thirteen.
She saw his careful approach through the grass and thought of wary feral animals.
Marsden left the shade of the trees and headed toward the fence that enclosed the covert. The tattered wood held together by rusty nails had always marked the line between what was hers and not, what was secret and not. Meeting Jude here and agreeing to him crossing that line—well, that fence might as well have finally disintegrated into nothing for the sense of safety it gave her now.
She’d wondered if he was even going to come that day. She’d mentally prepared herself for it and then she’d been anxious all morning, too restless to do much more than walk back and forth between the house and the covert. Being wired after being up half the night baking did nothing to help her nerves, either. Wynn had finally gotten bored enough to agree to getting groceries and then go raspberry picking with Dany. Dany herself seemed unaware of Marsden’s mood, as had Nina and Shine.
So once noon hit, morning slowly becoming early afternoon, and still there was no sign of Jude, she’d assumed he’d either been busy or had simply come to his senses.
But it had bothered her—to be honest. To be counting time so carefully over him, the thoughtless carelessness of his absence after intruding on her life with his sharp-yet-lazy grin and eyes that hid less than she would have thought. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or resentful, and precisely because she couldn’t decide, she’d gotten the pair of giant hedge clippers from the shed and spent more than a few minutes ferociously hacking away at the worst of the blackberry bushes overrunning parts of the covert. The scent of wild ginger mixed with ripening fruit bloomed like dust from her tracks as she worked, a tornado of things being crushed.
Last night, after she’d escaped Coop’s too-adult eyes, she’d found Wynn in the kitchen, messily attempting to make punch. Marsden had broken a plate, then a glass, while finishing up the dishes, her hands so shaky that Dany had to finish. Then, at bedtime, Wynn had drifted to sleep while talking about dresses and makeup. And Marsden had lain there, absolutely wide awake, willing her sister to dream of childlike things such as puppies and ice cream and feeding toast to hungry, needy squirrels. She’d watched the moon shift shadows on the wall, listening to the clock tick away minutes of an endless dark, before finally getting up, needing to pretend things were different.
She was examining the worst of the blackberry scratches on her arm when she heard the growing roar of an engine from just outside the covert. It cut out with a deep rumble, and she walked over to look.
Through the trees, she saw Jude climb off a huge tank of a mower. The sight of his muscles working beneath his thin blue T-shirt had Marsden narrowing her eyes as something in her chest did a slow flip.
They met at the covert’s fence.
“There’s no real way to say this without it sounding wrong, but I’m here to mow your lawn,” he said, smiling.
He looked tired and distracted, and that simmering anger he wore as an expression was a momentarily dampened fire. It made sense, though, his seeming on edge, perhaps even scared, considering where he was about to go. Maybe he hadn’t even slept well the night before—the covert liked being a part of bad dreams.
She lifted a brow. “Not here to dig?”
“Afterward, I promise.”
“You were supposed to be here by noon.” She bit the inside of her cheek—she hadn’t meant to reveal she’d noticed.
“I meant to be, but then a maintenance order came in from the town.” He gestured to the area just outside the covert’s fence, where the yellowing grass grew past the top of his work boots. “I had to put some gear together at work before I was able to leave.” He frowned at the ground. “This area is overdue for a cut.”
“You really work for Glory?”
“No, for Roadie, remember? Evergreen, the garden center, right downtown. We get contract work, though.” He glanced down at her. “You sound surprised.”
“That you work at a gardening center?”
His mouth lifted. “That I work.”
“I just thought—never mind.”
“That I didn’t have to because my family is supposed to have money?” Jude shrugged. “Not really. Maybe once, kind of. A long time ago. Before we moved here.”
She lifted her chin at the mower behind him. “Is that your summer, then?”
“And being here.”
“I guess you haven’t changed your mind?” Now that he was here, right in front of her—too immediate, too tall, too not angry—Marsden wasn’t so sure she was ready. His being angry if he found out her secrets would be memorable, blistering.
Jude pointed to what she was still clutching in her hand. “Is that for me if I say I haven’t?”
She looked down, saw that she was still holding the pair of huge clippers, their blades and the skin of her arms a sticky, sweet carnage, and laughed. “This doesn’t look good, does it?”
“Have you changed your mind?” His voice was low and braced and not threatening, but she still shuddered. His desperation had slipped through, and it spoke to her in ways that smooth words and convincing arguments wouldn’t have. She heard herself in it, an echo of her own need for answers.
“No, I haven’t.” She let her gaze slide from his—those slightly speckled eyes of his were too curious, demanding more than she could give. “I’ll be back in a bit, if you don’t mind waiting. I need to clean up back at the house.”
“I have to finish this job first, anyhow, then get this thing back to Roadie—the guy won’t relax until his baby is back home and resting easy. Then I’ll race back in the truck. Meet you back here?”
Marsden nodded. “Here, right at the fence.” She touched it, the wood raw and scraping against her palm. Someone had scratched a new row of crosses into the wood, and their edges were still raised and splintery, fresh as a wound. “Wait for me before going in. That was the deal, remember?”
“Until you trust me.” There was a glint in his eye that said he was joking. Still, she saw seriousness there, too. Had she ever seen him not serious at all? Completely free? She already knew she wanted to; her curiosity had awoken.
“Maybe one day,” she said, daring a grin of her own. He made it easy to linger, to believe they were both typical kids without wounds still wide open, without ghosts to chase. “Unless I make you leave first.”
“I’ll behave. I promise.”
She stepped past him to get to the house. He smelled of herbs and clean earth and sun. He touched her arm just before she moved out of reach.
“Marsden?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.” Jude’s grin was like a finger on her heart, stirring her emotions. “For the ‘maybe one day.’ ”