51. Marnie

The storm dissipates and we both fall asleep. Dusty’s arms have become my new favorite place, but when I wake, he’s already gone.

I go about my day feeling unsettled. This storm left its mark on the town. Branches bigger around than my waist lay twisted and splintered in the middle of people’s yard. Trash cans lay in opposite ditches and here and there, windows are broken out.

I stop at the post office, wondering if it will be open. But the door swings open and I remember the postman’s pledge. Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postman from their appointed rounds.

I wasn’t sure if they’d be open, but I definitely wasn’t expecting to see Jerry Lind standing at the package and tape kiosk. He’s an interesting guy. Just like the first time we met, there’s this pause when he sees me, like he’s looking at a ghost.

And then, business mode flips on and he’s asking me if he can take me to lunch to discuss the land offer.

Will I sell to Jerry Lind? Incredibly unlikely.

I don’t like his approach. I don’t like the way he patronizes me.

But I get the feeling that he knows more about my mom than he’s letting on. It’s all in his eyes. They give him away.

One thing leads to another, and I find myself sitting across from him at a restaurant in Clark. The Go Around. It’s country chic. And the food is good, if a little artery clogging.

I’m listening politely while Jerry drones on about how big his operation is in case we opted to rent instead.

He wants both fingers in the pie. If I sell, he wants the land. If I rent, he wants the land.

I sit back, only half-listening while he tells me about the latest tech they installed in their fleet of tractors.

Nodding calmly, like I’m absolutely interested in tractor technology, I reach down and pick up my purse. Slipping out an old, wrinkled piece of notebook paper, I gently lay it in the center of the table. “Who’s JL?”

His gaze flicks down, doing a double take when he sees the signature. He sits back, studying me from a new angle. His expression hasn’t hardened, exactly, but gone neutral. Flat. “I guess you have your suspicions if you’re showing me that.”

“Would you like to read it?”

I ask, tilting my head. “It’s rather poetic.”

“What are you up to, Marina? I take it you’re not here to talk about farming.”

I try to hide my surprise at the fact that he knows my name. No one has called me that since the day I was born. I was named after my dad’s great grandma. My mom only agreed if they used the nickname only.

Marina. The name sounds strange. Like it belongs to someone else.

He’s trying to throw me off, and it’s not going to work. “I think you’re JL.”

He crosses his legs, hooking an ankle on his knee. Glancing around the restaurant, he confirms that our side of the dining room is empty. No listening ears. No prying eyes. “There’s plenty of JLs in Silver Bend, Marina. That Larson kid’s dad was a JL.”

I wait, watching.

His gaze returns to the love note, something flickering behind those hard blue eyes. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just have questions.”

He frowns. “I can’t promise I’ll answer, but you’re free to ask.”

I sit forward, leaning my elbows on the table. “You’re JL?”

He heaves a sigh. “Yes.”

“Why’d you lie when I asked if you dated my mom?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Read the note, JL. That looks like a note between boyfriend and girlfriend.”

I didn’t pick one of the sexy ones to show him. The one I picked was sweet. A cute exchange between two love-struck kids.

I watch his eyes scan the lines, and his hard mask slips for a moment. I’m surprised at what I see there. If only for a second, heartbreak cracks those features.

Pain so deep it pushes me backwards. I sit back, studying him.

He clears his throat, looking at his hands for a while before meeting my gaze. “You look so much like her. Act like her, too.”

He shakes his head ruefully. “We didn’t date. I never got her to agree to that. Maybe if I’d had more time.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them again, the mask is back in place. He stands, fishing out his wallet.

I stand, too. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Look, Marnie. I don’t know what things are like back in Lincoln, but out here, it’s a small pond. You can’t go five feet without running into an old girlfriend. Or an enemy. That chapter with Naomi… It wasn’t a happy one. I’d just assume not relive it if it’s all the same to you.”

He tosses a few twenties on the tables and steps around me.

I watch him go, feeling even more confused than when I started.

I expected him to laugh. To admit he was the silly kid signing his name to these notes.

That raw pain, still fresh after fifty years, caught me off guard.

It seems the rabbit hole goes deeper than I realized.