Digging In: A Novel(24)

“How do we decide which concept to use, mine or yours?” Glynnis’s voice brought me back from my musings.

“We can’t let our egos get in the way. You come up with something, and I’ll do the same.”

“But who decides?”

The idea that there wasn’t some arbiter, some authoritative decision maker, pained Glynnis. I realized that it would have bothered me a few years ago, too, so I tried not to give her a hard time. “We decide,” I said. “Together.”

She nodded, though I sensed she didn’t believe it would work.

“Can we work at your house?” she asked. “I still live with my parents, and they’ll want to involve themselves somehow.”

I thought about how I worried about helicoptering Trey and smiled. “That’s fine.”

“And maybe I could help with the garden?” she asked, the question lined with hope and vulnerability.

“Of course. I need all the help I can get.”

“No, you don’t,” she said. “But it’s nice of you to say.”

I grabbed her hand. “Hey. Listen to me. When someone wants your input, they aren’t being nice, they’re hoping to gain something from it. You understand that, right?”

Glynnis sighed. “I guess.”

“No guessing. It’s true.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Can we get started? So should we each try to come up with something or try to do this together?”

“If we each present something, then we have two ideas to work from.”

“You can go first,” Glynnis said quickly. “I’m okay with being second. Really, I am.”

I started to tell her that wasn’t an asset, but then I shut my mouth. Some things needed to be experienced to be learned. “Thank you,” was the only response I could come up with.





CHAPTER 10

The rain began after lunch, in the steady, cooling drizzle of late spring. I fidgeted through the afternoon, futzing around with the gelato ad, avoiding Glynnis’s plaintive stares, and meeting Jackie outside to complain about everything. “We’re fucked,” she kept saying, blanching slightly at the curse word. “Byron and Rhiannon actually met Miss Trinka. That equals a head start.”

“Seth met her, too. Maybe he can offer you insight.”

Jackie rolled her heavily made-up eyes. “I don’t think Seth even looked her in the eye. That boy has his mind set on one thing, and makeup ain’t it.”

I couldn’t counter that one with positivity. She was right. “There’s time,” I went with. “You and I both know how well we work when we’ve got the time to think.”

The rain tapered off as Jackie finished her cigarette, the clouds lumbering out of the sun’s way. The warmth it brought rejuvenated my spirit. “What are you doing later?” I asked Jackie.

“Nothing,” she said. “A whole lot of nothing.”

“Want to go to the nursery with me? I need to buy some plants.”

“You’re gonna need a lot. You know that, don’t you?” Jackie said, but I could tell by the humor in her voice that she would join me. She shrugged. “All right. Got nothing better to do.”

“Glad for the company.”

“Don’t expect me to plant anything, though,” she added as we walked back inside Guh. “I just had my nails done.”



“Those were some slim pickings.”

Jackie sat in the passenger seat of my car, a sad-looking tomato plant propped between her knees. The plants stuffed into the back seat and trunk were an equally sorry lot. Yellowed, withering leaves, teetering stems, dry soil—even the nursery employees had given up on them. “After Memorial Day, they just don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “Shame.”

“They’ll be fine,” I assured her. “After we get them in the ground, they’ll perk up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tell you what. You help me unload them, and I’ll make you dinner.”

Jackie mused about the offer for a moment before answering. “Okay.”

The rain returned as we cruised the streets of Willow Falls, a steady pummeling. “Do you think it’s a bad sign Lukas didn’t put us together for the Landon assignment?” Jackie asked, her smoker’s voice barely audible as we turned the corner onto my street.

Yes, instinct told me. It means he’s definitely going to get rid of one of us. Jackie sounded so dejected I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, but I didn’t have the heart to lie either.

I didn’t have to choose. When we pulled up to my property, the sight that met me stole my ability to speak.



When we were thirteen, Jesse and I practically lived at the library. By that age, we’d run through most of the paltry fiction section, so we’d set our sights on nonfiction. He would head straight for the hard-science books while I meandered through the history section. I once pulled a book about Woodstock from the shelf, a book consisting mostly of photographs I found shocking but enthralling all the same. Hippies danced in the rain, mud covering their half-naked bodies, ancient creatures rising from the earth, at one with the natural world. I envied them, the joy they took from not caring, not giving even the tiniest bit of a shit. It looked exhilarating, their freedom, and I knew if I could somehow find the right door to open that I could be that free. At thirteen, I’d thought I would love the sight of all that mud, that I would roll in it and roll in it and maybe never come up for air.