Sunday, Day Three of the Summer Swap
By the time Krista pulled into the gravel drive at her grandparents’ house, the sky was turning that deep summer blue that only showed up after a long, hot day. It made the trees look darker and the lake look closer, like the world had edged in for the night.
She turned the pickup off and sat there for a second, fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel.
Alice was okay. Not great, not fine, but okay. There had been talk of “age-related bone density” and “adjusting expectations.” Krista had only heard half of it.
The front porch light clicked on before she could move. The screen door creaked open and Joe stepped out, hand braced on the doorframe.
Krista’s mood instantly shifted. The light caught the scruff along Joe’s jaw, the dark sweep of his hair, the worn T-shirt clinging to his shoulders. His forearm flexed where he gripped the frame, muscles tightening under tanned skin. Heat spread low in her belly.
She instantly smiled. She wasn’t sure what he was doing at her grandparents’ house. It didn’t matter. He was here.
She stepped out of the truck and he came down the steps, long strides eating up the distance, meeting her halfway along the gravel drive. He smelled like soap and smoke and the faintest hint of something savory and spicy.
He kissed her softly, his hand sliding up her cheek, fingers curving into her hair. Heat sparked along her skin at the first brush of his mouth. It was a “welcome home” and an “I’ve missed you,” all in one gesture, and her knees went a little weak.
“Your day go okay?” he asked, stepping back.
“As well as expected,” she said, walking toward the cabin. “You survived the Hideaway?”
“Barely,” he said. “Mrs. C. tried to tip me in crumpled coupons and life advice and my bumblebee art looked like tortured butterflies.”
A laugh pushed up, surprising her. “I’m almost afraid to ask what Elsie posted.”
“She loved it,” he said. “Apparently people love seeing my artwork.”
“I bet they do.” Krista smiled.
“After that, I came back to the campground, split and bundled some wood to sell and stopped by the bees. Thought they’d want to hear about Alice’s fall. They send their regards.”
Krista was almost speechless. “You did all that? At least let me get us dinner.” Krista wasn’t about to make a four-course meal, but she could get them woodfired pizza from the Kettle or maybe Chinese food.
“Already taken care of. I made jambalaya. Thought I could heat it up for you and Walt when he got back. He gave me the keys.” Joe motioned to the house.
“Oh…” It took Krista a second to process Joe’s level of kindness. “Well…he’s sitting with Gram for a while longer. Want tohave a drink on the back porch while we wait for him?” Krista suggested.
“After you.”
They slipped inside, Krista going to the fridge and pulling out two beers. She twisted the caps off, tossing them in the trash, and handed one to Joe. “To making it through another day.”
He clinked his bottle to hers.
The porch wrapped around the back of the house, overlooking the campground and the lake beyond. Tonight, the air was soft and cool against her skin. The last of the sun brushed the tops of the trees, turning the leaves copper at the edges. She could see the flickering of a few campfires through the trees, the faint movement of people down by the water.
She sank down on the step beside Joe, her thigh bumping his. The boards were warm through her shorts. The sounds of the campground floated up on the evening breeze with kids laughing, a screen door slamming, and someone chopping wood.
And yet, she couldn’t ignore the anxiety that creeped up her spine at everything there was to do. Everyone she needed to take care of.
Her shoulders slumped before she could stop them.
“Hey,” Joe said softly, bumping her knee with his. “It’ll be okay.”
Krista was not as convinced. “I just keep thinking about all the things I haven’t done yet. It’s like everything I put off because I was too busy is coming due at once.”
Her throat burned. She blinked hard at the lake.
“I know I’m being dramatic,” she muttered. “I just…”
