by Marin Thomas
“I love to cook.”
“You do?”
“After my mother took off, Dad and I mostly ate fast food and frozen burritos.”
“Who taught you to cook?” As soon as she asked the question, she wished she could take it back. She didn’t want to hear about all the former girlfriends who’d helped him in the kitchen.
“I taught myself,” he said, “by watching cooking videos on YouTube.”
“What’s your favorite dish?”
“I make a mean rosemary braised lamb shank.”
“I’m impressed.”
He flashed a half grin. “We’ve both changed.”
“That’s for sure.”
His smile faded. “So tell me a few facts about the Katelyn Chandler who lives in St. Louis.”
“Let’s see. . . . I discovered I like sashimi.”
“Me, too. What’s your favorite?”
“It’s a toss-up between mackerel and squid. What about you?”
“I like them both. Have you tried puffer fish?”
“Never.”
“There’s a place in Denver that serves sashimi that’s out of this world.”
“When were you in Denver?”
“I spent a few years there on road construction projects. It’s a beautiful city.”
“You’ve always liked working with your hands, haven’t you?”
“I guess we both have that in common—me with a wrench and you with a paintbrush.”
Only Jackson had stayed true to his passion, while she’d abandoned hers. “I’ve traveled overseas several times. Melissa is visiting two of my favorite countries—Italy and Greece.”
“I bet your kids are smart like you were in school.”
“Michael inherited his father’s mind for business. Melissa isn’t sure what she wants to major in, but she’s leaning toward psychology.” Katelyn smiled. “The twins both look more like me than Don.”
Jackson walked over to the couch and sat next to her.
She shifted on the cushion, facing him. “Where else have you lived?”
“After Colorado I built homes in California. Then I did a stint cutting lumber in Oregon.”
“You’ve seen more of this country than I have,” she said. “I’ve been to New York three times. I’m not impressed with the city, but I loved Broadway.”
“I went to Vegas and saw a comedy club act, but that’s about all the culture I can stand.”
“How did you find your way back to Little Springs?” she asked.
“I’ve always wanted to live here.”
His answer surprised her. “Why?”
“It’s home.”
“What about your crappy childhood? Your mom left you and your dad drank. Nothing good happened here.”
He picked at the engine grease beneath his fingernails, then looked her in the eye. “You happened to me.”
She wanted to ask if he ever thought about where they’d be if she hadn’t broken up with him, but she chickened out and changed the subject. “I think you’d like Italy.”
“Why’s that?”
“The country is old and you’re an old soul.” She smiled.
He groaned.
“I’m serious. I bet you like working on old cars more than the newer models.”
“I do.” He rubbed a finger over her wedding band. “What about your soul?”
“It’s a work in progress.”
“It seems like you gave up a lot of yourself when you married and had your son and daughter.”
“I did, but since I’ve been home, I’m discovering the urge I once felt to draw is still inside me.”
He tilted his head, studying her intently.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“You’re different.”
“No kidding. I’m older.”
“I’m not looking at the crow’s-feet around your eyes.”
She laughed. “Thanks for noticing.”
“When you talked about your drawings back in high school, your pupils would get huge.” He released her hand and then caressed the skin beneath her eye. “But right now they’re small.”
“You’re crazy.” She shifted away from him, uncomfortable that he’d remembered such an intimate detail about her. She checked the time on her cell phone, surprised she’d been at the garage for almost an hour. “I need your help.”
“Help with what?”
Katelyn jumped inside her skin when Vern walked through the bay door. The minister’s gaze swung between her and Jackson. “Hello, Mr. Wilkes.”
“Call me Vern.”
“I stopped by to ask Jackson a favor, but I could use your help, too.”
“Doing what?” Vern asked.
“Chauffeuring the Little Springs Ladies’ Society home. They’re celebrating my mother’s birthday at Doris’s house and they’ve all eaten brownies laced with pot.”
Vern snickered. “The cannabis queen strikes again.”
“Katelyn and I can drive Harriet and Mavis home, since they live out of town,” Jackson said.
“Vern, if you don’t mind driving my mother-in-law’s car, you could drop off the ladies who live in town. Then we’ll meet you back at my mother’s house.”
“Shirley’s at the party?” Vern asked.
“Yes,” Katelyn said.
“Well, then, what are we waiting for?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jackson closed the bay door and the three of them piled into his pickup to go gather the ladies. He parked in front of Doris’s house and waited in the truck while Vern and Katelyn went inside. Five minutes later Katelyn escorted Nanette across the street and down the block to her home. Meanwhile, Vern led Harriet and Mavis to Jackson’s pickup, then helped the other women into the Mercedes.
“Did you ladies have a nice time?” Jackson looked in the rearview mirror and caught Harriet trying to help Mavis buckle her seat belt.
“We have too much fun celebrating birthdays.” Harriet leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Jackson figured she’d be asleep before they left town.
He checked his side mirror and watched Vern get behind the wheel of Shirley’s Mercedes and play with the controls. The lights flashed, the windows rose up and down and Jackson heard the radio go on. Shirley sat in the front seat and rocked back and forth to the music. Faye, Etta, Birdie and Sadie were squished together like sardines in the back. Katelyn returned from walking Nanette home, then checked to make sure Doris’s front door was locked before climbing into Jackson’s pickup.
He pulled away from the curb but stopped at the end of the block and waited while Vern made a U-turn. He wanted to make sure the old man didn’t drive the Mercedes into the ditch. When Vern proceeded down Main Street, Jackson headed north out of town. Harriet lived near the entrance to the Catfish Bay recreational area.
“What time is it?” Harriet mumbled.
“Ten thirty,” Katelyn said.
Mavis tapped Katelyn’s shoulder. “Your mother-in-law isn’t such a bad person once she loosens up.”
“I’m guessing Shirley’s engaging personality was helped by Doris’s brownies.”
“When’s your birthday, Jackson?” Mavis asked. “I’ll tell her to bake you a brownie cake.”
He grinned. “I celebrated it in May. Maybe next year.”
Mavis kept up a steady stream of conversation after they dropped Harriet off and returned to the highway. Five miles farther up the road, Katelyn escorted Mavis to her front door and made sure she was safely locked inside for the night before Jackson drove back to Little Springs.
“Looks like Vern beat us here.” He pulled up next to the Mercedes in Birdie’s driveway.
“Thanks for your help tonight. I had no idea my mother and her friends were pot
heads.”
“I don’t think they party like that often.” He shut off the ignition and studied the shadowy figures sitting on the back porch. “Tell Vern his ride is leaving in five minutes.”
Jackson waited while Katelyn spoke to the couple. Voices carried through the dark, but he couldn’t make out any words.
As he strained to see through the shadows, he recalled the nights when he’d driven Katelyn home from their dates and they’d sat in his car necking until her father turned on the kitchen light, signaling that it was time for his daughter to come inside.
Katelyn walked back to the truck and poked her head through the open window. “Vern’s not ready to leave. He and Shirley are at an impasse.”
“What’s going on?”
“Vern believes charities serve an important function in society and Shirley believes charity begins at home.”
Jackson grinned.
“I can drive Vern back to his house in a little while,” Katelyn said.
Jackson didn’t want to leave, either. “I’ll wait for him.”
“It’s been a while since we sat on the front porch.”
“Lead the way.” He followed her to the front yard, and they sat on the porch steps, close enough that he could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo.
“There’s iced tea in the fridge, or I can get you a bottle of water,” she said.
“I’m good, thanks.” He swayed sideways, bumping her shoulder. “Did your father ever tell you about the night he caught me sleeping out here?”
“When did you do that?”
“It was the week before you left for college. My dad went on a bender, and I had to get out of the house. I could have slept on our front porch but . . .” He stared into the distance. “You hadn’t left town yet, and I already missed you, so I snuck up the hill and camped out here.”
Little had he known that two months later Katelyn would break up with him. When he’d joined AA, he’d worked through all the baggage from his past that had triggered his drinking binges, but his toughest memory to deal with had been Katelyn’s breakup letter.
Even though he’d put the memory to rest, he’d never forgotten the afternoon he’d grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge and taken the letter down to the tracks to read.
Dear Jackson,
I don’t know how to tell you this. I don’t want you to be mad at me.
He hadn’t been mad. He’d been scared. Katelyn had been the best thing going for him, and he’d been terrified of losing her.
I don’t think we should go steady anymore. I really like it here in St. Louis and I decided I’m not ever going back to Little Springs.
He’d known she’d been serious, because she hadn’t used the word home.
I have to find myself. Find out who I’m meant to be. What I’m meant to accomplish in my life.
And he was holding her back.
I want more from life than scraping by like my mom and dad.
All he could give her was scraping by, because that was all he knew.
Please don’t be mad at me. We can still be friends.
When he’d gotten to that line, he’d known that he’d lost her for good.
You’ll always be my first love, Jackson. I won’t forget you.
And then she’d gone on and made a life for herself without him.
Jackson slipped his hand into hers. “Stay in Little Springs and paint.” He wanted a chance to get to know the woman Katelyn had become.
“I can paint anywhere.”
“That’s true, but maybe you have to go back to the beginning before you can move forward.”
Katelyn mulled over Jackson’s words. Was he right? Was the answer to why she hadn’t pursued her art after marrying Don here in her hometown? A sliver of excitement poked her in the chest, the sting stealing her breath. Her gaze drifted down the hill to Main Street. How many afternoons had she sat on this porch and drawn bits and pieces of the town below? Sketches of her world. Gifford’s Resale. And the Fourth of July celebration in the town park, where she’d drawn a clown making a balloon dog for a little girl. The piece had earned a second-place ribbon in an art show her sophomore year of high school.
What would it hurt to stick around Little Springs? With the twins busy for the summer and the house already sold, there was no reason to rush back to St. Louis. She could continue working at the grocery store, and while Katelyn rediscovered her joy of drawing, maybe Birdie would use her free time to get back into her music.
“Jackson, you ready to go?” Vern’s voice called out in the dark.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
He tugged a lock of her hair. “I don’t remember your hair ever being this long when we dated.”
“I keep it long because it bugs my mother-in-law.”
Jackson’s head fell back and he laughed.
“Thanks for the taxi service tonight,” she said.
“Anytime.” He climbed to his feet and disappeared into the dark, leaving Katelyn alone with her thoughts.
She couldn’t argue with Jackson’s logic. Little Springs had provided the fuel that had driven her to hone her craft and compete for scholarships that would carry her far away from a life she’d wanted to escape.
Maybe the only way to revive her dream of painting full-time was to reconnect with the girl who snuck down to the tracks every chance she got with her imagination and a sketch pad.
• • •
Katelyn dropped the pair of gloves on the ground and crawled to her feet, groaning at the sharp pain in her lower back. She wiped the sweat from her brow and surveyed the garden bed.
“You missed one.”
She glanced at the porch, where Shirley stood in her pajamas, clumps of hair sticking up all over her head. The new, shorter style was prone to bedhead—not a good thing when her mother-in-law was in the habit of washing her hair only on Sunday and Wednesday nights.
“It looks like you got caught in a wind tunnel.” Katelyn wiped a hand down her mouth, erasing her smile with it.
Shirley touched the rat’s nest on her head.
“That’s what too many glasses of sangria and Doris’s special brownies will do to you.”
Shirley’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t know why I couldn’t stop laughing last night. Nothing anyone said was funny.”
Katelyn climbed the steps and collapsed in the chair. “Vern found you amusing.”
“I don’t even remember our conversation.” Shirley sat in the other chair and fanned her face.
“I think you intrigue Vern.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because”—Birdie stepped onto the porch, wearing capri pants and another Buy & Bag T-shirt—“you’re the exact opposite of his dead wife.”
“What was she like?” Shirley asked.
Katelyn sent her mother a warning glare as she got up from her chair and motioned for Birdie to take her place.
“Elaine was the perfect minister’s wife. She was warm and generous, and she played piano for the church choir. She also did a lot of charity work in Pecos.”
“Charity . . .” Shirley frowned. “Why does that topic sound familiar?”
Birdie pointed to the yard. “What are you doing in my garden?”
“Pulling a few weeds,” Katelyn said.
“I weeded the flower beds two weeks ago.”
“It’s therapeutic.” Katelyn had used the early-morning hour to mull over last night’s conversation with Jackson. When she’d racked her brain for a valid reason why she’d abandoned her art after she’d married Don, she recalled the afternoon she’d sent the twins to their first full day of kindergarten.
She’d planned ahead for that day, purchasing a twenty-five-by-thirty-six-inch canvas and six tubes of fresh oil paints along with new brushes and a new palette. As s
oon as she’d returned home from dropping the kids off, she’d opened the tubes and squeezed out the colors. She’d known exactly what she wanted to paint—the garden in the backyard.
She’d worked for hours without taking a break when the doorbell rang, interrupting her. She’d spent the next half hour chatting with her neighbor and when she’d returned to the easel, tears had welled in her eyes at how amateurish her work appeared. The rosebushes didn’t look like rosebushes and the trellis wasn’t in scale, making the patio furniture appear as if it belonged in a dollhouse. She’d thrown the canvas and the paints into the garbage and that had been the last time she’d set up the easel.
Thinking back on that day, Katelyn suspected she’d been too hard on herself, demanding perfection from her art because she’d been living the perfect life. Little did she know that her perfect life had been falling apart around her for years and she hadn’t realized it. She’d left Little Springs in search of a world that would nurture her talents and make her a better artist, but instead the world she’d chosen had stifled her creativity. Now that she was back home, where everything was imperfect—maybe it was time to turn her sketches into paintings.
“Until last night no one liked your mother-in-law.” Birdie’s voice interrupted Katelyn’s thoughts.
Shirley opened her mouth, then snapped it closed—too hungover to argue.
“But this morning”—Birdie waved her arms—“everyone’s calling me and saying she’s not so bad.”
“Really?” Shirley and Katelyn spoke at once.
“I still think you’re a snob,” Birdie said. “But Doris believes you’re only misunderstood.”
“I like Doris,” Shirley said.
“Etta and Faye said they like your Mercedes and now they want to trade in their Toyota.”
“Before this conversation gets out of hand, I have something to tell both of you.”
Shirley’s face lit up. “You’ve decided to work things out with Don.”
What?
“I knew you’d come to your senses.” Shirley stood. “I’ll start packing.”
“You’re leaving already?” Birdie asked. “You haven’t even been here two weeks.”
