“We even ordered table service,” Dad says.
At this, Tess laughs. “Are you serious?”
“Since when do you talk to my friend’s parents?”
“Since we got Facebook. I’m telling you, Jack, having Wi-Fi on the island has changed our lives.”
TESS
For a week Jack and I live in a bubble. We wake each morning in his loft, tangled in sheets, the soft hum of birds outside the studio.
Judy is in seventh heaven, making our meals every day, showing me how to collect eggs from the chicken coop, how to make biscuits from scratch and bake Jack’s favorite cookies.
Benny is basically everything a father should be. He takes me fishing every afternoon. I never catch a thing, but when he does, I clap and holler. The rest of the time I sit on the boat with a book and a to-go mug of tea, soaking in the apparently rare Pacific Northwest sunshine.
Jack is MIA most days. He’s working on his music, though he refuses to let any of us listen. I don’t mind. I take long walks and pick roadside flowers. I ride a rusty old bike to Roscoe’s and buy bait for Benny.
I never want to leave.
I’m in the kitchen one afternoon, unloading the dishwasher, when Judy comes in carrying a colander of lettuce.
“So you kids talking about when you’re heading home?”
“Not really,” I tell her, putting away a stack of plates. “I mean, Jack has his show next week. And apparently Kirby is pushing him for an answer about the deal. He needs to decide what he’s going to do about the contract before that night.”
Judy washes lettuce in the sink. “You two pretty serious?”
“Jack and I? Oh, I don’t know,” I tell her, shrugging. “We don’t really go there. I mean, we’re still getting to know one another.”
“Mhmm.” Judy begins tearing the clean lettuce into pieces and adding them to a salad bowl. “What do you think he should do about the contract?”
“It’s none of my business.” I turn back to the dishwasher and take out a handful of forks.
It really isn’t my business. Jack and I haven’t made any promises, and I’m not planning on making any, ever. If we were to be something more, I’d have to confess my crime to him. And I don’t want to bring him into my mess.
My plan is to avoid.
I’ll stay here as long as I can, then I’ll go to Vegas and get my money from my apartment and strike out on my own. But I can’t tell that plan to Jack; he’ll try and stop me.
What I do need to find out is if the security crew is still tracking my family, and if they’ve left town yet. Coming here was brilliant, because we can hopefully ride the storm until it passes.
“You got awfully quiet, Tess,” Judy says, grabbing a basket of tomatoes from the refrigerator. “Sorry to pry.”
“You can ask whatever you like. Honest. You and Benny have been beyond gracious with me, in ways I don’t deserve. You know, in Vegas I’m always reading these stupid celebrity magazines because I’ve always felt out of the loop. I was raised in a really restrictive environment, so I never knew the right slang, or the cool clothes. And I wanted fit in in Vegas.”
“Seems to have worked; you became friends with an A-list crew right off the bat,” Judy points out.
“True, but I’ve always felt one step away from looking like an idiot.”
“Tess, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a very adaptable person. That is a great quality to have.”
“But it doesn’t feel like I’m adapting here. It feels like I fit. Does that sound weird?”
Judy shakes her head quickly, and then pats my arm. “No, dear, it doesn’t sound weird at all.”
Feeling comfortable in the sunny kitchen, I open up. “I only have one memory of feeling this safe.”
“Tell me about it,” she says warmly.
“I was a little girl, maybe four years old. And I wasn’t where I grew up; it was somewhere else I can only barely remember. It wasn’t so dirty as my parents’ house. It felt warm, like this place. And I remember being really sick, with a cough or a cold or something, and these hands on my chest, rubbing this ointment on me, and it smelled like eucalyptus. I know that sounds weird, but I remember the smell, and the hands that were soft, and I swear they looked just like mine look now. And someone was singing me a lullaby, and there were other kids in the room—two boys.”
“How did it go?”
“It was like, Lullaby, and goodnight, go to sleep little angel. Mama loves you, daddy loves you, now it’s time to go to sleep.”
“That’s a lovely memory.” Judy watches me, smiling.