Chapter 6
Present
Diane gave me a look of gentle sadness, her brow slightly wrinkled with thoughtful consideration. “It sounds like you really loved him.”
“Yes, I did,” I said, recalling how deeply I had fallen for Jack that summer. “More than anything.” Remembering Jack—his laughter, the way his blue eyes shimmered in the sunlight— felt like poking at an old wound. It hurt, but there was a comforting familiarity in the pain.
“Speaking of Jack…wasn’t he the reason you landed in Kitty Hawk in the first place? In my research for this week, I came across a transcript of an interview you did years ago with the Charlotte observer, where you mentioned him as being the reason you left home.”
I nodded once, my thoughts drifting. “But it wasn’t just him. There were many factors that led to my leaving.”
Diane leaned back in her chair, inspecting my face as if searching for a hint of some hidden truth. “Like what?”
“For starters, there was the sheer monotony of life back home. Every day was the same people, the same conversations, the same landscapes. Not to mention I was struggling with my career choice. I enjoyed being a teacher, at first, but as time went on I found it wasn’t what I'd dreamed of. The kids were great, but the bureaucracy was suffocating, and there was no room for creativity, no space for spontaneity. It was disheartening to say the least.”
“I see.” Diane jotted down notes in her notepad, her brows drawn together for a second before she finally looked up at me again. “So, whatever happened between you and Jack? Did you ever work up the nerve to tell him how you felt or did the secret wither away with time?”
I shifted my gaze to an old black-and-white photo on the wall.
The only tangible memory of me and Jack, arm in arm when we were teenagers.
It had been taken a few days before I left for college.
“Yes,” I admitted, a lump forming in my throat.
“I told him. But it took a few words of encouragement and an unforgettable sunset to coax it out of me.”
Sims Chapel, TN
August 1949
“Sara, what brings you by?” George asked one evening as he was closing up shop.
“I was hoping to talk to you, if you have a minute.”
“For you, course I do.” He offered me a seat in the shack and a glass of sweet tea. “What’s on your mind, darlin’?”
I took a deep breath, tracing the rim of my tea glass. “George, I’ve been thinking…about Jack.”
“What about Jack? He’s not in some kind of trouble, is he?”
I shook my head, my lips pressing together in a tight line as I searched for the right words. “No…it's just…I kinda like him, you see, and I don’t exactly know how to tell him. And since you know him better than just about anyone, I thought you might have an idea.”
George leaned back in his chair, his face relaxing. “Oh. And here I was worrying it was something serious.”
“This is serious, George,” I protested. “At least to me. I’ve been trying all summer to work up the courage to tell him, but no matter how hard I try, the words just won’t come.”
“I’m sorry.” George’s grin softened into a warm smile. “I didn't mean to belittle your feelings. When it comes to Jack, he…well, he's not the easiest to read. But I can tell you this—he thinks mighty highly of you.”
“He does?”
“Of course. You should see how his face lights up whenever someone mentions your name. I’m no mind reader, but if that ain’t a sign of affection, I don’t know what is.”
A blush crept across my cheeks.
“But if you really wanna know how he feels, talk to him, and be truthful. Jack, he values honesty above all else. You, of all people, should know that.”
I was silent as I absorbed his words, my mind swirling with thoughts of Jack. I finally nodded, meeting George's gaze. “Honesty,” I said, my fingers absently tracing the condensation on my tea glass. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just… What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
George shrugged. “Then he doesn't. And that will sting, no doubt about it.
But at least you'll know where you stand. Who knows? Maybe he feels the same way, and you’re worried for nothing.
Sometimes, the fear of rejection outweighs the possibility of happiness.
But what's most important is that you stay true to yourself and your feelings.
If he can't reciprocate, it's not because you're at fault, but because his feelings are different. And that’s okay.”
I listened to George, his words resonating deep within me. Something shifted, a slow unearthing of a courage I didn't realize I had. “You're right,” I said, the words leaving me in a rush. “I have to tell him.”
George smiled at me, the kind of smile that made you feel like you've accomplished something great. “That's the spirit,” he said, lifting his glass in a silent toast to my newfound resolution.
Later that night, I lay in bed, replaying George's words in my head.
Jack. Honesty. Rejection. Happiness. The fear of rejection was something I had always battled with, a lurking shadow that kept me silent about my deepest feelings.
But now, the possibility of happiness seemed worth the risk.
Jack was a young man who made me laugh, who listened when I spoke and saw me for who I truly was.
I thought of his warm smile, his endless eyes that seemed to hold a world of mystery I yearned to unravel. Yes, I decided, he was worth the risk.
The following day dawned bright and beautiful, with an intensity that mirrored my own resolve.
Buoyed by George's supportive words, I found myself striding toward the lake with a fierceness I didn't know I possessed.
I had dressed in my favorite blouse, a soft pastel pink that complemented my complexion and had me brimming with confidence.
The closer I got to the water, the faster my heart raced, but I did not let the fear deter me.
At the edge of the lake, where the creek merged with the water, I found Jack hunched over his journal, deep in thought.
“Whatcha working on?”
He looked up as I approached. “Oh, nothing. Just doing a little writing,” he said, closing the journal and tucking it away.
“Are you working on another story?”
Jack shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking about Lewis.”
“Oh.” I sat down beside him on the grassy bank. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, not really. I just… I miss him, you know?”
I nodded, not quite knowing what to say. “I can only imagine,” I said, placing my hand over his.
He glanced at our intertwined hands, then back at me, his eyes reflecting the same vulnerability he always hid behind his mischievous grin.
He sighed, a deep weary sound that seemed to echo across the lake.
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only one who remembers him. Like if I stop, he’ll just…fade away.”
“I don’t think memories work like that, Jack. Mother says that memories are resilient, like people. They aren’t tied to the number of people who remember, but to the strength of the emotions they evoke. I think Lewis will always be a part of you, no matter what. He’ll always be a part of me too.”
Jack was silent for a moment, studying the rippling water as if it held the answers to the questions he was too afraid to ask.
“I guess you're right,” he finally said, his gaze shifting back to me.
“I just worry that I'm not doing him justice.
That by not talking about him, I'm failing him in some way.”
I shifted closer, the grass whispering softly around us. “Grief is a strange thing. There's no right or wrong way to handle it. You're not failing Lewis by not talking about him all the time.”
His lips tightened, a faint line appearing between his brows. Just then, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of evening blooms. We sat there, shoulder to shoulder, as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon.
“I think that Lewis would have liked this moment,” Jack said. “The tranquility of the lake, the colors of the sunset. He always found peace in nature.”
I observed him, his profile etched against the dying light of the day. “He’d be glad to know you’re finding peace here too. Lewis would want you to remember him, of course, but also to live your life. To find joy wherever you can.”
There was another long pause, broken a moment later when Jack turned to me and said, “So, what are you all gussied up for this evening?”
I’d nearly forgotten what I was wearing. I glanced down at the sleeveless blouse I had chosen, the one with the delicate lace border that Jack had always admired. “Oh, this?” I smoothed my hands over the material self-consciously. “I just wanted to feel like a girl today.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on me longer than usual. “You certainly look like one. You always do clean up nice.”
His words stirred something in me, a strange mix of pleasure and surprise. Jack wasn’t usually one for compliments. I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head slightly. “You think so?”
“Sure.”
My cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through me. Despite the cool evening air, I felt a sudden heat that had nothing to do with the remnants of the day’s sunlight. “Thank you, Jack. That’s nice of you to say.”
His eyes met mine, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a half-smile. “You’re welcome.”
For a few long seconds, we just looked at each other.
His gaze was soft yet held a certain intensity that stirred my heart.
I felt compelled to say something, anything, but I sat there, my words caught in my throat.
In the ensuing quiet, the sounds of nature grew louder—the wind through the trees, the distant call of a bird.
When the moment had passed, Jack turned his attention back to the lake. “It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?”
I followed his gaze out toward the water, the setting sun casting rays of gold and orange that danced across its surface. “Yes, it certainly is.”
“I reckon I could spend the rest of my life right here on this bank, looking at sunsets like this. I know some folks want fortune and fame, but not me. Simple pleasures like the chirping of crickets and good company are all I need.”
I was speechless again. His sentiment was so sincere, so genuine that it caught me off guard. “Jack,” I began, hesitating before going on. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
I swallowed, my heart pounding against my chest as if it was trying to find its way out. The question I’d held back for so long threatened to choke me, but I managed to push it out in a breathless whisper. “Would you ever want me to be a part of those simple pleasures?”
“Of course I would,” he answered without hesitation. “I reckon you and I will always be friends.”
His words were comforting, yet they sent a pang of disappointment through my heart.
Friends. Just friends. I nodded slowly, forcing a smile onto my face.
I wanted to ask another question, to dig deeper, to make him understand I was talking about more than mere friendship, but I didn’t.
I couldn't. The fear of rejection was too much for my heart to take. Instead, I watched the sun set deeper into the lake, each second passing like an eternity. I longed for him to understand the truth behind my words, to understand the depth of my feelings. But, as the last rays of light faded and twilight began to creep in, I realized that it wasn’t time for such revelations.
At dusk, we hiked through the woods until we reached the fork in the road. And just like always, Jack went one way and I the other. But before we parted, I turned to him and said, “I was hoping we could go out on the water one last time before I leave for school. You know, for old times’ sake.”
Jack paused, a shadow of uncertainty dimming his eyes.
He glanced at me, then back to the path leading to his house.
He seemed to consider the possibilities for a moment.
“Sure,” he finally said. “How about tomorrow evening, after work? We can bring the fishing gear if you want, maybe try our luck at snagging one last catfish.”
“Tomorrow is fine, but let’s leave the gear. I’ve already caught my fair share of fish this summer. I just want to ride around and take in the scenery one last time, if that’s all right.”
His nod was slow, thoughtful. “All right, just the scenery it is.”
As he walked away, his figure growing smaller in the fading light, a pang of sorrow clenched my heart. Tomorrow would be bittersweet, a final farewell to the lake that held so many precious memories.
That night, I stayed up later than normal, watching the moon rise high into the star-studded sky.
I’d done it again—chickened out, too afraid to voice my true feelings.
It was the same old tug of war between my heart and my fear.
But as I lay there, I made a promise to myself.
Tomorrow, I would tell Jack everything. No more hiding, no more pretending. Just the raw, unfiltered truth.