Page 32 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

“How long did that last?” he asked, grinning while the rain continued to drum the roof in a steady downpour.

“Not long. The youth leader was telling about how if your hand offends you, cut it off, if your eye offends you ... and so forth. Then he said something about being careful who you keep company with, and I could have sworn Sissy or Missy—I never could tell them apart—was staring a hole in my back—”

“Remind me to write them a ticket.”

Bailey Rae clapped a hand over her mouth for a moment before continuing, “The next thing I knew, I blurted, ‘Poor guy. Who does that? Because if he looks at the wrong woman, I wonder what they’ll cut off him next.’ Needless to say, that was the end of my budding romance with Beau.”

“Now I would pay good money to have seen Missy and Sissy’s faces.” His sense of humor was surprising. “Did you tell Winnie?”

“Oh, I didn’t have to. She’d already heard about it from three different sources by the time Beau dropped me off.” The rest of the story unfolded in her memory, how Winnie told her she didn’t have to go back anywhere she didn’t feel welcome—which pretty much leftnowhere to go except Winnie and Russell’s. But that part of the tale sounded too sad, and she wanted more of Martin’s smiles.

“Aunt Winnie located a nondenominational church with a youth group where I could wear my ripped jeans and favorite rock band T-shirts. I never sat alone at school again.”

When had his arm stretched farther along the back of the seat, until her shoulder brushed his bicep? She’d had enough dates—real boyfriends—since Beau to know that the draw between them was a moment away from leading to a kiss. A great big complication at a time when she needed her life streamlined.

Except she wanted that kiss from him. She wished she could ask Winnie for advice, which was a ridiculous thought. If Winnie were still alive, Bailey Rae wouldn’t be leaving. So she was on her own with this decision.

A squawk blared from the computer, startling them apart and saving her from deciding anything. The lights on his laptop flickered with a weather update full of warnings, but for the next county over.

Martin scrolled along the screen. “Seems like there’s a break in the storm long enough that I can get you home if we leave now.”

Was he asking her if she wanted to stay here and explore that attraction? Or testing the water to see if she would invite him over?

Before she could finish thinking that possibility through, much less draw a conclusion, he turned away and put the truck into drive again.

Pulling back onto the road, he said, “After I drop you off, I need to head into the office and catch up on paperwork. Let me know if you hear anything from Gia.”

Just that fast, he’d dismissed her and whatever they’d almost shared. For the best. Because she didn’t need anything interfering with her plans to leave. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being that high schooler in her buttoned-up shirt who’d been judged as lacking.

Her mama had it all wrong expecting a man to fix the emptiness, but Yvonne had been right about one thing. The importance of knowing when to pull up stakes and move on to the next town. Preferably one without the opaque river that served as Winnie’s final resting place.

Chapter Nine

1978

Russell’s Chevy Chevelle ate up the back road that ran parallel to the river. As I tipped my head out the open window, the wind swept my hair across my face and tunneled through my crocheted top. The scarf around my head trailed like a kite tail. I indulged my artist’s eye. From the ancient oaks that learned to twist into hugs as they grew. To the river’s current creating crystal peaks that glinted in the afternoon sun like freshly blown glass.

Excitement and nerves tangled inside me like those tree branches, two parts of a beautiful adventure in my new life. I told myself this outing with Russell was just a picnic. Yes, a date, but a simple date.

A date withseven yearsof anticipation.

Which made it far from simple.

Once we cleared the city limit, he floored the accelerator, the engine growling in celebration. When watching him compete, I’d heard the echo of the finely tuned racing machines, but never from inside the vehicle. The sound amplified until the entire car vibrated with life.

I tucked my head inside again and combed my fingers through my hair until it settled into place. “Where are we going?”

Since I’d packed the food, I told him to surprise me with the location—as long as we stayed within the county. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked about my aversion to leaving the area.

“We’re almost there.” Slowing, he took the turn with precision, guiding his souped-up sedan over a narrow bridge with sides so low they provided precious little protection. “It’ll be obvious in a moment.”

I didn’t want to think about the irony of how I trusted Russell more than Phillip, a man I’d chosen to marry. Instead, I tipped my head back and let myself savor this day. I could taste freedom on the wind.

Time passed in a comfortable silence born from our long friendship. Miles later, he eased his foot off the gas, the car coasting as our destination came into view.

A dirt racetrack waited by the riverbank. Not the one he used for competition, but grooves in the earth testified to the loop’s age and use.

He put the car in park by a wooden picnic table, a woodpecker tapping in the quiet. “Don’t worry. It’s not some illegal racing operation. The land belongs to my grandparents. Grandpa cleared this loop for me to practice.”

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