“Sure thing. I also appreciate that, you know. I don’t want to say anything that might ruin his public image. As I said, he’s a good guy.”
“I know. I’ll make sure that we represent him as best we can,” she told him, meaning it.
The last thing she wanted was to make things more difficult for Jace. After getting to know him a bit, she couldn’t help but consider his feelings. Portraying him the wrong way was not an option, even if that’s what the magazine had in mind.
Chapter Eleven
Jace
There was nothing like staying at the cottage. He stepped out onto the deck and watched as the waves of the lake ahead nudged againsts the floating dock near the water’s edge. This was where he found his calm. He placed his hand in his pocket and breathed in deeply, tasting the freshness of the air. Why anyone would want to stay in New York City, when they could be at peace in nature, was beyond him.
The sound of the leaves rustling through the trees reminded him of all those times they’d come up to the cottage in Tallulah as a family. He didn’t even know when his parents had quit coming. It had been Jace’s grandfather’s and now it was his.
He looked at this cottage in the here and now. His grandfather has left it specifically to Jace when he had passed two years prior. The old wooden beams were parched from the sun, and there were cobwebs all over the windows. All of which he’d have to fix up while he was here. He’d even have to make multiple trips in town to replace all of the bedding, the mattress, and some of the dishes. They’d been sitting around unused for far too long.
Jace walked to the edge of the deck and leaned against the wood railing, enjoying the feeling of the sun against his skin. Every now and then he needed to be out of the sun, in a confined space, in order to feel safe. The warmth of the day could bring back memories of walking miles in the desert, with no one but his squad mates for miles. His heart skipped a beat at the thought and he took a sip of his coffee to ease him back to where he was.
Sometimes the memories played out as though they were happening right there and then. It always caused his muscles to tense. He needed to get to work before his mind wandered too far and he had to drink himself into passing out.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he lifted it up towards his eyes, barely able to make out the name. He swiped across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, bro.”
A smile formed on his lips at the sound of his brother’s voice. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d talked over the phone instead of texting. “Hey, Elijah. What’s up?”
“Not much on my end,” Elijah said as he shuffled his phone on the other end. “I heard about a fight happening out your way near Tallulah.”
“Oh? Who from?”
“The newspaper in Dixon.”
Jace leaned his head back and exhaled. “There were these guys harassing this girl, and I stopped them from hurting her. Did it mention the police?”
“No. It’s just an interview with one of the witnesses. Apparently, there’s no charges being pressed or anything. I can only assume that not much happens in that town.”
“How’d you know I was in Dixon?”
He heard Elijah laugh on the other end. “Do you think you can go anywhere without Mom and Dad knowing where you are? Seriously, man. They may not contact you every time you cause issues, but they definitely know what you’re up to most of the time.”
Great. So his parents were tracking him.
“Why didn’t you visit me when you were in New York?” Elijah asked, his tone sharp. “I was looking forward to seeing you, man. It’s been, what? Two years?”
A sense of guilt filled Jace’s chest at the thought of his brother being disappointed. Elijah was, after all, the youngest brother. There would always be a sort of protective instinct there, no matter how old they got. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. Mom never mentioned anything, so I just figured you were too busy.”
“Not at all. It’s good to hear your voice, though.”
“Yeah. You, too, Elijah. I can let you know the next time I come around,” he said, and brushed some dirt off the wooden railing. “I won’t be in Tallulah for long.”
“All right. Just be sure to actually let me know when you come back through here.”
He laughed lightly. “Don’t worry. I will. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, Jace.”
“See ya.”
The silence as the line went dead was deafening. His family had so few ties. Jace felt his grandfather’s cottage in Tallulah to be one of them. He was always surprised that the rest of his family seemed to have forgotten just how much fun they had once had together as a family in that place. It felt as though it was a memory exclusive to him.
Everyone else seemed to suppress those memories in favor of wealth.
Chapter Twelve
Yvette
This was what Fred had meant by volunteering? He had to be joking. She wasn’t even being paid to do this type of work. She pricked her finger against another thorn as she brought the pliers to the rose and snapped it off, her finger bleeding where the thorn had embedded itself into her skin.
She was sitting at a table outside the town’s only cafe with four other ladies, most of whose names she’d already forgotten. They’d been given the task of pruning flowers, so that they could twist them together into garlands. Yvette hadn’t even been told what the garlands were for but it didn’t matter. She had no idea what she was doing, and kept sneaking glances at the other ladies as they toiled under the midday sun.
Sure, it wasn’t the worst job she could be doing. She’d been told about the task of cleaning up after the horse and buggy as it travelled through town, which sounded way worse. It just seemed like a waste of time when she could actually be working. There was, after all, the fact that she had to hunt down Jace and get his story, ask him questions and maybe not kiss him again.
“Is your finger okay?”
Yvette raised her eyes to one of the ladies. The one speaking was named Karen, or so Yvette thought. She was an older woman with curly white hair, and seemed to be a lot better at removing the leaves from the flowers, even though her hands were continuously shaking. She sat across from Yvette and appeared genuinely worried about the blood that was creating a bubble outside the small wound.
“Yeah. It’s fine,” Yvette said, and wiped her finger against her dark wash jean shorts. “Tis but a scratch.”
She waited for the women to get the joke, but they kept at their work. Karen stared at her quizzically as though she was trying to determine whether or not Yvette was crazy. It was either that none of the women had ever watched Monty Python, or they just didn’t care enough to laugh.
“You’ve got to be careful with those things. One pin prick from a thorn can turn into a dozen. Next thing you know, your hands’ll be swollen at the end of the day.”
Yvette smiled, happy that at least one of the women was speaking. Having to work in complete silence for hours had caused a slight tension to fill in the air between them. “I’ll be more careful, then. My job requires me to type so I’ll definitely keep that in mind. Thanks, Karen.”