Chapter 6 #3
“That’s it,” Luke said, high-fiving me. “Keep going.”
As we worked side by side in the quiet field, the air warm and still, the earth soft beneath my feet, my hands moved without thought, and I found myself drawn to the steady rhythm of it, lulling me into a familiar place.
Much like cleaning the cabins, the work transformed from a chore to a balm.
But this work provided something different.
As children, Lila and I had thrived under the open skies.
We were powered by the sun. And the land, in its vastness, wrapped itself around us, as familiar and close as our own skin.
Outside, we felt rooted, untouchable, part of something larger than ourselves.
It helped shape our understanding of belonging.
Out there, we never questioned where we belonged or who we were.
It was in the soil we touched, the wind that swept across our faces, the endless horizon. We weren’t invisible.
And that was what I was missing, what I hadn’t felt walking to Anderson, or even on my way here: belonging.
It hovered just beyond reach, like something I could almost touch but never quite grasp.
It was as if the earth knew me, remembered me, as much as I had once known it.
Yet each time it flickered, I shoved it away, not daring to believe it was real.
But I know what I felt. It came and went like the lightest touch of a butterfly’s wing, and I had to trust I would see it again in its fullness.
Before we knew it, we’d finished the field and were marveling at our hard work. “Well, damn,” Luke said, wiping sweat from his brow. “It would’ve taken me another hour or more on my own. Let me go up to the house and get you something to drink.”
“That’s okay. I should get going,” I said, running my hands across my face.
Just then, a faint rumble announced the arrival of a blue truck turning into the driveway. “Looks like they’re done,” Luke said, waving at the truck as we walked to the house. He whistled, a piercing sound that echoed across the field, then yelled, “Jack!”
The sound reached Jackson’s ears just as he descended from the truck.
He lifted his hand in greeting and went into the house.
A few seconds later, Jackson swung the door back open, and its screen door slammed shut behind him with a sharp whack.
He stepped onto the porch, a towering figure against the fading daylight.
His body seemed to stretch the entire height of the porch.
He took a bite of an apple; also in hand, a fresh white shirt contrasted with the mud-splattered shirt he wore.
He clenched the apple in his mouth and removed his shirt, revealing a torso chiseled with rugged strength, every sinewy muscle a testament to physical labor.
Impossibly, he looked better than he had a few days ago.
He slipped on the clean shirt and finished chewing.
I hadn’t realized he hadn’t noticed me, but he must not have, because I saw the recognition and surprise on his face all of a sudden, all his features lifting.
“Hi,” I said, a simple greeting that hung awkwardly in the air. I flushed with embarrassment. What did I look like to him? Just showing up unannounced on his farm. I wanted to kick myself for being so stupid, for letting curiosity get the better of me. How would I explain why I was here?
“I’ll give you guys a little privacy,” Luke said, nudging Jackson on the shoulder as he walked past him and into the house.
Jackson didn’t return my greeting. Instead, he took another bite and threw his old shirt on a nearby chair. He walked to the edge of the porch, his brow furrowed. “How did you get out here?”
“I walked.”
“You walked? From the ferry?”
“I like walking.”
“Five miles? That’s not a walk—that’s a journey.”
“Like I said…I didn’t mind. I like to walk.”
He studied me as he stepped down from the porch, close enough for me to remember the details of his face, his smell, everything I’d captured when I met him at the farmers market. The pull I had felt then returned. “Would you like to come inside? Rest a bit? Cool off?”
“No, thank you.”
“Would you like some water?”
“I have some.”
He took a huge bite of his apple, the crunch loud. “What brings you all the way out here?”
“I…um…” I stumbled. “I wanted to tell you that I got the flowers,” I said. It came out in a single stream of words.
“But not thank me for them?” he said, his mouth full.
I sounded silly and looked ridiculous. What was I doing? “I shouldn’t have come. I’m going to go.” I turned and started walking away.
“Go where? Back to the ferry?”
“Yes. If I hurry, I can make the last one,” I said over my shoulder.
“You can’t do that.”
“And why not?” I asked, stopping and facing him again.
He looked up to the sky, the sun fading along with the day. “It’ll be dark soon.” In his words, I sensed a concern that surprised me.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
“I’ll take you to the campground.”
It was my turn to look at the sky. He wasn’t wrong. “You don’t have to take me all the way. You can just take me to the ferry.”
“Do you have a car there?”
“No.”
“So how did you get from the campground to the ferry? Did Walt drive you?”
“I walked. I like to walk.”
“I know. You said that, but—”
Just then, Luke reappeared. He released a loud grunt as he collapsed into a chair. “I finished clearing. Leigh helped me,” he said, propping his feet up on the porch railing.
Jackson’s gaze remained fixed on me but was now tinged with curiosity, layered over whatever emotions had been there before. “You helped?”
I responded with a casual shrug. “I didn’t mind,” I said, looking at my nails and the dirt under them. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”
Jackson and Luke exchanged looks, a silent exchange that underscored the depth of friendship. Jackson said to Luke, a hint of playful insistence in his tone, “I was trying to convince Leigh to let me drive her home.”
“And I’m trying to tell Jackson—”
“Jack,” he interrupted, shaking his head once. “Just Jack.”
“I’m trying to tell Jackson that I can walk back.”
Luke whistled; then he laughed. “I like her. She’s not scared of you.
” He stood and descended from the porch, clapping Jackson’s shoulder with a solid thud.
“Leave it to me. I’ve dealt with my sister plenty.
Let me give it a shot.” Then he leaned in toward me conspiratorially, his hand covering one side of his mouth, and whispered, “Jack’s not the smoothest with the ladies. ”
Turning to face both of us, Luke raised his voice slightly, “Leigh, Jack knows you can walk, but he’s going to Camden anyway to pick up that fried chicken order he wants to get us for dinner.”
Luke winked at Jackson, who playfully grabbed him by his shoulder and squeezed.
Luke howled in exaggerated pain. My lips twitched, and my fingertips flew to my mouth.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d found something funny.
I thought the feeling would go away, but it stayed and tickled something inside me, until it roared to the surface.
I laughed—a strange, unbridled thing—a suppressed chuckle at first, then a hearty belly laugh that took my breath and rolled through me.
It was a stupid thing to laugh at, and to this day, I don’t know why I did.
Looking back, I like to think that laugh was waiting for the right moment to escape.
And that’s not always the same thing as waiting for something funny.
Jackson’s and Luke’s brows furrowed and slow smiles grew on their faces before Luke said, “See? Leigh thinks I’m funny. Right, Leigh?”
“I think you’re very funny, Luke,” I said. The laugh settled down, relaxing me, but my face continued to hold a huge smile.
“Isn’t it your turn to cook tonight?” Jackson asked, releasing Luke from his grip but not taking his eyes off me.
Luke rubbed his shoulder. “What? I was just trying to help.”
Jackson gestured toward the door. “Help by starting dinner. Go.”
“Leigh’s never going to want to come back out here again. We never have company except on bonfire nights.” Luke turned back to me. “You should come back out for a bonfire. Tibb will be back soon, and he’s much nicer than Jack.”
“Say goodbye, Luke,” Jackson said, giving him a gentle shove toward the porch.
“Bye, Leigh,” Luke said before disappearing into the house. “Appreciate your help today.”
Luke vanished before I could respond, leaving Jackson and me alone beneath an expansive evening sky that deepened with each passing minute. I was flushed from the dizzy heat of being alone with him.
“I’m sorry about him. Luke can be a little immature.”
“He’s funny. I like him.”
“Will you let me pay you for your work today?”
“You don’t have to. I didn’t do it for the money.”
“Why did you do it?”
I lifted my shoulders and dropped them. “I wanted to. I needed to. I like being outside. Plus, I was curious.”
“I believe in fair exchange for labor.”
“Your flowers were more than enough.”
“So, you liked them?” he said, smiling, flashing a row of white teeth. His handsomeness slapped me in the face.
I loved them, but he could never know. Could never know that I’d stared at them all night, smelled them every time I walked by them. But I didn’t want to play, couldn’t play this game; it was too dangerous.
So instead, I said, “I know what you’re doing.”
Jackson took another bite of his apple. “What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to keep me here until it gets dark so you’ll have to take me to the ferry.”
“Is it working?” Jackson asked, a smirk appearing.
“All right. I guess,” I added.
Jackson’s face brightened. We walked to the truck, and he held the driver’s-side door for me. “The passenger door doesn’t open,” he explained.