Chapter 8 #4
She stood at my height, with a lean, graceful figure complemented by a pretty face, though her turned-up nose might have been more striking in another context.
But after a while, I could imagine that becoming endearing—even charming—in its own way.
With a practiced flick, she tossed her straight brown hair over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the surroundings for Benny.
She wore an off-the-shoulder sweater that draped over her slender frame, revealing skin that, despite the lack of sunlight, retained a soft sheen.
Her makeup was subtle, enhancing her natural beauty rather than masking it.
The length of her long red nails told me she didn’t often have her hands in the dirt.
She was a contrast to Jackson in every possible way, and I could see why Jackson would like a woman like her.
“Oh,” she said, “I thought I heard Benny with Luke.”
“He is. They just ran off.”
Carly studied me, her eyes taking in my dirty clothes and hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you. I’m Carly. And you are…”
“Leigh,” I responded, offering no further explanation despite the silent demand in her gaze. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you work here?”
“Yes.”
“Does Jack know?” Her tone carried an edge of surprise.
“He’s the one that brought me here.”
“I’m sorry. Jack…brought you…here?”
“Yes.”
“To work?”
“Yes.”
“To work…on the farm?”
“Yes,” I said, crossing my arms, that last yes a bit sharper than it probably should have been.
Carly crossed her arms too, with almost mechanical precision, her irritation over my lack of details about my presence here evident. She looked off toward the main house, as if searching for answers or trying to decide if she should ask.
“Well, I didn’t know he was looking for help. Oh, I mean, I knew he was looking for help, but I didn’t know he had found someone already.”
“Yup… He found me.”
“I see that,” she said, her face twisting into a mask of disapproval as she looked me over again with a scrutinizing eye.
At that moment, Luke and Benny came barreling back toward us, their footsteps pounding the ground in a steady rhythm. Luke’s smile faltered when he saw me talking to Carly.
“Hey, Peanut,” he said with teasing familiarity.
She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “You know I don’t appreciate it when you and Tibb call me that.”
Luke, unperturbed, continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “I didn’t think you were due back yet.”
“I didn’t think Jack had hired someone new yet.”
“Why are you talking about her as if she’s not here?” Luke said. “Peanut, let’s use our manners and introduce ourselves.” He gestured toward me. “This is Leigh.”
“I know,” Carly said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’ve met.”
I had had enough of her stares and questions. “It was nice to meet you, Carly,” I said. “Luke, I need to find some ice for my wrist.”
“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Luke said. “Bye, Benny.”
As we walked toward the main house, an unsettling sensation prickled at the nape of my neck. I knew she was watching us, but I didn’t turn and look back.
“What’s her problem?”
“Everything,” Luke said with a snort.
I skipped dinner with the group again, my body protesting in exhaustion.
The labor of tending to flowers had proved far more grueling than I had expected.
My wrist, which I’d thought had been on the mend since the bus crash, now throbbed with renewed pain.
More than that, my muscles screamed and ached.
I had not been this physically active in years.
Everything hurt. I lay sprawled across the bed, ice pressed against my wrist, when a sharp knock interrupted the quiet of the room.
I didn’t have to guess to know who it was.
I flung open the door just as Jackson’s hand, midair, prepared for another knock. It startled him, and he staggered back a step.
“You missed dinner again,” he said, not trying to mask the frustration in his tone. “But let me guess: You’re not hungry.”
“I ate.”
Jackson furrowed his brow. “What could you have possibly eaten?”
“I had something.”
“What?”
“Food, Jackson,” I said, annoyed by the barrage of questions.
I would survive off the food I’d packed for my disappearance into the woods.
Oatmeal, noodles, and tuna—small meals I made by boiling water on the woodstove.
I was hungry. Hungrier than I had been in years.
The small portion of food I had eaten tonight was not enough to keep up with the calories I’d burned in the field.
But my stock would soon run thin, so I would cut my consumption down further still until I could slip away to fish or figure something else out.
I refused to eat meals with them. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t implicate them more than I already had.
Then there was the matter of his name. Jack felt too familiar. Too personal. His friends called him Jack, people who knew him and cared about him. I was a stranger and was determined to stay one, in my eyes and his. This was the mask I had to wear.
I regret how I acted on the farm that first week and the one after.
Like I said, there are some things I’m not proud of.
My behavior was one of them. I had not yet known myself.
I was scared, and though I had some security on the farm, I still operated in survival mode.
It’s a tough gear to shift out of when you’ve been stuck in the same position most of your life.
“Jack. Why do you insist on calling me Jackson?” he said, his patience wearing thin.
“That’s your name.”
He crossed his arms. “Yes, but that’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“You missed dinner.”
“I had dinner.”
“Not with us.”
I pursed my lips. “I didn’t know that was mandatory.”
“I told you.”
“You mentioned that y’all ate together, not that I had to participate.”
“I thought I made that clear.”
“Well, you looked busy with your family earlier today. I didn’t want to intrude.”
Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed. “My family? What are you talking about?”
“Carly and Benny.”
“You know about them?”
“Yes, I met them. Benny’s a cute kid.”
“When?”
“Today,” I said, moving back to sit on the bed and grimacing as I did, my legs screaming in pain. Of course Jackson noticed and followed me into the cabin. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a softness creeping into his voice.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I’m just a little sore.”
“Your wrist? Luke told me you hurt it today.”
“It’ll be fine. I think I just reinjured it, but it won’t slow me down.”
“Can I take a look at it?” Jackson’s offer was gentle, his hand reaching out.
“I told you—”
“I’m fine,” we both said in unison.
Jackson steadied his breath. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you that it’s okay not to be okay. You don’t need to explain why. You can be unhappy; you just can’t stay there.”
I couldn’t fathom it then, standing there, but I would come to learn that Jackson didn’t see the world through the same lens as everyone else. Life was simple to him, and I would appreciate that perspective and, in time, apply that wisdom when I needed it most.
He shuffled his feet. “I get that this is a new experience for you, working and living here. I’ll give you some time to settle in.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, relief washing over me.
Jackson walked over to the door and tapped the doorframe once. “Oh…breakfast is at six a.m. With my real family.”