“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Not far,” Jess said. “Just trust me.”
We took a left at a mailbox painted with cartoon cows, then rumbled down a dirt road lined with cedar. At the end of it was a wide metal gate and a hand-painted sign: WRECKER & PARKER, in bold red. Jess keyed in a code, and the gate swung open with a whine.
He parked at the edge of a wooded lot, then killed the engine. “C’mon.”
I stepped out, the soles of my sneakers sinking into the soft earth. The whole place smelled of cedar, moss, and the faint sweetness of honeysuckle on the wind. We skirted the side of Wrecker and Parker’s place; a pretty ranch house with a wraparound porch, every inch of it hung with wind chimes and dream catchers. Parker’s touch, no question.
Jess took my hand, pulled me through knee-high grass and down a gentle slope. I could hear water, and a few seconds later we came to a little creek, maybe six feet wide, the banks crowded with willows and wild plum. Jess stopped at a break in the trees, then turned to face me.
“This is it,” he said, voice gone soft. “This is where our house is gonna be.”
I stared, trying to picture it: a flat acre of grass, the creek curving along the back; the trees throwing shadows like a cathedral. The afternoon light caught in the leaves and made them shimmer, pale green and silver. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
He put his arm around me and pointed to a spot halfway up the rise. “I want a white board and batten. Big porch facing east so you get all the morning light. Gray sage shutters. Inside, just one level, ranch style, but with a huge kitchen. Big eating area,because you like when people come over. Stone fireplace. Three, maybe four bedrooms. Enough for a couple of pups, if you want them.”
His words made my heart trip and catch. I squeezed his hand so hard he winced.
“You mean, you want a family?” I said.
He looked at me, really looked, then nodded. “Ifyoudo.”
I thought about it for half a second. I pictured little kids running through the grass, arms out like airplane wings. I pictured the two of us sitting on that porch, watching the sunset and maybe not being haunted anymore.
“I do,” I said.
Jess let out a breath; a look of relief on his face. “Good.”
We stood like that, staring at the empty lot, until my toes started to go numb from standing still.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Can I tell you a secret dream?”
“Anything.”
“If we ever make it back from France, and if we have the money, I’d like to open a dance studio in town. Nothing fancy, just a little place for the kids. Maybe the moms wouldn’t think of me as the town whore and would let their little girls learn ballet from me.”
There was a long silence. Then Jess said, “They’d be lucky to have you.”
I snorted. “You’re biased.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me close. “Maybe a little.”
We watched the creek for a while. I listened to the water, the wind in the trees, and the far-off bark of a dog. It was all so normal, so possible, that for a minute I almost forgot about Paris, about the pack, about everything waiting for us on the other side of the ocean.
“This is just the first days of our dreams coming true,” Jess said, his voice muffled against my hair.
I closed my eyes, letting myself believe it.
When we finally walked back to the truck, the sun was low in the sky, painting the world in bronze and blue. The shadows were long, but the air had warmed, and I could almost taste the fullness of spring.
We drove in silence. When we reached town, Jess pulled into the lot behind Pearl’s, parked in the shadows, and turned to me.
“You ready for this?” he asked.
I stared at my hands, the way they shook just a little.
“No,” I said. “But I’m going, anyway.”
