My angels told me you dreamed of the moment that will set a series of life-altering events into motion.”
I dreamed of a cat. There is nothing life-altering about a lost cat in a field. I think her “angels” are wrong, but I don’t want to be rude. I just want the conversation over, so I lie, “I don’t dream. Or at least I don’t remember them.”
It’s not a lie, so much as a stretch of the truth. I typically don’t recall my dreams, but I do remember the cat—how haunting it looked and how its cries were lonely and sad.
“You dreamed, but it’s okay if you don’t want to share. And just so you know, down the road, even when you think I’ve forgotten you, I haven’t. You have always been and always will be at the forefront of my mind.”
My brows slowly rise. I have a hard time believing she even knows my last name. Glory stares straight into my eyes, unwavering, and my brain works overtime to find something coherent to say in return. The screen door squeaks open, and I exhale with relief when Jesse and Suzanne walk back out.
“You two run along,” Suzanne says with a wave of her hand as she sits in the rocking chair. “Have your fun. Glory will take me home after a bit.”
Jesse grins at me, and I don’t need another incentive to leave Glory’s cottage for the safety of Jesse’s land.
Chapter 45
Jesse
Scarlett’s laughter echoes in the open field, and the sound is one of my favorites in the world. Right up there with the sound of the leaves rustling with a light breeze, creek water lapping over rocks, and my gran telling me she made oatmeal cookies.
It’s three in the morning, late May, and thanks to the full moon, there’s a dull light guiding our way. We’re racing and she’s in the lead. Not by much. A foot or two. My heart is pumping as fast as my arms as I try to catch up with her. She’s fast, faster than me, and I can tell by the glint in her eye as she glances back at me that she will win.
I’d like to win. It’s a great feeling to come in first, especially since she’s won the last few times, but we’re coming up to Gran’s trailer—close to the end of a great night with the best person in the world. A night I don’t want to end.
With a chuckle, I slow up. “You win, Tink! I give up!”
She eases to a walk, and when she turns to face me, she wears a brilliant smile. “You’re slow, Lachlin.”
No, she’s just that fast.
We graduated from the eighth grade together today. She wore a blue dress she and her mother had bought in Louisville last month. Scarlett had whispered to me before the ceremony that she hated how tight the dress was, making her feel like she couldn’t breathe, and that the material against her skin made her itch and fidget. She despised the dress so much that I kept it to myself how beautiful she looked—with the way the deep blue of the dress matched her eyes.