Shane squeezed her shoulder. “W-would you like to see m-my place?”
No, put it off a little longer, the voice in her head said.
“W-we’re here and—”
“Yes!” She cut him off midsentence. She was taking total control of her life and what she did. She refused to be influenced by other people’s thoughts or her own insecurity. She slipped her hand into his and smiled up at him.
Easier said than done, that irritating voice whispered.
Maybe so, but I’ve got some really good examples around me, she argued.
“Hey, w-we’ll see y’all later,” Shane yelled. “I’m goin’ to show Jancy m-my place. I’ll have her home by m-midnight, Nettie.”
“If you don’t, your truck will turn into a pumpkin,” Nettie told him.
“W-will you m-make pies out of it if that happens?”
“No, but Jancy might.”
He didn’t let go of her hand when he opened the gate leading into the yard. The back porch couldn’t be called a deck by any stretch of the imagination. There wasn’t room for a swing, but it held two old wide-armed rockers with deep seats and comfortable-looking cushions. Red roses trailed up the porch railing, and impatiens supplied splashes of color in the flower beds.
“I use the back door m-more than the front. Gramps liked to sit out here and w-watch the sunset at the end of the day. He said he was too busy gettin’ things done to see it come up, but when evenin’ rolled around—w-well, that was his reward for puttin’ in an honest day’s w-work.”
Two rocking chairs might be every bit as good as a swing, especially if they drew them up close enough together that they could hold hands in front of that screen door.
“I always thought it would be great to have an old wooden door like this. We lived mostly in trailers, and they have storm doors that close quietly. A kid needs a good loud door to slam when she’s upset,” Jancy said.
He opened it and stood to one side. “Wh-when you leave you can slam it as hard as you w-want. Or I’ll be right glad to see how m-much noise I can m-make right now. I sure got in lots of trouble for that back when.”
“That’s all right.” She smiled. “Oh, look, a big country-type kitchen. My mama would have loved all this room.”
Square with cabinets along one side, a table with six chairs surrounding it, and a hutch filled with antique dishes, to Jancy the room looked like something out of a magazine. Her grandmother had had a shelf full of cream pitchers, most of which were carnival glass. When they’d sold the trailer, her mother had wanted to keep them all, but there wasn’t room for a box full of useless items like that, so they’d been sold with the trailer. Jancy hadn’t ever thought she’d have a house to put them in.
“Livin’ room is through here.” He tugged on her hand. “And down that hall is a bathroom and three bedrooms.”
The living room was about the same size as the kitchen. East windows would let in the morning sun. Hardwood floors gleamed when he flipped on the light. He sank onto an oversize leather sofa and pulled her down into his lap. With his arms around her, she snuggled against his chest.
“It’s just like I imagined it would be,” he said.
“What?”
“Holding you in m-my living room.”
“Me, too, Shane,” she said.
Then his lips found hers, and it didn’t matter if they were in a tent out in the middle of a forest or on the fortieth floor of a fancy hotel. All she wanted was to stay in his arms forever. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he stood up, carrying her as gently as if she was a child.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly. “Sit back down on the sofa with me, Shane. I can’t do this until we’ve talked.”
“About?” he asked.
She’d never felt compelled to tell anyone in her previous relationships about her past, but this burden had weighed on her soul for so long.
“My mama died,” she said.
“I know that.” He kept her in his lap when he eased back down onto the sofa.
“She was my best friend and the glue that held the family together. I didn’t want her to be cremated. I wanted her to be buried in Pick by Granny, but—”
She went on to truly open up about her feelings. Then, step by step, she told him the rest—about how her life had taken a dark turn since that day four years ago when her dad called her workplace and told her that her mama was dead.
When she finished, she expected him to push her off his lap and tell her to go. But he tipped up her chin and looked deep into her teary eyes.
“Is that all or is there m-more?” he asked.