Page 22 of Outlaw Heartstrings
“Jeesh. Again?” I laugh.
“And Miss Anna’s bakery closed down. But I’ve heard rumors that we’re getting a Jittery Joe’s franchise sometime over the summer.”
When my mom appears at the other end of the aisle, I wave her over to join us, and we all catch up a little bit right here in the middle of the grocery store aisle. My mom and Mrs.—er, Ms.—Anderson were friendly back when we used to live here, and they both seem thrilled to see each other again.
“We should get together and catch up,” my mom is saying to Patty.
“Will you be staying in town a while too?” the woman asks my mother.
Mom nods. “I’ll be in town with Easton for the summer as he heals up from this ankle injury.”
The little boy taps me on the arm. “I’m glad you’re staying in my town.” He grins up at me.
“I’m glad, too,” I say, and it’s not entirely a lie. I’m starting to feel like a summer away from my chaotic life might be good for me.
“Wanna hear a joke?” Jagger asks me.
“Sure,” I give him a nod and his eyes brighten instantly.
“Knock, knock!” he shouts, bouncing on his toes.
“Oh! Uh...”How does it go? Right. “Who's there?” I play along.
“Penalty!” he responds.
I frown, trying to figure it out. “Penaltywho?”
“Penalty for tripping on this joke!” he exclaims and then giggles.
I find myself laughing, too, even though the joke’s punchline didn’t hit quite right. The kid is funny, I’ll give him that.But it’s not the joke itself that has me laughing. It’s the pure innocence beaming off him and the amusement in his eyes. His happiness tickles something inside my chest.
As I watch him leaned forward, red-faced and belly-laughing, I can’t shake the feeling that I know this little boy. I’m sure of it. I mean, I’ve never put much thought into reincarnation or living multiple lives, but what else would explain this strange feeling?
“My aunt Alba helped me put your autograph in a picture frame. Thank you for not signing my forehead. My head’s too big for a frame.”
He has me chuckling again.
Growing up, I was one heck of a goofball. Telling sillyjokes was my love language. But laughter has become a rarity in my world ever since my recent injury. Yet this kid seems to have a way of pulling the laughs right out of me.
“You’re welcome, little man. Though I think your head is the perfect size.” But something he just said sticks out to me. “Alba is youraunt?”
His grandmother steps in, hugging the child from behind, ruffling his brown curls. “Yes, Jagger is Raya’s son. You remember Raya?”
Raya?I blink. Of course I remember Raya.
I especially remember when she showed up at my house on one of my last nights here in Fairy Bush.
We were alone. I was drunk. She was drunk. And we ended up making some regrettable—naked—decisions that night.
I don’t like this nauseous feeling that’s suddenly starting to brew in my gut.
I look to Jagger. “How old are you, buddy?” I’m guessing he’s probably six? Maybe seven? That would put me in the clear, because I left town nine years ago and never came back.
But then Jagger flashes a toothy grin and declares, “Eight! I’m eight years old!” And I nearly drop to my fucking knees.
Meanwhile, Patty is still talking obliviously. “Alba has been so wonderful about taking care of him while her sister is…away.”
A shadow comes over the woman’s eyes and this growing sense of uneasiness strangulates me. I don’t get a chance to question her before she pulls out her phone.
