by Beth Flynn
I unsnapped my seat belt, grabbed my purse and tote bag, and opened the truck door. I got out and turned back to face him. He was still sitting in the driver’s seat waiting for my answer.
“Of course I know it, Jake.”
Chapter 36
Something Has Been Bothering Me
I lay in bed that night and quietly contemplated the events of the day. I smiled when I remembered warding off an aggressive stereo salesman. He wanted the sale so badly he was practically salivating. I felt so guilty for steering Jake away from him, I later made an excuse to use the restroom and circled back to buy some records from the man. He was nice about it and carefully wrapped the LPs before I hid them in my oversized canvas tote bag.
The only part of the day I found mildly irritating was when I quizzed Jake on his favorite vintage bargain and he mentioned an authentic English tea set he’d found for Emmy. I hated to admit it, but his revelation caused a tinge of jealousy.
I stared at the ceiling. The smell of fresh paint and varnish reminded me that my renovation was almost finished. A few more days of tile work and my new bathroom would be ready. I was expecting the cabinets and new appliances the week before Christmas, and if all went well, my new furniture would be delivered the week after. I was torn as to whether or not I should offer Jake some of my used furniture which was slightly nicer than his. I knew he didn’t make a lot of money at Hampton House. But I didn’t want to offend him either. There was nothing wrong with his stuff. It was just a little more broken-in than mine.
Which brought to mind another concern. I knew he would buy me a Christmas gift and I didn’t want him to think he had to spend too much, if anything, on me. I wasn’t Fancy who would insist on diamonds and designer purses. I asked Darlene if he’d approached her for ideas, but she brushed me off and said Jake was a big boy and I didn’t need to micromanage his shopping trips. Darlene always told it like it was. Blunt to a fault, but in a loving way.
As sleep eluded me, I found myself reliving the conversation we’d had the night Jake made tacos. Some leftover remnant of that evening had been nagging at me, but I couldn’t place it. There was a pothole in my memory, and I couldn’t grab hold of the details needed to fill it in. And then it came to me. I looked at the clock. It was 2:14 a.m. I knew he was an insomniac and hoped this wasn’t one of the rare nights he fell asleep early. I reached for my phone and texted him: R u up?
The sudden ringing startled me and I fumbled to answer my phone. His voice was booming when he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You’ve never texted me in the middle of the night, sweetheart. I had to make sure nothing’s wrong.” He sounded relieved and a little bewildered as to why I would even ask. “What’s up?”
“Something has been bothering me and I wanted to ask you if you knew. I suppose I could ask Sheila next time I see her, but I thought you might know since you’re so close with Jonathan.”
“Sure, babe. What do you wanna know?”
I got out of bed and headed downstairs for some water while we talked. “I was wondering if you know how Jonathan, who is a ward of the state of South Carolina, can afford to live at Hampton House? I know it’s privately owned and expensive.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. I used the time to fill my water bottle. “Jake? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I don’t know much. Only that he’s been there for a couple of years now and it’s due to the generosity of someone who wants to remain anonymous.”
I was ready to take a sip of water, but I set the bottle down on the counter instead. “An anonymous donor? Who could that possibly be?”
Another pause on his end. “Someone who wants to remain anonymous?”
“I know that, Jake. I’m thinking out loud.”
I could hear him chuckle. “Look. Don’t tell Sheila I said anything, but I think it’s connected to Cindy. At least that’s what some of the others at Hampton House have guessed.” His voice was low and serious.
Before I could ask him to elaborate, he explained, “It’s my understanding that when Cindy was placed in Jonathan’s group home on the other side of the state, it was supposed to be temporary until a private facility was found for her. It took almost six months before something opened up at Hampton House, and she and Jonathan had become so close there was concern about separating them. Whoever this anonymous donor is, he or she is also paying for Cindy to live there.”
“So it’s more likely that someone who knows Cindy is responsible,” I speculated. I turned off the kitchen light and made my way back upstairs. “That makes sense since I can’t think of anyone in the world from around here who could pay for both of them to live at Hampton House.”
“I have to agree with you on that one.”
After a few more minutes of small talk, we said goodnight. I turned off my phone and pulled the covers up to my chin.
There had been one more thing on my mind since taco night. But I would never ask him about it. That was our first official date and the same evening he confessed to knowing where I kept my key hidden. It brought me back to the night he’d been at my house and we’d shared a jar of moonshine. I’d gotten totally wasted and assumed I’d let him out the front door and numbly made my way up to bed by myself. What if he had carried me upstairs and tucked me in? What if I hadn’t imagined the kisses? What if he’d let himself out the door and locked it behind him before returning the key to its hiding place on my porch? It would make so much sense with the exception of one thing. I was certain before leaving he whispered, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Barbie doll.” I’d barely known Jake at that point so I had to have imagined it.
I was disappointed. About what, I didn’t know.
I rolled over and hugged my pillow as I recalled the highlights of my afternoon. They made me extremely happy and were intoxicating in their simplicity. Walking hand in hand with Jake through the throng of flea market sellers. Haggling over dusty reminders of someone else’s past. Finding the perfect toys for Henry’s Christmas stocking.
I’d offered to split a Philly cheesesteak sub with Jake which he’d refused because half a sandwich wasn’t enough for him. And he drank two cans of Dr. Pepper before I could even ask for a sip. When he realized I hadn’t had a drink, he jumped up and ran to get me one—such a gentleman. And that was another thing that baffled me. Jake had the appearance and self-assuredness of a criminal, but the manners of a gentleman. He was an enigma, a puzzle. And I’d yet to find the missing piece. The question was, would that piece complete us or destroy us?
Chapter 37
How’s The Illegal Moonshine Business?
Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone, and the month of January brought some sporadic and unusually balmy weather with it. I sat on my front porch and couldn’t hide my grin at my recent housewarming present from Jake. Even though I’d been in the house full-time for almost a year, he’d still insisted on giving me a gift. He called it the renovation-is-finally-done housewarming gift. We’d been spending so much time together I wondered how he’d managed to hide it from me.
“You know that by giving me another Adirondack chair, you’re rescinding your offer for me to sit on your lap because I only had the one?” I’d teased.
He’d grown serious before answering. “Your lonely red chair needed a friend, Barbie. Besides, I needed something to do with my hands,” he replied to lighten his tone.
I can think of something you can do with your hands. Not allowing my thoughts to follow that road, I asked, “You made this chair?” My tone was incredulous.
“Yes, I made it.” He didn’t say it, but I knew he thought the solitary chair on my porch screamed that a single woman lived here alone. I didn’t have the same concern that he did because I felt safe in Pumpkin Rest. Despite that, I’d still let him talk me into buying a handgun and taking a course that made me an official concealed weapons permit holder. T
he biggest advantage to owning a gun that I could see were the lazy Sunday afternoons I spent out back with Jake’s arms wrapped around me as he taught me to shoot at old tin cans. To our surprise, I was a natural when it came to aiming a gun, and as I got better, my targets became smaller.
The position of the sun allowed some rays to sneak beneath the porch overhang, so I lay back against the chair and let myself enjoy memories along with the warm and fresh air. I’d been on the brink of falling asleep when the tinkling of a collar brought me out of my daydream state. I sat up and smiled at one of my Christmas presents from Jake. Lady, a black pit bull puppy who’d been rescued by one of the employees at Hampton House, made her way up the front steps, gave my dangling hand a quick lick, and headed for her water bowl.
“Where’s Henry?” I asked as she made her way back to me. They were almost inseparable, and I could only surmise that he didn’t feel like playing and was beneath a shade tree somewhere between here and Jake’s place. I sat up and placed both elbows on my knees as I took her little face in my hands and let her bestow puppy kisses all over my chin. It wouldn’t be too long before she would be too heavy to hold, so I scooped her up and sat back in the chair, cradling her like a baby. “Who’s a good girl?” I cooed as I rubbed her smooth belly.
And she was. I’d never seen a dog pick up on training so quickly. Jake had a theory that rescued animals made the best pets because they were more appreciative of their new homes. Plus, it helped to have an older dog like Henry around for her to learn from. I couldn’t comment on Jake’s dog training theories, but if Lady was the basis for his observations, he was pretty spot-on. She was an angel.
I continued to stroke her tummy. It wasn’t too long before she was snoring. “Henry wore you out, huh, my little lady?” The sun glinted off my wrist and I smiled to myself at my other Christmas present from Jake. It was a beautiful charm bracelet and held only two charms. A heart and an orchid. He’d presented it in a small brown box wrapped in Christmas paper. It wasn’t until days later that I’d looked closer at the bracelet and discovered it was from Tiffany & Co. I loved that he downplayed the gift by putting it in a nondescript box. But I didn’t like that he’d spent so much money. After all, I wasn’t Fancy. I absentmindedly fiddled with one of Lady’s silky ears and allowed myself the luxury of reliving my first Christmas with Jake.
Jake and I had spent Christmas morning at Hampton House, and the rest of the day at Darlene’s with her unending flow of relatives who showed up at various times to visit, help themselves to eggnog and food, eventually going on their merry ways.
Darlene had scrunched up her face before asking, “Why do you care how much it might’ve cost him?”
“Because he can’t make that much working as a caregiver at Hampton House,” I countered.
Darlene pulled two more pies out of the oven and placed them on the table to cool. She tossed the potholders on the counter and leaned a hip against it. “He could’ve robbed a bank before he moved here,” she quipped sarcastically.
I rolled my eyes. “I know he has secrets, things he’s holding back, but I can’t see that as one of them. Besides, I don’t think a bank robber would spend his money on the Pritchard farm or drive an old truck.”
“Dicey wants to know if you brought any moonshine with you, Aunt Barbie?”
Darlene’s oldest daughter had peeked her head in the kitchen. Danielle was in her early thirties and a sheriff’s deputy in Pickens County. I loved how upon meeting them last year, all of Darlene’s children had started calling me Aunt Barbie. I hadn’t been a physical part of their lives while they were growing up, but Darlene made sure they knew about her best friend who’d moved away and finally returned home for good. I was welcomed into their family as if I’d been there all along.
“Check with Jake,” I told her. “We brought some, but he may have left it in the truck.”
Darlene motioned for me to whip up another batch of lemonade while she started beating some helpless potatoes into mush. “How’s the illegal moonshine business?”
“It’s not a business or illegal,” I emphasized, “if we’re not selling it. It’s just something we’re doing for fun, and we’ve only made one batch. Which turned out pretty good if I do say so myself.”
“Not true,” she quickly corrected me. “You need to have a permit. It doesn’t matter if the alcohol is for personal use only, not for sale, whatever.” She swiped at her forehead.
“If we decide to keep making it and Danielle doesn’t turn us in for this batch, I’ll remember that.” I took a sip of the lemonade and made a face. “Needs more sugar.”
“And you’re okay with it? The moonshine?” she quickly clarified. “No sad memories of making it with Kenny are resurfacing?” I could hear the concern in her voice and turned to look at her.
I wouldn’t tell Darlene, but making the moonshine had always been a chore, a responsibility thrust upon Kenny by his rotten father. And the only thing that made it bearable was that we did it together. “No. Like I said, it’s fun with Jake. I’m okay now, Dar. I promise. And Jake is a natural. I remembered the ingredients like they were tattooed on my brain, but I had to work out the steps. He’s been great at helping me experiment.” I measured out some more sugar and added, “And getting back to my bracelet. I don’t want him thinking I’m my sister. He’s met her and she’s all about the money.”
“Jake would never think that about you, Barbie. He knows you’re not Fancy.”
A thought occurred to me and I stopped mid-stir. “Do you think it’s why he hasn’t tried to take our relationship any further? Is it possible he’s one of those guys that thinks he has to provide for me before we can be a couple?”
I felt Darlene walk up beside me. She pulled at a stray hair that had stuck to my cheek. “You said yourself that you think there might be something he’s not telling you. If that turns out to be true, he might think that’s a game changer for you. But instead of all this wondering, you could ask him, Barbie.”
I shook my head and refused to look at her.
“Why not?”
“Because I like this too much. We haven’t gone beyond kissing and feeling each other up, but I don’t want it to end. I want to savor it, Dar. Because what if he does have something to tell me and what if it is a game changer?”
“Is there anything you can think of that would be a game changer for you?” she wanted to know.
I didn’t answer at first, giving myself time to sift through possible scenarios. This time I did turn to look at her. “Other than him being married or a serial killer, there’s nothing.”
“Then ask him.”
“Who’s him and what do you need to ask?”
We both turned at the familiar voice. I could tell by Jake’s expression he hadn’t heard much, if anything, of our conversation. Besides, he wasn’t one to lurk behind corners eavesdropping.
“Darlene said I needed to ask my man why he hasn’t kissed me under the mistletoe yet.”
I lifted Lady a little higher and nuzzled the top of her head with my nose. I let myself revel in the memory of that kiss beneath the mistletoe. It was long, lingering, and ended with Dicey raising her jar of moonshine and announcing, “That’s a kiss deservin’ of a good toast. The kind that sets a woman’s unmentionables afire and turns into a baby makin’ event.”
I chuckled at the recollection of Dicey’s offhanded comment and the applause that followed. Lady jerked awake when my cell phone and laptop simultaneously pinged. I sat up and placed my fur baby on the porch. I reached for my phone first. I’d been hoping to get a text or message from Sheila. It had been months since her husband had left and she’d hired a private detective to find him. She’d been anxious to get the divorce proceedings started, and was getting nervous when the man had come up empty. It appeared her husband had vanished.
I squinted at the text, not recognizing the number or making sense of the message. It was from someone who must know me and they were apologizing in advance for
giving my email address to a casting associate. It seemed that someone from Los Angeles was trying to get in touch with me. I replied with “Who is this?” and was answered with a name. I remembered her from the hospital in Greenville. I didn’t remember exchanging numbers with her, but I did have colleagues there who might have given it to her. I wasn’t sure what to make of her message and was deciding whether or not to reply when my laptop pinged a second time. I had set it on the Adirondack chair Jake had made. I hefted it up and placed it on my lap. The first email was definitely spam. I hesitated before opening the second email because I didn’t recognize the address. It was from a woman from a company I’d never heard of before. They were scouting hospitals in the Greenville area for a reality show. I typed a quick response letting her know that I’d resigned a while ago and didn’t understand why she would want to talk to me.
Her reply was almost immediate. While visiting my old place of employment, my name had been brought up several times by previous co-workers. Between my sister running off with my now deceased husband, and my reputation as the Monster of Monteith Medical, they wanted me to consider returning to the hospital. They thought I would make an interesting character in their reality-based hospital series. I replied with a polite but firm, “no, thank you” and closed my laptop.
I watched as Lady ran down the porch steps and sprinted toward Henry, who was trotting his way toward us with something clenched between his jaws. I stood up and used my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. “What are you bringing me now?”
Lady met up with him and tried to wrestle the gift, which looked like a stick, from his mouth, but he held his head high out of her reach as he approached my porch. It was unusual for Henry to bring home an ordinary stick. It wasn’t until he got closer that I walked down the steps to meet him. After recognizing what he had in his mouth, I gently removed it, marched back up to my porch and grabbed the phone.