by Jodi Thomas
Jumping up onto the counter, she decided she’d wait until Jillian told her what to do. No sense giving her ideas. After all, she was just the assistant. Her dad had made that clear. If Jillian told her to do something she didn’t like, she’d just call Dad. Until then, she’d follow orders.
Jillian smiled at her again and leaned against the counter, too. She must be working by the hour also. “Your comment reminds me of a graveyard outside of Hamm, Luxembourg. General Patton is buried there. He died in a car crash in 1945 just after the war was over, but he wanted to be buried with his men who died in the Battle of the Bulge. It’s a peaceful place in the countryside now, but once, they say the spot ran red with blood.”
“Any reason you’re giving me this history lesson?” Sunnie picked at the hole in her jeans, making it bigger. “I’ve had enough history. My dad writes books about tribes in Texas who died off before the Pilgrims landed. He writes mysteries too, but none of them get published, and he wrote a time-travel series he doesn’t even try to sell to anyone. To me, all those people are dead and might as well be forgotten. He also writes children’s stories about battles. You two should have a long talk.”
“I have no reason for bringing Patton up, except I just remembered that when Patton’s wife came to visit her husband’s grave, she had him moved in front of the other graves. Like he was still leading his men. Some said maybe he would have been happier being with them.”
“I get it. Moving things in a cemetery.” Sunnie rolled her eyes. She hated people who thought conversation was a connect-the-dots hunt. Doze off for two sentences and you’re lost.
While she was on the hating things subject, she hated Jillian’s straight black hair. It was too shiny and seemed to flow down her back when she moved. Witches, if there really were any, probably had hair like that.
As if Jillian could read her thoughts, she picked up a rubber band and tied her hair into a messy bun. Even that looked good.
Jillian got very professional all at once. “I’m here to log your Gram’s things, not relocate them. I promise I’ll be very careful with the quilts and I’m very happy to have your help.”
Sunnie was glad when Gram came back from the kitchen. This new lady didn’t make much more sense than her dad, always spouting facts of no use in the real world. Between Gram repeating herself and Jillian talking about cemeteries, Saturdays were going to be double boring.
But if Sunnie was being honest, at least Jillian James tried to talk to her, and that was more than most people over twenty bothered to do. Sunnie had thought of claiming to be sick this morning, but then Dad might not let her go out with Derrick and she’d been counting the hours since Wednesday when he’d ask her to hang out with him Saturday night. It didn’t matter what they did tonight; just being with him was all she’d been thinking about for a month. He was so perfect.
Dad didn’t seem to understand how lucky she was. Just turned sixteen and already dating the most talked-about boy in school. She was a sophomore and he was a senior. Even when she told Dad that Derrick had the best baby blue eyes in the world, he wasn’t impressed.
Of course, it was Derrick’s second senior year. He had missed some school because of a few car wrecks, but he was the hottest guy at Laurel Springs High. He’d played football last year, had the letter jacket to prove it. But he didn’t wear it much. Claimed this year was strictly for partying. He’d said his new leather jacket was much cooler.
“I thought we’d start by taking down a few of the wall quilts.” Jillian interrupted Sunnie’s R-rated prediction of what might happen tonight. They’d been together during school several times, lunch, assemblies, but never for a date. But tonight, something was going to happen. They’d have time to talk, to be alone.
“Can’t you just take pictures of them on the wall?” Sunnie hoped to rest at work; after all, she didn’t want to be tired tonight.
“I could,” Jillian seemed to be considering the alternate plan, “but the shadows of the fans and the angles from window light would not reflect each block to its best advantage.”
Sunnie gave in. No point in arguing. She had to do something while she was here or her dad wouldn’t pay her eight bucks an hour. He was such a pain. He thought she should earn money. Didn’t he understand most of her friends didn’t have to work; passing grades should be enough work? Besides, everyone knew the Laradys owned land in town and out. She shouldn’t have to work.
Plus, this job wasn’t turning out to be as simple as she’d thought. They had to carefully remove each tack, or brace, or cotton rope strapped to the back of the quilt. Once they got it down, it had to be dusted and spread out exactly right before Jillian took about a dozen shots. Then they did it all in reverse.
Sunnie decided she’d die of boredom before noon.
The only break she got was when Jillian asked Gram questions about the quilt she’d just photographed. Most of what Gram talked about wasn’t worth writing down, but she did mention that one Texas Star pattern had been pieced by Sunnie’s great-great-grandmother.
While Gram talked and Jillian took notes, Sunnie ran her hand slowly over the quilt, realizing that she was touching something that five generations had touched.
When they started on the next quilt hanging high on the wall, Gram said she had to clean the office this morning and couldn’t help them, but she spent most of her time visiting with the customers and Mr. Dunaway. If it hadn’t been impossible, Sunnie would swear the two were flirting with each other. Sunnie couldn’t bear to watch. Even if they were flirting, Mr. Dunaway wouldn’t remember what to do after hand patting and winking. Every time he called her grandmother Jeanie, Gram smiled.
Three hours. Four quilts. A dozen visitors, and every time the door chimed Gram popped out of the office like a jack-in-the-box. This was going to take forever. Sunnie tried to stay awake by trying to calculate how many hours it would take for her to earn enough to buy a car.
When Derrick came in, Sunnie almost ran to him and yelled, “Save me. I’m dying in this place.”
Only, he didn’t like that kind of thing. Derrick said he liked things “real.” The first afternoon they’d hung out he’d told her what he expected from her if they were going to be together. No holding hands. No touching in public. No junior high stuff like boyfriend and girlfriend.
He said she was lucky a nineteen-year-old guy like him ever agreed to be seen with a sixteen-year-old, so she needed to understand how things were before it got out that they were together. He picked the time and place. Then, he’d texted her Wednesday that they’d get together Saturday night.
When she texted back that she had to work, so needed to know the exact time, he just answered, I’ll find you.
That sounded so exciting. And now, here he was.
Sunnie grinned and almost said aloud, “Isn’t he wonderful?”
But she realized Jillian and Gram thought Mr. Dunaway was cute, so she’d be wasting her time.
“How you doing, Shorty?” Derrick winked at her. “I can’t wait for tonight.”
Sunnie nodded, trying to not look too excited.
He’d said he’d teach her a few things when they were alone. She’d bet it wouldn’t be Texas history or where Patton was buried.
When she’d asked for a hint, he laughed. “Don’t worry, we can’t go too far. You’re jailbait, but we can still have fun.”
Sunnie wasn’t sure what all that fun might be, but she planned to be a quick learner. Most girls her age had had several boyfriends, but when you were a head taller than every boy in your class all the way through middle school, there’s not much interest. Only now, Derrick was two inches taller than her. He’d nicknamed her Shorty the first time he’d talked to her.
He was the first boy who ever flirted with her. She’d been leaning over the railing at a football game a few months ago, and he’d walked right up to her and run his hand along her spine as if
he couldn’t wait to touch her.
When she straightened, he’d smiled. Most boys backed away. The others didn’t realize that the way she dressed was “in” everywhere but this small town. Hadn’t they ever walked Sixth Street in Austin? She dressed like the kids from the university did on weekends. She’d seen them once. She wasn’t clueless.
Derrick said he liked her light blond hair and her dark makeup. He swore it made her look wickedly sexy.
“You about ready to quit work?” he asked as he moved behind the counter with her.
“No. I have to work until five.” She kept folding squares of material. She loved how he moved closer and didn’t seem to care he was breaking Gram’s rule about no one behind the counter that didn’t work in the shop.
He moved a little closer and glanced around, making sure no one was near. Then he slid his hand over her hip and leaned close to whisper, “You got a nice butt, Shorty. You wear any underwear beneath those holey pants?”
She didn’t move. His hands, still on her, were below the counter. No one could see what he was doing. If she didn’t react, no one would know.
His hand moved again, patting her bottom this time like she was some kind of pet. “I can’t feel any. Maybe you’re one of those girls who wears a thong.”
She didn’t like the way he was talking, but this was Derrick. He must know what he was doing. She was just being skittish, like a girl who’d never had a boyfriend.
When he gripped her hip in his hand so hard she knew he was bruising her, she stepped away, banging her side into the cash register.
“Sorry,” he said. “But it’s not my fault you’re so damn touchable.”
When she let out a nervous giggle, he leaned close and said, “Tonight we’ll go somewhere really alone. I plan to examine a few more parts of your body. Play along, Shorty, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not wearing my senior ring by Monday morning.”
It wasn’t exactly romantic, but she didn’t need romantic. She wanted real. Life was hard and cruel. Why should love be any different? Besides, Derrick was just a now guy. She didn’t see them as a couple forever. She never wanted anyone to matter to her as much as her mother had when she died.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she moved a few inches away. She had no doubt her father would ask.
“I thought we’d drive over to Tyler and catch a show. We could warm up a little in the back row.”
“What are we seeing?”
“Who cares? Something rated R.”
Sunnie nodded as if she agreed with the plan.
“Any chance you get a break from this prison? We could sit in my car and look up what’s showing.” Derrick bumped her shoulder with his fist.
“Yeah,” she said as Jillian stepped from the office. “Oh,” Sunnie said louder than necessary, “Derrick, this is Jillian. She works here with Gram.”
Derrick nodded. “Nice camera.”
Sunnie had the feeling he was looking more at Jillian’s breasts than the camera hanging just below them.
Jillian lifted the camera and sat it on the counter, but Derrick’s gaze continued to stare at her chest.
To Sunnie’s surprise, Jillian’s smile seemed to say that she thought of Derrick as a boy, not a man. “Take off for lunch if you like, Sunnie. You did a good job this morning. You need a break.”
The woman had obviously heard Derrick’s question, but she couldn’t have seen him touch her. She’d turned her attention back to her camera, totally dismissing them both.
Derrick didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. “You from around here, Jillian?” He said her name slow and low as he turned away from Sunnie.
“It is Jillian, isn’t it? I know I would have remembered seeing you.”
“No. Just passing through.” She didn’t look up.
“It’s a shame. I like your name, among other things.”
Sunnie watched as Derrick’s gaze rolled over Jillian like thin paint.
She had heard the phrase undressing someone with his eyes but she’d never seen it happen before. Derrick’s look was pure predator, like he’d just tossed aside a rabbit for a deer in the trap. Only Sunnie was the rabbit, and she had a feeling Jillian was the deer in his sights.
Sunnie didn’t hear Jillian’s answer. She was too furious to breathe as she grabbed Derrick’s arm and almost dragged him out of the store.
“What?” he yelled. The door chime sounded more like a clank.
7
Jillian had been accused of looking younger than her age, but nineteen? The guy must be brain-dead. Or more likely his eyes never made it to her chin. She’d seen his type in every town she’d ever been in. They never change. They simply zip their brains up in their jeans every morning and go hunting.
A few had thought to take advantage of a woman alone. She’d learned to correct that thought swiftly. Trying to go easy on a guy like that only led to more trouble. Only this time, she’d hesitated because of Sunnie. This boy was obviously her friend.
Boys like Derrick were dying off though, or disguising themselves at first. Women no longer put up with them.
Obviously, Derrick wasn’t even good at playing grown-up. Maybe that was why he was dating sixteen-year-olds. A few weeks from now Sunnie would be smarter, and he’d be looking for his next puppet to manipulate. Jillian was glad Gram was a wall away in the office and hadn’t witnessed the scene.
Moving to the side of the front window, Jillian watched them arguing in the street. Sunnie was mad, jealous, or maybe just embarrassed, and Derrick was an idiot. An interesting pair to square off.
He reached to touch her and she slapped his hand away.
Jillian’s glance caught Connor’s outline in the newspaper office window directly across Main. He was staring at them, arms folded, feet wide apart. She could see the anger in his stance, but if he stepped outside, his daughter would turn on him and Connor was smart enough to know it. If he broke up the fight, Sunnie would hate him for treating her like a child. If he didn’t, she wouldn’t speak to him for allowing her to make a fool of herself to the whole town. Sometimes, no matter what a dad does, he can’t win.
But Jillian saw something else going on. Sunnie was growing up in the middle of the argument, in the middle of the street. She was winning. Derrick was backing down, feeling cornered—and, like a wild animal, he might attack.
A memory of the first guy she’d dated flashed in Jillian’s mind. He’d knocked her to the floor the first time they’d argued. When she’d cried to her pop, he’d told her one black eye was a cheap lesson. Step away. Don’t get involved.
Jillian didn’t want Sunnie to have to learn that lesson.
Neither of the kids seemed to notice people stopping to watch. If this fight escalated, Sunnie would be the one talked about. The one hurt.
A sound came from the kitchen as Jillian reached the door.
Gram must have dropped something.
For a second, Jillian froze, not sure which way to run. “Gram?”
“I’m fine, dear. Just dropped this old teapot and splashed hot water everywhere.”
Jillian chose her crisis. She rushed outside and did something she never did. She stepped in and got involved.
“Glad I caught you, Sunnie,” she yelled as if she hadn’t noticed Derrick was spitting out swear words.
“What?” Sunnie’s question was sharp, but she didn’t turn back to Derrick.
“I need help. Gram is in trouble. I think she’s hurt.” It was only a small lie. Gram hadn’t sounded hurt, just flustered, but it was all Jillian could think of in one second.
“Come on, Derrick,” Sunnie ordered and took off running for the shop.
“Yes, come,” Jillian encouraged in a lower voice. “Someone’s got to clean up the vomit while we rush her to the clinic.”
Derrick held up one hand and
backed away. “I’m not good with old people. Or sick people. Or helping. I got to go.” He wasn’t smart enough to think of an excuse, so he just ran.
Jillian grinned and caught a glimpse of Connor’s smile in the newspaper office window. He might not have heard the words exchanged, but he was aware that she’d broken up the argument.
She ran back into the store and found Sunnie kneeling at Gram’s chair near the office door. “Now, Gram, you have to tell me where you hurt.” Tears wiped away some of the girl’s black makeup. “Maybe I can help.”
Gram brushed her wrinkled hand over her great-granddaughter’s light blond hair. “I’m just getting old, sweetie. We all do. Sometimes my grip isn’t as good as it used to be.” When she saw she had all Sunnie’s attention, she added, “I feel a little faint. I scalded my hand with the boiling water I’d warmed for tea. It’s nothing. It’ll stop burning soon.”
Jillian looked at Gram’s hand. It was red. She’d been so busy with Sunnie, trying to get as much done as possible this morning, that she hadn’t even noticed Gram hadn’t had her morning tea.
“How can I help?” Sunnie lifted Gram’s hand.
“Stay with her,” Jillian ordered, acting as if she were the head nurse in the ER. “I’ll get the first aid kit. If we get to the burn fast, it might not blister.” She’d seen a kit in the restroom and prayed it wasn’t fifty years old.
A minute later she was back with the kit and paper towels she’d wet with cold water. Sunnie gently placed them over Gram’s hand as Jillian lined up the supplies. She had little knowledge of any kind of first aid. Her only hope was that Sunnie had less and Gram had forgotten.
Antiseptic cream, gauze, and tape. “The wet towels will take the heat out. I’ll hand you another one as soon as that feels warm.”
