Tattered Innocence

by Ann Lee Miller

  “Read for us, Rachel.”

  She thumbed through the pages buying time, her fingers wooden stumps. Luke, Chapter Two. She smoothed the page with a sweaty palm. “Um… I’m not too good at reading aloud.”

  “We’re all family,” Nikki said.

  Rachel held out the book to Jake.

  He pressed the Bible into her stomach. “You think I was comfortable when you made me pray? Suck it up, Rachel. Fair is fair.”

  A tremor ricocheted around her body, fluttering her hand, a foot, settling into a twitch in her eye. “I can’t.”

  Jake tweaked her shoulder. “Of course, you can. You just passed a college class.”

  She squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. “I can read the story if you guys want turkey jerky for Christmas dinner—at like eleven o’clock tonight. I have dyslexia. I passed that course because Hall recorded the text book for me.” She slumped back against the cushion, spent, a dunce cap of embarrassment jammed on her head.

  Jake’s mouth dropped open, shock written on his face. She could almost hear him thinking, I could have been stuck with her if she’d accepted my spur of the moment proposal.

  “No biggie,” Tim said. “It’s probably genetically impossible for one woman to play awesome ball and read aloud. Me—I was allergic to school. Majored in spit wads.”

  “We don’t care, Rachel.” Nikki shot a glare at Jake. “Jake, get a clue.”

  “What? I had no idea.” Jake looked at Rachel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He cleared his throat.

  Rachel handed him the book, and stared at her knees.

  Jake’s voice settled into the familiar story. Each word hammered her humiliation deeper.

  Tree lights blinked red and green onto Joanne’s glasses and the wistful expression on her face as she listened to Jake.

  Ned pointed his chin at Jake, but his eyes flitted around the room at his family. He shared the couch with Nikki and Dillon, who yanked a royal blue stocking cap off his head as if Bible reading brought on an attack of manners.

  Tim straddled a kitchen chair backwards, spinning a rabbit’s foot key chain forward and backward around a finger.

  As Jake clapped the Bible shut, Nikki made a move toward the gifts.

  “Hold up, Nik.”

  “There’s more?” She moaned.

  He held up the Bible. “I think Gramps might be right about this.” He grabbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’ve just been putting a lot of thought into God since Gramps died.”

  His mother nodded, tearing up.

  Rachel squeezed Jake’s arm, her embarrassment receding.

  Nikki hiked a brow at Jake, then grabbed a gift from the stack under the tree and handed it to Joanne. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

  When Jake’s turn came to open a gift, he reached for Rachel’s square box with aqua paper and a white bow. “From Rachel.” He shook the box. “A pint of marine paint?”

  “Wrong.” Rachel pressed her lips together, holding back a smile.

  “A framed photo of the Travel Lift?”

  “You guessed it.”

  Jake laughed and tore open the box.

  She held her breath. Please like it.

  He lifted out the brass ship’s bell engraved with the Smyrna Queen, Captain Jake Murray, and the date he and his grandfather had purchased the boat. A lump formed in his throat. He pulled the tissue paper from around the clapper and tested the clang of the bell. It was the sound of the dream he’d shared with Gramps.

  He kissed her full on the lips. “Thanks. I love it.”

  Joy tumbled through her. She felt the blood swim to her face as Jake extracted a jewelry store box from his pocket with a rumpled bow and dropped it into her lap. A detached part of her brain recorded the box was the wrong shape for a ring.

  “Oh, isn’t this romantic,” Nikki sighed. “Hurry up, Rachel, open it!”

  Rachel slid the wilted bow off the flat box with nervous fingers.

  Inside lay a dainty silver charm bracelet.

  She held it up and touched a miniature basketball. A Lilliputian sailboat dangled beside it.

  “I had to look at every sailboat the guy had, then six catalogues before I found a ketch.”

  Her insides went soft like the night she fell asleep against his heart. Like her birthday gift, this was perfect. Rachel blinked back tears. She pinched a cooking pot between two fingers as it swung back and forth on the chain. She fingered a tiny man. “What’s this one for?”

  “That’s me.” Jake grinned. “I didn’t want you to forget me.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “The salesman said I’d be set for the future—buy you a new charm for each kid, that kind of thing.”

  Laughter erupted in the room, and she wiped the shock off her face. Rachel shuddered. No way would she have babies with a man who didn’t love her—not after watching Daddy live without love for years.

  “Who would have imagined that my big brother would turn out to be such a romantic? Hey, Dillon, there’s hope for you.” Nikki swatted her husband.

  Dillon extracted an envelope from his back pocket and thrust it at Nikki.

  Nikki shot out of her seat as she tore it open. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” She danced around the room waving a picture of a house. “I love it!” She kissed him.

  “It’s only got two bedrooms. We can save longer and get a bigger house—

  “Yes, yes, yes! I want this house.”

  Dillon grinned uncomfortably. “It’s only six hundred and fifty square feet.”

  “Yes! The answer is yes—I love the house!”

  In the middle of the teasing and congratulations, Jake said in Rachel’s ear, “That’s how you say yes.”

  Oh, she knew how to say yes. It was saying no that would take more strength than reading the Webster’s Third New International Dictionary cover to cover.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Okay, everybody, my gift is a free cruise. Pick any week in May. We’ll call it the family reunion sail.”

  Into the ensuing bedlam, Tim tossed out gifts wrapped in Indianapolis Star funny papers.

  Rachel unwrapped a length of rope, and Jake, the ring from the bathtub stopper.

  “For Rachel to lead Jake around by the nose,” Tim said.

  Joanne waved a paper slip over her head. “A coupon to drive the Love Machine any time I want to put gas in it.”

  Dillon unfolded a clean, white rag.

  “A gag for Nikki when you need some peace and quiet,” Tim said.

  Nikki stuck her bottom lip out and tore the paper off a fork.

  “To stick Dillon with whenever you want conversation.”

  Nikki tried it out. Ned hopped off the couch to avoid their wrestling match. Dillon triumphantly held up the fork.

  “One more,” Tim said, standing with his hand over his heart. “Ned, brother of mine, only I know the deepest desire of your heart. What with all this love in the air, it’s been a tough time for you. I spared no expense.” He yanked an unwrapped, bedraggled Barbie doll from behind his back. “A wife!” The doll sailed through the air.

  Ned dodged the offending missile, horror on his face.

  The laughter in the room wrapped around Rachel. How could someone else’s family feel like your own in less than forty-eight hours? A picture of her family eating a silent Christmas dinner pierced her.

  Nikki pinned Rachel and Jake with a look. “So, how serious are you guys, anyway?”

  “I was thinking we should get married in May when you all come down for your cruise. What do you say, Rae?” His grin fanned across his family and thudded into Rachel.

  “Strike two,” she said before thinking.

  “Shot you down.” Tim grabbed his chest as if he’d taken the bullet.

  Oh, Geez, Jake’s family will think I’m a witch. “We’ll talk about it, okay?”

  Joanne pushed out of her chair. “Who’s hungry?”

  While the family filed toward the kitchen, Jake pulled R
achel up from the loveseat. Nose-to-nose, his eyes locked onto hers. “Trust me, I’m taking a third swing.”

  Jake’s head jerked up from the Indianapolis Star at the sound of Tim’s wolf whistle in the kitchen doorway.

  Rachel glided down the stairs in an ivory sweater that nuzzled her curves. A skirt made of some wrinkly material flowed over her hips and swished against silky-looking stockings with each step of her high heels.

  Jake caught Ned’s jaw-drop out of the corner of his eye and remembered to shut his own mouth.

  “Back off boys, she’s mine.”

  Rachel blushed as his brothers shuffled into the kitchen, Tim mumbling something about being capable of getting his own girl.

  Jake met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Wow. Just wow.” His gaze strolled over her. He pressed his lips against her smooth cheek and inhaled a girly-yet-Rachel scent. His fingers laced through hers. “This just might be the best family reunion I’ve ever been to.”

  Rachel lifted her free hand toward him, put it down, lifted it again, and fingered his hair. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Nice haircut.”

  Rachel’s compliment and touch tripped a wire in him, firing full-alert through his body. He loved her—not the instant kind of love he’d felt for Gabs, but a slow-growing variety that would stand the test of time. His mind blinked to Gram’s engagement and wedding rings he’d retrieved from the safe deposit box.

  Chapter 27

  As Jake and Rachel followed the others toward Gramps’ familiar wood-frame house, grief surged out to greet him. He caught Rachel’s mitten in his gloved hand to steady himself.

  Light and voices tumbled out the open front door and drew them into the house—Aunt Zoni’s house now. Sadness danced into the shadows. Gramps loved a good family reunion. Hugs and a swirl of greetings and perfumes swallowed Jake as he inched across the scarred wood floor with Rachel. Children darted through a sea of legs. Uncle Ken’s head brushed a garland hanging over the dining room archway.

  Jake’s cousin, Susie, stood rooted to the kitchen floor like a maypole with her children flailing around her. “Jake must have been ten.”

  He cringed, knowing exactly which story Susie had launched into.

  “He had on his dad’s plaid shirt he’d worn every day since his dad died two years earlier. We were tunneling through the hayloft.”

  He braced himself for the rest of the story Susie had told twenty times in his hearing—a description of the cutest baby rat she ever saw, and how he ran screaming like a girl from the barn.

  Rachel, however, lapped up Susie’s words and the next six embarrassing anecdotes his relatives tossed her while he hovered at a safe distance.

  Aunt Arizona—Zoni—with hair the color of a Luden’s cherry cough drop, sailed through the room from the back porch with a three-tiered cake. Jake watched from across the kitchen as Aunt Zoni-who-must-be-obeyed said something over her shoulder to Rachel.

  Rachel bit her lip and eyed the sailboat-topped cake as it parted the sea of relatives in front of his aunt. Panic flitted across Rachel’s face, and she scanned the room until her eyes latched onto his. Annoyance chased out the fear in her expression.

  He excuse-me-ed his way across the room to her, enjoying the feeling of being the one she needed—no matter that his crazy aunt had set her off.

  Rachel shot him a glare. “You could have told me your aunt makes wedding cakes.”

  “It’ll be okay. Everybody knows that’s the only kind of cake she makes for every occasion. Not a big deal.” He gripped her hand and led her to the dining room table where Aunt Zoni preened beside her masterpiece—white frosted cake set off by delicate green and red holly trim.

  “But there’s a sailboat on top!” Rachel breathed.

  Aunt Zoni beamed and clapped her hands for everyone’s attention. “As you all know, I have a thing for wedding cakes, weddings—”

  The crowd good-naturedly heckled her.

  “Sure would be nice if the cake got some of you young folks in a marrying mood. Gotta keep the family going.” Her finger brushed the sailboat.

  Jake cleared his throat. “I heard Preston’s got a girl!”

  Preston, who had never recovered his humility after a stint as high school quarterback, coughed loudly from the kitchen doorway. “Forget the ball and chain, cuz.”

  “Or not.” Jake said into the laughter. The room quieted. “What do you say, Rachel, want to get hitched next week for the George Foreman Grill I heard Aunt Zoni’s hiding in her garage for the next wedding?”

  “For a Mercedes C-230 I might think about it.”

  The room erupted in laughter again. And he worried about her being nervous, why?

  “Go ahead, cut the cake.” Aunt Zoni thrust a butcher knife into Rachel’s hand. “Here.” She plopped Jake’s hand over Rachel’s. “Think happy thoughts, kids.”

  “Aunt Zoni, you are so far out of line, you’re not even in the coloring book,” Jake said and shot a worried look at Rachel.

  Her head bent over the cake as she gouged out a triangle from the bottom tier.

  “Feed each other the cake,” Tim shouted from the back of the room.

  “You’re so going to wear this.” She smiled too sweetly, holding a clump of cake in her palm.

  “What? That was Tim’s idea, not mine—”

  She smashed frosting across his lips and chin. Her triumphant, laughing eyes caught his, and someone’s flash went off. He scrubbed his mouth with one of the red and green napkins Aunt Zoni had lined across the table.

  A spoon clinked against a glass, and soon the sound moved around the room.

  Rachel’s eyes darted to Jake’s, alarmed.

  Jake leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Be a good sport. Don’t deck me.”

  “Just get this over with,” she whispered.

  The volume rose till the whole house tinkled like a chandelier in a gale. “Okay, okay!” Jake said to his relatives.

  He shot her a pleading look. He pulled her into his arms and savored sweeter-than-frosting lips, knowing he was going to have hell to pay for it in a few minutes.

  When he lifted his head, a blush burned on Rachel’s cheeks. Glassy eyes stared back at him. Great, now he’d totally embarrassed her and pissed her off.

  “About that Mercedes C-230—” Jake said to the room.

  “Cake’s on!” Aunt Zoni shouted, and everyone swarmed the table.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Jake pulled Rachel through the living room by the hand.

  They grabbed their coats off the rack beside the door and slipped out, Rachel’s hands shook as she zipped Nikki’s ski jacket.

  Moonlight ladled milky light onto the leafless trees and frozen grass. Gramps’ absence crouched in the darkness.

  He stared ahead toward the lake, his hands jammed into the pockets of his Dockers. “Sorry for the show in there.”

  “We didn’t have much choice.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  She sighed. “Not anymore.”

  “Maybe you’ll kiss me sometime because you want to.”

  “Maybe.”

  They stopped at the edge of the water. Rachel rubbed one stockinged leg against the other.

  He should take her back inside where she would be warm, but he didn’t want to.

  Grief crowded in on him, making him feel hollow.

  “You’re thinking about your grandfather.” Rachel’s words bulldozed his quiet.

  “Now you’re a mind reader?”

  “You haven’t been back since the funeral, have you? What else would you be thinking about?”

  “How embarrassed you were ten minutes ago.”

  “I told you I got over it.” She turned to him, her face in shadow, the pond glittering behind her. “Tell me about him.”

  “What makes you think I want to talk about—” His hand swept the farm and a thousand memories.

  His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw the sympathy pooling in Rachel’s eyes. He turned away bef
ore it pierced the thin layer of control he had left. “I wonder if the boat’s still here.” He walked toward the weather-beaten shed. Running a hand under the roof, he snagged the key. “Right where Gramps left it.” He unlocked the rusty padlock, and the door creaked open—along with all the memories of summers he hung out with Gramps on the farm.

  Moonlight beamed across the dusty yellow of the boat. Seconds ticked by while the grief rolled through him. His lips quivered, and he pressed them together. He hadn’t expected seeing the boat to nosedive him into this vat of aching for Gramps.

  Rachel crossed the frozen dirt to where he stood and circled him with her arms. “You don’t have to hold it in.”

  Voices and laughter filtered down the hill from the house.

  An owl hooted from across the pond.

  At their feet, water lapped against the ice hugging the shore. Rachel’s scent mingled with smoke drifting down the hill from the farmhouse chimney.

  He drew in a ragged breath. Grief cascaded from the well inside, and silent sobs shook his chest. Dad’s death had dynamited a canyon down his middle. But Gramps’ death had blasted even deeper. Gramps knew the inside Jake, a person not fully formed when Dad died. He’d lived more years with Gramps packing away countless, crystal memories.

  He turned his face into Rachel’s hair. Gradually, his chest stilled. Warmth crept through all the layers between them as they clung together.

  Rachel handed him a wrinkled tissue from her pocket, and he blew his nose.

  Breaking down should embarrass him. It would have in front of Gabs. Instead, peace encircled him where Rachel’s arms had been a moment ago.

  The shed door thumped as he pushed it shut and replaced the lock.

  They walked arm-in-arm toward the lights and noise of the house.

  “You go on in,” he said. “Your teeth are chattering.”

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.” He shot her a smile. “I need to walk the farm and say my goodbyes.”

  She stepped onto the first step, and he caught hold of her mitten.

  “I’ve never… cried… about Gramps. Thanks.”

  “It felt good to be on the comforting end of a meltdown for once. Thanks for trusting me, especially when I didn’t trust you with my dyslexia.”