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ZELDA PHONED JAKE AT five-thirty that afternoon to ask if he could bring a bottle of wine to Annie’s Welcome Home Dinner. “It’s good to have her home, even if it’s just for a little while. Isn’t it, Jake?”
He chose not to answer that question, but he did reply that, yes, he’d be there at seven o’clock, and, yes, he’d told his father to come. A few minutes later, he murmured a polite goodbye and ended the call.
He tucked his cell phone into his hip pocket and remained standing in the open doorway of the carriage house for a few minutes longer, staring blankly at the field of new hay on the other side of the gravel drive. From the milking barn farther up the drive came the restless mooing of the cows. A soothing whistle was heard in reply—his father, telling the “girls” in his old, familiar way to be patient and wait their turn for the afternoon milking.
Jake took an impulsive step outside before stopping to reconsider. His father and brother could handle the chore without him. They had for years. Besides, the anger that still coiled like a poisonous snake inside of him would only agitate the herd. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension that had him feeling like his head was clamped in a vise.
After meeting with the subcontractor who was responsible for the insulation on the new housing development, he’d spent the remainder of the afternoon attacking the mountain of paperwork that had piled up on his desk over the past couple of weeks. But he’d barely made a dent in it. His thoughts had kept straying to the events of a few hours earlier, replaying them over and over, scrutinizing every word and expression and gesture.
Annie was home.
Just for a few days, but that was a few days longer than her last two visits. She’d been here for only one day for her grandfather’s funeral, less than three hours for Ethan’s wedding. Before that, she hadn’t been to King’s Valley in three years.
He’d known she’d be coming here for Matt and Gracie’s wedding. He’d mentally prepared himself for her visit. But he hadn’t been prepared to see her a day ahead of schedule. And he hadn’t expected her to come alone. The call from Ethan had shot a jolt of alarm through his system. Annie’s typical impulsiveness shouldn’t have surprised him. She’d always done just as she pleased. His alarm had quickly turned to fresh anger as he recalled the chilling, disdainful way she’d dismissed his entreaties at their last meeting.
That anger had accompanied him to the bus depot, and it had merely intensified upon his first glimpse of her. If it hadn’t been for the rare emerald color of her eyes and the unforgettable fullness of her lush, wide mouth, he would scarcely have recognized her. She’d looked bad at Ethan’s wedding. Today, she appeared ready to blow over from the slightest gust of wind. Her waist-length, chestnut brown hair had lost its luster. Her flawless complexion was paper white, emphasizing the purple shadows under her eyes. Her cheekbones stood out too sharply on her oval face. Her clothing, a black sweater and blue jeans, hung loosely on her petite, skeletal frame.
He’d been torn by a mad desire to shake her hard and hold her close at the same time. The little fool. Then she’d said hello and smiled a smile so cool, so unemotional, so mechanical, that his anger had boiled like a vat of roofing tar, and he’d just wanted to wipe that smile from her face.
Or kiss if off of her.
It hadn’t helped a short while later to find her talking with that guy in the vacant space next to the thrift shop. It was going to be an art gallery, she’d said. And he’d instantly been swept back to that time a year and a half ago when he’d come to visit her in New York and had met the man she’d described as her employer and mentor, Maxwell Fischer. That memory still left an acid taste in his mouth.
Annie was home, dammit. Zelda was wrong about that being a good thing. It wasn’t. He’d meant what he’d said to Annie seven months ago. He really did. He was done with her. He was. He was moving on. He had moved on. He could face her across the dinner table tonight and deliberately ignore the fact that she now looked like a dull reflection of her former self. What she was, what she’d become was of her own doing. He’d tried to help her. He’d tried to reason with her. And she hadn’t listened.
Let her suffer the consequences.
So, he would go to this dinner while what he really wanted to do was join the construction crew at the Stumble Inn and toss back a beer or three.
He reluctantly abandoned that idea and headed upstairs to take a shower.
Mina had done the weekly housecleaning yesterday. When he’d moved into the carriage house six months ago, he’d told her not to bother cleaning the small bedroom above the space he’d converted into his office. But arguing with Mina was like thumbing his nose at a category five hurricane.
The air held the lemony scent of furniture polish. As usual, Mina had run the vacuum through his room and dusted, but making the bed and picking up his clothes was his responsibility, not hers, as she’d often reminded him since he was a boy.
He removed his watch and set it on the maple dresser near his bed. There were other items on the dresser, carefully dusted by Mina and returned to the exact spot each had always occupied. Among the items was a globe-shaped piggy bank his father had given him one long-ago Christmas, a couple of bottles of cologne—one that he’d purchased himself, the other a twenty-first birthday gift from Annie nine years ago. It was almost empty. He kept it because the cut-glass bottle had an interesting shape. There was also a ceramic bowl he’d made in kindergarten that served as a catchall for the odd assortment of items he collected in his pockets each day. Presently, it held several loose keys, a book of matches advertising a local seafood restaurant where he’d taken a prospective client, toothpicks, paper clips, a pair of red dice and one blue agate marble.
Beside the bowl stood a black and white photograph in a silver frame. In the photo, a young woman posed beside a horse, one of the woman’s hands resting on the saddle horn, the other planted on her hip, her face laughing into the camera. It was his mother. He’d been seven years old when she’d died in a riding accident. Sometimes the scent of lavender or the sound of tinkling laughter triggered a faint memory of a woman with silver-blue eyes, just like his own, and black hair, glossy like the ebony keys on a piano.
He placed his wallet beside the photo, pausing for a moment to trace his index finger along the frame. Then, reluctantly, he flipped the frame over. Taped to the back was a strip of photos taken at a booth at the county fair. Four shots, each one depicting Annie and himself in a different pose, all silly, all with their faces pressed cheek to cheek. They’d been taken the summer she’d turned eighteen.
At one time, he’d had the photo-strip taped to the dresser mirror. Seven months ago, he’d tossed it into the trash, only to retrieve it minutes later. That’s when he’d taped it to the back of his mother’s photo. He didn’t look at it that often anymore. With a scowl of self-disgust, he set the frame down and opened the top drawer of the dresser. Retrieving a fresh pair of underwear and socks, he slammed the drawer shut and strode into the bathroom.
Half an hour later, he entered the main house. He cast a brief glance in the beveled mirror beside the door and straightened his tie. His fingers stilled on the knot as a vision of Annie’s teasing smile invaded his memory. He felt her hands brushing against his, nudging them out of the way as she adjusted his tie. He was a senior in high school again, getting ready for a sports awards banquet and a fourteen-year-old Annie was there to approve his attire. “I don’t know why you were chosen to play quarterback, Jake,” she teased softly. “You don’t even know how to tie a tie.”
Now he shoved one hand through his hair and twisted away from the mirror. Aggravated strides carried him into the kitchen. His father was there, washing his hands at the sink.
Tom Lancaster gave his son an assessing look. “Leaving already? I thought the dinner was at seven.”
Jake shrugged. “Thought I’d get there early to visit. Nate’s come up from the city. I haven’t seen him in a while.” He strolled over to the pantry and glanced through the assorted bottles of wine there before selecting a Sonoma Zinfandel he knew to be Zelda’s favorite.
His father grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and sat down at the table. That man took a long pull before heaving a weary sigh. “I’m looking forward to Matt taking over the dairy when he gets back from his honeymoon. I think I might do some traveling myself. Got my sights on Tahiti first.” He smiled. “Yep. Me on a beach, beer in one hand, a shapely island girl in the other.”
Jake chuckled. “Don’t let Caryn hear about it.” Caryn Stevenson taught history at King’s Valley High. She’d been his father’s “lady friend” for close to ten years.
His father arched one eyebrow. “I just might take her with me. Now that Matt’s getting married, and you’re heading in that direction, I figure it’s time I tied the knot again.”
“You’ve got my blessing. But what makes you think I’m heading in that direction?”
“I’ve heard the rumors about you and that Darlene Wilson who works at the bank. Aren’t they true? You’ve been dating her for almost four months. Tongues are wagging.”
Jake smirked. “Let them wag.” He tucked the wine bottle under his arm and headed for the back door. “See you over there.”
His father’s next words brought Jake up short. “Matt tells me Annie arrived this afternoon.”
“Yep.”
“Is it true you picked her up from the depot?”
“Yep.”
“Didn’t think you were going to speak with her again.”
Jake gave his father a level look. “I can be civil. It’s only for a few days.”
His father studied him over the rim of the beer bottle. “You two used to be tight. Like paper and glue. I only had to know where one of you was to know the other wasn’t far behind.” He grinned. “I remember the time you both decided to paint one of my milk cows brown to see if she’d produce chocolate milk. Old Daisy had you both trapped in a stall for over an hour. You were laughing like lunatics when your brother and I finally came to the rescue.”
As if on cue, Matt strode into the room, tugging off his cotton, plaid work shirt. Younger than Jake by one year, he was slightly shorter than Jake and with a stockier build. He was the persona of the all-American, dirty-blond, blue-eyed, hardworking-and-damn-proud-of-it country boy. His eyes, set in a typical expression of mirth, ping-ponged from his father to his brother and back again. “Hey, what’s this? Not ready yet? Dinner’s at seven, Dad. Can’t keep my Gracie waiting.” And then he was through the hallway door and racing upstairs to take a shower.
Jake shared an amused look with his father. “I’ll see you in a bit,” Jake said. He lifted the bottle of wine in a salute and headed outside.
It was the first week of May, and the days were getting longer. The sun was just touching the tops of the eucalyptus trees as he cut across the west field towards the creek, taking the well-trod footpath that wound through the trees towards the gully. He’d walked this path hundreds, if not thousands of times, but never in such a sullen mood as the one he was in now. He had about the length of two football fields to pull himself together before he faced the McAllister clan. Before he had to face her.
His stride shortened as he reached the narrow wooden footbridge that crossed the creek which was now full from the spring rains. Just beyond the footbridge, the creek widened into a deep pool. He stopped in the center of the bridge, set the bottle of wine down on the rough planking and propped his elbows on the top rail.
How many times had he and Annie stood in this same spot, just so, gazing down at the water? How often had they skipped stones or had boat races or sat, their bare legs see-sawing over the ledge as they talked and laughed or just simply listened to the country quiet? It was at this very spot, all those years ago, when he’d fallen in love with Annie McAllister...
***
HE WAS NINE YEARS OLD that summer and often in the way. Living several miles outside of town, he had no one within walking distance to play with other than his little brother. But Matt was more interested in following their father around all day and learning how to run a dairy. Jake helped with the daily chores and the milking, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was easily bored. His father talked about sending him to summer camp, but, for now, Jake contented himself with visiting his next-door neighbor and best friend, Zelda McAllister.
He was a regular visitor at McAllister Farm. He liked going there because Zelda always had treats for him like cookies and popcorn and homemade root beer. And her foreman, Mike, taught him how to build things. Jake loved the smell of sawdust, the busy sound of a hammer pounding nails. The year before, he’d helped Mike build a birdhouse and then a whirly-gig to frighten the deer away from Zelda’s rose garden. And, although Zelda and her husband, Andrew, didn’t have a dog, Jake built a doghouse anyway.
One breezy June day, after he’d dismantled the white picket fence around Zelda’s house before hammering it back together again, Zelda said, “You need someone to play with, Jake. And I know just the boy. My oldest son and his family are coming to stay here for the summer. They have a boy the same age as you.”
“He’s nine?”
“Yes. His name is Ethan. And he has a little brother, Nate, who’s five. And they have a sister. Annie. She’s almost seven.”
“Oh. A girl. That’s too bad.”
Zelda laughed. “You’ve met her before, but you were too little to remember. They’ve been living on the other side of the country for a few years. And now they’re going to live in San Diego. All of the children will be staying here while their mom and dad find a new house. They’ll be here next week. Make sure this fence is put back together by then.”
On the appointed day, Jake shot like a rabbit across the fields and the creek to Zelda’s and hid behind the blackberry bushes close to the house. He watched as a big car pulled up in front of the house. A man and a woman stepped out, followed by a little blond-haired boy wearing glasses, then a taller boy with brown hair. The last to appear was the girl. She hopped out of the car and gave her grandmother a hug before swinging her head around to study the house and the property with an air as if she owned it.
She’s just a tiny little thing, was Jake’s first thought. But she acts like she’s taller than her brothers.
As if she could hear him, the girl ran towards his hiding place. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted him crouching behind the bushes. “Hey!” she shouted. “Who’s hiding back there? Come on out!”
Zelda chortled. “That’s Jake.” She waved a beckoning hand.
He sauntered out from his hiding place, his face carefully set in a blank if somewhat aloof expression. Zelda set a hand on his shoulder as she addressed the other children. “This is my neighbor, Jake Lancaster. His father owns the dairy ranch next door. His brother Matt is a year younger. He’s showing a steer at the fair this week.” She nudged Jake forward. “Jake, say hello to my grandchildren. This is Nate.” She nodded at the littlest boy. “And Ethan. And this is Annie.”
Jake nodded. “Hello,” he said stiffly.
“Hi,” they replied in unison.
The oldest boys looked at each other and then at the ground. Nate went over to his mother and hugged her leg. Ethan scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. Everyone was a little awkward except for the girl—Miss Bossy, Jake immediately dubbed her. She glared at him, her green eyes belligerent, hands fisted on her tiny hips. He noticed that her hair was thick and silky, a rich shade of brown mixed with threads of gold that seemed to capture the sunlight. He wanted to touch it. Instead, he slid his eyes away and pretended to ignore her.
“Well,” Zelda said. “Let’s leave the unpacking for later. Ethan, Annie and Jake, you go and play and get to know each other. Don’t go any farther than the last cherry orchard. Jake knows the rules.”
The adults wandered into the house, Nate still glued to his mother’s leg. The three older children looked at each other until Miss Bossy finally asked Jake where he lived.
“Just across the creek. Over that way.” He pointed.
Ethan’s face lit up. “A creek? Can we swim in it?”
Jake shrugged indifferently. “Sure. But you gotta know how to swim. My dad taught me when I was five.”
“We belong to a swim club,” Miss Bossy told him in a prissy tone. “We know how to swim.”
He turned his back on her. “I’m going to build a tree fort,” he informed Ethan. “Zelda said I could. Do you want to help?”
“Who’s Zelda?” the girl wanted to know.
Jake gave her an odd look before pointing towards the house. The girl’s nose wrinkled with disdain. “Do you mean our grandma? You can’t call her Zelda. That’s not ’spectful.”
“Respectful,” her brother corrected.
“She told me to call her that,” Jake retorted defensively. But he was worried. Had he done something bad?
Ethan punched his sister lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be such a brat, Annie. Come on, Jake. Show us where you’re building the fort.”
Jake led them down the drive and through the old apple orchard to where an enormous oak tree regally occupied the center of a small, green pasture. Annie darted past him and hoisted herself onto the lowest branch, pulling herself up in one lithe movement. “Wow, this is a good tree.” She scampered onto a higher branch.
She climbs pretty good for a girl, Jake thought.
“We can build a really big fort,” the girl said eagerly. “With lots of floors. Just like in that movie, Swiss Robinson.”
“Swiss Family Robinson,” her brother corrected.
Jake’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “There’ll be just one floor,” he told her firmly. “And we can’t nail anything to the branches. Otherwise, the tree will get diseased.”
Miss Bossy gave him a look. “Then how’re you going to build a fort, stupid?”
“Shut up, Annie,” Ethan barked. “What’s the matter with you?” He turned to Jake, his face apologetic. “She’s just mad that Gracie couldn’t come with us. She’s our cousin from Arizona. She’s got the chicken pox.”
Jake didn’t care what the reason was. This Annie girl was a brat. He wished a lightning bolt would zap her out of his midst, but, since that wasn’t possible, he’d just pretend she wasn’t there. “Good,” he said loudly. “We don’t need another girl around here anyway.”
He knelt down and began to sketch his tree fort design in a bare patch of dirt. “My dad’s going to give us some two-by-fours to prop up the floor from the ground. The floor will sit between the biggest branches right there, but nothing will need to be nailed to them.”
Ethan hunkered down beside him. “That looks cool,” he said, winning a grin of camaraderie from Jake.
The girl had crept out on the limb just above them. Her legs swung just a few feet above Jake’s head. “How are you supposed to get into the tree fort? I don’t see a door. Where’s the door?” Her tone was goading.
Jake gritted his teeth. He addressed his reply to Ethan. “We’ll cut a trapdoor in the bottom of the floor and use a rope ladder to get in and out. That way, when we’re inside, we can pull the ladder inside too so no one else can come in.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Especially girls.”
“Neat,” Ethan enthused.
“There should be a front porch,” Miss Bossy demanded. “Facing the creek. Where’s the creek?”
Jake scowled up at her. “I’m the one who drew the pictures. I’ll say where things go.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Her little chin jutted forward. “Well. That’s not very compising. My daddy says people should try to compise.”
“Compromise,” her brother corrected. “And you just want to get your own way, prissy-butt.”
Annie’s face went beet-red. “You take that back, Ethan McAllister, or I’ll give you a black eye!”
Ethan made a scoffing sound.
Jake laughed scornfully. “No, you won’t,” he warned Annie. “Girls don’t fight, especially tiny things like you. Only boys do.”
The girl’s face was almost purple with rage now. “Wanna bet?”
“Uh-oh,” Ethan said.
Jake got to his feet. “Prove it!”
Without a second of hesitation, she sprang down from the tree, almost landing smack on top of him. The momentum of her fall knocked him flat on his back. She sat across his chest while he was too stunned to move, and pinned his arms to the ground. Her glowing face loomed above his. “See? I told you so.” Her smile was triumphant.
Jake felt his face going red with fury and humiliation. He tried to jerk his arms free, but she was surprisingly strong. His chest heaved with the effort to unbalance her. When she giggled at his helpless state, he relaxed his body. “I don’t fight with girls,” he said with forced calm.
“She’s not a girl,” Ethan scoffed. “She’s a tomboy.” He grabbed his sister by the shoulders, but she shook him off.
“Say ‘I give’,” she ordered, still giggling.
Jake’s eyes narrowed into slits. “No.”
“Say ‘I give.’ Do it.”
“NO!” With a burst of strength, he tore his arms out of her grasp and shoved her backwards. She twisted onto her side, and he followed her. Now he was the one holding her down, the one in control. His teeth clenched in a mocking sneer. “You say it.”
“I thought you didn’t fight with girls,” she jeered, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Her struggles got her nowhere. Jake was tall for his age; his body lean and wiry like his father’s. He didn’t spend his days indoors watching tv and playing video games like the kids in town. His father always said that when you lived on a ranch that provided your sole means of living, there was too much work to be done. Jake and his brother had been hauling milk pails and lifting bales of hay since they were three years old. His free time was spent outdoors, running in the fields, climbing trees, building things. Miss Bossy was a feisty thing, but he was stronger. He sure as heck wasn’t going to let her get the best of him. Not ever.
“You started it,” he reminded her.
She changed tactics. Her mouth sweetened into a smile, her green eyes softened. “Please let me go, Jake. I won’t fight you again.”
“Say ‘I give’ then.” He was beginning to enjoy himself. Ethan was looking at him with something like awe, delighted by his little sister’s humiliation. Jake couldn’t help but admire her, though. No girl he knew would ever try to fight a boy. But his grin disintegrated at her next words.
“If you don’t get off of me, I’m going to tell your mother!”
Jake remembered the time one of his father’s old milk cows had kicked him in the stomach. He felt the same pain now, only deeper. His fingers went numb.
Annie instantly pulled away from him as he lurched to his feet. Her triumphant expression slipped into a look of puzzlement when she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. “Hey! What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”
Her questions trailed after him as he ran out of the pasture, then gradually faded as he darted through a cherry orchard. His mind was racing faster than his feet. How could a nice lady like Zelda have such a nasty grandchild? Annie was a brat. She was spoiled and mean. She’d tried to humiliate him in front of her brother. And for what? Zelda shouldn’t let them stay. The whole summer was ruined. Maybe his father could send him away to that camp they’d talked about.
He found himself at the footbridge, gasping for air. He sat down in the center and wrapped his arms around the lower railing. Lowering his head over his arms, he gave free rein to his tears. He hardly cried anymore because he’d been told by his friends at school that boys weren’t supposed to cry. It’d been all right the first few months after his mother had died, but that had happened almost two years ago now, and it was time to move on.
Things still got tough sometimes at school. Like the times when they did projects to take home to their mothers. He hated the weird look in his teacher’s eyes, like she felt sorry for him when she gently told him to give the projects to his father instead. He hated the way some of the kids didn’t like to play with him, as if he had some strange illness they were afraid to catch. And his dad seemed to always want to talk about other things when Jake wanted to talk about his mom.
Jake was mad at himself for letting Annie see his tears. There was something about her that made him feel things he hadn’t felt before. Like all the emotions he knew how to name—happy, sad, angry, scared—wanted to explode out of his body all at once. The craziest thing was, when he’d looked down at her face, he’d thought about that place on the creek that was shaded by a willow tree. In the fall, when the water was at its calmest, it was almost the same emerald color as her sparkling eyes.
“Hey.”
Jake quickly swiped a hand across his damp cheeks. He didn’t look at her. “Go away.”
She ignored him, sitting down beside him, her bare leg brushing against his. He scooted a few inches away.
It was quiet for a while, save for the rippling water beneath them and the muffled sounds of his breathing. Then she said, “This is pretty. Can we swim here?”
He ignored her.
“Me and my brothers are going to be here all summer. My mom and dad are looking for a house in San Diego.”
He said nothing.
“So, you’ll be seeing me a lot. I want to be your friend.”
He snorted. “You don’t act like it.”
She heaved a great sigh. “You’d be mean too if you had two brothers who are always picking on you cuz you’re a girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
She giggled, then nudged his arm. “I’m sorry for fighting you,” she said softly.
He looked at her squarely. “You should be.”
“I said so, didn’t I?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Now you’re being just like a girl.” But he couldn’t help but smile at her foolishness.
She smiled back. “You’re a good fighter. Ethan’s never been able to pin me down like you did.” She wagged a finger at him. “Just don’t do it again.”
“We’ll see.”
They smiled at each other for a while. He felt something curious happening between them, a closeness that he hadn’t felt with anyone, ever. It was as though there was some kind of invisible string tugging them together. There was something honest and very real about this girl. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing having her here after all.
“There’s a swimming hole just around the bend,” he said eventually. “It’s deep enough to dive in, and there’s a tire swing.”
“Can we go there tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
Her head tipped to one side as she studied him. “How old are you?”
“Nine. I’ll be ten in November.”
“I’ll be seven in August,” she confided. “You’re smart. You know how to build a good tree fort. I like that.”
He squared his shoulders proudly. Yes, he was really beginning to like her. Okay, so she’d been mean, but she’d been showing off more than anything else. And hadn’t he been doing the same thing, trying to impress her and her brother with his tree fort plan?
“Is your house over there?” She pointed through the trees.
“Yeah.”
“Can I come over and see it? Can I meet your mom and dad?”
Jake swiftly glanced away. “You can see my dad. My mom is... She’s dead.”
He waited fearfully for her response. The pity. The drawing away. The awkward search for something else to talk about. But she was quiet for a long time. When he sneaked a peek at her, she was lying on her back, her hands folded behind her head as she peered up at the sky through the tree branches.
“I wonder what it’s like up there,” she mused.
“What what’s like?”
“Heaven.” She slanted her eyes towards him, their green depths looking like sparkly jewels in the dappled sunlight. “It must be a humungous place.”
“I guess so.” He lay down on his back beside her.
“It must be just like the earth, don’t you think? Except everything is clean and beautiful, and everybody loves one another. What do you think your mom is doing up there right now?”
“She liked to ride horses,” he whispered.
“I bet she does that on the thundery days. Maybe that’s what the thunder is. Horses running across the sky.”
Peace settled over him like a warm summer rain. After his mother’s death, he’d been consumed with so many questions, but he didn’t want to make his father sad by asking them. Zelda had told him about heaven and angels, but they’d seemed to be just stories. Annie painted a picture that he could see and understand. “Do you think she’s watching me all the time?”
Annie giggled. “Oh, I hope not. She’ll be mad at me for fighting you. No. I bet she just checks in on you every once in a while, to make sure you’re okay. Like maybe right now.”
He turned his head towards her. Their gazes locked. The creek gurgled below them. A blue jay flitted down from the trees to land on the upper railing. It cocked its head boldly at them. Annie slowly moved her hand down to slide it into Jake’s. She clasped his fingers with hers. Her little voice was solemn. “We’re going to be the best of friends, Jake Lancaster. I just know it.”
The blue jay bobbed its head as if in agreement.