Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(15)

“Alone? In the dark? In the rain?”

Jesse hadn’t noticed the rain. “I think I’m lost. Nowhere and anywhere are the same to me.”

The baker sat down beside him as if she’d been invited. She probably thought he was drunk, or maybe crazy. Or maybe someone told her his story and she just felt sorry for him. To his surprise, she didn’t ask questions, she simply pulled off her glove and took his hand.

For a while neither moved. Her hand was soft with a strong grip, almost as if she had to hold tight to keep him from fading away.

Finally, he said, “Did you ever feel like you’re falling off the earth? Or maybe one moment your thoughts, your feelings, will just wash away in the rain, leaving a shell to keep moving and working?”

She was a stranger. What did it matter if he let his fears fly? Who would she tell? No one would believe he lost his mind. He was solid as a rock and she was the town witch.

She still didn’t say a word. He closed his eyes and released his grip. Maybe she’d vanish as quickly as she’d appeared. This wasn’t his best hour.

Her hand slid away from his open palm. Jesse tried to pull his mind back into the real world. He began silently listing all he had to do tomorrow. So much for his birthday. He’d tell his mother and Beth’s that he’d had a nice relaxing evening, then his world would settle back in place.

Adalee’s fingers touched his cheek. She slowly moved down to his jaw, then back up. She brushed his hair off his forehead and moved over his temples, pressing gently. She might be testing to make sure he was real, or petting him like he was a wild animal. He didn’t care. It felt good.

He couldn’t move as she touched him, brushing over one eyebrow and lightly pressing his closed eyes. Probably some kind of spell, but he didn’t pull away. He’d surrender without a fight. She smelled of the bakery and rain.

Reason whispered he should move away, but it felt so good. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him. This wasn’t a handshake or a pat on the back; this was something personal.

The question that sometimes came to him in his dreams of her almost passed his lips. Would you mind if I hold you, feel you, sleep beside you?

Of course he couldn’t say that.

Her warm fingers moved down his neck and pushed his shirt aside so she could glide along his collarbone. When he didn’t move, she pressed her lips near his ear and whispered, “I see you, Jesse. In this moment we’re both here. No past. No future. Just now.”

He opened his eyes and saw her only in shadow. “I don’t want to talk.” The last thing he wanted to do was tell his sad story, or worse, hear hers. She didn’t look much over thirty, so he’d win the “suffering longer” prize.

The baker moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Jesse put his arm along the back of the bench, almost holding her next to him. Even through their clothes, he could feel the warmth of her and she smelled of spices. He wondered if for one long moment she wanted to pretend they were a couple, as he did.

He was so tired of only being half of what he’d always been.

She tapped the toe of her shoe against his boot. “Will you walk me home?”

He nodded and stood. When he offered his hand, she took it and didn’t let go. They walked in silence to the back of the bakery. Without the streetlights they were barely visible, but he was very aware of her beside him. At the back door she climbed the one step and turned to him. Now they were the same height. She was so close he could feel her breath against his cheek.

She breathed deeply and her ample breasts, ever so lightly, brushed against his chest.

Jesse took the feel of her like a blow, more pain than pleasure, but he didn’t step back.

Her hand cupped the side of his face once more. “I understand,” she whispered as her lips glided across his cheek until she touched his mouth. Every cell in his body came alive with panic and need and fear all at the same time.

The kiss was soft, light. “Happy birthday, Jesse,” she whispered. Then she was gone.

He didn’t move.

The lock clicked. A light shone from a window for a moment, then blinked off. He thought he heard someone running upstairs but he couldn’t be sure.

Jesse stood in the black night with rain tapping on his shoulders. Finally, he smiled. He wished he’d said “thank you” to her. He wished he’d kissed her back.

The strange baker reminded him he was still alive. She was there. She wasn’t a shadow person passing through. She was, if only for a few moments, there. He’d held her hand. He’d felt her breast touch his chest. She’d kissed him.

Neither of them would probably say a word about what happened. They might even convince themselves it was nothing, but he knew that he would hold this memory in his heart.

Jesse walked back to his bench on the square. No doubt about it, he was still alive. Best birthday in a long while.





Chapter 11


Jesse


Jesse Keaton thought about the baker while he worked alone on his small farm, but once he picked up the kids he didn’t have time to think of anything but homework, cooking supper, and getting everyone to bed. Then there was always laundry, and the dishes, and the bills to pay.

Zak had started helping with the dishes and Jesse liked the time with his oldest son. Sometimes he could see the man in the boy.