Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(37)

I inhale the fresh air, Amber’s words drifting off as my thoughts wander. Will I still be here for all of that? I hope that I am. This place feels like it fits me somehow.

I pull my fingers out of the stream, red from the brief exposure, and stand. “This water is freezing!”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t warm up much. Jesse and I used to swim in it as kids. We’d be blue when we came out, even in the middle of summer.”

Jesse.

“Hey, Ginny doesn’t seem to like your brother much, does she?” I play my curiosity down by picking up a stone and tossing it, creating a small splash.

“You think?” she mutters wryly. “Why? What’d she say?”

“She didn’t. She just called him a ‘bad egg’ and told me to stay away from him.”

“That’s probably not bad advice.” I feel her eyes on me. “When we were in grade school, we still hung out together a lot. Had some of the same friends. But then we got to high school and Jesse started hanging out with trouble. The ‘riffraff,’ my dad called them. The kids who got arrested for drugs, and stealing, and vandalism. Two of them are in jail now.” I look over to see her face twisted in disgust. “Can you imagine how that looked for my dad? Everyone knows our family around here. Some of the stuff that happened . . . I’ve never seen my mom cry like that over anything before.”

“So Jesse did all that stuff too?” The guy who brought me all that wood might also steal from me?

Amber shrugs. “I mean, he smoked pot, but not the other stuff. It was just bad enough that he was around it. Stupid teenage boy syndrome. I know he got teased a lot about being the sheriff’s son. People were always nervous around us, thinking we’d rat them out if they did something wrong. It wasn’t as hard on me, though. Probably because I’m a girl.

“Anyway, my dad and Jesse have been butting heads for years, but they haven’t been too bad lately. Jesse’s got problems with being controlled and my dad has problems with not being in control.” Giving Felix the Black a gentle slap on the hind, Amber starts walking toward the house, box of grooming supplies in hand. “I have to get going to work.”

I follow, leaving the horses to graze.

“I think my dad wanted to talk to you about that new ID.”

Yeah, I want to talk to him about that too. “I need to give him a new name before he can finish up the paperwork.”

Amber yanks a flower from the ground, twirling it between her fingertips. “I can’t imagine naming myself. It’d be weird. What were you thinking of?”

“I have no idea. But I should come up with something soon. I’ll be meeting new people, hopefully getting a job. I don’t want it to be as Jane anymore.”

“My mom mentioned something about asking Dakota for a job.”

That art store that takes Ginny’s quilts. “She said Dakota went to school with you?”

“Yeah . . .” Amber hesitates, and I can tell she wants to tell me more.

“What is it?”

“It’s just, she’s nice enough, but . . .” She cringes. “No. I’ll let you form your own opinions. But if she offers you brownies, just say no.”

I frown. “What’s wrong with eating her brownies?”

Amber shakes her head but doesn’t answer that. “Just remember to keep the information about yourself to yourself, okay? She grew up in this town, so knowing everyone else’s business and spreading it is in her blood. Figure out a story about who you are to Ginny and stick to it. God knows the whole town will be buzzing when they learn the Crazy Tree Quilt Lady has someone living with her.”

“So lie?”

“Yes. Pretty much. Otherwise everyone will come up with their own stories about you.” I turn to catch her eyes on the side of my face, on my scar. Amber and Meredith are just about the only two people I’m not self-conscious around. They’ve both seen me at my worst. But the idea of new eyes—so many new eyes—on my face for the first time makes my shoulders tense up.

We’re just passing the barn when a slam cracks the quiet, followed by the low rumble of an engine. An inexplicable warmth flows through me. Somehow I know that’s Jesse’s car. It has to be. Ginny was ranting about how loud it was yesterday. I don’t mind the vibration deep in my chest, though. I actually like the feel of it. It’s somehow . . . comforting.

We round the side of the barn to find Ginny hanging off the edge of her porch with a quilt grasped in her fingers, a scowl on her brow as she glares over at the Welles property. Her lips are moving fast, to no one in particular. Complaining to the mangy dog behind her about Jesse, probably.

The black sports car pulls into view with Jesse in the driver’s seat, his crisp white shirt a stark contrast to his olive complexion and short, ash-brown hair. I can see both Meredith and Gabe in him, though he has certainly acquired his father’s bottomless gaze.

A bottomless gaze that’s settled on me. Even from this distance, I can feel its intensity.

He raises the hand that’s on his steering wheel. It’s not exactly a wave, but it’s as close to a “hello” as he has given me so far.

I instinctively look toward Ginny and find her glaring at me now.

When I turn back, Sheriff Gabe is standing next to Jesse’s car, in his uniform. He slaps the roof of his son’s car and points in the direction of the road. As if he’s kicking him out.