“Halfmoons are her favorite,” Sunny said. “Wait here.” She started to go, then remembered the bank bag was still sitting on the counter. But there was just no discreet way to pick it up now without being obvious. And she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
She sent Jack a smile and headed back into the kitchen, where the leftovers from the day were ready for delivery to the Tucker Lake Shelter. She put four halfmoon cookies into a pink box with white stripes. Her boxes were just like her awning. Each one bore the logo that was also painted on her front window, a bright yellow sun, with SUNNY’S PLACE spelled out above and below, each letter set within a curvy golden ray.
She didn’t go behind the counter, and she made herself not look at the bank bag as she met Jack in front of it. “Here you go. One for everybody.”
“Including me?”
“Including you.”
He smiled and said, “You can check if you want. Your money bag’s still there.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“You went back and left an ex-con with your lettuce, so you wouldn't hurt his feelings. You risked a sack of cash just to be nice. Maybe even trusted me a little. I can’t even get that much out of my daughter.” He gave a shrug and a smile. “Yet.”
He handed her a ten-dollar bill, she waved him off. “I already tallied up for the day. These cookies have been written off. If I charge you, I’ll go to tax jail.”
He took a deep breath, like he was going to say something, but then lowered his head and turned to go.
“What? What were you going to say?”
He looked over his shoulder. “I uh…I have a past. You know that.” “Everyone knows that. It’s a small town.” But no one knew about hers. She was living a lie in plain sight, and sooner or later, it was bound to come out. She dreaded that day. Jason flashed in her mind's eye, and her heart broke a little. She'd been fighting not to fall in love with him for years.
Jack turned around to face her again, like he'd changed his mind about leaving. “I uh—I don’t like when people from my past start coming around Big Falls. I’m a grandpa now. A very young, very handsome grandpa.”
“Modest, too,” she said smiling. But it felt odd, this conversation. They knew each other, were even friendly, but they didn’t talk. Not like this.
“Is someone from your past in town, Jack?”
“Someone I knew in passing yeah. Not to see me–I doubt he even knows I’m here. But you know, I keep up with a few old friends, so I hear things. He’s bad news, this guy.”
She wanted to ask why he was telling her this, but thought it would be rude. He seemed to really want to get it out. He wouldn't be the first local to come to her out of the blue, wanting to talk out a problem. People really seemed to think she had it all figured out, didn't they? God, if they only knew.
He was quiet. Expectant, so she said, “Do you have any idea what he wants in Big Falls?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and looked at his toes. “It’s not good, whatever it is.”
“Why don’t you tell Chief Jimmy?”
“Yeah, I’m still not real comfortable around the law."
"He's not the law, Jack. He's family."
"I think you're stretching it there. He's my son-in law’s-step-brother-in-law. We live up to the stereotype, don't we?"
"I'm not related, and they all feel like family to me. I love that about this town."
"You are family to Kiley. And little Diana lights up every time she sees you. I've got a lot to make up for with my girls. So, I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
She was still puzzled, but she thought she saw something in Jack she hadn't before. Maybe he really was trying to be a better person. Maybe they weren't so different, the two of them.
And then he brought his head up real slow, looked right into her eyes. “This guy who's on his way here, his name’s Braxton Hayes.”
Everything in her—body, blood, breath, bone—spun into a whirlpool that had opened under her feet. She was clawing to hold onto the edges, to keep from falling into the dark vortex. And she did it. She held on, palms flat to the counter. No more than a second had passed. Jack might’ve noticed. He might not. Hell, he might already know.
It had been a long, long time since she’d heard her brother’s name. And Jack Kellogg, alleged master of the con, not long out of prison, felt compelled to walk in here and tell her that Brax was coming for her just like she’d always known he would.
“Thanks for the cookies,” Jack said, all easy and smooth, like he didn’t know that he’d just set her world on fire. Trying to read his face was a waste of time. It only showed what he wanted her to see. Schoolboy dimples and mischievous Newman-blue eyes. “So long, Sunny. You take care, now.”
He was out the door before she’d regained the power of speech. She closed her eyes. Opened them again. She wanted to believe it was coincidence, that Jack had just come in here and spilled his guts to her like a drinker to a bartender. Instead of alcohol, she served sugar. And weren’t they sort of the same thing?
But no. It had been no accident. Jack had walked in to warn her, and that meant he knew.
And if he knew, her life in Big Falls was over.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Oh no.”
Chapter 3
Sunny knew the plan by heart. If anyone mentioned her real name, or her father or her brother or the Barrier Park Protest, she was to call Eve immediately.
She also knew what Eve would say. It was good that Jason was coming over to end things between them. He wanted more and he'd finally run out of patience. It was good. He deserved someone who could be his wife, raise kids with him.
Her throat tightened up so much it hurt. It would be hard for him to tell her it was over. He was kind right to his bones. Maybe she should beat him to the punch. Break up with him first. Let him off the hook, so he wouldn’t feel guilty later on, especially if something should happen to her.
She had to call Eve. That was first. Eve had drummed it into her head like a jack hammer. She could hear her inside her brain, as if she were standing there saying it out loud. "Anything looks off, first thing you do is call me. If a freaking chipmunk looks at you funny, you call me. That's the first thing you do. You got it?"
So that's what she did as soon as she'd locked up behind Jack.
She tapped "Eve," in her phone's contacts and it dialed the number she knew by heart. It went to voicemail. The recording said it was safe to leave a message. She didn’t trust that for a minute. They hacked something new every day. They’d hacked anti-hacking service, for crying out loud.
The tone beeped. She said, “Someone with a shady past just casually let me know my brother is on his way here. Safe to say he knows who I am, but I don’t–" She had to swallow hard before she could continue. "I don’t want to go," she whispered. "I don't want to leave my life here. So, call me.”
She put down the phone and picked up her head. She had to bull through this, do whatever was necessary. Just like before.
She took a deep breath and put all her focus on getting ready. If this was going to be the last time she saw Jason McIntyre, she wanted to look her best. Light blue sundress, and strappy straw-yellow sandals. She wanted him to remember her just the way he knew her. Even though it was a lie.
Jason took pains with his appearance. He wanted to look nice when he asked Sunny the big question. And then he wondered if he thought that would change the outcome. She wasn’t going to get excited or tear up with joy. She was going feel cornered, forced into making a choice she didn’t want to make.
Maybe he shouldn’t ask her yet. Maybe he should just tell her how he felt, instead, and insist she listen for once, and save the whole down-on-one-knee thing for a time when she’d be happy about it. A proposal shouldn’t be an ultimatum.
He picked out a nice bottle of wine and thought about flowers, too, but decided against them. If she saw him coming with wine and flowers, she’d sense what he was up to, or at least pick up its genera
l direction, and she’d be out of there before he could get a word out. She’d invent an emergency or stub her toe, or remember she’d left the oven on–anything to avoid having the conversation. Just like she'd done before.
So just the wine.
He glanced at the bottle as he exited Main Street Liquor & Cigars. Lucy and Mike "Chappie" Chapwell, the owners, watched him all the way back to his truck, and he was sure they were still watching when he pulled into Sunny's, across the street and three doors down. Half this town was waiting for him and Sunny to announce their engagement. Not to mention his family, every step- and half- and in-law member of it.
He closed his hand around the box in his jacket pocket and said a little prayer for luck.
The pink and white awning of Sunny’s Place stood out from the rest of the shops with their green and white stripes. Kind of like Sunny stood out from other women.
Taking a deep breath, he got out and walked around back. He didn’t go to the door, but across the back lawn, and onto a well-worn downhill path to the Cimarron. Sunny's riverside gazebo came into view. It was a white octagon, Amish-built, with four wide steps at the front. Its elevation improved the view, Sunny had said when she’d supervised the setup of it. It was surrounded by boulders she’d picked out herself. They had to be the right colors, to match the rocks along the riverbanks. Red and brown and rusty.
The pavilion had built-in benches with pretty pillows and a glass-topped table. Sunny had tied long white swatches of sheer fabric to each of its eight pillar posts, and they danced in the river breeze while the chimes hanging in between tinkled magically. It was her princess castle, she said, and her favorite spot in the world.
It was the best place to have this conversation. She’d be relaxed and happy and blissful in her special place, a little more amenable to romantic declarations and planning a future.
He strained to see inside as he walked down the path, wine bottle in hand, but it was shadowy. It got dark early in February. Valentine's Day was right around the corner. Maybe he should've waited to pop the question until then.
She came to the side and waved at him over the railing, and he waved back. Hell, he didn’t know if he could do this. What if she said no?
Sunny had brought a bucket of ice and a couple of wine glasses and walked down to the pavilion. He’d texted he was bringing wine. Twice, she'd slipped on the trail and almost dropped her ice bucket. It had rained that afternoon, and everything was slick and damp and shiny. It smelled good outside. Clean and fresh. It wouldn't last long.
The pavilion was her very favorite place. She'd set the ice bucket on the little table, and moved to the open end facing the river to watch the water and wait for Jason. The Cimarron was wide and lazy there, and watching the water snaking over itself was soothing.
God, she was going to miss this place. This rolling river, her princess pavilion, the bakery. Jason. She'd thought their inevitable ending would hurt less if she didn't let it go too far. So why did it feel like being turned inside out? She closed her eyes, and they felt hot, and she tried to focus on the music around her. The river’s song, the breeze, the chimes jingling magically and… there. That was better. She opened her eyes again.
Jason was coming down the path, the promised wine in hand. God, he looked good. This was going to be a hard day. The hardest one in six years. The hardest one ever. But her brother was coming. And anyone close to her would be in his crosshairs.
For an instant, she felt Dave’s warm blood on her blouse, sticky on her skin, but she shook the memory away hard and pulled her mouth into a welcoming smile.
Jason jogged up the pavilion steps, gave her a one-armed hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re beautiful, as always.”
“Thank you. You always say the nicest things.” She took the wine from him and turned to put the bottle into the ice bucket. She twisted it deeper, then went around the little table and sat on the white wicker sofa with the fat floral cushions.
Jason stood for a minute, kind of uneasily shifting his weight back and forth. She decided to let him off the hook. This was going to be too hard on him. "It's okay. It really is." She pulled the bottle back out, and made quick work of opening it.
"It's already chilled. I had Chappie put it on ice ahead of time."
"That was good thinking." She filled both glasses way more than was fashionable, and dropped the bottle back into the ice, uncorked. Then she took her glass and drank it halfway down. "I think we both know we're at a fork in the road."
His brows went up, like he was surprised she'd brought it up first. "I didn't think you were feeling that as much as I was."
"I am. I know you want more, Jason. Your brothers are all married with kids, and I know that's how you see our future."
His breath rushed out of him. "Our future," he repeated, and then he bent down, picked up the little glass topped table and moved it three feet to the left, giving him room to drop onto one knee in front of her.
His knee touched down, and she sprang up as if one triggered the other. "I was beginning to think you didn't want a future with me at all," he said, pulling a little box from his pocket.
"Jason, don't. Get up, now." He frowned, but didn't get up. She turned and paced away from him. He couldn't propose if she moved out from in front of him, could he? "Geeze, I thought you were here to break up with me."
"Why would I break up with you? I want to marry you!"
"No, you don't!" She shouted it. "Jason, you don't even know me."
"How can you say that? I know you better than anybody."
"You think you do. But–"
He put the box back into his pocket, and she could feel his hurt.
"I know your favorite movie is The Princess Bride, and your favorite food is angel food cake with whipped cream frosting, drizzled in chocolate syrup, and that you hate people fussing over your birthday and would rather forget it. I know you love this town and everyone in it. I even know the parts you think you hide."
That statement made her look him square in the eye. He rose slowly. "You never talk about your past, your family. I see the shadows in your eyes sometimes. You have a history. You have secrets. That's okay with me. You'll tell me when you're ready."
"No, I won't."
"I know you idolize your mother." He moved closer, slid his hands over her elbows. "Your whole wardrobe seems inspired by that one photo you have of her on the little table in your living room. All those pastel sundresses and soft little sweaters, all the fake pearl necklaces, pink ones and lilac ones and robin's egg blue ones. Even your hair is like hers."
"Please don't." She turned away, even though she didn't want to. Tears burned behind her eyes.
"Sunny, I love you. I've loved you for a long time now, but I didn't think you really wanted to hear it."
A sob broke through. She'd been holding them back but this one was too big, and she choked on it.
He closed his hands on her shoulders. "Sunny, please don't cry. Being loved shouldn't be something to cry about."
Her face was wet, tears dripping off her jaw and rolling down her neck, and her lungs kept spasming. "I can't be what you need, Jason."
"You already are what I need."
"No. No, you need a woman who can marry you, and be a mother to your children, and make you happy. And that's not me, Jason. It's not me, and I should've told you that a long time ago."
"Told me what? You...you don't want kids?"
"I can't be a mother. Or a wife. It's too big a commitment. I can't be sure I'd be able to–"
"Sunny what the hell is going on with you?"
Her back was to him. She saw the truck pull into the driveway and park beside Jason's. "That's Bernie Jennings to pick up the extras for the shelter. I have to go." She started to walk across the gazebo, but he got in front of her and blocked her path.
"No. Dammit, Sunny, we need to have this conversation. Bernie can wait a minute."
"Let me pass, Jason."
"Not until you give me
an answer."
"The answer is no. And I'm pretty sure last time I checked, that's all the answer that's required. Now get out of my way." She shoved him hard, already regretting that she'd sounded so cold, just then. So cruel. He stumbled a little, reaching for her again, but she ducked his grasp intuitively, and lunged toward the stairs as if fleeing for her life. If she didn't get away from him soon, she'd crumble. Her foot slid across the rain wet top step as if it were made of ice, and she went over the railing headfirst. There was an explosion at the bottom, or at least that was how it felt inside her head. Pain, white hot, and a jolt that hammered down her spine to her toes.
“Sunny!” Jason saw her fall. One foot slipped outward so fast its momentum carried the rest of her. She flipped right over that railing and cracked her head on the boulder at the bottom.
He ran to the steps, jumped the railing, vaguely aware of Bernie Jennings' shout and pounding footfalls coming down the path.
Sunny lay face up on the boulder like it was a giant pillow. Her eyes were closed and his heart tripped over itself. “It wasn’t her head that hit, it wasn’t her head—” He fell onto all fours on that boulder beside her, one hand on her face, but tentative.
"What were you thinking, Jason McIntyre?" Bernie was already tapping 911 into his phone as he reached the end of the path.
Jason ignored the other man, not even processing his words. He was looking at Sunny's head for signs of injury, but he didn’t want to move her. And then he saw the blood spreading over the boulder from beneath her head, soaking her hair. He kept almost touching her, then pulling his hands away. “Sunny? Sunny, come on, please, wake up.”
His phone was in his hand and he’d tapped his cousin Sophie’s headshot before he knew he was doing it. Bernie was a dull murmur in the distance.
"You got Doc Sophie," she answered cheerfully.
“Sunny just fell off the pavilion and smashed her head on a boulder. She’s unconscious. And bleeding.”
Oklahoma Sunshine Page 2