Chapter 33 Jane
Jane
The sound of Pa strumming his guitar tickles my eardrums.
It’s Sunday, early evening, and we’re all gathered on the wooden dock of the pond for Vespers.
And by all of us, I mean all of us.
Luke is here! I can’t believe it. He wasn’t lying about surprising me.
He’s only been here two days, but everything is already so much better.
Not that we can show it.
He knows—especially after what went down in Dallas—that we must keep us a secret.
So now he sits cross-legged, baby Molly in his lap, her sweat-soaked hair glued to her forehead, head rolling on Luke’s angular shoulder. She took to him like a long-lost sibling, toddling toward him, chubby arms open, babbling, “Wuke, Wuke.”
Pa sings the last words to John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads”—sometimes he mixes in a folk song with hymnals—plucking the final notes, the sound pealing out over the water.
“Tonight we celebrate the arrival of Luke, good son of Antonio and Rose, sent here to learn how to be an even better servant of the Lord.” Pa’s voice rings out over the pond.
He coulda been a preacher. I swear to God, he loves the attention, loves the air of authority. So now he’s a pretend preacher.
“Amen!” Mom adds, beaming at Luke.
Luke smiles, dips his head in reverence. Damn, he’s good at playing his role, too.
“And tonight, we also celebrate Jane’s birthday. My Sunshine is eighteen! As of yesterday. I can’t believe it!” Pa says, his eyes glassy with tears, his voice thick. He’s also tipsy; I note an open bottle of whiskey sitting next to his guitar case. “Shall we?”
My cheeks flame. “No, Pa, that’s not really necessary—”
But before I can protest anymore, the birthday song belts out of all of them, even baby Molly. Mom mouths the words, though her lips are a tight line, as if she hates the very fact of my birth.
But I flick my eyes away from her, land them on Luke.
Delicious Luke, whose deep-brown eyes kill me, who sings the birthday song as if he’s serenading me, like it’s just the two of us out here.
When he arrived Friday night, it was late, the sky already the color of river silt.
I was doing my nightly dousing of the gardens.
Water was dribbling from the mouth of the garden hose, turning the crumbly soil silky when I heard the rumbling of Luke’s Camaro, a sound I have memorized as well as any lyrics to a favorite song.
I jerked my head up, saw the beams of his headlights moving over the pasture as his tires dipped in and out of potholes.
What the…?
Pa came striding out of the house, roped his arm around my shoulder.
“He’s coming to live here for the summer. Apprentice under me. Get outta trouble in Dallas, get a taste of good old clean country living. I know y’all are friendly, so I thought you’d be happy—”
I swiveled my gaze toward Pa’s face, scanned to see if he meant something more by friendly. He didn’t seem to. But I decided I didn’t care if he was on to us. Long as he kept his trap shut in front of the others.
“Luke’s great. I am excited. Someone other than Julia to talk to.”
At this, Pa chuckled. “And I figured we could use the extra help around here.”
My stomach clenched. What exactly was Pa gonna make Luke do?
But then he squeezed my shoulder, set me at ease. “And Mr. Napolitano specifically said he wants him to learn the trade—”
“Woodworking—” I rushed in. As if to cement it.
“Yep, exactly. So he’ll be staying out here in the shed I just built. Working side by side with me, learning the different saws and such. Like my pa showed me.”
Deep into the night, well past midnight, when I was certain everyone else was asleep, I crawled down the ladder from the loft, slipped out across the pasture to Luke’s shed.
Creaked open the door.
He was on a mattress, leaning his upper body against the wall where a headboard should be, reading by lantern light. A crumbling copy of a collection of Rumi’s poetry.
“Thought you’d never come.” He grinned up at me, patting the spot next to him for me to take.
On the floor, a single candle burned in a votive, and a bottle of red wine stood ready, waiting to be uncorked.
After we each had a glass, I slipped under his thin bedspread with him, let him spoon me, keeping my ears pricked for any sounds, any signs that we were being watched.
We kept all our clothes on, just in case, Luke’s voice in my ear, growling, “Happy early birthday, Jane.”
All the next day, he was at Pa’s side at the sawing table, sweat streaming off him, his gorgeous skin glistening.
I noticed that Julia made a lot more trips by Pa’s shed than normal.
He was a sight: Smooth, tanned. Tall, lean, but with muscles rippling. Moppy hair made even sexier by the work, the sweat, the messiness.
Of course, we had to invite her to the Circles with us. And, sigh, ugh, of course she said yes. I swear she somehow knows about us, wants to drive me crazy by not letting me be alone with Luke.
I even let her ride shotgun, mainly because I didn’t want me and Luke to slip up, to somehow forget and hold hands over the console as we always do.
Though we couldn’t act like we were together, pride still crackled through me when I introduced him to everyone. I thought Blair was gonna pass out from flirting with him so much.
And Nellie. Whew.
I still can’t believe he let her inside his Camaro, hung out with her like that. Like I said, we aren’t the jealous types, but it definitely bugged me. Because it was Nellie.
When I snuck into his cabin later that night, I brought it up, carefully choosing my words so I didn’t sound clingy.
“Be careful with that Nellie girl. She’s…weird.”
Luke laughed. “That’s judgy. And not like you at all.”
I socked him in the arm. “No, it’s just”—I shifted in his bed and sat up—“she’s been mean to me. Ever since we moved here.”
Luke’s fingers tickled the top of my hand. “Really? You ever wonder why?”
I shook my head. “No, but Blair said it’s because she’s just jealous.”
“Bingo. I mean, look at you.” His fingers were now in my hair, twisting a strand. “And that girl’s twisted up. I can relate to that. She needs a friend—”
“But does it have to be you?”
“Ha, no. But I mean, yeah, maybe? Like, no, I’m not gonna be her new best friend, but I will be nice to her. You should try it, too. She’s not a bad person—”
“Ha, fat chance.”
“Jane Swift.” His lips brushed against mine. “You’re a devil.”