Southern Storms (Compass 1)

“Thanks, Joy.”

I took a seat on her sofa and tried to tame my still-elevated heart rate. Her house was very much a home in that everything felt authentic and important. The walls were covered with mismatched frames displaying black and white pictures that highlighted all the beautiful moments in her life. Plus, all of her furniture was vibrant, and there was no shortage of light because different lamps both short and tall were scattered around.

There was a wall of art pieces that were spotlighted and so beautiful. There were paintings and sculptures that radiated such warmth. It was as if I were in a museum looking at masterpieces. Simply breathtaking.

When Joy came back, she had the biggest wine glasses I’d ever seen in my life, and within a split second, she was officially my new best friend. Each glass had to hold at least half a bottle of wine on its own.

I smiled, pleased. “That’s a very impressive glass.”

She handed it over to me. “Some nights call for bigger glasses.”

Hear, hear.

“How did you know I needed a break for wine?” I joked, sipping at probably the best glass of white wine I’d ever had in my life.

“I’ve noticed you pacing back and forth the past few nights. Not that I was spying or anything, but my reading nook is right across from your dining room. I figured you couldn’t sleep during storms.”

“They shake me up a little,” I confessed, seeing no reason to lie about it. “So, thank you. I really appreciate the company. I have to admit, I was going a little stir crazy and on the verge losing my mind.”

“Hmm.” She nodded in understanding. “It’s like that sometimes. Storms can feel like they last forever, but from my experience, I’ve learned that no matter what, they always pass.”

That was a nice thought that I’d have to remember.

“You know what’s nice to know?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“Even behind the rain clouds, the sun is always there.”

“That is a nice thought,” I said. “It’s just sometimes hard to remember.”

She patted my knee. “Trust me, I know. I’m almost ninety, and sometimes I forget, too. Then again, I guess that’s why there’s wine.” She shifted around on the cushion. “So, Jax seems to be drawn to you.”

I puffed out a laugh. “Drawn to me? Not in the least. He actually made it clear that we should keep our distance from each other.”

“Oh, sweetheart”—she waved me off—“Jax didn’t mean that. He’s just hardheaded like my Stanley was. Showing emotions is hard for Jax. He doesn’t come by them all too often, either. I’d been sharing a drink with that boy for many years now, and he still hardly opens up. He acts tough, like a brick wall, but he’s goo, just a big softy. And ever since you’ve come to town, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

My stomach filled with nerves. “How does he look at me?”

“As if you’re something he wants to know more about.”

I lowered my head and fiddled with my fingers. “Years ago, he was my best friend. We went to summer camp together for two years, and we wrote letters back and forth to one another for about three years. Then, one day, his letters stopped coming. He just…disappeared.”

Joy’s eyes widened with surprise. “You knew him as a boy?”

“Yes. He was…” I smiled, thinking back on Jax as a kid. “He was the kindest boy I’d ever known. The quietest boy but the kindest.”

“Yes. Those facts haven’t changed over the years. And he knows? That you’re…you?”

“He does, but he told me it would be best if we don’t dive deeper into our history.”

“Oh horseshit,” Joy groaned, making me burst into laughter. “You can’t listen to a dang thing Jax says—you know why?”

“Why is that?”

“His heartbeats are set to self-destruct. He pushes good things away because he doesn’t think he deserves them, but I know that boy—probably better than he knows himself—and he needs a friend. I think he needs you more than he’ll ever admit.”

I shook my head as I took a sip of wine. “I doubt he wants me to be that friend. Plus, like you said, he’s a brick wall. I have no way of getting through to him.”

“Sure you do.” She placed her wine glass down and walked over to her fireplace, where a few candles were sitting. She picked up a lighter and began lighting each one. “You’ve lost someone, no?”

I stood straighter. Even with all the gossiping people, I hadn’t told a soul about my daughter. “I…I’m sorry? What do you mean? How do you…?”

She looked back to me and smiled. “I see it in your eyes, and I see their light around you.”

Chills began spreading over my body as the words left her lips. “I… It…” My mouth grew dry as I tried to form the words, and she shook her head.