FIVE
“Where do you work?” Sophie asked the question without preamble. Every day they shared dinner, but she had yet to ask him some of the big important things. Job. Plans for his future. Family stuff. He let her talk about herself with an interest and focus that surpassed any of the guidance counselors and therapists she’d been forced to see over the years, but he didn’t pry. They talked about a lot of nothing.
It was wonderful. Easy, companionable conversations that never halted in jarring silences.
Until now.
“I have a side hustle. Um. Business consulting. And I volunteer with a group of concerned citizens in Pine Ridge.” Jesse answered questions without his usual ease.
“Wow. Consulting already? Don’t they usually want old guys who golf for consulting?” Sophie teased. At least, she hoped she was teasing. This whole “joking around with a friend and not being nervous” thing was new to her.
“Usually, yeah. Or someone with a lot of success in a particular area. What about you? Music education or performance?”
“Music education.” The fear of standing in front of people was fading. Her voice rang with a new conviction when she explained, “I think the cello saved my life. Really. I was... not in agood place sometimes, but I could always work out my emotions with a piece of music that captured my mood. Maybe I can help other people find their safety net, too.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“What? Lame?” Sophie anxiously skirted his intense eyes, looking toward the brown and gold leaves above their heads.
“It’s one of the things I love about you, that’s all. You’re this incredibly strong person.”
“No! No, believe me—” She laughed, graceful fingers brushing away false words.
His fingers suddenly grabbed hers. His skin was even cooler than hers, but his hands were soft and strong, a five-fingered lifeline. “No,youbelieveme. You aresostrong, Sophie.”
They walked in silence, hands clasped.
Is this what falling in love feels like? Sophie wondered abruptly. You feel safe and comfortable. Happy. You can talk. You can be yourself.
Although...Her streetsmart upbringing thrust a shoulder into her contemplation,you don’t know that much about him. You haven’t checked him out. He could be lying to you about what he does, where he lives, even his name. I’ve never checked.
I could find out.
Her father’s best friend, whom she affectionately called Uncle Darrell, was a Pennsylvania State Trooper. When he met her dad, they were both working on the Philly metro, a beat cop patrolling the station and a night crew maintenance man who started eating their midnight “lunches” together. If it was a question of checking out a prospective love interest, purely for safety's sake, her uncle would have no qualms about doing a quick check.
Or I could start on the internet.
Or I could start with a last name.
“- Lumberjacks are having a game in Hershey. That’s the Pine Ridge minor league hockey team. Do you like hockey? Are you a Flyers fan?”
“Not much. I went to a few Phantoms games.” Sophie referred to the minor league hockey team. For some reason, Jesse suddenly started coughing uncontrollably. “Are you okay?”
“Swallowed wrong,” he choked out. “So. Would you like to?”
“Swallow wrong?” Sophie’s eyes went wide.
“Come to the game in Hershey. We could have a friendly wager. I bet you two tacos the Lumberjacks crush the Bears.”
