Page 12 of Finding Yesterday

His face goes even whiter, but he forces a chuckle. “It’s funny, I thought I remembered it, but then it was the wrong color.”

“You should remember it, kiddo! You sneaked outta your pops’s house all the time to come here to rummage through it.” She chuckles. “You’re lucky we didn’t tell your pops. He would’ve put you on manure duty for a month.”

Normally I’d smile, but I’m too busy watching Jack’s reaction. His eyes look empty, shadowed. My instinct is to go to him and pull him into a hug—to take his pain away and save him like he did me.

Which is ridiculous. I barely know him.

He forces another laugh before saying, “Well, then I owe you a huge thank you. No one in Graham County wants to be on Pops’s manure duty.” He looks back at his car before meeting my gaze. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer, Claire, if you don’t mind. I, um…” he trails off, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow. “I’ve gotta get back to the restaurant.”

“Sure, no problem.” I have no idea what just happened with Jack and that shed, but I want to know. He helped me get through one of the worst days in my life, and now I want to help him too, but it’s not my place. I let out a silent stream of air, realizing I’m going to get to keep this sweet little pig.

Jack studies my face. “But Pops needs the pig in the next hour before he heads to the restaurant. He has to slaughter it and get it in the pot now so it can brine for at least twenty-four hours.”

A look passes between us, and I’m pretty sure Jack’s onto me. And I can’t help but be impressed at Jack’s kind gesture—that he’s basically letting me have this pig as long as I have another one delivered in time. I reply, “Right, of course.” Which means I’m now in a mighty hurry if I’m going to make it to the butcher shop, then Daddy’s, then Pops’s, all within the hour. I back away, pulling Winston in more tightly. “All right, see you around.”

“Oh, wait, honey.” Daisy holds up her hand. “Can I get that hog hat back? It’s the only one I have in that size.”

I turn while still walking. “I’ll return it as soon as he’s dropped off, I promise, Ms. Daisy.” She’snevergetting that hat back, but I’ll pay her for it later.

I beat feet to my car, leaving my farm-fresh vegetables. I don’t have time for those because now I need to go buy another piglet from a butcher's shop.

I slide Winston into the vegetable basket before threading the seat belt through the handles. I don’t have a plan or any idea of how I’m going to take care of Winston, but I’ve raised my share of pigs. I’m sure I’ll figure something out. Later.

All I know right now is that Jack Brady willneverget his butchering hands on this precious baby.

When I look over at Jack’s car, he’s sitting inside, still as stone, staring at Daisy’s shed. The rumor was that Jack’s parents moved away from Blue Vine because of the accident, but now I can’t help but wonder if that wasn’t the only reason.

CHAPTER SIX

“WHAT ARE WEgonna do now, Winston?” I pet him as he lies beside me on Emma’s couch. When he snorts and rolls over, I give him a good scratch. “Look at that adorable belly.” He was a perfect gentleman on the two-hour car ride from Blue Vine to Atlanta.

Now that I’m back, my mind’s in a haze, and somehow I feel even more lost.

Yesterday when I left Daisy’s, I picked up a suckling pig from the Blue Vine butcher’s shop and brought it to Jack’s pops’s house along with Daddy’s wine. All Max did was grunt, so I took that as a thank you—I guess?

It was strange seeing Max, Jack’s grandfather, again after all these years. I still remember him from when I was a kid, and although he’s aged like everyone, he seemed like an entirely different person. He used to be fun-loving and happy, and yesterday, he could barely look at me, let alone smile.

It was a strange encounter, and I had to get out of Dodge. I wanted to make Daddy vegetable stew, but when I returned to Daddy’s, he said he didn’t care one way or the other. So, between seeing Max and finding myself caught up in whatever happened to Jack at the shed, I had to escape Blue Vine.

I’m headed back there to taste wine for Emma, but besides that, I have no idea what comes next. I don’t feel like crying, so maybe I’m finally cried out? Or maybe I’m just numb. It’s too much to process, so whatever it is, I have to keep moving. No more tears, just action.

An idea pops into my head, so I sit up. “I need to cook.” I look around. Emma has the perfect kitchen, one I’d dream to have.

I jump up, suddenly full of energy. I rush to the cabinets and gather up all my supplies to make this new recipe I’ve been dying to experiment with—black-eyed pea burgers with fried green tomato sauce and a pinch of chipotle.

I start whipping everything together when I realize I’ve added triple the amount of garbanzo flour than I was supposed to.

Crap.

“Well, I’ll just triple the recipe,” I say to Winston, who’s fast asleep on the kitchen bench seat, basking in the rays of sun.

I work away, trays of patties filling Emma’s oven. This is going to be so much food, I should really take it to the Midtown food kitchen. Because of a partnership, Tangz is permitted to donate prepared food to them. I doubt the volunteers at the kitchen know I’m not at Tangz anymore, so I should be fine. And it’s been a while since I donated, something I used to do all the time.

While I wait for the burgers to cook, I look around, realizing that flour, mixing bowls, and spices cover Emma’s granite countertops. The floor is also a mess, as I was in such a rush to throw this together, I wasn’t paying attention to what dropped.

Obviously, I’m going to have to give the place a good clean before Emma and Dylan get home. She’ll freak out.

When I take the patties out of the oven, they smell fantastic, and I already feel a lot better.

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