Chapter 27
A Delicate Balance – Kayla
H aving narrowly escaped a spit attack, we decide it’s best if we head back indoors and to the saloon on the property.
We both order aloe vera tea.
“I’ve never had this before. Have you?” I ask after the server brings our mugs out.
“I can’t say that I have.” He raises his up to his face and takes a whiff. “Smells nice enough.”
I do the same. “Yeah.” But to me, it smells exactly like an Indiana summer. After Collin and I refused to wear sunscreen and inevitably got burned, our father would lather us in it while warning that we were going to get skin cancer someday. Fortunately, that has yet to happen. Although I’m much more into sun protection nowadays, hence the large hat that’s hanging from the chair behind me.
Then, I take a drink and want to spit it out immediately, and I cup my hand over my mouth.
When I look up at Jack, his nose and upper lip are raised. He kind of looks like a Who from The Grinch .
He coughs. “It’s…”
“Bitter.”
After looking around, to what I assume make sure no one was within earshot of us, he repeats, “Very bitter.”
“We have to finish it though, don’t we?” My legs are crossed, and I’m bouncing the one on the ground in anticipation of having to chug the rest.
“I think it would be rude not to.”
But then I sit back and cross my arms. “You first.”
He grins. “No fair. If we’re going to do this, we should do it together.”
Ugh. I roll my eyes but nevertheless take the mug in my hands. “Ready?”
Jack lifts his and nods. “Set.”
“Go!”
We tip them back, but I have to stop when the heat becomes too much for my throat.
“Oh, goodness.” I use the back of my hand to wipe under my mouth.
“Done!” he announces with an eyebrow raised before opening his mouth like a professional speed eater to show me it was all gone.
I quietly clap. “Very impressive.”
“Here.” His fingers are flapping back and forth.
“What?”
“I’ll drink yours.”
“Really?”
He cocks his head to the side, and his dark eyes widen. “Yes, but I’m about to change my mind—” he mutters through a clenched jaw.
“Here!” I shove it over to him. Then, I watch as he chokes it back. When it’s gone, I inspect the empty glass. “My hero.”
He does a little bow. “Thank you, thank you.”
At least we still have water to sip. That’s safe.
“So, did you have a nice time today?”
“I did,” I respond after sipping through the straw. Especially the part where we almost kissed. But almost being yacked on kind of ruined the mood. Although, I’m hopeful to get into it again.
“Good.”
“Did you?”
“I did.”
Then, having just thought of them, I lean over the table with my chin in my hand and ask him, “What do you think Murphy and Moe are doing right now?”
“Ah!” He looks up before meeting my gaze. “I think Moe is consoling Murphy for missing us.”
That makes me laugh. “No! They’d never target us!”
“Wouldn’t they?”
“No! They’re our friends.”
He seems to just look at me for a few seconds.
“What?” I raise the napkin in my lap. “Is there something on my face?”
“No. I was just thinking about an old Somali proverb I heard when I was visiting there.”
“You’ve been to Somalia?” I could be wrong, but I thought it was a very dangerous place to visit.
“Very briefly and on my way back home after a months-long volunteer program in Kenya.”
Volunteer work. Huh. I wouldn’t expect that from someone so filthy rich, but it also reminds me that you can never judge a book by its cover. “What kind of volunteer work?”
“Well, I was in the Peace Corps.”
“What?” That’s very impressive.
He grins, and I assume he gets that surprised response often. Then, he fiddles with the straw in his water. “Yeah. In between high school and college. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go or what I even wanted to be, so the Peace Corps it was.”
“What did you do?”
“Worked in schools, mostly.”
Aw. The idea of his strong, tall body being engulfed by a bunch of little kids melts my heart.
“Yeah, it was really rewarding. And,” he shakes his head, “kind of terrifying at points too. Especially when we had to go too close to the Somalian border.”
My brow furrows. “But you just said you went to Somalia.”
He shuffles in his chair. “Again, very briefly. Plus, I was wearing sunglasses and a headscarf. Terrorists target and kidnap foreigners. So, you can’t be too careful.”
“Wow.” I can’t imagine being somewhere so scary. Even Morocco was a big step for me, and I can hardly believe that I’m actually here.
“Anyway, back to the Somali proverb.”
Oh, yeah. I forgot how our conversation got directed here.
“I can’t remember the exact wording, but it was something about how a man without a camel cannot go to heaven.”
I lightly smack the table. “Well, that’s that then. We’ve gotta get you a camel”
He snickers. “Can you imagine? Just sailing around the world with a camel.”
“I think Murphy would like it!”
At that, he cackles. “Oh! I didn’t realize we were going to take one of these camels.”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“We’ll ask Dalia how much they are when we leave.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I hope they don’t get seasick,” he jokes.
“Well, the two that they loaded onto Noah’s Ark didn’t. At least the Bible didn’t mention that.”
His eyes narrow at me. “I thought you said you weren’t religious?”
“I’m not. Not now. But I was forced to go to church a lot as a kid. It felt like a practically lived there in between services, youth groups, and everything else.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“I’m always fascinated when I talk to people like you who were raised religiously.”
“You weren’t?” Obviously, I gather from his statement that he didn’t. But just assuming wouldn’t make for good conversation.
“Not at all.”
Now that I can’t fathom. I may not align with religion anymore, but I still accredit it for making me a good person.
“So, what do you consider your moral compass then?”
He’s now spinning the white, long wrapper around his finger. “My mother.”
Oh. That’s sweet.
“For instance, she was the one who suggested that I join the Peace Corps when I was struggling with finding a purpose near the end of my senior year.”
“Wow. You think she’d be too worried about her son traveling across the world.”
He shrugs one of his shoulders, with his corresponding eye and side of the mouth drooping up and down, respectively. “We’d been all around the world by that point.”
Right. Yet another way in which our childhoods were very, very different.
“I see.” Then, something hits me. “Are there any countries you haven’t been to that are on your bucket list?”
“Hmm. Great question.” He puts his elbow on the table, and he taps his chin with his finger. “Probably Afghanistan.”
He caught me off guard yet again. “Really?”
“Yeah. I might not look like it, but I have some familial ancestry there. It popped up on one of those DNA tests, and then I looked into it, and sure enough, my great grandpa was an Afghani immigrant.”
“That’s so interesting. Do you know why no one in your family knew or at least talked about that?” I’m loving getting to know him better.
“I don’t think he discussed it much. At least, my grandpa, his son, never mentioned it. Unfortunately, he died before I found out, so I can’t ask if he was even aware of the fact.”
“I gotta say, I’m kind of jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Your ancestry. When I got mine back, it said I was one hundred percent European.”
He takes a sip of water. “But Europe is so diverse and full of culture.”
“I know.”
“Have you ever been?”
I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t.
“Well, you must go. What parts are your family from?”
“Mainly Ireland—”
“That’s right.” He points at me. “You said your grandparents were Irish.”
I nod. “Yes, so that wasn’t a surprise when it came back. If anything, it would’ve been devastating and strange if I wasn’t mostly Irish. Um, but I guess I am also Italian, French, Polish, English, Scottish.”
“See? All the countries you just listed are so unique from one another. There’s even a vast difference between England, Ireland, and Scotland. Many people assume there isn’t, but they’re wrong. Your grandma and grandpa were actually from Ireland then?”
I tuck some hair behind my ear. “Yep. County Cork.”
He groans. “Kayla, you have to go there. It’s absolutely beautiful.”
“You’ve been?” Again, he obviously has. But rhetorical questions are a necessary evil, especially when first familiarizing yourself with someone.
“Multiple times.”
Lucky. “For business or pleasure?” The latter makes me unreasonably jealous.
“A little of both. There’s a pretty big author I work with there. Um.” He sucks air through his teeth and then wipes at the corners of his mouth. “Anne Margaret Wood.”
I’m glad there isn’t anything in my hands because I probably would’ve dropped it on the floor. “You work with Anne Margaret Wood?” I guess I should’ve done more research.
“Oh, yeah. For quite a few years now.”
“I—I love A Delicate Balance .” It’s a romance that takes place in the Wild West.
Jack smiles. “I’m glad.” Then, he scoots closer to me. “I’m told the character Jim Scott was based off of me.”
I lightly smack his shoulder. “Shut up.” Jim Scott is the wealthy entrepreneur who comes into town and woos Sally Lightworth, the poor barmaid.
He raises his hands up. “That’s what A.M. told me.”
Imagine being such good friends with a world-renowned author that you can call her “A.M.”
However, I’m burning with jealousy as I recall all of the intimate sex scenes between Jim and Sally. Who is she based on? I wonder.