by Gina Ciocca
I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Without my permission, my gaze roamed from the curls at his temples to the slope of his nose to the curve of his lips and the long, slender lines of his fingers, up his arms, and back again. Watching his hands made me wonder what it would be like to touch them. Which led me to think of them touching me and—
I jumped a mile at the first smack of the mallet.
Suddenly I didn’t believe him when he said there were no chemicals in the leather. It was the only explanation for my complete lapse in brain function.
I fidgeted on my stool, while he pounded in the rest of the letters, and tried to purge my mind of the images that had flooded in out of nowhere. I might’ve been successful too, if not for the next step.
“Now we’re ready for the dye,” TJ said, unscrewing the cap to the bottle of purple liquid. He brought over a dauber that looked like the one I used to take nail polish off my toes and handed it to me. “Coat this with the coloring and then we’ll apply it.”
I did as he instructed, holding the dauber above the bottle to let the excess drip off.
That’s when he covered my hand with his.
The unexpected warmth startled me, and droplets of dye from the dauber sprayed all over the table. “Oh! I’m sorry!” I leaped off the stool to inspect my clothes, trying and failing to fight the blush speeding up my neck.
“Did it get on you?” TJ looked me up, down, and sideways, which didn’t help my blushing situation. “I don’t see any on your clothes. I think we’re good.” He pulled the stool closer and helped me back on, his hand holding mine the entire time. When I’d gotten comfortable again, or as comfortable as I could be considering I wanted to bolt out of the barn like a bull at a rodeo, he lowered our hands over the leather. “You want to spread the dye over the whole surface using a circular motion, like this.” He guided my hand with his own until the entire strip of leather had turned a gorgeous purple hue. When he finally released me, my whole body relaxed.
TJ grinned. “Good work! That wasn’t so bad, right?”
I agreed with enthusiasm but thought, Speak for yourself.
Somewhere along the line though, I finally started to chill out. By the time we finished the next bracelet—Nick’s, which I opted to have embossed with his first name on account of TJ’s missing P—we were chatting and laughing like there hadn’t been any weirdness at all. And maybe there hadn’t been. Maybe I’d mistaken my digesting dinner for butterflies in my stomach. That totally had to be it.
Except when TJ walked me to my car, he touched my hand again. It was only once, for the briefest moment—so brief I didn’t know if he’d done it by accident or on purpose. I only knew that it felt more like a promise than a parting of ways.
And I didn’t like that at all.
As I shut myself inside my car and waved goodbye to TJ, my stomach sank like rock. TJ and I had been together for hours, and I hadn’t done a single solitary bit of investigating.
19
I tossed and turned all night. I’d been wrong about my dinner not sitting right; it was all of the stress in my life that was the problem. I couldn’t believe I’d spent all that time in TJ’s barn just…hanging out. And still no closer to the truth about his relationship with Kendall than I’d ever been. What was I supposed to tell her when she asked what happened? And worse, what was with those crazy thoughts I’d had and the way I’d wigged out? How the hell had I wound up in this mess anyway?
The questions were still floating somewhere in the back of my mind when my mother pranced into my room the next morning and flopped down on my bed.
“Rise and shine! Ready for our annual foray into the wild?”
I pulled the covers over my face. “I am physically incapable of shining today. And what ‘foray’ are you talking about?”
Mom peeled back the blankets and peered down at me. “We’re going to Maple Acres for our Christmas tree today. Don’t you remember? We talked about it last weekend.”
“No!” I groaned. “Go without me. Whatever you guys pick is fine.” I tried to pull the sheets back over my head, but Mom yanked them down to my waist.
“Come on. We’ll stop for coffee on the way. Even Nick is up before you.”
She stood with a note of finality, leaving me to rub my eyes and contemplate how much trouble I’d get in if I was still in bed the next time she came looking for me. Until I was sure I had a grip on myself, TJ’s farm was the last place I wanted to be. Being there obviously messed with my head, and I needed my brain cells if I was ever going to find out what Kendall wanted me to.
Then again, that was the exact reason I had to go back. I needed to find TJ, block out my fascination with his leatherwork and his barn and his stupid hands, and get what I’d originally gone for: answers.
So when my father called, “Marisa Ann! Fifteen minutes!” I sighed, threw off the covers, and got out of bed.
• • •
Less than an hour later, my bundled-up family sat clutching steaming Styrofoam cups as Dad’s Explorer treaded over the dirt parking lot. We’d arrived ten minutes after Maple Acres opened, ten minutes later than normal thanks to my dawdling, but still early enough that only a few families were milling around the huge tent at the entrance, where wreaths and cider were sold. To the right, at the bottom of the hill, I spotted TJ in the tree-bundling area. His back was to me, and he and another worker were leaning against the split-rail fence in full lumberjack attire, engrossed in conversation with TJ’s uncle, whose hands were pointing every which way. I imagined he was giving their marching orders for another day of pre-Christmas craziness.
When I looked past them, scanning the tree-dotted hills that seem to roll on forever in every direction, my stomach sank. Between finding, agreeing on, and cutting down the tree, we were in for at least an hour-long endeavor. By then, the place would be swarmed, and TJ might not have time to talk to me. It hit me that I could spend the whole morning at Maple Acres and still go back to Kendall empty-handed.
But as the four of us clunked toward the entrance in our snow boots, my gut went from sinking to somersaulting. Because a blond woman stood at a rack of wreaths, her hair twisted into a perfect knot above the furry black collar of her sleek knee-length coat. I would’ve recognized her anywhere. She was—
“Barbara?” my mother asked, her eyes widening.
Yep. She’d recognized her too.
Barbara, as in Barbara Keene. Kendall’s mother. The last person I needed to be seen with.
“Check out Mother of Spaz,” Nick whispered in my ear. I elbowed him in the ribs, but he was unfazed. “Think Kendall’s got her planting bugs around the farm? I’d be scared to take a crap if I were TJ.”
I snorted as Mrs. Keene turned to face us, and my parents shot me dirty looks.
“Elena!” Mrs. Keene said brightly. “How long has it been?”
“Years!” Mom replied as Barbara kissed her on both cheeks. “How is everything?”
“Fine, fine. I’ve been scouring catalogs for the perfect foyer wreath, and I haven’t been able to find one. My daughter recommended”—she looked around the tent, her silver-gloved fingers spread in front of her like she was trying to conjure the right word—“this place. I’d forgotten it was here.”
“Marisa told us she’s been talking to Kendall again since your family came back from Arizona,” Dad said.
At the mention of my name, Mrs. Keene’s eyes settled on me. I tried to position myself between Nick and a rack of wreaths, praying they’d hide me if TJ happened to look over. I had no idea how I’d explain chatting up his girlfriend’s mother. Except that she threw her arms around me, sending the perfume-laced fuzz of her collar up my nose, and then held me by my shoulders to get a better look at me.
“Marisa.” Her smile was warm, but her eyes roved over me from head to foot, like she was taking notes for an assessmen
t she’d share with Kendall later. “You’ve changed so much! I still remember you as the skinny little girl we took to Myrtle Beach.”
“So you’re saying she’s fat now?” Nick interjected.
Mrs. Keene’s face went slack and my father pushed the back of Nick’s head, but I wanted to hug him.
“Kidding.” Nick flashed his most charming smile and Kendall’s mom reciprocated, though she looked a bit like she’d sucked a lemon.
“Did Kendall tell you she’s part of the Hartley honors program?” Barbara continued, turning her attention back to me. “I have to say, Marisa, I’m surprised you’re not at Templeton with her. You were always so smart. I would’ve thought you’d gotten into the program too.”
“So now you’re saying she’s stupid?”
Nick ducked before my father could sock him again and came up laughing. “You know I kid. It’s my way of saying it’s good to see you, Mrs. Keene.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw TJ and his coworker walking away from his uncle. And heading for the tent. “It is good to see you,” I said hurriedly. “But this coffee was a bad idea.” I held up my still-full cup. “Sorry, I really need to find a restroom. Text me and I’ll catch up with you guys, Nick.” I made deliberate eye contact with him, hoping he’d catch the silent when the coast is clear. Then I turned and scurried out of the tent, ignoring the looks my parents were giving me. I’d pay for my rudeness later, but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
I got about halfway down the hill before TJ spotted me. And then I practically ran to close the distance between us, not wanting him to see who was inside the tent.
“Marisa,” he said, breaking into a warm smile. “Back again?”
“Back again,” I panted, coming to a stop in front of him. “My family is here to get our tree.” I turned around and relief flooded through me when all I could see from our vantage point was the top of the tent. “They’re taking forever picking out a wreath, so I thought I’d come say hi.”
“Cool. If they need any help, this is Eli.” He clapped the shoulder of the boy at his side. “He’s our newest whipping boy.”
Eli offered a gloved hand. I studied his face as I shook it. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before. I racked my brain, trying to place his hazel eyes and his uncertain smile with teeth that overlapped like fallen dominos. I came up blank.
“You look kind of familiar,” I said. “Do you go to Herring Cross?”
“Nah.” He shook his head and hunched into his coat. “Templeton.”
Oh. The word alone formed a new knot in my stomach, and I wished I hadn’t asked.
“There’s Marvin,” TJ said to Eli, motioning into the distance. “Shadow him for the next hour or so, and I’ll pick up from there. Okay?”
“You got it, man.”
Eli jogged off after the burly guy headed through the trees, leaving me alone with TJ.
“Thanks again for last night,” he said. “I had a really nice time.”
And there went my brain cells, dropping like freaking flies.
“Me too.”
TJ scuffed his work boot against the ground and hitched his thumbs into the pockets of his coat. We stood there, shifting awkwardly for a few seconds before he said, “It’s pretty slow right now. Would you, uh, be interested in taking a hayride? Minus the hay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s something I want to show you. It’ll only take a few minutes. If you want I can tell your parents where we’re—”
“No!” I held out my arm to stop him from heading up the hill. “I’ll text them. They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a message to Nick: With TJ. Cover for me.
His response came almost immediately: You owe me.
Didn’t I know it.
I followed TJ back toward the tree-bundling area, where two tractors hitched to trailers sat waiting outside the fence. In the fall, the trailer beds would’ve been decorated with hay and pumpkins, but in winter they were used to transport trees from pickup locations after customers cut them down. Not that my dad ever took advantage of the service. He always made us trudge through the snow, carrying the Palmera family tree like a crew of pallbearers.
“Hop in.” TJ extended his hand, helping me into the narrow cab next to him. He looked at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as the engine roared to life, and once again, I wondered what in the hell I’d gotten myself into.
• • •
The tractor bumped and chugged up the hills through the winding dirt paths. I sipped my coffee contentedly, watching the landscape change with each variety of tree. In my head, I kept trying out ways to subtly broach the topic of Templeton. But after the underhanded way Mrs. Keene had thrown my own lack of attendance in my face, what came out of my mouth when TJ killed the engine was the opposite of subtle.
“Do you think you would’ve been better off staying at Templeton?”
He looked understandably confused. “Why do you ask?”
I sighed. “I tested into the honors program, but my parents couldn’t afford to send me. In the back of my mind, I’m always wondering if I screwed myself over by not going.”
“As far as what? College?”
“Mhmm. Credits, scholarships. All that stuff.”
TJ shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Marisa. Plenty of people get scholarships and college credits without ever setting foot inside Templeton.” His face hardened. “It’s not the Holy Grail, despite what some people think.”
I turned to look him in the eye. “People like who?”
“People who don’t have their priorities straight.”
“What people?” I pressed.
TJ’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute,” he said, regarding me suspiciously. “Are you—did Charlie tell you about my ex-girlfriend?”
His what?
“Your ex-girlfriend?”
Why would he call Kendall his ex? If they weren’t together anymore, she damn sure hadn’t gotten the memo. Did this mean he really was the smarmy cheater she suspected him to be? Was he lying to me? A brand-new can of WTF had just spewed open like a shaken soda.
“Yeah, ex. The prefix that goes before girlfriend when you were dating someone but now you’re not. And I’m not anymore. File it under ‘figuring out my priorities.’”
I couldn’t challenge him. Not without giving away my connection to Kendall and the real reason I’d even begun hanging out with him. So, even though I was dying to dig further, I diverted.
“Were your priorities worth the ‘change of scenery’?”
He held my gaze without faltering. “I like the scenery just fine.” But his eyes stayed locked with mine, telling me he didn’t mean the hills or the trees. As my heart began to climb into my throat under the unwavering stare of his gold-brown eyes, the corner of his mouth pulled up, and he cocked his head toward the hood of the tractor. “Check it out.”
We’d parked at the top of a hill, overlooking a field with a pond. The pond was smaller than the one next to the barn, which looked like a tiny toy house in the backdrop, and the trees here were sparse and less uniform. In fact, they weren’t even Christmas trees. Sunlight shone through bare, regal branches that stretched to the sky and reflected in the water’s surface. Frost coated the grass and the spiny, barren bushes surrounding the pond, making the whole place look secret and untouched.
I leaned forward in my seat. “This is beautiful.”
“Of every acre on this farm, this is my favorite spot.” TJ leaned closer and stretched his arm in front of me, pointing to my right. “See the barn back there? My telescope is trained on this field. When the horses were alive, they loved coming down here in the spring and chewing on the forsythia bushes around the water. I used to stand up ther
e and watch them.”
“Horses eat plants?”
“Ours did. They loved strawberries too, so I made my dad plant some back there.” He motioned toward the frozen shrubbery, then pointed to the right again. “See those two benches at the edge of the woods?” I followed his finger to two squat stone seats at the rim of the tree line and nodded. “That’s where they’re buried. My uncle built those as markers so I could still see them from the barn.”
“You really took it hard when they died, didn’t you?”
TJ shifted, looking embarrassed. “Stuff like that is hard on kids.”
“It’s hard on anybody. Remember the ankle bracelet you asked me about last night?”
“I do.”
I rolled my cup between my hands. “Every year, my grandmother had Christmas Eve dinner at her house. She went all out with the decorations, and she always ordered a bunch of poinsettia plants to line the front walk and the stairs. She called them her ‘red carpet.’ I used to make her do commentary on my outfits while I walked it.” I smiled at the memory. “She passed away on Christmas Eve when I was twelve years old.”
TJ touched my shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She had a heart attack at some point that morning. But she’d still managed to roll out her red carpet, and I think of her every time I see a poinsettia. I had one on my charm bracelet that my mom had scoured every store in Pennsylvania to find. And now I’ll probably never see it again.”
“I’m really sorry, Marisa,” he said again. “Maybe you could make a new one yourself?”
A sardonic laugh burst from my throat. “I’ve been too busy making things for other people these days.”
If only he knew.
Oblivious to my sarcasm, TJ offered to check with some of his suppliers for me. Then he glanced back at the farm stretched out behind us. “We should get you a real poinsettia from the sales tent. They’re not the best for wearing as jewelry, but maybe you could put it in your hair or something.”