So we were out taking our nightly walk, holding hands, just being happy. And I said, “Nathan. I’m gonna be gone one week this time. It’s a big thing I have to do. And it’s dangerous. And I would like for us to do something special when I get back.”
He paused our walk in the woods and said, “What kind of thing would you like to do, Indie?” And I always appreciated that he never asked about the jobs. Was always just satisfied that I told him when I would be back.
I replied, “I would like to do something childishly grown up, Nathan.”
That’s it. That’s all I said.
I had done my part and the rest was up to him.
But we had a date now. A real date. And we both knew it.
One week from that night I would come home and Nathan St. James would have something special planned for me.
What it was, I didn’t know for sure.
But I hoped it was a kiss.
My very first kiss.
He was leaning up against a tree when I got home. I didn’t see him right away. I went inside, feeling giddy because the job went well. I came home alive, at least. And with the sample. Adam took it, and then as soon as I got out of the truck, he left to go drop it off somewhere.
Donovan was there, of course. To debrief me with one of our recorded conversations. And that took a while. I didn’t see Nate until after dinner with McKay, which we ate indoors that night. He was stressed out about the job because it didn’t really go off without a hitch. I had been caught, and held prisoner, and questioned, and then left floating in the middle of the Caribbean Sea in one of those round life rafts and had to jump into the ocean and swim to Adam’s boat once he finally found me. So all that worried McKay. But I had talked my way out of my sticky situation, and Adam had picked me up, and we’d come home, so I was fine. But McKay was broody like that when the jobs ‘got complicated’.
So it was hours and hours after I got home that I looked out the window and saw Nathan St. James leaning up against that tree. Grinning like some fool boy who was about to kiss his girl for the very first time.
He was wearing faded jeans that were tattered in the thighs and knees because he wore them so much. Nice tatters though. Tatters that made him look tough and showed his skin just enough to make me want to see more. And he was wearing a white ribbed tank top that hugged his stomach and chest muscles and showed off his upper arms and strong shoulders.
His hair was too long that summer. It touched his shoulders and then curled up just a teeny bit. And it hung in his eyes just enough for him to hide behind it a little and look mischievous and cute.
He was nearly fifteen now. Almost as tall as McKay. And he had the beginnings of a shadow on his face. Ever since that spring, the girls in the river town had started flirting with him. Batting their long lashes and looking at him over their shoulders as they passed us by.
But he never looked at them. He only ever looked at me.
When he saw me in the window that night he whistled. Not a regular whistle. Or a wolf whistle. But a bird whistle. The high-pitched chirp-song of the tree swallow that flowed out from his lips like easy water going down the river.
My stomach did a flip and even though I had promised Adam that I would not wear my white church dresses into the woods years and years ago, I put one of them on anyway. A short, cotton one I had slightly outgrown the year before so that the hem of it hit me high above my knees. The straps were thin and soft. The bodice had ruching and was tight, so my breasts—which had started growing bigger just that year—were prominent. And it hugged my waist before flowing out just a little over my hips.
I went outside and took Nate’s hand and I let him lead me into the woods. He kept stealing looks at me, grinning in that way that made his dimples peek out in his cheeks.
It was dark. There was no moon that night. And he was not taking me to the fort we built when we were younger. He took me over to the duck lake, but not so that McKay could see us if he was looking through the cutaway trees. We went off a little ways, to a part of the woods we didn’t spend a lot of time in before because it was thick with underbrush and overgrown trees.
At least together we didn’t spend a lot of time out here. But it was becoming very clear that Nathan St. James was living a double, hidden life behind my back. Because there was a path I wasn’t aware of.
“Take your shoes off,” he said.
“I thought you hated when I walk barefoot through the woods.”
“I made a deal with the snakes tonight. They won’t be bothering us.”
Which I thought was cute. Because I had made that same deal with the water snakes when I first arrived at Old Home.
So I did take off my shoes and the dirt had been raked so that it was soft, and deep, and cool between my toes.
The air in this part of the woods was cool as well. Not sticky and humid like it was by the water.
Soon we were in the middle of a clearing. Everything was dark and felt like a secret. Then he turned and said, “Close your eyes, Indie.”
I thought for sure this was it. He was gonna kiss me. So I smiled and closed my eyes. He wrapped a handkerchief around my head and covered my eyes so I could not peek.
My stomach flipped and fluttered as he did this. He was standing behind me and I could feel his soft jeans brushing up against the back of my knees.
“Now, don’t you move,” he cautioned me.
“I won’t.” I practically giggled.
And then he walked away.
I almost looked. It took every bit of self-control that McKay had taught me over the years not to peek.
But he called out to me every few seconds to let me know he was still there. Doing things. I could hear him doing things. Nathan St. James can walk softly in a forest. Like a deer. So quiet you could not hear him or know he was coming until he was upon you.
But he didn’t walk soft. He made noise so I would know I wasn’t alone.
Not that I was scared of the woods. I wasn’t. And he knew this.
He just wanted me to understand that he was there.
I was patient.
Then he said, “Take off the blindfold, Indie.”
I drew in a very deep breath and let it out before I took off the blindfold. Because I knew he had done something special. Just for me.
And when I slipped that blindfold down my face and let it hang around my neck, I could not even understand the beauty all around me. It was just that gorgeous.
Nathan St. James had turned the darkness into something lovely and sweet.
There was a treehouse cradled deep in the body of an old, thick pecan tree. But when I looked closer, I could see that it was really three trees, all wound up together and leaning off in different directions.
I knew these trees. Had been by here once or twice in our wanderings. But that treehouse had not been there.
It was just a platform with no walls. But it didn’t need walls because there was a canopy frame over top of it, and hanging from that canopy frame were long curtains of mosquito netting.
And the reason I could see all this was because there was light up there. Flickering, soft, gold light.
“Come on,” Nate whispered, and he took my hand again. “Let’s go up. There’s more.”
I think I held my breath as we climbed up to the platform. And then I let it all out in a rush when he held up the netting so I could crawl under it.
Inside our little house were dozens and dozens of mason jars filled with fireflies.