by Cindy Miles
“Panty tag!” Claire hollered.
We all burst out laughing.
The night moved on, and we all finally wore ourselves out. Jace was the last to leave, and we sat on the porch, talking with Daddy until Jace finally had to go.
I knew then that Max Thibodeaux was making sure he would not be the first one to duck out.
After Jace shook Max’s hand, I walked him to the truck. In the light of the porch, his eyes searched mine, and his lip quirked. “I feel your dad’s eyeballs on us like a laser,” he said, and swept my lips with a quick kiss.
“He’s the devil, ain’t he?” I said with a smile.
“I can’t say that I blame him,” Jace admitted. “I believe I’d be the very same way if I had a daughter. You’re his baby girl.”
I was that, for sure.
The whole evening, I’d kept an eye on my dad. He’d kept an eye on Jace. And it wasn’t an untrusting eye that he had, either. No, not like some dads have. He liked Jace. I could tell.
The look on Max Thibodeaux’s face was kind of a sad one. And I was pretty sure I was the only one who noticed. I knew why he had the sad look, and I knew he wanted me to tell Jace—hell, tell everyone—what was going on with my brain. But I’d dug my heels in deep. I wasn’t budging. We’d argued, and I’d absolutely refused to bend. They’d eventually have to find out, yes, I knew that. Just…not now.
Jace had to work the whole day Saturday, plus a paper to write, and I had two orders to finish, so we’d agreed to wait with bated breath for our supremely surprising date on Sunday. I was absolutely beside myself. Dad had offered to give me a hand in the shop with my orders—two particularly tall windmill-type windcatchers—and I’d happily accepted. One belonged to Jasper, and I took particular care in adding in a few special carvings into the metal blades. We were so in sync, my dad and I, that I wholeheartedly trusted him with my artwork. He was definitely a master.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” he said at one point during the day, and he’d looked at me and given me a soft smile. “It…looks good on you, M-Cat.”
And that had really, really touched me.
We worked side-by-side all day, my dad and I, and by the time we’d wrapped up both frames and both sets of wind cups, it was late. Dark. Like nine thirty p.m. I showered and washed my hair, and we ordered a pizza, caught Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds on cable, and by the time it ended I was falling asleep on the sofa. I’d just said goodnight and brushed my teeth, and wound my hair up on top of my head and laid down, when Jace called.
“I was just about to send you a text,” I said quietly. “Ca viens?”
Jace laughed softly. “I’m good. You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”
“Nope,” I answered. “In another ten seconds, though, I would have been out.”
“I’m just getting home,” he said. “I’m headed to bed, too. Get some rest. You’re gonna need it tomorrow.”
I grinned in the dark. “Is that so?”
“It is very so,” he said. In That Butter Voice.
“Can’t you tell me just a little bit?” I play-whined. Begged. “Huh, Jace Beaumont?”
Again, he gave a barely-there laugh, and it was beyond Sexy as All Hell. “’Night, ma’am. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You sure will,” I answered. “’Night.”
And after that, I fell asleep with a ridiculous grin on my face.
What could he possibly have planned?
“What is this place?” I asked Sunday morning as Jace pulled through a set of beat-up rusted gates with a pair of Longhorns anchored overhead. No sign. No name. I looked at him, and he just smiled.
“It’s not exactly in the yellow pages, let’s just put it that way,” he answered.
I sat back and through my shades watched the sun bathe the landscape as we passed. It was a perfect day. Not too cool, and not too hot. We’d driven almost an hour to get to The Mystery Place Beyond Horned Gates and it wasn’t until Jace rounded a wide turn that the beauty of it fell on me.
“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed, as we passed through mounds and mounds and rows and rows of scrap iron. “An iron junkyard! Jace!” I all but jumped up and down in my seat.
Jace laughed. “Never have I met a girl so excited about a junkyard before.”
I slipped him a coy gaze and unbuckled my seatbelt as he parked the truck and killed the engine. “You’ve never met anyone like me,” I clarified.
His eyes softened. “That, Ms. Thibodeaux, is an understatement.”
Jace introduced me to Jessup—a tall, wiry man with a long white beard who had been a collector of iron and scrap metal his whole life, and his daddy before that. He didn’t broadcast his business. People sincerely interested just…knew about it. A friend of Jasper McGillis’s, apparently.
I was in Absolute Hog Heaven.
Jessup stood before me, looked me square in the eye. “What’cha got for trade, girl?” he asked.
Jace leaned close to my ear. “Jessup doesn’t take cash. He trades.”
I studied Jessup, then glanced around. “How about a handcrafted by me, ten-foot windcatcher?” I gave him the knickertwister. “One of a kind.”
When Jessup grinned, he displayed a wide gap between his two front teeth. He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. “You got yourself a deal.”
Jace grinned, handed me a pair of rawhide gloves. “Let’s get to work.”
To me, it wasn’t work, it was fun. Fun! Jessup had metals from the thirties, forties, and I was just about to have a conniption fit! Some girls liked to go to the mall. Shop for shoes. Makeup. Yeah, I could do that, too, but given a choice? Junkyard would win every time!
“I feel like Indiana Jones discovering the Lost Ark!” I called from the next aisle over from Jace as we searched. “I feel like…The Goonies when the Goondocks were saved! I feel like…Sam when she walked out of her sister’s wedding and saw Jake Ryan waiting for her in his convertible!”
Jace just laughed, and I wasn’t sure if he got my Sixteen Candles reference, but it didn’t matter. Elation shot through me, and I continued to hunt for my treasures.
A couple of hours and a truck bed loaded with scrap metal later, I shook Jessup’s hand, promising to get started right away on his windcatcher. And when Jace and I pulled up to his gates, I leaned over, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pressed my lips to his throat. I looked at him. “That was the best surprise date I’ve ever had!” I kissed his mouth. “Thank you!”
Jace put the truck in park and kissed me back, and when he looked at me, his eyes were smiling. “That, Ms. Thibodeaux, was not your surprise.” He winked, put the truck in drive, and pulled out onto the road. “But I’m glad you liked it.”
“Not the surprise?” I asked, and leaned back. “Mais, what could it be then?”
Jace laughed and kept his eyes on the road. “Not even your enchanting use of Acadian French words thrown in with your English ones will charm me enough to tell.”
And, he didn’t tell. Not even when we pulled into Jasper’s place would he spill the proverbial beans. He looked at me, his mouth pulling up crooked on one side.
“No, Jasper’s isn’t the surprise, either,” he said lazily. “I hope you don’t mind, though. He asked us over for an early supper.”
“Are you kidding?” I said excitedly. “Perfect!”
We spent the afternoon with Jasper, and Jace and I tag-teamed as we did a few things for him around the house. Checked a leaky kitchen faucet. Fixed a loose board on the porch. Replaced a few light bulbs that were too high for him to climb and reach. Things that old Jasper would never admit he just had a hard time getting to.
After a filling early supper of pulled pork, potato salad and iced tea, Jace took me by surprise by leading me to Jasper’s truck. He only grinned. “Just hop inside, Memory,” he said with that crooked smile. “You’ll see.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jasper called from the porch, grinning. He waved and fell into his favori
te rocker. “I take that back. Do whatever!”
I laughed, and Jace followed me into the truck cab, and we took off.
Jasper owned a good bit of property; so much that I was surprised when we went through yet another gate about a half mile from the house. It led to a wide-open field and a large metal outbuilding. Jace stopped the truck on the side of the building, and I climbed out with him, and he stared at me for a moment. He seemed to be studying every inch of my face, and the sun had begun its early winter descent, turning the brightness to a deeper golden hue. Jace lifted his fingertips to my jaw, brushed them over my lips, and then he ducked his head and his mouth was there, slanting over mine, and he swallowed my exhale as he kissed me, his tongue against mine, his body pressing against my body. When he raised his head, he kept his eyes on me.
“I’ve never felt this way before, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said softly. “Not ever. Not with anyone.”
My heart was racing, and my breath caught in my lungs, and as I watched his eyes search mine, I knew Jace Beaumont was telling the absolute truth. And before I could respond, before he even gave me a chance to say anything back, he silenced me with his mouth and kissed me again. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling. He reached behind me, handing me a…helmet.
“Put this on,” he instructed. “And wait here.”
Speechless, I fitted the helmet to my head and waited as he jogged to a side door in the building.
My eyes bugged out of my head when the massive double hung doors rose, an engine sounded, and before my very eyes was a vintage plane, propeller going, and Jace in the pilot’s seat. When he climbed out and ran toward me, I started jumping up and down.
“Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me?” I yelled over the engine, clapping my hands. “Jace!”
His laugh was all male, and his eyes shone, and the lines pulled at the scar on his cheek. He reached inside of Jasper’s truck bed, pulled on his own helmet, and then tended to the straps under my chin. He looked at me.
“You said you’d always wanted to ride in a bi-plane,” he said, then inclined his head toward the plane. “Jasper’s baby. A 1929 New Standard D25 Bi-plane, fully restored.” He winked. “He bought it after the War ended. It was the first plane I learned to fly.” The setting sun caught his sage eyes, and they gleamed when he grinned. He handed me a pair of goggles. “Ready, Ms. Thibodeaux?”
“Hell yes!” I hollered, and pulled the goggles on. He helped me climb up, then tucked me into the first opened seat, strapped me in, then took the pilot’s seat behind me. My heart was beating a million times a minute as the plane began to move, and I laughed and held my hands up as if on a rollercoaster ride. “Jace Beaumont, you’re crazy!” I yelled.
Even over the engine I could hear his distinct laugh behind me.
My fingers dug into the edges of the seat as I watched us leave the ground, and the plane rose over the field, over Jasper’s house, and I couldn’t stop laughing as we climbed higher and higher, and the sun’s rays shot from the clouds in such a perfect way that it glinted off the blue paint of Jasper’s plane, across my face, and I don’t think my heart ever slowed down, even once, as we flew over the Calico River, the train trestle we’d had our first date on, and the hills beyond. Retrieving my cell phone from my pocket, I half-turned in my seat to look at Jace, and I knew my smile was breaking my face. His was, too, and I took a selfie of us in the air. “We’re flying!” I yelled, and he threw back his head and laughed, and I knew then I’d never, ever forget the expression of happiness on his face. He’d finally let loose. His soul was free.
And I knew then that I was more than likely and, well, almost with guaranteed certainty, in love with him.
As we flew back over the Calico, the sun was dropping fast, and the lavenders and apricots and heathers of the sky streaked overhead and were gilded, and I’d never felt so full in all my life. And when Jace landed the plane back in Jasper’s field and coasted to a stop, I was hollering again, laughing, and I couldn’t stop if I’d tried. I looked behind me at Jace, who’d pushed his goggles up and was staring at me, his smile wide, full, and oh so genuine.
“Crack shootin’, Danny,” I said, using a favorite quote from another favorite movie.
“Crack shootin’, Raif,” Jace answered, and it thrilled me to know we were so in sync.
He helped me climb out, and when my feet hit the ground I flung myself into Jace’s arms. His wrapped around me tightly, and he lifted me up, pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me, and swung me around until we laughed.
“That was…inconceivable!” I yelled, and he laughed again, still holding me off the ground. I grasped his jaws in my palms, felt the prickle of stubble against my skin, and I searched his eyes before I lowered my mouth to his and kissed him long, deep, and he slowly lowered me. When our heads lifted, I felt as though we could read each other’s thoughts.
“Thank you,” I said. “Sincerely, Jace Beaumont. Thank you for that. It’ll always be one of my most cherished of memories.”
The faded sage green in his eyes softened. “Mine, too. “
I helped Jace push the plane back into the hangar. He put up our helmets, and closed everything up. As we hopped in Jasper’s truck, I noticed that darkness was falling fast. “I’m not ready for this to end yet,” I suddenly said. I scooted closer. “Let’s go park.”
Jace grinned and shook his head. “Memory, we can’t make out in Jasper’s truck.”
I laughed. “God, boy, get your head out uh da gutta, yeah?” I teased. “No, goof. Let’s go park in the hay field. Lie in the bed, listen to music. Watch the stars come out.” I grinned. “Maybe make out a little.” I batted my eyes. “It doesn’t count if it’s in the bed of the truck, Jace. Besides. He told us to do whatever!”
He laughed then, and turned the truck and headed straight for the center of the field, and I snuggled up closer.
“You have music uploaded on your phone?” I asked after we’d parked and climbed out.
Jace lowered the tailgate, hopped up, and extended his hand. “Yep,” he answered.
I grabbed it and he pulled me up. “Good, let’s switch phones and each pick a song from the other’s playlist. We yell stop! And whatever song you’re on, you sing.”
He grinned, reached into his pocket and handed me his phone. “You just made this game up, didn’t you?”
I laughed. “Of course. It’s a great way to see how…compatible we are. I mean.” I handed him my phone. “What if our musical tastes are totally opposite? Sure, we like some of the same music. But I want to know the music only you and you alone listen to. In private. This way, we’ll know. Me first.”
“Okay, you’re on,” Jace said dubiously.
We both lay on our backs, side-by-side, with the light from our phones illuminating our faces like ghosts. I rolled through his playlist and when Jace yelled stop! I gasped. “Oh my gosh! This is so my song!”
Jace laughed. “I thought ‘Immigrant’s Song’ was your song.”
“It is!” I admitted, then jumped up and went to the end of the truck bed. “This is the stage where you have to sing,” I instructed. I hit play and Billy Squier’s ‘The Stroke’ came on. I used his phone as a mic and started singing.
Jace laughed again, and we both sang the words. Us louder than Billy. Then it was Jace’s turn. I sat down, he got up and scrolled through my playlist for a second or two before I hollered stop! He dropped his head and groaned.
“I can’t believe you have this,” he said, chuckling. “Wait, yes I can.”
“Which?” I asked.
He looked skyward, sighed, put his hands on his hips, seemingly embarrassed, then held my gaze with his serious one. He laughed softly, shook his head, and once the music started I knew the song, and Jace began the lyrics, using my phone as a mic. He sang hesitantly at first, in sync with Celine Dion as she belted out “My Heart Will Go On.” I burst out laughing, rolled on my side, and I watched as Jace sang to me. Soon his voice rose above Celine’s, lifted high into
the night air, and I joined in, and together we sang the whole of what I used to call “The Jack and Rose Song.” When it finished, we both fell into a bout of laughter that rang out over Jasper’s field, and then it was my turn again, and when Jace yelled stop! I stared at my next song. I jumped up, braced my legs, held my phone mic firmly in my hands. I stared at Jace and began. I started shaking my leg, Elvis style.
I began the opening lyrics, and Jace sat with his back against the cab of the truck, his knees pulled up, and watched as I sang Foreigner’s “Juke Box Hero.” I played my air guitar, too. And I rocked.
On Jace’s last turn, we exchanged places, he scrolled, and I waited a moment before yelling stop! His stance was cocky and badass and sexy as hell as he began the lyrics to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” I burst out laughing as he swung his hips, flipped his head, turned around and looked over his shoulder as he matched the song word-for-word. I jumped up and joined him, and under the night’s early sky we sang with Def until the song was done.
“You rock!” I yelled, and grasped him around the neck. His arms went around my waist, and when Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” came on, he swung me around and we danced in the back of the truck with some random, made-up moves. Neither of us could stop laughing.
Night fell, and we stretched out in the bed of Jasper’s old Chevy and watched the stars flood the night’s sky. Frogs croaked close by—by a pond, maybe, or a creek? Jace pointed out Orion the Hunter—a constellation that I’d seen a hundred times but never knew the name. Then he rolled up on his side and stared down at me, and his fingertips grazed my jaw, my mouth as though seeing my features for the first time. His eyes were glassy in the darkness, yet I saw in his expression something different. Endearing. Fascinating. I didn’t dare say a word for fear of breaking the spell, and my hands slid up his biceps and held on.