Irritated as much at his natural inclination to bend to her will as her surly demeanor—which he attributed to years of training from his overbearing nana—Seth disentangled a shopping cart from its intimate embrace of a fellow and tried to keep up, squeaky, shuddering wheels notwithstanding.
“You’re not one of them there vega-met-tarians, are ya?” she asked, with the same amount of disdain she probably used for the question, “You don’t kick dogs and children, do you?”
“No.”
“Good!” Jill proceeded to fill the shopping cart with broccoli, cauliflower, and other items Seth normally didn’t include on his grocery list. What the hell? He’d said he wasn’t vegetarian, hadn’t he?
She bypassed steaks and ground beef to toss packs of chicken and fish on top of the veggies, apparently at random. “Jill!” called a female voice. A woman passed by, nodding at Jill and Seth.
“Jill,” Jill replied in turn, wearing what Seth supposed passed for a smile on her otherwise stony expression.
“Her name’s Jill too?” Seth asked.
“No, idiot. Her name’s not Jill. She isajill. I’mthe Jill, for now, thanks to your sorry ass.”
Seth was so confused, it took a moment before he noticed he was alone. Once more, he pushed the cart after a shopping mercenary, who now approached the dairy section.
“Jill,” a man greeted, inclining his head, the gesture, like the woman’s, appearing to be a mark of respect rather than friendship. “Jack,” Jill replied, nodding to another man a few feet away. “Jack.”
“Let me guess—they aren’tnamedJack, theyarejacks, right?” Jill snorted, rolling her eyes. “Right. Their names are Hank and Buster. But they’re jacks.”
Not understanding but game to adopt community traditions, Seth inclined his head toward the next lady who passed. “Afternoon, Jill.” The woman glowered and hurried away.
“No, she’s not a jill, dumbass,” Jill said, accompanied by an overly dramatic sigh. “Didn’t your grandma teach you anything?” “Apparently not,” Seth replied to her retreating back.
He gave thanks that Jill bypassed the fly rods and camo sections of the store, and caught up with his abductor/personal shopper/tour guide at the checkout. A harried-looking woman beat them to the conveyor, huffing bangs out of her eyes. The source of her obvious frustration, three teenaged boys so close in appearance they must have been triplets, tussled with each other while wrangling groceries out of the cart. “Noogie!” one cried gleefully, capturing another in a headlock and scrubbing knuckles against a buzz-cut scalp.
“Wedgie!” shouted the unoccupied youth as he reached inside noogie-boy’s board shorts and hauled his briefs’ waistband up to his shoulder blades.
“Jill!” the weary mother pleaded, her shoulders slumped.
The Valkyrie snapped into drill-sergeant mode right before Seth’s astonished eyes. “What the heck do you boys think you’re doing?” she barked. “This ain’t no playground! Now you better cut out the crap and help your mother with the groceries!”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” As if someone had flipped a switch, the teens stopped antagonizing each other and carefully piled foodstuffs on the conveyor, where a yawning teenaged girl methodically swiped items across a scanner.
“Hey, Lis…,” one of the boys began, leaning across the counter into the girl’s personal space.
She whapped him with a can of peaches. “Oopsie! Didn’t see you there!” The girl’s eyes danced with mischief while the other two brothers sniggered. Yeah, Seth remembered his high school days. Young love was never pretty.
Jill chatted with the mom, and her imposing presence kept the boys on their best behavior. Seeing his guide was occupied, when their turn came, Seth unloaded the cart, paid for his, or rather, Jill’s purchases, and single-handedly hauled them out to the truck and loaded them into the bed of the single cab.
Jill emerged from the store and crossed the parking lot in impossibly long strides.
“Are the boys jacks too?” he asked, nodding toward the trio, who’d resumed their Three Stooges shenanigans a few cars away.
“No, too young. They’re joeys. Get used to them; the Johnsons are your nearest neighbors.” She hopped into her unlocked truck and turned the key in the ignition, forcing Seth to rush to the other side before Jill left him again.
He pulled out his phone, planning to check the happenings in civilization, but Jill snatched the gadget from his hand. “Hey!” he hollered. “Give that back!”
“No way in hell. We’re in God’s country. The least you can do is pay somerespect and enjoy the view.”
With nothing better to do, Seth found himself staring out the window, which whirred open to emit a blast of summer heat, along with the sweet fragrances of honeysuckle and magnolia, stirring memories to life. Mountain peaks played peekaboo through the trees.
Jill turned the truck down a tree-lined dirt road, and for one split second, Seth expected to spot a freckled redhead pedaling a bicycle down the rutted lane. The truck bumped and bounced over the worn track, Seth’s suitcase and groceries taking a beating in the back. He tucked his laptop case closer to the seat with his legs, shielding its precious contents from harm, and prayed that at least one of his cameras survived the journey.
Finally they came to a clearing, the scrubby pines giving way to a pair of stately oaks, a bloom-loaded magnolia, and the occasional crepe myrtle, time-honored symbols of summer in the South. Time stood still. Then it reversed. Seth’s heart dropped to his stomach. His inner child surfaced, his eyes fixed to the front door, hoping to find his parents rushing outside to greet him and ask about his day at school, or Auntie Irene welcoming him and his friend inside to sample a fresh batch of cookies. His heart lurched.
“I used to play with a redheaded kid named Dustin. Any chance he’s still around?” Seth asked, until reality caught up with him and he realized that if he’d grown up, Dustin must have too. “Man, I mean. A man named Dustin. No, that’s not right.” Growing flustered, he blurted, “He was a kid then, a man now.”
