Damsel in the Dust

13

It's early in the afternoon, so Jake offers to take a look at the screen door. I rummage in the garage for the toolbox and pass it to him before going inside with Maive. I show her the clothes I had picked out for her earlier.

"You can have whatever you want. Once we get you enrolled in school, we'll take a trip into the city and get you some of your own clothes, okay?" I tell her.

Maive picks up a shirt, unfolding it carefully and raising it to eye level. I'm not sure what I had expected, maybe another exclamation followed by a surprise hug, but whatever I had thought she would do hadn't prepared me for the face she was making. Brows knit, lips pinched, I recognized the signs of fighting back tears in her expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, alarmed. I would never get a compliment on my wardrobe, but I didn't think it was that bad.

She sniffles, blinking back tears before turning her eyes on me. They're tinged with red, and I can't help but reach out and pull her into a hug.

"It's okay girl, whatever it is, it's okay."

She sighs into my shirt and pulls away. "Why are you so nice?"

The question catches me off guard. I had thought I was just doing what was right. When I don't say anything, she adds, "You're not like other people, Leah. I don't know..."

I'm not great with tears, or emotions for that matter, having spent so long shoving mine deep down inside where they couldn't get me into any more trouble. I search for the words she's looking for but come up empty.

"Why don't you try everything on while I go see how your brother is doing?" I say.

She nods and I head back into the kitchen, walking out the front door and around toward the back. Jake is absorbed in the door frame, gently working pliers against the metal and coaxing it back into shape. I slow my steps, watching the flex of his shoulders, the intensity of his focus.

"Um, how's it coming?" I ask.

Jake jumps, dropping the pliers and cursing as he snatches his hand back from the metal of the door. Dread fills my stomach.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to -" I start, but Jake is standing and shaking his head.

"You didn't do anything. I'm just clumsy, I guess," he says, peering down at his hand.

Blood drips from his palm, splattering in the dirt below. Without a word, I race inside and snatch the first aid kit out of the linen closet, running back outside to find Jake rinsing his hand under the spigot beside the house.

"Here, let's clean it up better than that. I don't know if that door is rusted or anything. Have you gotten your shots? How deep is the cut?"

Instead of an answer, Jake laughs, halting the rapid words tumbling from my mouth.

"It's just a scratch, Leah, it's okay," he says, smiling down at me.

"Well at least sit down and let me clean it up," I tell him.

He sits, still smiling at me like I've just told an amusing joke. I take his hand, turning the palm up to inspect the wound. He's right, it's nothing serious, but I still want to clean it out. I dab a cotton ball soaked in alcohol on the cut, grimacing when Jake hisses against the sting.

"Don't be a baby," I tease, unwrapping a bandage and laying it over the cut.

As I finish, I'm struck by how close we are. Jake's hand rests in mine, our palms upturned while we both lean in slightly to get a better look at my medical skills. My heart flutters and I realize I'm holding my breath. It's possible I've forgotten how to breathe.

Jake extracts his hand from mine, a gentle reminder that this is a boundary I can't cross.

"Thanks," he says.

I look up, catching the full intensity of his amber gaze. I bite my lip, unsure of what to do. Some long dormant part of me recognizes the tension and wants to respond to it, give him an invitation to push boundaries. The part of me that is still loyal to Shawn protests. While I have this brief war of personalities in my mind, the practical part of me realizes that Jake's gaze has shifted away from my face, flicking up toward the driveway over my shoulder. I register the sound of tires crunching on gravel and whip around, catching sight of the black truck.

"Who is that?" Jake asks.

"Trouble," I answer, pushing myself up and preparing for the coming battle. "Could you go check on Maive?"

Jake stands next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him fold his arms, a silent resolve emanating from the gesture. I'm relieved to have him beside me, but I'm not sure if that will make things worse with Christian. My gaze never leaves the truck. I watch as Chris hops out, slams the door shut and looks at us over the hood before walking toward us.

"Leah," he says, nodding my direction. His eyes are locked on Jake. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jake. A friend from the city," I grit out.

"The way Stephie was going on and on about him, I thought he'd be taller," Chris says.

Dammit, Stephanie. I'll get you back for this.

"Can I help you with something, Chris? Your memory, maybe? Because I'm certain that we have plans for dinner on Sunday, and last I checked it was Thursday."

Chris steps back, clutching his chest as if I've hit him. "Ouch. There's a bit of the old Leah. Where you been hiding her all this time?" he asks.

The jab stings, more than Chris can know. I don't answer.

"If you must know, someone told Shawn I came over here drunk as a skunk the other day - a hell of a lie if I heard one - and then I hear a rumor about a mystery man hanging around my Leah and I started thinking. Sounds like someone's hiding something, if you ask me. I just came to warn you, Leah. Keep sneaking around and things aren't going to end well," Chris says, taking a seat and kicking his feet up on the chair I had occupied just moments ago.

"Is that a threat?" Jake asks.

"I don't do threats. They're not my style," Chris replies.

"Hey, Leah can I get a -" Maive calls from the front porch, the rest of her thought lost as she takes in the visitor.

"It's okay, Maive," I call back, "We'll be inside in a minute."

She nods and retreats back into the house. I turn my attention back to Chris, not expecting the puzzled look on his face.

"Who the hell is that?" he asks.

"That is my sister, and you'll keep your eyes away from her, got it?" Jake spits.

Chris holds up his hands, "Woah, woah, I'm not into the young ones, alright?" He turns to me, the arrogance in his tone gone. "Leah, what're you doing? What's going on?"

I sigh. This is one of those moments when I see my childhood best friend peeking out, and I can't help but give in to him.

"You might as well come inside. It's a long story," I say.