Page 3 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
As far as he could tell, not even a cat was looking for him.
The ragtime piano rhythm didn’t go so well with his mood. Hegot up and changed the record to an old Waylon Jennings standby. He’d firstheard it before his parents’ divorce, and it always took him back to that timewhen he hadn’t known how life could tear a person apart. As Waylon crooned, heopened the curtains on one side of the living room letting in the glow ofsunset bouncing off the mountains. Then he moved to the southern windows andopened them too.
Down the slope, through the tangle of trees, he saw a fuzzyred light. Only as it blinked off did he realize it was the neon sign at theback of Jesse Birch’s Jewelry Studio. Turning back to his sofa and chili,Christopher settled in for another night alone.
Chapter Two
JESSEPULLED INTO HIS IN-LAWS’driveway and parked in front of their gray-blueclapboard house at six minutes past seven. Searching through the keys on hisring for the right one, he let himself inside. It wasn’t a huge house, but itwas the place in the world that felt most like home to him. Aside from theoccasional trinket or one of Nova’s new clay creations, not much had changedhere since the first time he’d visited when he was fifteen. Hard to believethat was seventeen years ago now. The thirty-year-old furniture, the familypictures on the wall, and the sense of peace that seemed to radiate from theceiling down to the floorboards were all the same as they ever were.
The smells of spaghetti and garlic bread filled the air, andhis stomach growled. He hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but he’d been soabsorbed in the delicate braiding he’d added to the wedding band he wascrafting that he’d lost all sense of time. He’d also started with the flowerson the bride’s ring, adding the tiny diamonds and amethysts. He’d planned to dojust one, but he’d completed the set before he’d realized it.
“Dad, you’re late,” Brigid said coldly as he entered hisin-laws’ kitchen.
He crossed the rough-hewn wood floor to stroke his hand overher glossy, deep brown hair. It was the color of his own and the texture of hermother’s. She twisted away from him and glared, her dark eyes flashing. “Do youeven have an excuse?” she asked tartly, her lips trembling and her expressionso like Marcy’s when she was angry.
For an instant Jesse saw her without his eyes being cloudedby the memories of the baby he’d held in his arms. The clarity showed him howshe’d sprung up in the last year, growing tall with coltish legs and ganglyarms. Her nose and mouth no longer looked like they fit on her face. He couldn’tbelieve she was twelve already, though he barely remembered what life was likewithout her and Will in it.
“I know, Brigid. I’m sorry,” he said. “I lost track of time.I’m truly sorry.”
Brigid didn’t seem impressed with his apology and he couldn’tblame her.
“Hey, Dad,” Will said, his mouth full of spaghetti. “I gota C on the math test!”
“Great!” Jesse answered.
Itwasgreat. At nine, Will wasgood at a lot of things, but school wasn’t one of them. As far as Jesse couldtell, Will was most gifted at, well, being Will. Jesse wasn’t sure what kind ofcareer that would translate into when he grew up, but he didn’t worry too muchabout it. Will cared about people and knew how to get people to open up to him.He’d be just fine.
He tried to see his son with the same unexpected distance he’dexperienced with Brigid but couldn’t achieve it. Will was still rounded at theedges. Messy with light brown hair, twinkling hazel eyes, and the air of barelyrestrained rowdiness. Marcy always said Will looked like Jesse’s long-deadgrandmother. But when Jesse looked at the kid, he just saw someone he lovedmore than breathing.
“What have you been up to today?” he asked, noting that Will’sSteelers shirt was mostly clean except for a smear of dirt along his shoulder.
“School. Football with FJ at his house. Grandma picked meup. Now spaghetti!”
“Sounds like a good day.”
Will nodded and shoved more noodles in his mouth, happy andlaid-back as ever.
“A last-minute customer?” Nova asked, motioning for him tohave a seat. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and smiled up at him. He alwaysloved his mother-in-law’s twinkling brown eyes—not only because they’d beenpassed on to Marcy and then to Brigid, but because they always left him feelingwarm and accepted.
Jesse just shrugged and smiled in return as he pulled outthe wooden chair next to Brigid. Normally, he’d have happily told Nova aboutthe design he was working on, but he didn’t feel like explaining that there wassomething about this particular couple and these particular rings that broughtback memories of an April day twelve years ago.
The dogwoods had been in full bloom, white like the silkydress Marcy wore when she’d walked around the bend on the mountain trail they’dpicked for the wedding only one month before. Chosen while still in Italy,staring at the pee-stick with the bright blue plus sign that declared Marcy’smissing period was in fact the herald of a new life.
That day, surrounded by their families, with the treesleaning in low and lacy around him, he’d felt like Marcyandthe mountains were marrying him. It’d been the perfect fresh start. A newbeginning for a new life together. It seemed so long ago and just yesterday allat once.
“Aren’t you hungry, son?” Tim asked. His hair was plaited ina long gray-blond braid down the front of his tie-dyed shirt, and he’d pushedhis glasses on top of his head. “Grab a plate now. Share a meal.”
Share a meal.
Jesse smiled. “I remember the first time you offered that.”
“I do too.” Tim smiled fondly and winked at him. “You werejust a scrawny kid back then.”
“That I was.” Jesse grabbed some spaghetti as Will startedtalking about the super-human pass his friend FJ, short for Frankie-Jones, hadthrown earlier in the day.
“It had to be a whole hundred yards!” he declared. “No,three hundred!”
Frankie-Jones’s entire backyard wasn’t more than thirtyyards at most, if Jesse remembered correctly.
