He smiled. Her laughter from that day would be forever branded in his memory.
The other night he had tried to explain to his mother how Vickie had helped him. She had done so much for him that summer. She had saved him from falling into a deep, dark hole of despair.
She now lived in his old house. If he hadn’t believed before, he absolutely knew God enjoyed a sweet bit of irony.
With a deep inhale, he moved forward. They were no longer kids hiding from their mothers or teenagers trying to figure out life. Maybe this time they could get it right.
The music covered his knock. Jake could smell freshly baked cookies as he eased open her unlocked door. He would need to talk to her about that safety issue, mental note number two.
Pausing in the door frame, Jake leaned his right shoulder against the edge, crossing his arms. He couldn’t stop the smile from growing as he watched Vickie jump around while singing into a whisk. Her high ponytail swung with each movement.
Leaping to the side, her bare feet landed hard on the worn carpet, rattling the thin walls. His grin grew. She had always hated wearing shoes, much to her mother’s horror.
Vickie spun around and screamed. One hand over her chest and breathing hard, she threw the whisk at him.
Laughing, he ducked and the silver utensil went sailing out the open door.
“Jake Torres! That’s not funny. You scared me to death.”
“You left your door unlocked, but please don’t stop on my account.” Closing the door, he moved farther into her living room. He paused and surveyed the small space. “Wow, the trailer looks the same as it did when I lived here, but I don’t remember it being so small.”
Vickie walked to the counter and turned the volume down. “Yeah, well, you realize you’re, like, one hundred times bigger now?” She tried to suppress a giggle. “Back then I was taller than you.”
He savored the sound he’d been denied for so many years. “We were ten.” He tapped his knuckles on the old counter that separated the galley kitchen from the living area. “I can’t believe your dad still has this old thing with the original furniture.”
“I’m saving up my money to buy us a house. No reason to waste it on furniture when this works.”
He slowly looked over the small living space remembering when this little house had made him feel safe for the first time ever.
A family portrait of Vickie and Tommy with the kids hung on the wall giving Jake a kick in the gut and bringing him back to the present.
Vickie had moved to the other side of the Formica counter and started cleaning. “Daddy had a contract to haul it off when I first moved back.” She looked up at him with a gleam in her eye. “My mother just about had a heart attack when I announced I wanted the trailer.”
“But your dad gave it to you, anyway.”
“Of course. He offered to buy me a new house, but I wanted this one.”
“Why?” Jake couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice.
“Believe it or not, some of my favorite memories with my best friend happened here.”
He shot one eyebrow up and stared at her. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” She swatted him with the dishrag. “Besides, I need to know I can do this on my own. Not Daddy or Tommy, but me. I need to do this. I pay rent and everything.” Her stubborn chin lifted and she looked him in the eye.
He definitely understood wanting to prove yourself, but she might be going a bit overboard. “So the steps falling in on you or the kids are part of your plan for independence?”
“I noticed they rocked a bit. I thought it was just because they’re old.” She hesitated. “Can you show me how to fix them?”
“Vickie, I’ve been known to build and repair whole houses. I think I can manage your steps.” He leaned his elbows on the yellow-tinted counter. “It’s because they’re so old, they probably need to be replaced. I can get it done in less than a day.”
“No, I can do it. Just tell me what to buy. On second thought, don’t bother. I’m sure I can find instructions online and Dannie at Bergmann’s Lumberyard can help me.”
“Vickie, don’t be stubborn. I can give you a list of supplies and one day next week when we’re both off I can show you how to build steps. I think Seth should help. Where is he, anyway?”
“He’s with my dad in the horse barns. They should be back any moment.” She cleaned the same spot she had already wiped several times. With a heavy sigh, she brought her gaze back up to his. “I’m not sure Seth wants to go to the football thing. I’m kind of making him.” She turned away and opened the worn cabinet, gathering two tall glasses in one hand.
The clinking of the ice hitting glass filled the silence. Vickie pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the green refrigerator. She finally started talking again while she focused on pouring the drinks. “Tommy could be...well, not the most encouraging person at the best of times. But when it came to Seth he was...”
She wouldn’t look him in the eye as she passed the full glass over to him.
“Remember, I know Tommy.” He covered her hand with his, holding her in place until she met his gaze. “Don’t make excuses for him.”
Pulling her hand back, she shook her head. “I just don’t want Seth to get hurt.”
“No worries there. Between Pastor John, Rhody and me it’s more about fellowship and having fun.” He grinned as he swirled the glass, watching the liquid form a tornado with the ice. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re guys, so it gets competitive, but the egos stay home. Seth’ll be fine. It’s flag, so no tackling or hitting.” Jake took a sip of his drink. “Now, what about those cookies cooling by the stove?”
“What cookies?” She blocked his line of vision and held the spatula up like a weapon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on, you’re killin’ me.” He knew they would still be warm and gooey. “You know how much I love cookies straight from the oven. I’ll let you build the steps all by yourself, and I’ll just watch from a distance. Please?”
Squinting, Vickie told herself not to look into his eyes. Whenever he’d managed to make eye contact, she’d never been good at telling him no. “These are for Ashley’s horse club.” She turned with a sigh and slid one on the stainless-steel spatula. Holding it from him, she glared. “Just one?”
He nodded. “Just one, promise.”
She watched him take the chocolate chip cookie. His smile warmed her heart in a way no one else ever could.
He closed his eyes and softly moaned as every morsel disappeared. His jaw worked slowly as her gaze followed the movement of his throat.
He looked back at her. “That tasted amazing.” He stood and moved next to her in the small kitchen. Reaching across the stove put him right in her space. “What about one...”
She popped the back of his hand with the spatula. “You promised.”
He gave a sigh and stepped back as if he had made a great sacrifice. “Yes, I did.”
“I used your mother’s recipe.” Feeling awkward, she moved to the sink and dumped her ice down the drain. “We ate a great deal of her cookies at this counter or in the barn when you managed to steal some.”
Chuckling, Jake nodded. “She refuses to make them for me anymore. Not until I give her grandchildren. Parental emotional blackmail at it’s worst.”
“Why