She put the car in reverse and began backing out. “It’s easier if you just go forward and go around that tree and head out.”
“Oh. You’re right. I didn’t realize that was a possibility.” She giggled, but it sounded more like nervous energy. I gave her the rest of the directions as we went. The traffic began to build up the closer we got to town, which was a bit unusual for this small community.
“Wow, is there always this much traffic down here?”
“No. Never. I wonder what’s … unless … oh, yeah.”
“What?”
“I forgot. It’s Founder’s Day. Good thing I came along. Wow this is crazy. I’ve never seen it this crowded before. Take a left down this alley. We’ll take a shortcut.” She turned, but the police had the alley barricaded off at the end, and cars blocked our way behind us. We were stuck. “Sorry, it doesn’t look as if we can get out for a while.”
She pulled over to the side of the alley. “So, what now?”
“Well … when’s the last time you went to a parade?”
She smiled. “Not since I was a kid.”
“Well, sweetheart, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
Chapter 32
Lena
I was a little hesitant about getting out of the car. Going to the grocery store was one thing, but being out on the street with so many people frightened me a bit. Jackson walked beside me, his hand at the small of my back, coaxing me down the alley toward the music of the marching band. I did not, for a second, relax the entire time his fingers guided me along. The pressure of his touch on my back was exhilarating, a somewhat new emotion, or at least one I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
We made our way up the sidewalk, weaving our way through the wall-to-wall people facing the street. The crowd was exciting to see. We found a spot by the curb to stand and watch as the band blasted out Carly Rae Jespen’s “Call Me Maybe”, and the cheers and shouts of all the onlookers rang through the very core of my body. People danced on the sidewalk and in the street behind the band. When the bandleader threw her baton up in the air and caught it without missing a beat, everyone cheered even louder. Behind the band came a fire truck decorated with American flags. Several attractive firefighters hung on the outside waving their hands, and a Dalmatian barked with excitement. It looked like a scene taken right out of a Norman Rockwell picture. Jackson yelled out to someone in the parade, “Hey, Donkey!” and laughed and splayed his hands out in front of him, palms up in a ‘what the hell?’ type of gesture. Jackson shook his head. I looked up to see Brodie standing across the street just outside of Jackson’s bar. I assumed the donkey reference sparked from the conversation they’d had about me the other day when Jackson told Brodie he was an ass.
A little while later, Jackson yelled out, “Yo, Grail!” and gave the guy on the float a thumbs up. “Lookin’ good, Grail!” he added before leaning his head close to mine. “That is our illustrious new mayor, and a good friend of mine, Tom Grail. He’s only twenty-eight, and used to come into the bar a lot when my uncle owned it. He still comes in, but not as much now. “Mayoral duties.’” Jackson raised both hands and wiggled his two fingers in the air as he said the words, mayoral duties. “The ‘Holy Grail,’ that’s what a lot of people call him now days. He has done a lot for this small town. Good things too.” Jackson got this little gleam in his eye when he spoke about his friend. He never seemed to hide any emotions from me. I liked that. It revealed so much about him, and I admired his candidness.
More shouts and cheers rang out around us as a small float, looking something like a huge turtle, came into view. The town’s mascot I presumed. The turtle’s head bobbed up and down, swaying from side to side. “Oh, my, God!” I said as streams of confetti spewed from the turtle’s mouth and fell from the sky around us. Little strands of paper and dots of red, purple, orange and green attached themselves to our hair and clothes. Jackson scooped me up in his arms, twirling me around and around. I giggled uncontrollably, and when he put me back on the ground, he kissed me.
And time stopped for a few seconds.
I think for both of us.
The kiss ended almost as quickly as it started. He pulled away, dropping his arms to his sides, realizing what he’d done. The music, the shouts and cheers around us became a sound in the distance as we simply stared at each other. It hadn’t been a long kiss, more just a peck really, but a kiss nonetheless.
The rest of the parade seemed to happen in a fog for me as all I could think about after that was Jackson’s kiss and what it had meant. Small as it was, and most likely insignificant to him, I didn’t quite know how to interpret it. I’m sure it was just a fun little kiss to show his excitement about the parade, but then why did he suddenly push me away and stare at me? Maybe I’d been giving it too much importance, but it stirred something in me. Something I wanted to experience again, and maybe a little longer next time. That thought scared me. I couldn’t let myself fall for Jackson. I had to keep running.
After about another thirty minutes, the parade came to an end. “We should get going.” Jackson turned to go, and I followed. “It’s going to get a little crazy around here,” he shouted over his shoulder, then took my hand in his. “Stay close.”
We weaved in and out of people. I almost had to run to keep up with Jackson’s long stride. He didn’t stop or slow down even when we came to a group of teenagers taking up the entire sidewalk. He simply headed for the street and hurried around them. I almost tripped on the curb, and thought I heard someone call my name. I tensed and turned to look behind me. Who would be calling me here in this town? “Lena!” I heard again, but couldn’t see anyone I knew. I started to panic, but then thought maybe it was Leslie, but she knew me as Lana, not Lena. Besides Jackson, she was the only one that knew me here, other that Brodie and Doc, and it was a female voice. “Lena!” There it was again, and I turned to see a woman grabbing a little girl about eight years old by the hand. “Lia! Please don’t walk so far ahead in this crowd. I don’t want to lose you.”
I released a huge breath of relief and fought to keep up with Jackson. She’d been shouting for Lia, not Lena. My jittery soul could relax, but not too much, I reminded myself. Troy had a magical talent for finding people who wanted to stay hidden.
Chapter 33
Jackson
As I pulled Lena along, I kept thinking about the kiss. It had been a stupid thing to do, but she just looked so inviting with that gorgeous smile and all that confetti floating around us, I guess I got caught up in the excitement. I had nothing to say afterwards, which was also stupid. I could have at least said I was sorry, but then that would have been a lie. At least I’d managed not to make it too much like a romantic kiss, which is what I’d really wanted to do. For the brief moment that my lips touched hers, I did get a sense of how soft they were, and the whole small yet so large moment, overwhelmed me. I wanted more.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Not any time soon, I guessed, from the way she reacted; which was more like she didn’t react, a total and complete blow to my ego. I held on tightly to her hand as we made our way through the crowd, wondering what she’d been thinking. She kept looking behind her. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. I thought … nothing. It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head.
As we got closer to the alley where we’d left the car, the crowd cleared, and we slowed down to an easy pace. I realized I should let go of her hand. I didn’t want to, but I did.
Neither one of us said anything when we got back into the car. I worried that I really blew it. I should have known she wasn’t ready. After a couple of minutes of excruciating silence, Lena said,” That was fun.”
I looked over, and she was smiling. “Yeah, it was. I’d forgotten that today was Founder’s Day. This town usually has some sort of recognition, but the parade is something new, and I’m sure that the “Holy Grail” had something to do with it. Oh, here’s the store.”
We pulled into t
he parking lot of Staples. Not the Staples with all the office supplies, but the little family owned grocery store named after old man Staples, one of the town’s founding fathers. It was the only grocery store in Turtle Lake. “There is a brand new Railey’s that popped up last year in Fall River Valley, which is only a couple of miles away. They’d tried to build here in Turtle Lake,” I explained, “but the town’s residents fought hard to keep it out, so they settled for the next town over. I like to shop here though; we need to support our local businesses if we want to keep our small town alive.”
I pushed the cart and followed Lena down the aisles as she grabbed some apples and broccoli and mushrooms. She picked up a basket of strawberries and glanced at the price sign, then put them back on the shelf. She did this with a few other items and after about ten minutes; I realized there weren’t many groceries in the cart. I figured she didn’t have much money, and I so wanted to pay for these groceries, but somehow I didn’t think she’d let me.
We left the produce department and headed toward the meats. She stood over the chicken, studying it, picking up several different containers, placing them back before settling on one.
“Hmmm … what’s for dinner?” I asked.
“Chicken Marsala, I think.”
“You know how to make that?”
She nodded. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah. I guess. I’ve never had it.”
“Well, I make a pretty tasty Marsala. I’m sure I can make enough for you and Brodie to have some tonight.”
“Wow. That would be awesome.”
We headed to the wines, and she picked up a bottle of Marsala. She held it in her hand, biting on her bottom lip and stuck it in the cart. Good thing it only cost three ninety-nine or she probably would have put it back. But then, I would have offered to pay for it if she had.
We headed home and the drive was much less stressful without the parade going on. “Do you mind if we stop at the bar before going home?”
“Not at all.”
“I want to pick up a bottle of wine to go with that chicken. What time’s dinner, I’ll let Brodie know?”
“Um … I’ll bring it down around seven. Is that okay?”
“Oh, sorry. I thought you’d make it downstairs, and we could all have dinner together.”
“Oh.” She frowned and chewed her lip again, and I knew I was pushing it, but then I wanted to jump and shout hooray, when she said, “Okay,” but I refrained.
“Good. I’ll be right back.” I left her there in the car with the motor running in case I needed a good excuse to leave right away. I grabbed a bottle of Zin, and then grabbed another. We didn’t have any wine at home, and if Brodie was joining us, I figured we’d need it.
“What’s with the wine?” Brodie said as I placed the two bottles in a bag I found under the counter.
“Lena is going to cook tonight. You’re invited,” I said.
“I have a date, but thanks.”
“Whose got the bar?”
“Derrick.”
“Okay. Where are you going?” I wasn’t really all that curious about Brodie’s date, but since he wasn’t going to join us for dinner, I wanted to know how much alone time I’d have with Lena tonight.
“Really? You really want to know? You’re only asking so you’ll know what time I’ll be home.” He shook his head, and I knew he had me pegged. There was no way he was going to tell me.
I headed out to the car, keeping both bottles of wine anyway. I wasn’t sure if I should mention to Lena that Brodie wasn’t joining us, but then I didn’t want to deceive her that way. “Brodie has a date and won’t be joining us for dinner,” I blurted out unable to hide the silly grin on my face.
Chapter 34
Lena
I really wasn’t surprised when Jackson said that Brodie wouldn’t be joining us for dinner. He had a date almost every night when he wasn’t working the bar. “Smells good,” he’d said when he strolled into the kitchen right before leaving. He stuck his finger in the sauce and put it to his lips. “It is good. Now I’m almost sorry I have other plans.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I’d felt uneasy around Brodie since walking into that conversation he’d had with Jackson before I moved upstairs.
“Lena,” he paused, waiting for me to look at him. “I’m sorry about the things I said last week.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not a mean guy … normally.
“Normally?”
“I mean, I just worry about my brother.”
“Well you needn’t worry. There’s nothing going on between us.”
He frowned. “That’s debatable, but not the point. I like you, and just want you to know that what I said the other day, well, it was nothing personal.”
“It felt personal.” God, where’d Jackson go? I did not want to have this conversation with Brodie right now. Or anytime. Ever.
“I’m sorry. I guess what I’m trying to say is, Jackson tends to … well, obsess about helping people. I just don’t want him to get hurt you know.”
We all knew the possibilities of Troy finding me and causing a world of trouble for not only me, but them, as well.
“Well, don’t worry. I won’t let that happen. I haven’t told Jackson yet, but I’ll be leaving at the end of next month after I’ve made enough money to pay you both back for your hospitality, and also make enough to get me back on the road.”
He took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh.”
“Let’s keep that to ourselves though if you don’t mind. Otherwise, you and I both know that Jack will spend the entire month trying to coax me to stay.”
“Right. I guess you know him better than I thought you did, but you also know that’s going to hurt him.”
“I’ll try my best to keep things casual. I like him, but not that way,” I lied. “And I don’t want to hurt him.”
The chicken Marsala turned out perfect. Not tasting too much like wine, with just enough butter to give it a creamy texture. I’d learned to make it perfect for Troy or he’d have rewarded me with a backhand across my cheek.
We ate in silence. The wine Jackson brought home went very well with it too. He must have liked it because I caught him scraping his fork over every last drop of sauce on his plate.
“The parade was fantastic today. I’m so glad we didn’t miss it,” I said, breaking the silence.
“That would have been a shame. I’m glad we caught it, too. Wow, Lena, that was fantastic. I am now, officially, a chicken Marsala fan.”
I stood to clear the dishes from the table and Jackson joined in to help. I didn’t quite know how to react to that at first since it was something Troy would have never dreamed of doing. I don’t know why I was so surprised about Jack’s willingness to help tonight. He’d done everything every other night, and it had been me offering to help him, which at first he wouldn’t let me do because of my injuries. I was healed now. The side of my back still hurt a bit where Troy kicked me, but nothing like it first did.
There were only a few things left to clean up, and I was looking forward to going back upstairs and collapsing into bed. It had been my first day out, and I was exhausted.
“After we finish cleaning up, I need to do some practicing. You can join me if you’d like. I’ll go build a fire, dancing flames seem to help me think,” Jackson said.
“Oh.” I was tired, but the prospect of listening to him play, and me jamming along, was too much to pass up. “Okay. Go ahead out and I’ll finish up here.”
After wiping down the counter until it was spotless, another rule of Troy’s, I went into the living room to find Jackson in the big easy chair, guitar in hand, the fire roaring. My fingers practically itched with the anticipation of strumming the chords on his spare guitar. And there it was, leaning against the side of the sofa. Jackson looked up and smiled. “Go on. Pick it up.”
A force much greater than I had the power to fight—not
that I would have—made me walk over to the sofa and pick up that guitar. I sat with it, and within a few minutes, we were deep into that song Jackson taught me the other night. He’d said he’d written it, but he’d yet to sing the lyrics aloud, and I knew he had some because I’d seen him with this notebook jotting down words as he’d played it. I wondered what it was about.
“When are you going to let me hear the words to this?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being too forward or prying. After all, I knew from experience that song lyrics could be very personal sometimes, and the way he always hid them from Brodie and me, I figured these must be pretty private.
“Oh. They aren’t quite ready, yet.”
“I can’t wait to hear them because I love the tune.” His lips curved up on one side, and I got the impression that he was proud of the ones he’d written so far. I didn’t press him about it any further. We played for about an hour, shooting ideas back and forth, and he really seemed to like everything I suggested. I’d been nursing the same glass of wine I’d had at dinner, and finally took the last sip. I didn’t drink much; I never wanted to after witnessing Troy make a big fool of himself so many times, or how nasty he became whenever we were alone. But right now, in this moment, I wanted another glass of wine, mainly because I didn’t want the night to end. I was having such a great time. I stood. “I’ll get some more wine, would you like another glass?”
“Sure.”
I headed to the kitchen, and realized he’d followed me in there. I reached out for the bottle, and his hand came over mine. “Allow me.” He smiled, and I pulled my hand away. He stood close and poured the wine. He held my glass up for me to take, but when I reached for it, he took my hand into his free one and placed the glass back on the counter. He stood facing me, and our gazes locked.
“The lyrics are about you, Lena,” he confessed, and I watched his mouth as the tip of his tongue moistened his lips before he leaned his head down. Then those beautiful lips were on mine, soft, tender at first, then his tongue glided over my lips, breaking the seal. My pulse throbbed and quickened as his tongue swirled around mine. Taking and controlling, and … and I wanted this, needed his touch. I went limp in his embrace, and the heat rose under my skin, my body vibrated against his strong powerful one. Was this really happening? I reached up and ran my fingers through his thick hair while his hand slipped under my shirt, his fingers grazing my side below my rib cage. I forced Troy’s wicked face from my mind, but it was no use. Would I always have his hateful glare in my thoughts every time I tried to be with another man? Maybe it was better for Jackson’s sake that I did. Brodie’s words rang loud and clear in my head, and I once again shoved my hand against Jackson’s chest putting several inches between us.
Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) Page 13
