Dressed and ready, we stroll to Jemma’s home. On the way, I notice we’ve passed the church.
“I thought we were going to church?”
“We are.”
“But the church is back there.”
“I know. We’re going to meet Jemma and then walk over together.”
“I don’t mean to be rude when I ask this, but wouldn’t it just make more sense if she met us there?”
“It would to a rogue, but that’s not pack behavior. Jemma lives alone. I don’t want her to walk by herself.”
Why does it warm my heart to think Caleb would go out of his way to keep an older woman from going to church alone?
“I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”
“I have my moments.”
But something is telling me that he has more than justmoments. Hard as it is to picture after how we met, I could see it. So long as the person isn’t his father’s killer, I’m sure he’s a sweetheart.
I slow when I notice the remaining damage to the pack’s village and from the stories my herd has told, the rogues are responsible. Cabins are destroyed some mid-renovations but others that have not yet tended to look abandoned.
A banging hammer banging a nail catches my attention. A man on the roof wipes his forehead with his forearm. A woman hands him a box of nails, then is quickly distracted by a little pup who appears, carrying chopped wood. The woman notices he’s about to drop his bundle and assists him. He drops it anyway and cries. The female comforts him, saying it’s okay, and that he’s doing such a good job helping. Soon, they’ll be back in their home.
Guilt twists in my stomach.
My herd did that to them.
After passing a few more cabins, we arrive at Jemma’s. Expecting us, she was in her rocking chair on the porch, waiting. From far away, she waves, and Caleb waves back.
“Does she know I’m a rogue?”
“Yes.”
In that case, she’s probably going to judge me.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and pull at the bottom of my dress, making sure it doesn’t seem too short. Jemma has probably decided she isn’t going to like me, but I can still try to make a good impression.
Caleb steps onto her front porch while I wait at the bottom, unsure if I’m allowed up. I don’t want to overstep.
Jemma grunts as she stands to embrace Caleb. Still in his arms, she leans her head back to get a better look at him. “Did you get taller?”
“I think you’re just getting shorter.” Caleb laughs at his own quip.
“Oh, you.” Jemma lightly swats his stomach with the back of her hand. She waves her finger at him. “You just wait until you’re my age.” Jemma’s hands rest her hips, and she pivots toward me. “And you must be Jay.”
No disgust shows on her face when she says my name, so I take it as a good sign and smile back. “Hi, yes. You must be Jemma.”
“Well.” Jemma grabs the railing to ease herself down the steps.
Caleb goes to help her by grabbing her arm, but Jemma swats her hand at him again. “I’m old, but I’m not that old, sweetheart.”
Caleb lifts his arms in surrender, palms out and shoots me ayikesface. Though humor lingers behind it at Jemma’s outburst.
I try my best not to giggle.
Jemma says, “Hope you’re a hugger.” Then she pulls me into an embrace.
