Never Let You Go (5 page)

“So, have you guys ever worked on a farm before?” Anna asked, smiling easily.

“Hell, no,” Robert answered. He had a big grin with lots of white teeth. “I never even had a pet. How about you? You ever worked on a farm?”

She rolled her eyes a little playfully. “Only, like, every summer since I was ten. This farm. But Megan’s never been here before.”

Megan jumped as Anna poked her in the side. “Um, yeah. I’m new too.”
New too? How very Dr. Seuss of you, Megan.

“Nice!” Robert’s gaze fixed on Anna as if nailed there. “Isaac and me are freshmen at OSU. Our horticulture prof told us about this job. I worked construction last summer, so anything’s better than that.”

“Oh, Megan, you
love
horticulture, don’t you?” Anna burbled.

Megan glared at her. Robert looked from one girl to the other as if trying to decode something.

“How about you?” Megan asked Isaac hurriedly. “Do you know anything about farms?”

He regarded her. “I’ve worked at the garden center some this year,” he replied laconically. “So I know about plants. Not animals, though.”

“We’re almost ready to start, everyone,” Sarah called across the lawn, wiping her hands on her jeans.

Megan headed toward the table with relief. It was obvious Robert could not be less interested in her, and she had no desire
to prolong this torture. He wanted Anna, of course. Like always.

“Can you guys help move the table into the shade—
carefully
?” Sarah asked. The table was now loaded with platters of corn on the cob, carrots in some kind of cream sauce, green beans, a basket of rolls, cut-up watermelon, and bowls of vanilla and chocolate pudding. Megan’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. She hadn’t had anything to eat since her tuna sandwich on the bus.

“Megan?” Sarah went on. “Can you bring out the platter of chicken in the kitchen?”

“Sure.” She nodded, glad for something to do.

The kitchen seemed dim after the outdoors, and Megan paused inside, letting her eyes adjust. It was a big, square room, with wooden cabinets lining every wall and old-fashioned wall-paper printed with butter churns and brooms. She glimpsed a living room through a doorway at the other end. The sink was filled with watermelon rinds and carrot peelings. In the center of the room, a long, dark wood table was wiped clean except for a dish heaped with fried chicken.

Megan leaned over and hefted the warm, heavy platter. The chicken was piled high, the top pieces balanced precariously. As she walked toward the door, her hip caught the high edge of the counter, rapping the bone sharply. She gasped, and the platter clattered to the floor. Chicken flew everywhere, skittering under the table and into the dusty corners of the room.

“Shit!” Megan whispered. Through the open window, she could hear laughter and conversation out on the lawn.

Megan dropped to her knees and picked up the platter just as
she heard a toilet flush, then the sound of running water. A door opened at the other end of the room, and a tall guy with reddish blond hair and a two-day beard emerged. He stopped short in front of her, and Megan looked up from her kneeling position on the floor. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then the guy said, “You know, I
like
my chicken with a little extra dust flavor.” He bent down and picked up a drumstick.

Megan knew her face was scarlet. She scrabbled around, piling pieces of chicken onto the plate. “I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she mumbled. She could barely look the guy in the eye. She felt so stupid crouching there on the floor like a kid caught stealing cookies.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” the guy said easily. He hunkered down on his heels and helped assemble the chicken. His hands were wide and bronzed from the sun. Little golden hairs sprinkled his forearms. Megan snuck a look at his face from under her eyelashes. He
had
to be Jordan. “I dropped an entire pitcher of sangria at my parents’ twentieth anniversary party. I don’t know why they were letting a ten-year-old serve the booze. There was red wine all over my mom’s carpet.” He held up the platter. “There. Not a dust bunny in sight.”

Megan looked around. They’d gotten every piece. She sat back on her heels with relief. This guy was really nice. “Thanks so much.” They both got to their feet. Megan paused, accepting the platter from Jordan. “Do you think it’s . . . ethical to serve this?” She wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of her mouth.
Ethical?
But Jordan didn’t laugh, though
the skin around his blue eyes crinkled at the edges as he looked down at her.

“Definitely not,” he said seriously. “But I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Megan laughed, and his face relaxed into a grin.

“Jordan, by the way.”

“Megan, by the way.” It was impossible not to smile back.

“Here, maybe you should let me take that out.” He stepped forward to take the plate from her hands, and Megan caught a whiff of a cedary soap. For a moment, her breath caught. They were standing very close. He looked right into her eyes. The effect was piercing, intimate. Unbelievably, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Then, in an instant, the moment was gone. Megan looked away as Jordan pushed open the door for her with one foot.

Megan hurried toward the picnic table where the others were assembled, fighting sudden guilt.
Stop, it was just one of those moments.
He’s
not thinking about it anymore.
She gulped the glass of iced tea Anna placed in front of her, then held the cold glass to her forehead. Her friend touched her elbow.

“What’s wrong?” Anna asked. “You’re all pale and sweaty.”

“I’m okay,” Megan said as Jordan set the chicken on the table and slid onto the bench next to Anna.

“Hi,”
Anna breathed, her face alight.

“Hi,” Jordan said easily. He poured himself a glass of tea.

“Everyone, go ahead and start.” Linda waved her arms over the spread. “Before the flies find it.” There was a general clatter
and shuffling as the serving dishes started going around.

“Pass the salad, will you, Dave?” Thomas asked.

Across the table, Robert was piling half the carrots onto his plate. “Oh, man, I love cream sauce,” he announced to no one in particular.

Sarah passed Megan the corn. “So, Megan, where are you from?”

“Cleveland.” Megan took an ear. It was bright yellow and firm, with big, juicy-looking kernels. She accepted the butter dish too and slathered on a big knifeful. “Actually, a western suburb.” She paused. “This dinner is really different from the way we eat at home,” she confided.

“Really? How so?” Sarah asked.

Megan thought of the usual Lean Cuisines, Kraft mac and cheese, tuna noodle casserole if her mother could find the energy. They had a table, but it was covered with homework papers and old mail. Dinner was eaten on the couch in front of the TV. “Dinner at home is, um . . . simpler.”

Sarah nodded as if she understood what Megan was saying. “It’s hard to cook a lot when you have another job. Taking care of the house and cooking is all I do.” She gestured at the loaded table.

“Oh, no way!” Anna exclaimed on her other side. Megan glanced over. Anna had slid down several inches so that her shoulder was touching Jordan’s as they ate. “You worked on a road crew last summer?”

“Yeah, we had to spread tar nine hours a day. It would get up
to about one hundred and ten out there on the blacktop,” Jordan was saying. “It had to be the worst summer job ever.”

Anna squeezed his bicep. “That is amazing,” she purred. “I think it sounds sexy.” She tilted her head so her silky hair brushed his shoulder.

What? That doesn’t even make sense.
But Jordan didn’t seem to care. Actually, he seemed pleased with Anna’s obvious admiration.

“Can I have a bite?” Anna pointed at Jordan’s bowl of watermelon with her fork and gave him a flirtatious glance. Megan saw Isaac raise one eyebrow.

“Sure.” Jordan leaned back, and Anna stabbed a chunk of the pink fruit, raising it to her mouth and biting it seductively.

“—ever since college,” Sarah was saying. Megan forced her attention back to the other conversation. “Dave loves it out here.”

Dave nodded briefly from his spot at the end of the table and continued eating stolidly. Megan wondered if he ever talked.

“Where did you go to college?” Megan asked, trying to ignore Anna’s buttery voice in her other ear. Now she was trying to feed Jordan a piece of watermelon with her fingers.

“Bryn Mawr . . .” Sarah trailed off, distracted by Anna. Isaac had actually stopped eating, and up at the head of the table, Linda pressed her lips together into a thin line.

Jordan ate the watermelon from Anna’s fingers. She narrowed her eyes with satisfaction, letting her finger linger between his lips for a moment. Then Jordan noticed everyone was watching. A little flush rose in his cheeks.

Everyone resumed eating, and after the pudding had gone
around for the second time, Thomas stood up and cleared his throat above the busy hum of talk.

“I’d just like to officially welcome everyone,” he said. “This summer will be busy, productive, and fun. And I hope you all are comfortable with manure.”

The group laughed.

Thomas went on. “The daily work schedule will be given out each morning at breakfast and will consist of animal chores in the morning and evening, and garden work during the afternoons. There will be many other jobs in addition to the usual chores. My hope is that you each will choose an area of interest, such as the chickens, and focus on that for the summer.”

Megan thought of Anna’s tales about the rooster. She suspected that tending the chickens was not going to be her area of interest.

“Sarah is in charge of the kitchen, but the summer hands are expected to help out at meals. There is a schedule of kitchen duty on the fridge. Please check it so you know when you’re assigned to cook and clean up. Robert, Isaac, and Jordan will have dish duty tonight, and Anna and Megan will do breakfast tomorrow.” Thomas made to sit down, then stood again quickly as if he’d remembered something. “I know you all are aware of the abandoned section of the farm behind the sheep pasture. Let me reiterate that no one is to be back there at any time. The buildings are unsafe. Okay, that’s it. Welcome to Given Farm, everyone!” He raised his iced tea glass in a toast.

There was a smattering of applause, then a general commotion
as everyone stood up. Rosy sunset streaks painted the western sky, and twilight had already fallen in the shadows under the trees.

“Oh wait, everyone!” Thomas called out. He plucked an old-fashioned camera from the edge of the porch. “I like to get a picture of everyone on the first day—just a memento for you all. I’ll have prints made for each of you.”

“Aww, Uncle Thomas, you have a camera with
real film
?” Anna teased.

“I know, I’m such a throwback,” he replied, herding everyone into position in front of the porch steps.

Megan found herself next to Jordan, with Anna on her other side. He winked at Megan as they all jostled closer together, then draped his arm casually over her shoulder. He smelled even better up close. On her other side, Anna was darting anxious glances at him.

“Smile!” Thomas clicked the shutter and the camera flashed.

The crowd broke up. Linda buzzed up the wooden ramp beside the steps and into the house, followed by Thomas, while Sarah and Dave headed to the pickup parked out front. A minute later, the roar of the engine retreated down the drive. Maybe they were going out to a bar or something. The boys began stacking the dishes and carrying them into the kitchen. Megan was warm and sleepy, full of dinner. She turned to the path that led back to the cabin, but Anna caught her by the arm.

“No, no!” Anna whispered. Her eyes gleamed in the semidark.

“What?” Megan asked irritably. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“You can’t. I have the best idea!” Anna pulled Megan behind a rhododendron as Isaac gathered up the last of the dishes and went into the kitchen, letting the screen door bang behind him. The lawn was deserted. Anna peered around the bush. “Okay. It’s clear.” She motioned for Megan to follow her.

Megan groaned as she trotted behind Anna across the grass. When they neared the house, Anna suddenly dropped to her knees and crawled toward the open kitchen window, which was a bright yellow rectangle of light glowing in the dark.

“Anna, this is stupid!” Megan hissed. “We shouldn’t spy on them.”

“Don’t be such a mommy! I just want to hear if Jordan says anything about me.”

They crouched below the window, their feet sunk in the soft soil of a flowerbed, and peered over the sill into the bright kitchen.

Isaac was standing at the sink, the water going full blast, washing a giant pile of silverware. The counter beside him was stacked with dirty dishes and serving platters. Robert was busy drying glasses with a flowered dishtowel. Another dishtowel was tucked into his belt like an apron, which Megan found oddly endearing. Anna’s eyes locked on Jordan scraping chicken bones and other debris into the trash can. They had the radio on loud, but the windows were open and Megan could hear them easily over the music and the running water.

They were talking about Dave, Megan gathered after a moment. “—think he was working for Sarah’s dad,” Robert said. “Taking care of some thoroughbreds.”

Megan felt Anna sag beside her in disappointment.

“Can we go now?” Megan whispered.

“In a minute.” Anna held her arm. She moved closer to the wall and raised her head another inch to peer in. The deep blackness of the farm night pressed in, pinning them against the side of the house.

“Sarah’s family has racehorses?” Jordan was asking. He carried another stack of plates over the trash can and kept scraping. “Are they really rich or something?”

Robert was opening random cupboard doors, looking for a place for the wooden salad bowl. “Sounds like it, right?”

There was a pause, then Isaac said, “Sarah’s not bad.” The silverware clanked against the side of the sink.

“Yeah,” Robert agreed.

Outside, Megan stifled a yawn, her jaws aching, and let herself slide down the outside of the house, bracing her back against the siding. Her feet felt chilled and dirty. She thought longingly of the metal cot back in the cabin and wondered faintly when she was supposed to take a shower.