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Nothing new ever happened in Dale’s Hollow, West Virginia, not in all of Jake Lee Jackson’s nineteen years. He’d been watching the same fly land on the same windowpane for the last few hours—scratch that, for the last few weeks. He sighed heavily and propped his chin on his hands, elbows on the counter. He fought to stay awake as the God-awful heat and the buzzing of the fly conspired to lull him to sleep.
Jake had always hoped for adventure, some excitement, and spent much of his childhood in one scrape or another. Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were his heroes and he daydreamed of joining them in their mischief. God, how he wished he’d lived in those days! Named after the greatest Southern generals in American history, make that the greatest generals of all time—Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson and Robert E. Lee, he could climb his family tree directly to those two fine men. Too bad they weren’t here to straighten out the mess in the Middle East, show those terrorists what’s what. Jake had tried to live up to his heritage, certain his life was meant for something bigger, more important, something more entertaining than a fly landing on the wall in his family’s general store.
Not that Jake didn’t love the place. It was a fine store, a small shop made out of clapboard that had been in the family for generations. Make that one more link to his heritage, like the glory of his name. Mama kept up appearances what with making him add fresh white paint, red trim, and pots of matching flowers on the steps. The locals had the convenience of the necessities close at hand, their very own Grand Central Station for gossip, and somewhere to have a sit down in the red rockers on the porch with a checkerboard to pass the time. Folks didn’t have to go all the way into Winchester and most wouldn’t anyway because the store belonged to them. Jake loved the feeling of coming home, the penny candy, and doing a service for the old faithfuls that moseyed in on a daily basis, but he still longed for something to shake it up a bit.
The bell rang over the entrance, making him sit up straight and tall as change, in the form of a sweet, young thing, breezed through his door. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen that wasn’t airbrushed or fake like those girls on TV and the movies. All of that caked on make-up couldn’t hide the real deal. A mess of red curls trailed down her back and framed her face, almost hiding eyes so blue they somehow caught the sky. She paused for a moment and seemed to look straight into his heart. His mouth went dry as he watched her make her way down the aisles, pick up the basics, and return to the counter. She stared him in the eye but he could swear she was scared to death. Her voice was firm when she spoke, suggesting otherwise. “I’m interested in the job.” It was a soft, musical sound from up North, far off places, a different world.
Dixie swallowed hard and hoped the young man behind the counter couldn’t hear her heart hammering. He was a cool dip in a clear pool of water on the hottest of summer days. Tall and tan, the boy had a tumble of brown hair falling into eyes as green as the leaves on the trees. His smile was easy, his gaze honest, and he looked like someone who could be a friend. She’d never had a friend and she sure could use one right now but she had to concentrate because she needed a job even more.
Jake extended his hand, noticed her start with just the slightest of jumps, her eyes skittering away for an instant when he took her hand and gave it a shake. “I’m Jake Lee Jackson and who do I have the fine pleasure of meetin’ on this laziest, longest of spring days?” His words spilled out in a slow drawl like honey dripping from a spoon.
She saw the warmth in his eyes, heard the laughter behind his words, and she went loose inside. The cold pit, sitting in the bottom of her stomach for as long as she could remember, started to melt. It was replaced by a butterfly’s flutter. “Dixie, my name is Dixie Mason.”
She thought he was going to bend down and kiss her hand like the dashing Southern gentlemen in “Gone with the Wind.” Mama had loved that movie and they watched it over and over. Dixie couldn’t help being disappointed when he simply held on a little longer and gave her that sweet, crooked smile again. “So, a Southern name for a Yankee? It suits you just fine. As for the job, this is my Mama and Daddy’s store and they said I could do the hiring since they’ve put me in charge. You’re the first person to inquire and that sign has been hanging there for over a month. I’d say that makes you qualified. Fill out this here application and you’re hired.”
He handed the paper across the counter. Dixie hoped he didn’t notice her quivering as she wrote. The only thing required was her name, age and address. Unbelievable—some people still had trust and faith in others, something that had been sorely lacking in her life. She hadn’t thought ahead about what she would do if she was asked for proof of identity. Life seemed to be giving her a hand for a change. She didn’t need anything yet. “When do I start?”
Jake dipped his head and winked. “Well, today would probably be too soon. Let’s make it tomorrow at eight in the morning. I’ll show you the ropes. The pay is under the table, ten dollars an hour to start. You’ll get more if Mama thinks you deserve more. You’re getting paid off the books to be in keeping with the family tradition. My ancestors used to run moonshine. The least Daddy can do is pull one over on the taxman now and then.” Dixie reached out, shook Jake’s hand, and gave him a smile that would make him happy to die today. He’d done seen everything he ever needed to see.
“Thank you very much, Jake Lee Jackson. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.” She walked out on legs that were shaking and sat down on the porch. Tears of relief threatened to fall, making her squeeze her eyes shut. She pressed her head to her knees and sucked in a deep breath. She’d done it, found a job, just like that. She could get on with the business of starting a new life. She and Jake Lee Jackson had something in common even though they didn’t know it. She had a name filled with Southern pride, a way of life, and hope, and she planned on living up to it.
Deep in the Heart of Dixie Page 4
