Chapter 17
One of my favorite feelings is the moment when I realize a painting is starting to take shape. Not done, far from it in fact. But I’ve started to make my idea tangible, the possibility truly coming to life. It’s a feeling I recently worried would never come again.
Standing back from my easel, I wrap my hands around a mug of cider and take a long sip as I admire my progress. Real progress, in brilliant shades of autumn and golden light.
And that fizzy, anticipatory feeling washes over me.
I let my body relax into it, like a hug from an old friend.
“Lucy!” Claire’s voice, and the smell of fresh, simmering chili drift up through the open studio door. “Dinner is ready.”
If there is one thing that can make me put my paint brush down, it’s Claire’s chili. She made a pot today to celebrate the first of October, and my mouth is already watering as I head for the kitchen.
“You’re just in time to settle a debate,” Levi tells me, looking over from his seat at the table.
“What’s that?” I jump up on the counter and snatch a piece of cornbread off the tray beside me.
“The finale of Seinfeld—brilliant or a huge let down?”
“Huge let down,” Claire pipes up from across the kitchen. She sets three bowls on the counter and crosses her arms. “Biggest disappointment ever.”
I swing my legs back and forth, my heels tapping the cabinet door beneath me, as I consider the question. “Well, I think for that show, it ended exactly as it needed to.”
“Yes,” Levi cheers. “And why do you say that?”
“I mean it was always a show about nothing. Nothing ever happened, so nothing needed to happen to wrap it up.”
“Thank you,” he says triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air. “Claire, hun, I’m sor—”
He’s cut short by the chime of the doorbell. “Hold that thought,” he says as he moves to answer it for us.
“Maybe it’ll be someone with good opinions,” Claire huffs as I lean over and dip my cornbread in the simmering pot.
“I’m not saying I loved it, I’m saying it made sense.”
She laughs over the sound of footsteps growing near. We look up together as Levi points to the newcomer and says, “This guy claims you know him.”
“Jake,” Claire purrs. “Was Lucy expecting you two nights in a row?”
“She was not,” he admits, his attention set on my shocked expression. “But she left this in my truck last night and I thought maybe she’d want it back sooner than later.”
He holds up my Walkman and smiles knowingly. He’s right, of course, I tore my bedroom apart looking for it this morning.
“Where was it?” I ask, jumping down and padding over to him.
“Passenger side floor, where you had your purse.”
“Thank you.” I accept the CD player and flash him a nervous smile as our hands brush. It’s the same as when he reached for me on purpose last night, the small touch causing a rush within me.
“You have good timing, stay for dinner,” Claire tells him, already reaching for a fourth bowl.
“No, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Jake counters.
“You didn’t. Tell him, Lucy.”
I hug my once lost Walkman to my chest and murmur, “You’re not intruding.”
Jake dips his head towards me and raises his brows. Without him saying a word, I somehow know what he’s asking me with this look.
“Stay,” I tell him quietly. “I want you to.”
The corner of his lip hitches up. “In that case, I’d love to,” he whispers back.
I step back to find Claire watching us intently. “What’s the verdict?”
“He’s staying.”
“Good, he can weigh in,” Levi says as if this is the most common occurrence in the world. It’s comforting to have his easy acceptance—no questions about how we met, who Jake is, or why I was in his truck last night.
“Weigh in on what?”
Jake shrugs out of his jacket and throws it over the back of the couch. He’s wearing a short-sleeve shirt, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen his arms. His solid arms with their perfect lines of taut muscle.
Arms that have been wrapped around me, and upon my noticing them, are creating within me the distinct urge to want that once more.
“You ever watch Seinfeld?” Levi asks, picking up the tray Claire’s loaded with full bowls of chili, cornbread, and containers of cheese and sour cream.
“Yeah, sure.”
“You watch the finale?”
“Yeah.” Jake chuckles, understanding where this is going.
We all take a seat at the dining table, selecting a bowl and spooning out toppings. Levi dumps a heaping pile of cheese on his chili and points his spoon across the way to Jake. “What are your thoughts? Did they nail the ending or was it a total flop?”
“Nailed it,” Jake answers without hesitation.
“All three of you are wrong,” Claire snaps. “We deserved an ending to the cliffhanger on the plane.”
I steal a glance at Jake to find him watching me with an amused spark in his eyes. My mouth pulls into a smile on its own accord.
“That’s three to one, my love,” Levi reminds her. “It’s decided.”
For a moment, everyone forgets conversing to start in on our dinner. But as the daylight fades and the sound of spoons scraping bowls slows, Levi turns his attention to Jake once more.
“Are you from around here? I haven’t seen you before the public forum.”
“You remember him being there?” Claire asks curiously.
“I remember you and Lucy spending half the meeting staring and talking about him.”
I swear my face turns as red as the remaining chili in my bowl, and I feel the strongest urge to fling it at Levi. So much for his easy acceptance of this situation.
“Talking about me, huh?” Jake murmurs, bumping his knee against mine under the table.
“He doesn’t remember it correctly.”
“What about the staring?”
“Also incorrect.”
He nods solemnly. “Of course. But I do recall seeing you turned around at one point.”
“So. You were already looking at me then.”
“I absolutely was staring at you the whole meeting,” Jake tells me softly.
My lips part with surprise. He says it so plainly, without embarrassment or remorse. I wonder what it’s like to feel that assured with one’s self.
Levi clears his throat, looking between us with curiosity. “I’m not sure if I should apologize for overstepping or…”
“Sorry, to answer your question, I’m not from here.”
“How long are you in town for?”
Jake offers a calm smile. “That’s still up in the air. Hopefully a while longer though.”
It’s reassuring to hear. But the real question on the tip of my tongue is about why he would enjoy staying longer. I shove a piece of cornbread in my mouth before I end up asking.
As if wishing to not overstay his welcome, Jake excuses himself after a second helping of chili and a conversation with Levi about a man named Flutie that recently signed on with the Buffalo Bills. I see him out, stepping into the night and stopping on my front porch.
“Thanks for bringing my CD player over,” I tell him, leaning back against a porch post.
“Thanks for asking me to stay.” He tips back against the post across from me. “Although does it count if your roommate was the one that technically asked?”
“I was planning on it though.”
He grins, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his well-worn, perfectly-fitted Levi’s. “You were?”
“I wouldn’t have been a very good town representative if I didn’t give you a taste of our hospitality.” I cross my arms, wrapping in on myself in the cool evening air. Without missing a beat, Jake shrugs off his jacket and holds it open to me.
Our eyes meet, and the softness I see in his shatters my resolve. I turn, slip my arms in each hole, and allow him to lift the warm, cinnamon-scented jacket up over my shoulders.
It hangs heavy from the oversized fit, and it’s entirely too comforting and familiar.
“Was that all it was?” he asks as I turn back around. “Ellicottville hospitality?”
It must be easier to be vulnerable with him in the darkness out on this porch, because a quiet “not really” falls from my lips without a second thought.
I sit down on the top step and look up at the sea of stars. The porch boards groan as he joins me.
“The sky sure doesn’t look like this back home,” Jake murmurs appreciatively. “I’ve spent most nights here doing this exact thing.”
“They’re even more brilliant in the winter.”
“I can’t imagine the sky more brilliant than this.”
He still has his chin tipped upwards, and I lower mine to take him in. There’s two-day stubble on his jaw, and I think I really like it this way.
“Can I see you again?” he asks, turning to look at me too.
“I have a feeling it would happen no matter what, considering our track record.”
“You mean that CD player was really left behind by accident?” he teases.
“Apparently chance isn’t done with us yet.”
He leans over, resting against my shoulder. “Is that a yes to another…” he hesitates, considering his next words, “town outing?”
Decidedly not a date, then.
Which is fine. Good, even.
He’s here to bulldoze a corner of my peaceful little haven and will leave when the damage is done.
If only my heart could understand that part.
I consider his ask, trying to think of something that won’t feel like a date. And then I remember the plans Claire and I have. “How do you feel about pumpkin patches?”