Deep in the Heart of Dixie
Page 7
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At closing time, Jake walked the railroad tracks, cut through the fields, and meandered through the cool, dark woods. He skipped rocks in the swimming hole before stripping down and jumping in. He needed to cool off, but no matter how long he dunked under or how hard he swam, he felt hot enough to sizzle. He couldn’t wipe away the picture in his mind of that sweet thing, Miss Dixie Mason. She was cut from a different cloth than all the rest around these parts, a crazy quilt full of mysteries to be pieced together while all the rest were predictable, solid flannels or cotton.
No longer bothering to push thoughts of Dixie away, Jake floated on his back and replayed the scene of her coming from start to finish. He’d freeze and focus on personal favorites, like the instant she set foot inside or the dash of colors that made a sunset in her hair. He pictured the blue of her eyes, so big and wide, a blue that he could never match on anyone or anything else, no matter how he tried. He wondered—what had brought her here from the North? Who were her people? What was her history? In the South, one’s family and past were everything. Many families could trace their origins back to Europe and the Mayflower. That love of heritage made him naturally curious about others. In Jake’s mind, where a body came from had a lot to do with what made him or her tick, said something about where they were headed too.
One other question loomed large in his mind. What was she afraid of? Even though she had stood tall and proud, her voice steady and strong, her eyes told a different story. There was only one way to find out. He’d have to get to know her. Jake didn’t mind that one bit. His Southern charm just might come in handy, help him find the door to her heart.