I let out a breath and answer truthfully. “Probably wasn’t the kind of touch that deserved a broken nose, but I could tell he’s the kind of guy that wasn’t going to settle for only that.”
“Sounds like you have him pegged.” The question is there in his voice, and for a moment he gives me a strange look, but then it passes. “Glad you were there to keep her safe.”
He claps me on my shoulder and walks back over to the tractor. All talk about me staying gone so long is forgotten as we work on the old beast. I can feel something between us, and I have a suspicion there is more he wants to say, but he’s saving it for another time.
I’m both thankful and terrified of what’s to come, because I have a sinking feeling that my dad is seeing some of the things that I’ve always been so careful to hide.
5
Libby
I put the lid back on the pot of sauce that’s been simmering for a while, before making my way over to the oven to check on the cherry pie. The scent of the food we’ve been cooking all day fills the house and it smells wonderful.
“You should probably make another since Jasper is here. He can eat one of your pies all by himself.” Mom’s chopping lettuce for the salad and doesn’t look up when she says it.
I thought the same thing, too. Before distance started to grow between Jasper and me, I used to always cook for him. I know my cherry pie is his favorite, and that’s why I made it today. I smile, thinking back to how he was always my tester for anything new I wanted to try in the kitchen. He’d sit at the counter for hours with me while I cooked, and when I was younger he would always handle stuff he didn’t think I should be doing, like taking things out of the oven or cutting something up.
He acted like my own personal safety monitor in the kitchen. I miss those days. But everything is changing. Jasper no longer lives here, and it isn’t the way it used to be. I don’t need him to slice my apples for me anymore, no matter if I still want him to or not. He has better things to do these days, and I’m not a part of his life now.
“Maybe, but we made a giant pot of meatballs, and I also have all these cookies. I’m not sure we’ll even make it to the pie.” I wipe my hands on my apron and see I’ve gotten a lot of stains on this one. I pull it off and grab another from the bottom kitchen drawer. I change my apron multiple times when I cook. It’s weird, but I love so many of them I find myself doing it just so I can wear each of them more often.
“Some of the ladies in town were asking me about your aprons. They wanted to know if you sold them,” Mom says as she starts to shred the cheese for the salad.
I walk over and grab the bowls out of the cabinet for her, setting them down next to her.
“I was kinda thinking about it. Nicole knows how to design websites and says she can make one up for me if I want.” I like this idea more than the prospect of making pies all the time. I love baking, but it takes a lot of time and needs to be tightly scheduled. With the aprons, I can do them whenever, and I can always change things up.
“Is that what you want to do?”
I shrug. I’m feeling lost and I don’t know why. “I love making them. I hadn’t really thought about making them to sell. I might like it. Plus, it could be more flexible when I start school in the fall. Make my own hours.”
I feel my mom’s stare, though I don’t look up. It has to be one of those mother things where you can look at your child and they feel it.
“You don’t seem too excited about college.”
I keep my hands busy, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not, if I’m being honest. I thought it was what I was supposed to do next,” I admit.
I always did well in school and even graduated at the top of my class. But that’s not saying a lot with how small our schools are. Although I excelled in the classroom, school was never something I enjoyed. I went to class and did what I was supposed to, but at the end of the day, there was nothing interesting enough to make me want to keep going.
Looking up, I meet her eyes and see the soft smile of understanding in them. The comfort is a relief, and I relax my hip against the counter.