Catching Moondrops (9 page)

By the time I got home, the sun was good and high, catching the humidity in the air in just the right way to make my hair curl up all around my face. It was so heavy, I gave up on keeping it in place and pulled the hairpins out.

Gemma was propped up against the oak tree with a book perched on her knees, but she looked up when I came near. “Too hot for a body to be traipsin' about, Jessie.” She studied my face a bit and then patted the ground next to her. “Sit down here and get some shade.”

I was in no mood to sit, but I was also in no mood to argue, so I plopped down beside her with a long sigh.

“You see Luke?”

“'Course I saw Luke. Why else d'you think I'm down in the mouth?”

“Well, what happened?”

“Same as always happens. He looks good and ready to say how he feels about me and then he stops and pulls away like he ain't never seen me before.”

She hugged the book to her chest and smiled. “He's just confused, is all.”

“Well, that's just great, him bein' confused while I ain't a bit confused!” I bent over to trace a heart in the dirt of a bare patch beside me only to promptly swipe it away. “I'm tellin' you, Gemma, I can't wait much longer for him to come to his senses without losin' my mind.”

“Jessie, you done lost your mind the day that boy pulled you gaspin' from that swimmin' hole six years ago. Seems to me you ain't waitin' around for him to come to his senses. You're waitin' for him to lose them.”

I looked at her for a long moment, then dropped my head to my knees with a groan.

She laughed and pulled me to her like a momma consoling a child with a skinned knee, and I let her, like always. So long as she mothered me with her hugs and not her words, it was fine with me.

I helped fix supper that night with my ears at the ready for Luke's whistle, hoping and praying he'd come despite what happened earlier that day, but I never heard it. So it was a weight lifted from my heavy heart when the slamming of the screen door announced his entrance as we took our seats at the table.

Luke walked in and snatched his hat off his head awkwardly. “Sorry to be late, Mrs. Lassiter. I lost track of time.”

Momma pushed his usual chair out as a sign of welcome and smiled. “Ain't never a worry about that. You set on down here. We were just gettin' started, anyhow.”

He thanked her and sat, but he was nothing but a bundle of nerves, and he wouldn't even hint at looking in my direction.

Daddy sat back in his chair and stared at him, but he didn't say a thing. He just shoveled a helping of peas into his mouth and shook his head like he knew an embarrassing secret about Luke.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so secret.

Despite the fact that conversation was barely existent at the table that night, Momma couldn't keep from letting little smiles break across her face at intervals. And every now and then she'd look from me to Luke and then back at me. By the time I'd finished my slice of ham, the silence had become deafening to me. Gemma noticed and nudged me in the knee to get my attention so I'd see the reassuring smile she was sending my way.

There was as little talk for the rest of the evening as there was at supper. I'd never in all my born days known the Lassiter house to be so silent. It was like each of us was afraid to break the spell for one reason or another, and we went about our separate ways like mimes.

By the time I was done with the dishes, a lightning storm had begun to put on a show outside, and I walked onto the porch to watch alone. Not a drop of rain fell to ease the heat, but the jagged streaks lit up the night like fireworks.

I heard Luke's boots on the den floor as he stood, and I tensed at the thought that he was headed out to join me, but my heart sank when I heard him announce that he was leaving.

“Better get on my way. It's gettin' late.”

“But it's stormin',” Momma argued. “Why don't you just wait it out?”

“I best get to sleep early. Had a long day.”

I turned in my chair so I could peer into the window just in time to see Gemma jump up from the sofa. “You can't go out in the lightnin'!”

“It ain't too bad. Probably just some heat lightnin'.”

“I don't care where it came from, Luke Talley; it's lightnin' all the same. You best stay inside, you hear?”

Gemma's face was painted with fear, and her expression didn't leave Luke much room for refusal. He dropped his head and ran a hand through his hair. “All right, Gemma. I'll wait it out.”

“Better yet, why don't you stay the night?” Momma tossed her knitting into her basket and stretched. “We could all use an early-to-bed, and I can just fix up the couch for you.”

“No, ma'am. I'll just wait it out. You don't need to go to any trouble over me.”

“Ain't no trouble and you know it.”

Daddy blew a ring of pipe smoke and then used the pipe to point at Luke. “Come to think of it, it'd help me out if you did stay. The truck's actin' up, and you could save us all a walk to church in the mornin'.”

That seemed to settle it, and Luke put his hands out to his sides in a gesture of resignation. “If y'all are sure you don't mind . . .”

Momma was already taking the throw pillows from the couch. “'Course we don't mind. Gemma, honey, go grab me the extra sheet, will you?”

I walked inside and looked at them like I hadn't heard a thing.

“Luke's stayin' the night to keep out of the storm,” Momma told me. Then she snapped her fingers. “Shoot! I forgot that old spare pillow lost its stuffin' and I ain't patched it yet.” She turned to me and waved toward the stairs. “Jessie, fetch him your pillow and you can use the throw pillow tonight.”

“No, ma'am.” Luke picked up one of the small pillows from the floor and held it in both arms. “Jessie ain't got to give up her pillow for me. I'm fine with this one.”

“I don't mind,” I murmured. “I don't really even need a pillow. I'll get you mine.”

But Gemma was halfway down the steps and tossed me the extra sheet she'd fetched. “I'll get your pillow.”

Momma made sure Luke's makeshift bed was fixed up as nice as home, kissed me good night, and headed off to bed with Daddy in tow. Luke and I had one short moment of awkward silence before Gemma came downstairs and plopped the pillow down with a smile. “Sweet dreams, Luke.” Then she tucked my arm into hers and led me up the stairs, only she stopped short at the top.

“What are you doin'?” I whispered.

She only nodded downstairs and leaned around to watch Luke. Momma had left the hall lamp on so Luke wouldn't bump into anything, and in the faint light we could see Luke at his perch on the couch, suspenders at his sides. He kicked his shoes off onto the floor beside him, then gave my pillow a sidelong glance. He laid his head down and closed his eyes, but he sat up again in thirty seconds, flipped the pillow over, then lay back down. But it was no good. Twice more he sat up, flipped the pillow, and tried again until eventually he yanked the pillow out from under his head and tossed it across the room.

Gemma pulled me back to our bedroom with a smile across her face.

“What was that all about?” I asked. “You put a brick in that pillow?”

“Not a brick.” She grabbed my lavender perfume from the dressing table and held it up in front of her. “Just your scent.”

“He threw the pillow across the room! That mean he ain't liked my scent all these years?”

She rolled her eyes at me and fell back onto her bed in dramatic fashion. “Jessilyn, there ain't no brick in that pillow, but there's one in your head.” She sat up and pulled me down beside her, waving the perfume bottle under my nose. “How's a man supposed to sleep when all he can think of is a girl? He tossed that pillow away because it smelled like you and he couldn't think straight.”

I blinked five times before giving my head a slow, accusing shake. “And Momma talks about my feminine wiles. Gemma Teague, you're a tease!” Then I grabbed her face in my hands and smiled. “But I sure am glad I got you on my side.”

* * *

I didn't know if Luke got much sleep that night, but I sure didn't. I woke before the sun and decided there was no point in staying in bed. I washed and dressed quickly, then headed downstairs, careful to avoid the squeaky steps. Luke was asleep on the couch, his long legs hanging over the edge, one arm flung across his face. His sheet was balled up on the floor beside him, and I could see his chest rise and fall with each breath. I stood in the dim morning light and watched him for a minute, but he stirred and flipped onto his side, and I rushed to the kitchen to avoid being caught staring.

I set about making pancakes as quietly as I could, but by the time I poured the first ones onto the griddle, Luke came shuffling in.

“You always fuss around in the kitchen before sunup?” His hair was sticking out at odds and ends, his eyes squinty.

“Couldn't help it. Too many thoughts in my head. And anyways, you know there's almost always someone in the kitchen before sunup. That's farm life.”

“Not on Sundays there ain't.” He wandered up beside me and leaned against the counter.

There were a couple minutes of awkward silence before I decided I'd had enough of the distance between us. I flicked a hunk of hair that was lying across his forehead. “You sleep on your head or somethin'?”

“Why?”

“Your hair's all cockeyed.”

He reached up to smooth it down and then ran his thumb across my cheek. “Well, you're wearin' flour. I ain't the only messy one.”

I self-consciously brushed a hand across my face to clear away anything he might have missed and then flipped the pancakes. “I'm a sloppy cook.”

“You look good in flour.”

“It's a good thing since I wear it so often.” I peeked underneath one of the pancakes. “Almost ready. Fetch the plates?”

It felt like something meant to be, Luke and I puttering about the kitchen on an early morning. He insisted on waiting to eat until I was ready, and after fixing him a good stack, I settled across from him at the table with my two.

I ate absentmindedly, watching him plow through his stack in no time flat. “You ever learn how to chew when you were growin' up?”

“I get hungry in the mornin's. You know that.”

“Well, you must be extra hungry this particular mornin'. Them poor pancakes never had a chance.”

He ran a napkin across his mouth and leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, legs stretched out. “Maybe they was extra good this mornin'.”

I focused my eyes on my plate and pushed a bite of pancake around in the syrup. “You're just bein' a charmer, is all.”

“I know good pancakes when I taste 'em.”

I pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear and got up to clear the plates.

Luke beat me to it and put them in the sink. “I'll get the washin' done.”

“Don't be silly. I'll get them.”

“Ain't no reason I can't wash the dishes.”

“There is if you don't know how to do it.”

“'Course I know how to do it. I eat some meals at my house. What do you think I do, throw the dishes away after I use 'em?”

“Go on ahead if you want to.” I tested the griddle to see if it was hot enough and poured out a pancake. “I'm gonna cook up the rest of this batter, anyways.”

Luke grabbed an apron from the hook on the wall and held it up in front of him. “How do you put this thing on?” He pulled the top straps around his waist so the apron hung around his knees. “This don't look right.”

“Luke Talley,” I giggled. “You look a sight.”

“Well, I ain't got any idea how you women wear these fussy things.” He held it at arm's length and flipped it one way and then another. Finally feigning triumph, he tied the top straps around his neck. “Knew I'd figure it out.”

He was ridiculous standing there in the kitchen, his suspenders hanging at his sides, a frilly apron covering his front, and I shook my head at him and laughed.

“What're these things for?” he asked, holding the bottom straps out in front of him. “They go into a bow in front?”

“You're crazy!” I grabbed them from him and reached around his waist to tie them up behind him, but the minute I had my arms around him, the playing stopped.

There was a woodpecker outside the window making short work of our aspen tree, a clock chiming the hour, and a pancake burning on the griddle, but all I was aware of was me standing there with my arms around a man in an apron. For all I cared, that chiming clock could have stopped dead and let me live in that moment for eternity.

Luke stared at me and lifted a hand to brush the hair out of my eyes, whispering just once, “Jessilyn.”

I don't know how long a girl can go without breathing, but I was going for the record when my daddy came into the kitchen and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“For cryin' out loud, boy, if you're goin' to keep this up, why don't you just ask to court the girl?”

We both jumped at the sound of his voice, but we didn't move apart. We just stood there in disbelief, wondering if we'd heard Daddy right.

Luke pointed wide eyes in Daddy's direction. “Sir?”

“I said, why don't you just ask to court the girl? You're makin' a dang fool of yourself pretendin' you don't want to.”

Momma came up behind Daddy and stood on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. Even with half her face hidden, I could tell she was smiling like our pastor with a full offering plate.

I looked at Luke and he looked at me for a few seconds before he turned back to Daddy. “You sure I . . .”

“Luke, I've known you long enough to know you're a fine man, and you ain't never done nothin' but good for my girls. Jessilyn's a woman now. You want to walk out with her here and there, that's up to her. Go on and ask her.” He gave Luke the once-over and let out another long sigh. “You might want to take that apron off first, son.”