Chapter 11 #2
After he dropped Mama off from one of their weekends, he’d call Lila over, all smiles and smooth talk, showing off whatever new car he was driving.
“Look at this beauty,” he’d say, like he was talking about a prized possession instead of a vehicle.
And Lila would always smile back, polite, but the discomfort lingered in her eyes, just for a second, before she’d step forward to admire whatever he wanted her to.
It started as a casual brush of his hand on her arm, or a nudge of her shoulders like they were old friends, when he thought no one was looking.
And Lila, too young, too naive to say anything, learned to smile and nod, as if that was all she could do to make him leave her alone.
I never imagined Deacon Ridley would remain part of our lives for so long. Until his advances toward Lila escalated. Until Mama ignored it and even encouraged it.
Falling in love had always seemed like something I would never want to do.
I didn’t have the best role models for marriage, or for love prevailing.
After a long day spent swimming, when our bodies throbbed with the dull ache of exertion, I could understand that discomfort as a consequence of a day under the sun.
But the pain born from love was not the same.
Love hurt, mentally and physically, and the pain it generated seemed like something I would never desire.
Yet Lila wanted it, craved it with a passion I couldn’t understand.
She talked about it when we swam and as we fell asleep at night.
She dreamed of a future filled with love, marriage, and children.
To her, love was not a want, but a natural progression, a goal to be pursued.
For me, love seemed too simple, something you didn’t have to work for.
I had not yet known what I wanted in life, but I knew I wanted something more than that.
Little did I understand the true nature of love, how it grasps you and envelops you with an embrace so tight that it becomes part of you.
With the right person, it is not a simple pursuit, but a force similar to capturing lightning in a bottle.
In my ignorance, I failed to see that love’s true nature lay not in its simplicity but in its beauty.
Now, as I found myself at my secret swimming spot, I wondered if Jackson and Carly felt the same way about each other.
Their connection appeared destined. Yet Carly had hurt him, Luke had said, which only reinforced my belief that love hurt.
Perhaps Jackson would forgive her, as Mama had always forgiven Daddy.
I needed to clear my head. I looked at the water and knew the thoughts couldn’t reach me there.
And although it was a little chilly for a swim and I had just showered, I stripped off my clothes, tucking them in their usual spot behind a tree, and jumped in.
I swam out a little way and floated on my back, taking in the night sky.
“Leigh!”
Jackson’s voice, loud and laced with alarm, carried across the water.
I lifted my head. He stood at the edge of the water, still dressed in his khaki slacks and sweater he had worn earlier this evening. Nothing seemed to be on fire. I lowered my head back down.
“What are you doing out here? In there?” Now he just sounded worried.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I said, treading the dark water of the river. “I’m swimming.”
“Get out of there!”
“Why?” I asked, flipping and paddling toward the shore.
“There are alligators in there!” he said, his eyes fixed on the ripples spreading outward from where I had been swimming.
“What?” I kicked hard and swam toward the shore, my heart racing. When my feet finally found the ground, I stumbled upward, my naked body exposed to the open air and Jackson’s gaze, wide-eyed, locking on me in surprise.
“What are you doing?” Jackson said, continuing to stare, his eyes taking in the full length of me and back up again before he realized and quickly turned around.
“Getting out of the water.”
“Well…get back in,” he said, his voice faltering, a nervous edge creeping in as he kept his back to me.
“You told me to get out.”
“You’re naked.”
“So?”
“You really aren’t shy, are you?” Jackson said, yanking off his sweater in one fluid motion, and flung it toward me. “Here.”
I snatched the sweater from the air just before it skimmed the water and slipped it on. One hand over his eyes, he turned toward me, extending his other hand. With a quick pull, he yanked me out, and I crashed into him, the warmth of his body enveloping me.
“Thanks,” I said, backing away to get my clothes. I quickly pulled on my pants, the dry fabric clinging uncomfortably to my still-damp skin.
“Do you know they caught the largest alligator in history out here? You scared the hell out of me.”
“Oh…I didn’t know.” The last remnants of adrenaline dissipated, replaced by an involuntary, bubbling laughter that escaped me.
Jackson’s face shifted from puzzled to understanding, and his laughter joined mine.
With a sudden awareness, in that moment I noticed something startling: his smile.
It wasn’t merely a curve of his lips—it was a beacon.
I liked it. I’d seen it before; he’d offered it to me many times.
But tonight was different. It was a weird thought to entertain at such a moment, and I found myself at a loss, trying to make sense of the unexpected feeling.
We stood there, locked in an unspoken exchange, the quiet of the night and the gentle lapping of water the only sounds between us. He stared down at me and I stared up at him, just breathing, until a sudden splash, a branch falling in the water, drew our attention away.
“Why are you out here, Leigh?” he finally asked.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I take this walk every night,” he said. “It’s my way of clearing my head.”
“After I finished at the house, I felt restless and just started walking too,” I said, my eyes drifting out to the water. “I found this trail a few weeks ago, and I’ve been coming here at night to swim.”
“This isn’t your first time swimming out here?” Jackson asked. “You find some trail, and when it ends at water, you decide to strip off your clothes and go swimming in the middle of the night?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “After your date, you just decided to take a walk?”
“Date? That wasn’t a date.”
“Carly said y’all were going out.”
“We went to meet Mr. Tidwell. It wasn’t a date.”
“Does she know that?”
Jackson breathed deeply. “She should. I’ve made it clear there’s nothing between us.”
My shoulders relaxed. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She looks so disgusted every time she sees me. I don’t think she liked not knowing I was working here.”
His voice cut through the cool evening air with a sharpness that left no doubt. “What I do on the Flower Farm and in my personal life is none of her business.” Jackson sighed, his expression changing. “Not that it matters anyway. There may not be a cooperative.”
I hesitated for a moment. There was space between his next words as he grappled with his thoughts, the silence heavy with his internal struggle.
“You weren’t gone very long. I take it the meeting with Mr. Tidwell didn’t go…well?”
“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Why do you say that?”
He shook his head. “I knew I would have a hard time convincing people, but I had no idea it would be this tough.” He paused for a beat, then the words continued to flow out.
“It’s like you can see that your house is on fire but refuse to use the water at your fingertips to put it out.
You just watch it burn. That’s what they’re doing. ”
I swallowed hard at his analogy. “You are doing the right thing,” I said.
He met my gaze with a glimmer of hope. “Do you think so? I can’t seem to convince anyone but Carly of that. These towns around here are drying up—not just Camden. Jobs are drying up. We need something here, something to hold people, to entice the younger generation. I just want to help.”
I didn’t know this Jackson, vulnerable and unsure.
He had always radiated an unshakable amount of confidence, but now a tiny crack appeared in his armor.
I didn’t like this for him, hated that he felt this way, and it pained me to witness his struggle.
An overwhelming urge to comfort him surged through me.
I looked down at the ground, then back up at him. “I was at the town meeting.”
A slight smile flickered across his face. “So…you were curious, huh?”
“I rode with Walt. I thought I would stay for a while, but I stayed for the whole thing.”
“And?”
“And…I was inspired. I’m not even from here, but I was on board.”
Jackson’s smile widened, and my pulse quickened. “I appreciate that.”
In that moment, it became clear that this back-and-forth between us wouldn’t have a winner or loser.
There was no triumph, no defeat, just two people standing face-to-face who had bowed to each other equally and exposed their vulnerabilities.
The question once again played in my mind: What was I going to do with this strange new life?
This time, though, an answer didn’t wait.
Without a second thought, I knew—whatever it took, I would help Jackson make his project a success.
“I admire that you have a purpose. I’m still searching for mine, so how about I just help you with yours in the meantime.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Jackson said, relief and renewed determination evident in his voice. He extended his hand, and I took it.
“But I am curious…why this? Why now?” I asked.
“For so long, I struggled with having a purpose, knowing what I was meant to do. I believed life was all about making money and having a family. Then my uncle came along and showed me a different way of thinking. And when I came here, everything changed. The world quieted, and I knew I would never leave.”
“What about Tibb and Luke? Do you think they would ever leave?”
He pondered the question for a second. “Tibb, no. He’s too much like me. Doesn’t like crowds or big cities. He’s been out in the world; he’s not curious about it. Luke, yes. He has too much talent for Gee’s Bend. He’ll leave, but he’ll come back. I just got to keep him from himself.”
“I can see that.”
He studied me with a piercing gaze, his eyes searching. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re on a bus that breaks down in Camden and you just decide to stay. You come to work with me without any notice and little knowledge of who I am. You’re swimming in alligator-infested waters without a care in the world. Who are you?”
“To be fair, I didn’t know there were alligators in there,” I said lightly, hoping to break the tension.
Jackson’s lips twitched, but his expression remained stern. “Don’t do that. Don’t use humor to deflect. It’s too easy.”
“Too easy for what?”
“Avoidance.”
“You’ve got me all figured out, huh?” I said, trying to mask my discomfort with bravado.
“No, I don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “But I want to.”
I glanced back at the water, its surface shimmering with the moonlight. “It’s beautiful,” I said.
“It is. Like I said, every night after dinner, I walk through the fields and end up right here. My uncle did that too. He would look over everything and make his plans for the next day. He called these walks ‘putting the garden to bed.’ Then, when I got here, he made me walk with him. Most of the time we didn’t talk; we just strolled and pulled weeds.
But he would always tell me that he was here to listen to whatever I had to say.
I knew what he wanted me to do—he wanted me to talk about it.
Talking was the last thing I wanted to do.
I didn’t know him, and I was so angry. I was still grieving my mother and worried about leaving Tibb.
I thought these walks were stupid at first, so I didn’t talk for about a month. Until one day, I did.”
“What did you say?” I asked. I found myself leaning in to his willingness to share his story. My heart ached for what he had been through and all he had accomplished since.
“I told him that I missed my mom. And I was angry with her for dying, for leaving me. Everything came pouring out and he just listened.”
“How did your mom die?” The question tumbled out. For a minute, I thought he might not answer, but he kicked the dirt under his feet and began.
“A drug overdose. She grew up here and wanted nothing more than to leave. And she did. She ran right to New Orleans. I never knew my father. My social worker told me she thought her dealer could have been my dad, but there was no name on the birth certificate. When she died, I went into foster care. My uncle and aunt didn’t know anything about me until years later.
I didn’t even know my mother had a brother.
They came and got me. Brought me here and adopted me. ”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom. That must have been hard for you.”
“The hard came later, once I stopped being so angry at her—angry for being a drug addict, angry for dying, for the fact that I had to go into foster care. It wasn’t until I came here that I stopped being angry and actually grieved her.”
“You were lucky to have your uncle and aunt.”
“They were good people, and I grew to love them so much. They really cared about people, you know. They never met a stranger.”
“I guess that rubbed off on you, huh?” I said, smiling.
He smiled too. “I’d like to think so.”
As the night deepened, a cool breeze wove through the trees, its chill settling around. Jackson stood, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of the moonlight.
“We should head back.”
“Do you want your sweater?” I asked, pulling at it, the smell of his cologne wafting into my nose.
“Keep it,” he said, tugging at his white shirt. “This is more my style.”
We walked in silence until we reached the cabin. I was up the stairs to the door when Jackson spoke.
“I take my nightly walk around eight. You’re welcome to join me. We don’t have to talk. But if you want to, I’ll listen.”