Page 2 of Keepsake
May took the duffel off my shoulder and tossed it into the TV room at the back of the house. “Come through to the dining room,” she said. Then my friend paused, her hand on the dining room door. “I wish I could give you a quieter evening for your first night,” she apologized. “But we have the Abrahams and the Nickels most Thursdays, unless we’re at one of their places.”
“It’s okay.” And, really, it would be. I hadn’t lost my nerve so completely that I couldn’t dine at a crowded table. Right?
In any case, I could get better at faking it.
She pushed open the door, and my stomach spasmed as I counted the faces on the other side. The old Lark would never have been afraid to greet a room full of people. I knew the exact date I’d stopped being fearless. It was sixty-seven days ago.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be the same again. Just hovering here on the same wide-plank floors I’d stood on a dozen times while visiting the Shipleys in college, I began to sweat.
The only thing to do was to slap on an impersonation of my usual self. Stepping into the dining room, I lowered my shoulders and lifted my chin.
Ten heads turned in my direction. No—even more. There was Grandpa Shipley, his weathered hands cupped around a coffee mug. And then May’s older brother gave a familiar shout, using the nickname he’d given me seven years ago, when May and I were freshmen. “Hey! It’s the Wild Child!”
“Hi, Griffin,” I managed. He slung his arm around his smiling girlfriend, Audrey, who had just followed us in from the kitchen.
As for the others at the table, I recognized some of them, but I needed a refresher on a few names.
“Everybody, this is Lark,” May said. “She’s going to be staying with us and helping out at the farmers’ markets.”
“Awesome,” said a youngish guy seated at the table. “She can count the cash boxes. I hate dealing with money.”
“And that’s why you don’t have any,” Griffin said. He pointed at the guy. “That’s my cousin Kyle. And his brother Kieran.” He pointed at another guy, too.
I could see the resemblance. The Shipleys were a tall family, with dark eyes and shiny, brown hair. Kyle and Kieran were of a similar make. Kyle had a somewhat silly, lopsided smile, whereas Kieran looked more serious.
“Nice to meet you both,” I said.
“And that’s Jude and Sophie. They just came back from their honeymoon on Martha’s Vineyard.”
I’d never seen Jude before. He had longer hair and a bunch of tattoos sticking out of his shirtsleeves. He wore a sort of closed-off expression which didn’t invite me to linger, but his wife gave me a cheerful wave.
“And you remember Zachariah.” May indicated a blond guy in the corner.
My gaze caught on the farmhand I’d met just before I left for my trip in the spring. Who could forget him? Zachariah was a thing of beauty. He had thick blond hair, and his tanned, muscular forearms rested casually on the table in front of him. His well-worn T-shirt was stretched over broad shoulders and well-defined pecs. And even as I stared at him, he gave me a shy smile.
Yowza.
“The Abrahams sell cheese, beeswax and honey at the farmers’ market,” May was saying beside me.
I dragged my attention back to the introductions. There was a pause, as everyone expected me to say something. I went with: “I love beeswax candles. They smell so good.”
The couple I was supposed to be meeting beamed at me from across the table.
“Isaac and Leah are right down the road,” May explained. “Our two farms partner up on a lot of different things, so they’re like family.”
It only took one look to peg the neighbors as crunchy, young, back-to-the-land Vermonters. Leah’s hair was fashioned into dreads, and Isaac wore a homemade sweater. A messy-haired toddler sat curled into Isaac’s lap.
“It’s nice to meet you, sweetie,” Leah said.
“Likewise,” I replied.
Ruth and her helpers had filled the table with food, and now May’s teenaged siblings squeezed themselves into chairs on either side of the too-attractive-to-be-real Zachariah. Daphne gave him an appreciative glance before dropping her napkin onto her lap.
I had to bite back a smile at the poorly disguised teenaged yearning in her expression. Ofcourseshe adored Zachariah. Not only was he beautiful, but he had kind eyes.
We found seats, too. I was between Griffin’s girlfriend and May. And finally Ruth Shipley took her place at the head of the table. It used to be her husband who sat there, but Auggie Shipley had passed away when we were in college.
Poor May had come home from taking her last final exam our sophomore year to hear that her father had suffered a heart attack and died before he even reached the hospital. It had been a dark time for my best friend.
