An Excerpt from Dancing with Fireflies

PROLGUE

JADE MCKINLEY LOWERED THE STOVE TO MEDIUM AND returned the chicken breasts to the pan. What had she gotten herself into? She should’ve agreed to meet him at a restaurant instead of in the tiny apartment she shared with her friend. But it had seemed easier, meeting on her own turf with Izzy in the next room watching the Jane Austen marathon on PBS.

“There’s a bottle of merlot in the cupboard,” Izzy called. “You can serve it if you want.”

The phone rang. “Can you get that?” Jade opened the cabinet and reached for the wine. She hoped it was okay. She never drank, didn’t really like the taste.

Izzy entered the kitchen a few minutes later, wincing. “Uh, Jade?”

“He’s not coming, is he? That’s okay. Seriously, I was having second thoughts anyway.” And thirds and fourths. “I didn’t even want this date, remember?”

“Chill, girl. That was work calling. They need me on the late shift. Someone’s sick.”

“Oh.”

“I really need the hours.”

Jade bit her lip. Nick had been coming to the diner for months. He’d sat in her station every time, and after weeks of his persistence, she’d relented to one date.

“Seriously, girl,” Izzy said gently. “You gotta get back on the horse. Aaron’s been gone a long time. Give the guy a chance.”

A knock sounded at the front door.

“Gotta get dressed.” Izzy rushed from the room before Jade could protest.

She checked the table as she passed, then opened the door to Nick, remembering why she’d finally given in. Puppy dog eyes and an easy smile.

“Hey,” he said. “You look nice. Like a beautiful gypsy.”

She pinched her skirt and dipped in a curtsy. “Thank you. I guess you’ve never seen me outside the diner? Come on in.”

He brushed past her, and his strong cologne filled her nostrils, making her want to sneeze. He wore a button-down and dark jeans. Jade’s eyes fell to his shoes just as she caught a whiff of shoe polish. Izzy always said to check out a guy’s shoes. Nick’s were a brown casual leather shoe. Not that it mattered. One date and she was done.

“Smells good,” he said.

“I hope you like chicken Marsala. Make yourself at home. I’ll get the wine.”

In the kitchen she rooted through the drawer for the corkscrew. She was struggling to open the bottle when Izzy entered in her uniform, grabbing her purse off the counter.

“Here, let me.” Izzy removed the cork with ease. “Here you go. Have a nice dinner.”

“Wait.”

Izzy turned.

Jade lowered her voice. “Do you have to go? Could you hang around for an hour or two?”

Izzy grimaced. “I already told them I was coming. Listen, he’s a nice guy. He’s been coming into the diner for months, right? Not like he’s a stranger.”

“That’s true.”

“It’s going to be fine. Mrs. Barlowe’s right next door, and Lord knows she’d come barreling in at the first peep.”

Jade was just being paranoid. “Okay, you’re right.”

After Izzy left, Jade took the wine to the table.

Nick rose from his seat as she neared. “I’ll pour.”

“Perfect.”

Twenty minutes later they were halfway through the chicken and still engaged in awkward small talk. Jade finished her last sip of wine, telling him about her family back in Chapel Springs, about her passion for guitar. The wine seemed to have loosened her tongue.

He was a good listener, and he looked attractive with candlelight flickering in his dark eyes.

“I made dessert,” she said later when conversation petered out. “You like cheesecake?”

“It’s actually my favorite.”

It was possibly his longest sentence so far. She grabbed the cake from the fridge. When she returned, she saw he’d filled her glass again.

She did most of the talking over dessert too. She’d used her sister PJ’s recipe, and it was divine, topped with a medley of blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries in a tangy sauce.

She was talking too much, and by the time they’d finished dessert, the room had started spinning a little. Sweat had broken out on the back of her neck. The wine. She shouldn’t have had the second glass.

“Is it hot in here?” she tried to say, but her words didn’t come out right. She should open the windows and let in the spring air.

The table in front of her tilted, and her date seemed to sway the other direction. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.” But her words didn’t sound fine. They sounded muffled and distant, like she was inside a tunnel.

“Why don’t we sit on the couch?” he said.

She needed a little help getting there. Her knees wobbled, and her feet didn’t go where she put them. “I think I had too much wine.” She teetered at his side.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked.

She sank onto the threadbare sofa and was relieved at the thought of not having to carry the conversation. She actually wished he’d leave but didn’t want to be rude.

“Sure. You pick. They’re in the cabinet.” She didn’t think she could make it over there by herself.

He chose one of Izzy’s action flicks. He started the movie, but Jade couldn’t follow the plot. Halfway through, her eyes grew heavy. So tired. Did alcohol make you tired? She’d never drunk enough to know. Maybe the room would stop spinning if she just closed her eyes a minute.

“Jade?”

A voice was talking from someplace far away.

“Hmm?” she said. And then darkness closed in and everything went quiet.

A twisting in Jade’s stomach pulled her from sleep. She drew her knees to her stomach, shivering. She reached for her blanket, but there was nothing to grab. She was on top of the covers. Still in her clothes.

She closed her eyes against the glaring sunlight, trying to remember the night before. Dinner with the guy from the diner. She didn’t remember coming to bed, didn’t remember saying good-bye. They’d eaten, she’d felt weird. They’d watched a movie.

What else?

Nothing.

She rolled over, her body aching, and pulled her skirt over her legs. Her eyes fell on a scrap of silky lavender at the foot of her bed.

A memory flashed in her mind. Darkness and weight. The overwhelming smell of cologne. The steady creaking of the bed.

She sat upright, her head spinning. Her eyes darted around the shoebox-sized room, the walls feeling tight. Her heart thumped heavily. She gasped for breath.

No. Please no.

What happened? The memories were a blur, separated by gaping black holes.

Her stomach spasmed, threatening release. She raced for the bathroom and retched until her stomach felt twisted inside out. A cool sweat broke out on her forehead. Her throat felt raw. Her eyes burned.

She eased down onto the tile floor, resting her head against the wall. The ache inside spread, consuming her. She trembled with the knowledge of what had taken place.

“Jade?” A tap sounded on the door. “You okay?”

Her eye sockets burned. She opened her mouth, but nothing passed her chapped lips. How could this have happened?

“Jade?” The knob twisted, and Izzy slipped inside. “You sick?”

Jade pulled her knees to her chest, willing the room to stop spinning. Willing it to be yesterday. Before she’d said yes. Before he’d—

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

The tears welled over. Stupid. How could she have been so stupid? This wasn’t Chapel Springs, it was Chicago. She knew better. And now she’d been—

Izzy knelt on the floor and felt Jade’s forehead. “Can I do anything? Is it the flu?”

Jade shook her head, a shudder passing through her. He’d seemed so nice with his easy smile and big brown eyes. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about him. Wished she could wipe his face from her memory. How could he have done this? How could she have let it happen? God, where are You?

“Did something happen last night?”

Jade’s teeth knocked together, clattering in the quiet. She nodded. Her whole body shook, her own private earthquake.

Izzy’s warm hazel eyes settled on her. “Honey, tell me.”

“I—I think he slipped something in my drink. I got dizzy, and then I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t keep my eyes open. I don’t remember anything after that. I woke up in my clothes, and my underwear was off. I’m all achy. I’m having these flashbacks—”

“Oh, baby . . .” Izzy pulled Jade into her arms. “This is all my fault.”

The memories flashed into her mind, and she closed her eyes against them. The repulsive smell of his cologne. Her limbs weighted and helpless. Sounds, breathing, the squeaking bed, all of it sounding far away. But now it felt all too close, all too real. His hands on her, rough. His smothering weight pressed against her.

Jade broke away, scrambling unsteadily to her feet. “I need a shower.”

“Honey . . . you have to go to the hospital.”

Jade turned on the water. She had to get it off her. His touch. His smell. She could smell his cologne on her. She couldn’t get him off her fast enough.

“I’ll take you.”

Jade shook her head, pulling the knob on the faucet until the shower sprayed into the tub.

“They’ll need to collect samples, Jade.”

“I can’t.” She just wanted to be clean. Just wanted to forget it had ever happened. If she could just forget, it would be almost like it hadn’t happened at all. She could put it behind her.

Izzy took her arm. “Jade—”

Jade jerked free. “I can’t, Izzy! Leave me alone!”

Izzy gave her a long look. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be right outside if you need me.” The door closed quietly behind her.

Jade disrobed. A minute later she stood under the scalding water. But no matter how much she scrubbed, she couldn’t get clean. She wondered if she’d ever feel clean again.

ONE

JADE’S FOOT EASED OFF THE GAS AS SHE PASSED THE MARINA, not because the speed limit had changed but because her heart had begun beating up into her throat.

Nearly there.

She hadn’t expected to see Chapel Springs, Indiana, for a long time, but it had barely been a year—a year of broken dreams. But then sometimes life took unexpected turns.

The evening sun sparkled on the Ohio River, the pink clouds brightening the water’s surface. Spring had wakened the valley, greening the hills and unfurling leaf buds on the trees.

Jade stopped at a light and put down her window, inhaling the fresh scent of a Midwestern spring: rain, river, and pine. Tourists had yet to arrive, and the parallel parking slots on Main Street were empty, the businesses locked up for the night.

Nothing had changed. Same brick storefronts, sun-faded canopies, and ancient streetlamps. On the corner, the Rialto theater’s lights kicked on, chasing each other in an endless rectangle. The board listed two movies that had premiered in Chicago months ago.

When the light changed, she pressed the accelerator. Her car gave a reluctant start. She followed the road through town and around a corner that separated her from the river. Her mouth dried as she approached the turn toward her parents’ farm.

The fields would be plowed by now, the corn in the ground. Her mom and dad would be snuggled on the couch watching some old black-and-white movie. She suddenly regretted her decision to surprise them.

Her heart thumped heavily against her ribs. She squeezed the steering wheel, her rings cutting into her thumbs. Her foot never found the brake, and she passed the turn, continuing down the winding road.

Ahead on the left, she saw the cement drive. Lined with landscape lighting and turning up a wooded knoll, it was hard to miss.

She headed into the drive and mounted the hill, her pea-green Ford struggling with the effort. Twilight was thick under the canopies of ancient trees. The crickets and cicadas had already begun their nightly chorus.

She pressed on, following the lane down the back side of the hill, sloping toward the river. Ahead, the shingled boathouse was silhouetted against the darkening sky. A lone light shone from the upstairs window through what looked like a thin sheet.

She put her car in park and turned off the ignition. She hadn’t been to Daniel’s place for years. He was always at her parents’ house or hanging around the coffeehouse with his laptop and a ready handshake.

She got out of the car and pushed the door shut, its loud squeak echoing across the water. She stepped onto the dock and followed the stairs that ran alongside the building, suddenly wondering if he’d be upset. She hadn’t exactly kept in touch.

When she reached the top, she rapped her knuckles on the pine door and waited. Below her the water rippled against the shore and against the dock. The wind kicked up, and Daniel’s boat bumped the wood piling. She wondered if he still took it out on the river when he needed to get away.

The door opened, and there he was. He froze at the sight of her, his lips parting, his blue, blue eyes widening. If she hadn’t been so glad to see him, she would’ve laughed.

“Jade? What are you doing here?”

She walked into his arms and felt his shock ease as he enveloped her with his solid frame. She already had a big brother, but Daniel filled a spot in her heart she hadn’t known existed until Ryan brought him home when they were all still kids.

She heard a voice that belonged to neither of them and pulled away. It was coming from the phone in his hand.

He put it to his ear, stepping aside to let Jade go inside. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll call you later.” He sighed, not following through. “I guess. I know.” He grabbed a scrap of paper and jotted down a phone number. “Fine. Yes, I’ll call her. Bye, Mom.”

He pocketed the phone and turned to her. He seemed taller and broader. His hair was longer, his bangs dipping down nearly to his eyes—very un-mayorlike. It looked good on him though.

“Sorry to just drop in. It’s so good to see you.”

She watched his blue eyes go from warm to cool in the space of ten seconds. He’d always had the most mesmerizing eyes.

“You have a minute?”

He crossed his arms. “I’m kind of busy.”

She escaped his gaze, scanning the room. A lamp glowed by a leather recliner. His open laptop was perched on the end table along with a bunch of boring-looking forms.

She wiped her palms on her gypsy skirt and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“It’s been a year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know I’m not your real brother, but—”

She frowned. “Stop that.”

“—a phone call isn’t asking much. A letter, a postcard, a text—”

“You’re right.” She’d hurt him. And he probably wasn’t the only one. “I’m sorry. Things weren’t what I expected in Chicago.”

“You had big dreams.”

That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. She followed him into the living room, passing a spare room that was filled with barbells and weights. A heavy-duty treadmill stood in the corner, the panel lit with orange numbers. She caught a whiff of sweat and ambition.

Daniel picked up the remote control, and blackness swallowed the political talk show. Silence crept in, filling the room with awkwardness.

He studied her until she felt like an amoeba under a microscope.

“Are you just here for the wedding?” he asked finally.

She shook her head.

An emotion flickered in his eyes, but he turned and headed into his galley kitchen before she could decipher it.

The wedding was less than a month away. Her sister Madison and Beckett O’Reilly. Jade’s heart sank at the thought of facing her soon-to-be brother-in-law. The whole secret admirer thing had been one big embarrassment—the reason she’d left. Or the last straw anyway. Deep down she’d been yearning for a fresh start for years.

Jade had thought Beckett had sent her notes and flowers. Thought he’d wanted her. But it had been Madison he’d wanted all along. And now Jade was arriving home just in time for their wedding.

Daniel opened the fridge, pulled out a jug of tea, and poured some into a glass. He added two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and brought it to her.

He gestured toward the brown leather sofa. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” She took down half the glass, then set it on the front section of the Chapel Springs Gazette. Her eyes wandered the room and settled on the “curtains”—a white sheet hanging haphazardly over a curtain rod.

“Your folks didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“They didn’t know. Still don’t. This is my first stop.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Impulse.” She was beginning to think it had been a bad one. She’d already insulted Daniel by ignoring him for a year. Now she was going to beg a favor?

She was selfish and thoughtless. She should’ve gone to her parents’ or Madison’s. She’d at least spared them a few phone calls over the past year. She took another sip of her tea, wishing it were ginger ale.

Daniel cocked his head. “What can I do for you, Jade?”

She hated that he’d guessed right. She didn’t want to dive into that yet. She remembered the phone call she’d interrupted.

“How are your parents? That was your mom on the phone?”

He gave her a look—I know what you’re doing—but settled back in the chair and went along. “They’re fine. Mom’s found my perfect match again and is determined to set me up when I go there next weekend.”

“There” was Washington, DC. Daniel’s dad was an Indiana senator. If his parents had anything to say about it, Daniel would one day move into national politics too. At present they settled for town mayor, a post his grandfather had held for sixteen years, but they probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he occupied the White House.

She gave him a weary smile. “Maybe she is your perfect match. Mom knows best and all that.”

He looked away. Closed his laptop.

“Catch me up on you,” she said.

He steepled his hands, resting his chin on his fingertips as he filled her in. Still a volunteer fireman. His job was keeping him busy. Grandma Dawson was having trouble keeping up with her social obligations and charity work.

“And you, Jade?” he asked when he was finished. “What’s going on with you?”

She cleared her throat, thinking of the stressful four weeks she’d just endured. Why did it always seem her life was spinning out of control?

She wasn’t going there tonight. “I need a job, Daniel.” It was the least of the favors, the easiest one to start with.

“Why?”

“Food . . . shelter . . . clothing . . .”

“That’s not what I mean.” His blue eyes were like lasers, seeing too much, too deeply.

She looked away, twisting the top ring on her middle finger. “I’m back to stay.”

“Why?”

She was sure her family had kept him in the loop while she’d been gone. She’d been living with her best friend, working at a café, playing her guitar at a trendy coffee shop.

And now she was home. Jobless.

“Don’t really want to get into it.”

Daniel popped to his feet and headed to the kitchen again. He emptied the carafe into a mug and took a sip, his white dress shirt stretching across his shoulders at the motion. The sleeves were rolled up at the cuff, exposing sturdy forearms.

“I thought you might have the inside scoop on who’s hiring.”

A few seconds later he turned, leaned against the counter. “You could probably get your spot back at the Coachlight. Including your guitar gig. The guy who took your place doesn’t compare.” His lips turned up before he took another sip.

His smile. That’s what had been missing. She wondered if things were as okay with him as he’d said. Or maybe he was more ticked at her than he let on.

The thought of smelling coffee all day made her stomach turn. “I need more than minimum wage. I’m hoping to crash with Madison until the wedding, but after that . . .”

“Don’t want to horn in on the newlyweds?”

“Exactly. And I refuse to be one of those twentysomethings eating Cheetos all day in her parents’ basement.”

“So can you help me?” Jade’s eyebrows rose, disappearing under her dark bangs.

He’d forgotten the magnetic pull of her green eyes. There was something different about her face, though. He studied it, trying to solve the mystery. Same almond-shaped eyes that hitched up at the corners. Same straight, button-tipped nose. Same full lips that so rarely stretched into a smile, he felt like a hero when he made it happen.

“What about your music?” he asked.

She sat up straighter, lifting her dimpled chin. Her rings clicked together as she laced her fingers. “It’s time to grow up. I need a real job.”

Never thought he’d hear those words come from Jade’s mouth. She lived and breathed her music. It had been that way since he’d taught her some basic guitar chords her freshman year. She’d plucked away for hours a day and passed him up within a few months. She’d written songs throughout high school and given lessons to every friend who showed an interest. By the time she left, she’d built a strong base of students.

What had happened in Chicago? She’d always marched to the beat of her own drum. He remembered the first time he saw her, spinning in circles in the McKinleys’ darkened backyard, her skirt swirling around her spindly legs.

“What are you doing?” he’d asked, one part scoffing, one part fascinated.

“Dancing with the fireflies,” she’d said. “Wanna join me?”

Jade had always done her own thing. But she seemed different now. Like she’d lost her spark. She hadn’t really been the same since Aaron’s death.

“Daniel?”

He blinked the memory away. “I’ll check around. See what I can find.”

“I appreciate it.” She finished her tea and stood, her long dark braid slipping over shoulder. “I should let you get back to work.”

Daniel followed her to the door, wondering why she’d stopped at his place first. Just the job? Unlikely. There was something she wasn’t saying, but he knew enough not to press her.

“The family will be glad to have you home,” he said as they reached the door.

She turned and leaned in for a shoulder hug that he longed to make more of. Instead he patted her on the back the way he should.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said.

“You too, Squirt,” he added for good measure.

And then she was slipping out his door, down the steps, and into her car. Slipping back into his life as easily as she’d slipped into his heart.

 

The story continues in Dancing with Fireflies by Denise Hunter.