Page 35 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

I shook my head. “I wasn’t a pageant queen.”

“You’re more beautiful than any of them.”

His gaze held me and I believed it, even as I sat there in cutoff jean shorts and a crocheted shirt that Libby had made for me as a thank-you for helping Keith with his homework. Because his compliment had more to do with me as a person than the external. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did.

“Thank you.”

I wanted to compliment him in return but didn’t want it to sound obligatory after his remark. So I let my eyes speak, in the same way his had.

He smiled.

I heard him.

Russell stroked a thumb across the inside of my wrist. “How’s the first date going for you so far? Do you think you might be ready for another?”

Well, he’d certainly waited long enough for me. His few relationships over the past seven years had been fleeting, although each one had filled me with jealousy as green and ugly as the slime coating the swampy waters. I’d no one to blame but myself, and my only consolation came from my patience. My feelings for him were affirmed by my determination to do everything in my power to make sure he didn’t get hurt.

I’d been so focused on freeing myself, I hadn’t given much thought to how my decisions would affect others. Now I couldn’t think of anything other than that. I’d rejoined the world, and even with my knees shaking like the day I’d asked for pottery classes, I wanted more.

Wordlessly, I stood and leaned across the picnic table to graze my mouth over his, lingering just long enough for my answer to be clear. Then I sat down again, enjoying the stunned look on his face.

I unfolded my napkin and draped it across my lap. “Are you ready for lunch? I’m starved.”

2025

Bailey Rae hadn’t expected a pit stop with Martin to check out a report of illegal dumping near the river would lead her on a trip down memory lane.

Aunt Winnie had adored this stretch of the river. She’d told me more than once how she and Uncle Russell fell in love there. No doubt, though, Winnie would weep to see the area now, a scrapyard for someone’s broken-down furniture, mattresses, and trash.

Bailey Rae eyed the overgrown path ahead of them as Martin parked his work truck. He’d driven her to the shelter to drop off more supplies for Gia and Cricket, detouring afterward when the call came over his radio. He’d offered to take her home first and circle back, butshe’d insisted she didn’t want to add the extra driving to his day after all he’d already done for her.

The answer had sounded logical to her ears, and far preferable to admitting how much she didn’t want the day with him to end. “Thank you for taking me to see Gia and Cricket. I felt better knowing they hadn’t returned to ...”

“Right. Me too, honestly.” He adjusted the brim of his game warden ball cap, his sunglasses shading his eyes. He reached under the front seat and pulled out two pairs of protective gloves, passing one over to her. She hopped out of the truck and tugged the gloves on, eyeing the mess in front of her.

“I think our checking in on her helped,” she said, stopping by a dilapidated picnic table and slapping a mosquito on her neck, “letting her know that people care.”

Hands on his hips, Martin kicked at a moldy mattress, a long exhale puffing his cheeks. “Are you sure you don’t mind the detour? This won’t take long. I just need to get an idea of how much manpower will be needed to clear it up.”

She wouldn’t have minded in the least if the river hadn’t brought back memories of Winnie’s death. As it was, she tried to focus solely on the task at hand so she didn’t get lost in the past. In the grief that could still take her by surprise sometimes.

Instead, she focused on the closest pile of debris—a broken end table, an old television, stained mattresses, and a mountain of big green garbage bags containing heaven only knew what. That didn’t even take into account the stray soda cans, beer bottles, and empty fast-food containers littering the shore. Was that a rolled-up carpet in the shallow end? “Sounds like a pricey proposition.”

“I found a couple of teens needing volunteer hours for their Eagle Scout badge and a church youth group to help out.”

The closer they walked, the worse it looked and smelled, rotting waste defiling this sacred space. Anger flared inside, a much easier default emotion than grief.

Winnie had always talked about the water like it was a living, breathing thing. If that were true, Bailey Rae didn’t need to be a doctor to know what happened when blood turned to poison.

Martin cursed under his breath. “Whoever did this only had to drive two miles further down the road to the dump.”

“I never thought about this being part of the game warden’s job.”

Kneeling, he snagged a couple of empty cans half submerged in the river and emptied them before tossing them onto the mattress. “If this aquatic trash contains something as simple as cleaners, pesticides, even a flea collar, it could contaminate the water supply. Preventing illegal dumping is just another aspect of conservation and preservation, keeping the ecosystem in balance.” He shot a wry grin. “Rules are there for a reason.”

She plucked three large pieces of broken glass from the mud and added them to the rest on the mattress. “I guess now isn’t the time to say that fishing without a license pales in comparison to this ...”

“While I see your point,” he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses, “the top end of the fine is the same for both.”

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