14
The rumble of a pickup truck woke Lexie much earlier than she’d intended the next morning. She looked around the unfamiliar room in the cold, gray light before dawn, trying to place where she was. Everything came flooding back when her eyes landed on a collection of gold-colored soccer trophies on the tall dresser.
She was in Jake’s childhood bedroom, surrounded by the first eighteen years of his life. She sat up, reached for the bedside lamp and flipped it on. In its warm glow, she could see stacks of thin comic books on the shelves, racks of sports awards on the cream-colored walls and an emblem for the Mason County Raiders embroidered onto the black-and-gold bedspread tucked around her waist.
A door snapped shut somewhere downstairs, and she pushed herself up onto her knees to peer through the gauzy white curtains behind the double bed. A dirty gray flatbed truck idled in the open driveway, and Lexie was surprised to see both Jake and his dad step off the porch beneath her window. Jake was bundled in what seemed to be his muddy clothes from the night before, a dark knit hat pulled low over his forehead and a shining silver thermos clutched in his gloved hands. His breath appeared in white clouds as he spoke to two other young men riding on the truck bed. She recognized them both as cousins, but she couldn’t remember which ones.
Jake’s father, who had insisted she call him Logan, paused near the passenger’s side door of the truck, talking to his wife. One of his hands rested comfortably on her hip as the other accepted the thermos she handed him. He bent and kissed her, then leaned against her hand as she brushed it through the hair that poked from beneath his cap. The tenderness of the gesture made Lexie’s throat clench, and she swallowed hard.
Logan Tanner was a quiet man, tending to listen far more than he spoke, and it hadn’t taken Lexie long at all to see where Jake had learned how to treat a woman. His father seemed to stay connected to his wife in one way or another—an arm across her chair, a hand on her back, a knee touching hers as they sat on the couch. He served her in small, silent ways, and she visibly basked in his affection. Jake was that way, too, always quietly anticipating what Lexie might need and hurrying to provide it before she could ask. She could feel his heart in everything he did, which was both thrilling and unnerving at the same time. If this was love in action, it was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
Logan opened the front door of the truck and disappeared into the cab as Jake climbed onto the flatbed beside his cousins, his long legs hanging off the tailgate. As the truck slowly bumped forward, Lexie saw him raise his eyes toward the window where she watched. She didn’t know if he could see her, but she waved anyway. A slow smile spread over his face, and he raised one hand in return as the pickup trundled away. As he disappeared from sight, Lexie felt an odd sort of tugging beneath her breastbone, almost like a rubber band being stretched but not broken. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum, trying to massage away the unfamiliar feeling.
Too awake to drift off again, she got up and padded quietly around the room, looking at photos of Jake surrounded by friends and cousins over the years. He’d obviously been well-liked, not that she could ever imagine otherwise. She pulled Jake’s hoodie on over her pajama shirt and swapped her flannel pants for jeans before cracking open the door to the hallway. Her stomach grumbled as she listened for signs of life in the rest of the house. The hallway carpet was soft, muffling her footsteps, but she hit a squeaky step about halfway down the staircase. She froze as the noise split the silence, listening hard, and then smiled when she thought of Jake moving through this same house. He would undoubtedly know to skip that step.
The house Lexie had grown up in was cold and sterile, less a place to live and more a place to store the things that made her father feel important, including his wife and daughter. There were no squeaky stairs in that house, though if the walls could talk, they’d tell of scars that ran decades deep.
After reaching the first floor, Lexie made her way quietly into the kitchen, where she was surprised to find Kathleen sitting at the table, a steaming mug of coffee and an open Bible in front of her.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” Lexie said, taking a quick step backward, but Jake’s mom only smiled and beckoned Lexie into the room.
“Come in, come in!” Kathleen said, closing her book. “I was finishing up anyway. I’m sorry if we woke you. I guess Ashlyn is so used to sleeping through the truck that I didn’t even think about it.”
“Where were they going so early?” Lexie asked, sinking into a chair across from where Jake’s mom was settled. A large picture window along the back wall showed the sun starting to peek above the edges of a bare field, its light slowly touching the frost that covered the ground.
“Oh, there are always animals to feed—cows, mostly, but sheep and goats, too. Fences to check, waterers to fill. Just the everyday life of a working farm.” She smiled warmly and gestured toward the stove. “I was just about to start breakfast. Would you like some hot chocolate? And how do you feel about pancakes and eggs?”
“That sounds delicious! Can I help?” Lexie asked, but Kathleen clucked her tongue as she stood.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll put you to work later. But right now”—Kathleen went to the nearby baker’s rack and grabbed something off the top shelf—“this is for you.” She grinned as she set a thick photo album on the gleaming wooden tabletop in front of Lexie and then turned back to the counter.
Lexie was delighted to see a tiny, red-faced baby staring up at her from the cover, where the gold script read “Jacob Ryan Tanner, born April 18, 1990.” She opened the book and poured over photo after photo, watching Jake grow older with each turn of the page. The child who started out as a squalling infant transformed into a chubby-cheeked toddler and finally a lanky little boy, complete with a farmer’s tan. Lexie ran her fingers over a snapshot of young Jake standing on the bottom rail of a split-rail fence, waving as his father’s harvester went by. He was wearing a tiny pair of Wranglers, his bare chest and feet bronzed by the sun.
“How old was he here?” Lexie asked, looking up at Jake’s mother.
Kathleen brought her a cup of hot chocolate and set it down as she peered over Lexie’s shoulder.
“About four, I think,” Kathleen said. She went to the pantry and pulled out a bag of flour and a small container of vanilla extract. “He was a typical country boy. He loved to ride on the tractors and chase the animals and always came home covered in mud from who-knows-where. But he’s a hard worker, always has been. If there were jobs to be done, he was out doing them—even though staying on the farm wasn’t ultimately his calling.”
Lexie’s eyes moved to the opposite page, where she saw a photo of Jake sitting cross-legged on a barn floor, bottle-feeding a tiny goat that lay curled between his knees.
“He’s always had a soft heart, too,” Kathleen continued, measuring ingredients into a massive silver bowl. “If any of the animals were hurt, he was the first to notice. If someone fell in the creek, he was the first one in after them. He hated to see anyone be left out or mistreated, and he’s still that way. It’s part of what makes him such a good man.”
Lexie felt her chest warm. Jake certainly was a good man, and she could see how he’d become that way.
Kathleen came up behind her, a metal whisk clicking against the mixing bowl as she prepared the pancake batter. She paused and reached one finger down to point out a photo of Jake taken from behind. “And then, of course, there’s all the times I caught him peeing in my flower bed. Boys that age will go absolutely anywhere,” she explained wryly. Lexie felt a blush rush across her face, and Jake’s mother laughed outright. “He would hate for me to tell you that, but it’s the truth. If you ever have any sons, you’ll find out,” she added as she made her way back to the stove.
“Yes, you will,” said a voice from the hall. A wheezy laugh announced Grandma Ruby’s arrival moments before she shuffled through the kitchen doorway. “I raised four of them, and I know.”
Lexie grinned as the tiny woman worked her way across the kitchen, grabbing a small glass from a low cabinet as she went. There was already a bottle of apple juice waiting on the counter—Kathleen’s part in a dance they obviously did on a regular basis. Grandma Ruby poured herself a drink and shakily pulled out the chair next to Lexie, then sank into it as if she’d traveled a great distance.
“I say just let them go in the yard. The house stays cleaner that way,” the older lady advised. “I’ll never forget the time he tried to ‘water’ all my orchids, though he missed most of them. His aim was terrible.”
Lexie nearly choked on her hot chocolate.
Grandma Ruby, however, took a tranquil sip of her juice before going on. “There’s a reason we used to call him ‘Squirt,’” she said.
“Squirt?!” Lexie blurted in disbelief, and Jake’s mother and great-grandmother laughed heartily.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure he’s gotten better,” Grandma Ruby added.
Lexie couldn’t help but laugh with them, though she knew Jake would be mortified. She stopped when she heard the front door open.
“What’s so funny?” a voice called from the entryway, and seconds later, Jake and his father came into the room, rubbing their hands together and tugging off their hats.
“Goodness! I didn’t hear the truck,” Kathleen said, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist.
“We walked back,” Jake’s dad supplied, and he brushed a kiss across his wife’s cheek. “Rob was going to check on Paul’s place since they’re out of town, so he dropped us off at the road.”
Kathleen nodded in understanding, then turned back to the eggs she was cracking into a large measuring cup. Without being asked, her husband lifted a cast iron skillet from the rack above her head and set it gently on the counter. Kathleen touched his arm as he started back toward the hall—a silent “thank you” in a language all their own.
“Nobody told me what’s so funny,” Jake added, pulling Lexie’s attention away from his parents as he crossed the room toward her.
“I’m just hearing stories about baby Jake,” she said, lifting her drink to her lips. “And finding out why they called you Squirt.”
Jake blanched, a pained look crossing his face. “Really?!” he blurted, turning to his mother.
“I didn’t do it,” Kathleen said, holding her hands up in surrender, but the amused expression on her face said she wasn’t sorry at all.
“Relax, Jacob. It’s not like I told her about the time you stripped naked and paraded through ladies’ Bible class like the King of Persia,” Grandma Ruby said, and Lexie doubled over, resting her forehead on the table. Tears streamed from her eyes as her shoulders shook, and she was only vaguely aware of an argument taking place above her head.
“Grandma Ruby!” Jake shouted. “Do you have to?”
“Don’t tempt me, boy,” the older woman said, her voice full of fond affection.
Lexie was still gasping for breath when she sat up, wiping her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. Her stomach ached, and her face felt like it might split open from the force of her smile, but it was a good feeling—even if it did come at Jake’s expense.
“How old was he?” she managed to ask.
“Oh, about seven, I think,” Grandma Ruby answered.
Lexie burst into another fit of giggles, and Jake groaned, his face locked in a grimace.
“I love that you’re all getting along,” he grumbled, kneading his fingers into Lexie’s shoulders.
“Hush, or she’ll think of something worse,” Kathleen warned, plating the first stack of golden pancakes. “Now, go wash up. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”
Jake gave Lexie’s shoulders another squeeze before bending down close to her ear.
“Please don’t hold this against me,” he begged in a loud stage whisper.
Lexie chuckled and shooed him out of the room so Grandma Ruby could keep talking.
“Tommy’s sister told me he came home with a jewelry store bag the other day—a really small one,” Ashlyn told Grandma Ruby.
“Tommy’s sister ought to keep her mouth shut,” the older woman said, leaning down to inspect the assortment of treats that sat cooling on the kitchen counter. All the women had been baking since the breakfast dishes had been cleared, and the house was now filled with the scent of everything from cookies and brownies to fruit tarts, pies and creme cakes.
“I think he might ask me to marry him!” Ashlyn went on. “Wouldn’t a Christmas proposal be romantic?”
“Ashlyn, honey, take off your running shoes and give the boy a chance to catch you,” Grandma Ruby said, shuffling to the table. Jake’s mother, who sat mending a pair of her husband’s pants, chuckled softly.
“Oh, Grandma Ruby,” Jake’s sister sighed.
“Don’t ‘Grandma Ruby’ me, young lady! This is not my first trip around the sun,” the older woman said, sinking into a chair beside her great-granddaughter. The family matriarch glanced up and caught Lexie’s eye, shooting her a wink. “Come sit down, Lexie. This is good for you to hear, too.”
Lexie wiped her hands on her borrowed apron, leaving white flour smudges on the patterned fabric. Then she drifted across the kitchen to join the conversation—not that she’d have much to contribute.
“You see, girls, most people seem to think falling in love is like being struck by lightning,” Grandma Ruby continued. “But I’ve lived a long time, and one thing I know for sure is the love that lasts is less like a rainstorm and more like snowfall. It builds quietly, and by the time you look up, it has changed the landscape of your life, and you realize you’ll never see the world quite the same way again.
“Real love isn’t luck or magic or fate. It’s a choice. One you make every day, rain or shine, to give your best to the person you’ve chosen. Love shows up. It trusts and hopes and is patient. And most importantly,” she said, looking pointedly at Ashlyn, “it is not on a schedule.”
“But Tommy—”
“Might be the one, and he might not,” the older woman interrupted. “But don’t push him or yourself to make a decision you can’t undo just because you think it’s time.”
The distant sound of men shouting broke through the large picture window, and all four women looked up in time to see Jake and Drew burst out of the barn and into the weak sunlight, both gesturing wildly. Drew shoved Jake hard and stormed away, pulling a sigh from his great-grandmother’s throat.
“I’m coming for that one next,” she said, her gnarled index finger following Drew as he stormed across the backyard, kicking several empty flowerpots out of his way. “I’m going to teach him to control his temper if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You can’t fix them all, Ruby,” Kathleen said, rising to her feet.
“Maybe not, but I can try,” Grandma Ruby muttered, still watching her great-grandson. “He and Jake used to be thick as thieves. I wish I knew exactly what happened to them.”
Ashlyn started offering her guesses, but Lexie wasn’t listening.
She was thinking about snow.
“I missed you today,” Jake said as he lay back against one end of the couch in his father’s study. He shifted sideways, and Lexie settled into the gap between his body and the couch, feeling herself relax as his arm came down around her. He’d showered after coming in from the barn, and she took a deep breath of his clean pine scent, which always made her feel safe and wanted. He’d already pulled off his thick green pullover, and his white T-shirt was warm under her cheek. “Do you feel like I just threw you to the wolves?” he asked, and Lexie shook her head.
“I’ve actually had a lot of fun,” she admitted. “Your family is nothing like mine. Do your parents ever fight at all?”
Jake chuckled slightly, his arm tightening around her back. “Sure! Just not in front of anybody.”
“I think you could add up all the cookies I’ve made in my entire life, and I still beat that total today. Exactly how many people are coming to dinner tomorrow?” she asked.
Jake paused, thinking.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. Grandma Ruby and Grandpa Jacob had four sons, and then they all had kids. There are a few relatives here and there who have passed away, but most of their descendants are still alive. They’ll come in from all over,” he said. “Grandma Ruby wants to have everyone together at least once a year until she dies. There are so many of us that we’ll have to eat in the barn; we spent most of today cleaning it.”
Lexie nodded, feeling the fabric of his shirt move as she did.
“I get that. I mean, my grandmother likes to have everyone all together, too, but that’s more so she can tell us what we’re doing wrong with our lives than anything else.”
“I’m sorry,” Jake said quietly, and Lexie knew he really meant it.
“It is what it is,” she replied. Truthfully, she’d tried to be sad about her family situation. She’d really tried to miss them. But it was awfully hard to wish you were sitting in a cold, stuffy house having your sins read aloud when the Tanner family was bustling around you with open arms.
“You fit here,” Jake added after a pause. “I’m not going to lie, coming in at lunch to find you baking may be the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Lexie laughed, and a matching rumble moved through Jake’s chest.
“Jacob Tanner, are you telling me a woman’s place is in the kitchen?” she teased, lifting her head to watch his face.
“No! Not at all,” he protested. “I’m just saying any time you want to make cookies with my mom, I can get on board with that.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Lexie rolled hers good-naturedly. He turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled back against him.
“It was actually more about how happy you looked, and the fact that you were here when I came in,” he admitted. “It felt like you’d always been here. Like you might always be here.”
A silence fell between them, and Lexie was acutely aware of the way the knuckles of his right hand trailed lazily along her arm where it lay draped across his stomach.
“I made the meringue, too, you know,” she said, mostly just to fill the silence.
“You made the meringue? Grandma Ruby’s dark chocolate cherry mile-high meringue?” Jake asked, his voice filled with surprise.
“Yeah, I guess so. She gave me the recipe card, anyway.”
“Grandma Ruby gave you her recipe card?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes... Why?” Lexie narrowed her eyes. It had been a complicated recipe, but it seemed odd for Jake to be so interested.
“That pie is like a family heirloom. Nobody makes it except Grandma Ruby,” he explained, running his fingers through her hair.
“Why would she let me do it, then?” Lexie asked.
Jake shrugged. “I guess she really likes you. Although I can’t imagine why,” he said dryly, and Lexie smacked his shoulder.
“Be nice to me, or I might start calling you Squirt,” she warned, and Jake let out a resigned sigh.
“You have learned too many things today,” he complained, but his smile said he didn’t really mind.
Lexie chuckled and raised herself on one arm so she was looking down at him. His hand dropped from her hair to her waist as she traced the dark stubble on his jaw.
“I learned you aren’t close to Drew anymore,” she said, sobering. “Why is that?”
Jake didn’t answer immediately, and his eyes darted around her face as if he were looking for the right words.
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
Lexie furrowed her brow in confusion, and he went on.
“Drew and I were basically twins growing up. We’re only two months apart, so we did everything together for years. But something changed around the time we started high school.”
Jake’s voice was sad, and Lexie longed to smooth away the crease that deepened between his eyes.
“I really think it started with a girl, actually,” he added.
“A girl?”
“Yeah. Savannah, the one I told you about with the answering machine?”
Lexie nodded, remembering the story.
“We’d all been friends for ages, and I wanted to ask her to be my girlfriend, but I sort of thought Drew might have a crush on her. When I asked him about it, he said he didn’t... but everything was different after that,” Jake explained. “Even after Savannah and I broke up, Drew was always upset with me about something. He’d get mad when good things happened, like when I made the soccer team or got good grades; he acted like I didn’t deserve it. And then when I moved to Cypress Valley, it just got worse.”
Lexie ran her hand through his hair, wishing she could somehow make this a better story.
“What was the problem today?”
“Today?”
“Yeah. We saw you arguing after lunch.”
“Oh,” Jake sighed and leaned absentmindedly against her hand. “What is it always about? How he’s here every day, slaving away in the hot sun to keep this place running, while I’m kicked back on a Barcalounger in my cushy bachelor pad,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “He acts like I just abandoned him here in purgatory, like I shouldn’t have had any other dreams. But he likes working the farm. He’s proud of it; he’s good at it. This is what he wants to do!
“And I’m proud of it, too! I’m proud to come from a century of farmers, but it’s not in me to spend the rest of my life driving the combine and checking the cows. I mean, I would, if I had to,” he amended quickly. “If there were nobody else to continue the farm, I would do it; I’m not just going to let a hundred years of hard work die with me. But that’s why I’m so grateful that he is here and that he wants to be a farmer. He and Sawyer and James... they’ll inherit this land and keep it running. They’ll be the next generation of Tanners here, and I’m proud of them for it. But he makes me feel like I decided I was too good for them.”
Lexie watched guilt war with aggravation as both danced across his face. All the muscles in his torso were tense where she leaned against him, and his jaw rolled back and forth as he stared at a point somewhere past her shoulder.
“Jacob?” she asked, trying to regain his attention.
“Hmm?” he grunted, his eyes coming back to hers.
“If I’ve learned anything at all in the last few months, it’s that we can’t let other people make our choices for us,” she said softly. She watched his eyes as he seemed to drink her in. “You’re allowed to have dreams. You’re allowed to be talented, and you can’t let anyone hold you back from that. If Drew wants to be here, then thank him for it, but don’t let him make you feel like his choices were better than yours just because they were different.”
Lexie cut off suddenly as the words I love you darted through her mind. She could taste them on her tongue, feel the shape of them in her mouth, but the idea of saying them out loud—of meaning them the way she thought she might—made her pause.
Jake’s gaze stayed locked on her face for a long moment, like he was memorizing every detail of what he saw, before he threaded his hand into her hair and tugged her down to him. Lexie closed her eyes and let him kiss her like it might be the last time, and like it was the first time, and like they’d never stopped at all. She felt his grip tighten against the back of her neck as she shifted above him, hoping to make him understand all the things she didn’t know how to say.
“Jacob? Can you open this peanut butter for me? I’ve tried everything,” his mother called from down the hall, her voice breaking them apart with a gasp.
“She has radar,” Jake mumbled, his eyes still closed.
Lexie was surprised to realize she was barely touching the couch. She started to ease away from him, but Jake stopped her with a hand against her back.
“I didn’t say I wanted you to move,” he whispered against her ear, and Lexie felt the world shift beneath her when he rolled, flipping her onto her back as he stood up.
“Jacob? Where are you?” Kathleen called again, and he chuckled softly.
“Just a second, Mama!” he called before leaning down and pressing another hard kiss against Lexie’s mouth. “You’re a dangerous woman,” he muttered. Fire flashed in his eyes as he pulled away, watching her with an expression she rarely saw from him. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders and disappeared into the hall.
Lexie speared her fingers through her hair, raking it away from her face as she tried to breathe normally. What had she almost said? Where had it come from?
But even as she asked herself, she knew.
Real love had grown quietly, while she wasn’t looking, and she was pretty sure nothing would ever be the same again.