“Hey Shay!”
I turn smiling; to the sound of Jake’s voice and see his head of dusty blonde hair weaving its way through the crowded school hall. “Hi Jake!” I say, waving.
Jake leans on a locker next to mine and smiles, “So…what are you doing after school?”
I close my locker door and lock it, “Well, I have no life—so…probably nothing.”
Jake grins, “Well, how about I walk you home?”
I shoulder my backpack and shrug, “Sure, yeah.”
Ian motions to my backpack with a shrug, “I could carry that…i—if you want.”
I huff a laugh and start for the main exit, “No thanks, I’ve got it Ian.”
“That is one ugly girl to be with that guy.” I hear a girl’s voice in my head and I turn, startled, and look all around me. Up until now I’ve only been hearing Jake’s thoughts, but now I’m hearing even more? I can’t see any girl looking at me or Jake in the immediate area so I assume she’s already passed on, but I’m still in shock over having heard someone’s else’s thoughts, and—the thought didn’t exactly make me feel good about myself.
Almost as if he’s sensed the problem, Jake taps my arm. “By the way, I think you look really pretty today.”
I look up at him and I smile so broadly I’m surprised my cheeks don’t burst. “It’s the shirt—“ I tell him, “it’s one I got yesterday, after school.” And I really do think it is the shirt; it’s as girly as I get. It’s my favorite shade of sage green, long sleeved, and has faded red roses growing up the right side.
Jake smiles, “It’s not the shirt, Shay,” he says, “You look pretty.”
I smile and try to brush off the comment; this feels like something out of a movie! Shy girl meets popular boy, popular boy likes shy girl, everyone thinks popular boy is nuts for doing so, and shy girl ends up being happy. We haven’t gotten to that last part yet and I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet, I mean—after all I only just met him yesterday. But I do like him; he seems to understand and enjoy being around me. That’ a new experience for me, since no one in my age group has ever wanted to be around me—except now Alice and Jake.
I find it a bit ironic that on the day my dad told me he wanted me to start making friends, two kids from school just pop up and now we’re ‘tots besties’. But maybe it was just a coincidence, I mean—there’s no other explanation I can think of.
Outside the weather is the worst it’s been in a few months; the sky is thick with dark clouds, everything is still with the first truly frigid day we’ve had in a while, and every time I breathe puffy white clouds float up into the air.
“So,” Jake says, pulling his coat closed, “what are you up to this weekend?”
I shrug as I pull up my hood, “Probably hanging out with my dad, why?”
Jake sucks his lower lip through his teeth and waits a long minute before answering, “Um…just uh…” he shrugs and rolls his eyes, “My dad and I are invited to the chief’s house at the reservation Sunday night, and…the chief said I could bring a girl—a friend.” Jakes eyes dart from side to side as if he’s said something terrible, then settle on me.
I bite my lip and look up at him, “So…you’re asking me to go?”
Jake rolls his shoulders in a self conscious shrug, “Kinda sorta,” he says, “I mean—if you want to.”
I let my hair fall forward over my shoulder, shielding me from his eyes. “Well…I’d have to ask my dad but—”
“Great,” Jake says, “will I see him at your house?”
I pull my IPod out of my pocket and glance at the time, “Probably…he’ll be off work around the time we get there.”
Jake smiles, “Great, I’d like to meet him.”
That last part sound like the exact opposite of what a boy usually seems like; from what I’ve seen the boys are always petrified to meet a girl’s father, and the father usually plays it up. Usually by pulling out his guns and casually pointing them right at the sweating boy while he polishes the barrel. I don’t think my dad would resort to that, even if he didn’t like Jake; my dad trusts me to make the right decisions most of the time...most of the time.
We’re passed on the way to my house by several pairs of other kids from school, including Marley and Alicia, who give me the dirtiest looks they ever have. I find myself gloating inwardly at the fact that I have something Marley and Alicia don’t; Jake’s friendship, and his attention. Alice told me today at school that she has heard him talking to some of the other boys about me; she said he raves about how simple I am to get along with and my easy temper. I’ve never necessarily thought of myself in that way before but, when I think about, I’m not high maintenance and I prefer to get along with people rather than bicker; as my father once described me ‘I’m a chronic pacifist’.
“What are you thinking about?” Jake asks.
I look up, brought suddenly out of my thoughts, “Oh—nothing,” I say, “Just…I’ve never been to the reservation before.”
Jacob nods and sidesteps an icy patch in the sidewalk, “Me neither, but dad says it’s beautiful so…I’m looking forward to taking you there.”
I smile with one side of my mouth, “I’m hoping dad will let me go.”
Jake digs into his backpack and pulls out a strip of beef jerky, “I didn’t have lunch,” he says, “you want some?”
I gratefully accept a strip a rip off a piece with my teeth, “It’s good,” I say around mouthfuls.
Jake laughs at me for no apparent reason, and I frown at him in return. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jake says, “you’re just so different from other girls.”
I roll my eyes and take another bite of jerky, “How so?”
Jake wipes jerky fat from his lips with his sleeve and shrugs, “Well…for one thing you’re practical. I could tell that the minute I laid eyes on you.”
I raise an eyebrow, “How?”
“You don’t dress to impress like the other girls; you wear a jacket that actually keeps rain out, and clothes that keep you warm. Seriously, from what little I’ve seen of this town that’s a necessity.”
I nod, “Yeah, it kind of is.” I absentmindedly look up at the sky and see the outline of a huge hawk wheeling in a circle overhead. I smile to myself and wonder if it’s Ian; he’s always keeping an eye on me. I’ve often woke in the middle of the night and seen him perched on the tree outside my window, sometimes he’s even met me in the schoolyard during recess just to check on me. Sometimes I wish I could tell my father about Ian so he’d know that I actually do have a real friend, but Ian made me promise the day we met that I would never tell another living soul about him.
It’s been hard, keeping a secret like that, but the rewards have far outweighed the cost.
“What is it?” Jake asks.
I tear my eyes away from Ian’s wheeling form and come back to earth, “Nothing,” I say, “I was just watching a hawk.”
Jake flashes a grin and playfully bumps me with his elbow, “What—don’t tell me you’re a bird watcher too?”
I nudge him back and smile, “No, I just like hawks. Sometimes I think about what it must be like to fly.”
“It would be pretty awesome, right?”
I nod, “Yeah, it would be.” and I know from images Ian has showed me that it is. He once showed me a memory of when he flew
over the Canadian border and saw a herd of running caribou from miles up in the sky. It’s not just the images that I’ve found amazing; its how spectacular Ian’s sight is. He’s often sat on my arm in our tree and showed me images of a mouse moving over a mile away, and he can see it perfectly.

For the time being we fall into silence, the cold seeping into our bones and the far off idea of flying taking up our thoughts. There’s a feeling welling up in my chest that I can only describe as a jittery happiness. I don’t know if it’s because I finally have a human friend, or if it’s the thoughts I’ve heard him thinking about me that have allowed me to reopened a place inside me that I closed off a long time ago.

Chapter Two: The Reservation

I sit watching him stare back at me and feel his intent eyes boring through me; I wonder if he’s trying to intimidate. The thought crosses my mind that dating the sheriff’s daughter isn’t exactly the safest thing in the world to do, but she’s important enough that the risk is worth it.
I remember my father saying that if you find a girl you think is too good to be true, not to let her go.
That’s what I’m doing; not letting her go.
“So Jake,” he says, “what does your father do for a living?”
“He’s a liaison between the Lummi nation and the government,” I say without hesitation, “like a middle man between the two.”
He nods but keeps his eyes trained on me, “Does he enjoy that?”
“He seems to, sir.”
My eyes rove around the room without a specific target, roving from the stuffed ducks on the mantle, to the bookshelves, then back to him. “What do you do, sir?” I ask.
His eyes twitch but he makes no other movement, “I’m the sheriff,” he says, “head sheriff.”
“You enjoy that?” I ask.
He nods, “Yes.”
I shift in my seat and hook an ankle over my knee, “Shay tells me she enjoys reading. Do you too?”
He nods, “Yes I do.”
I bite the inside of my lip and my eyes wander again; I can see where Shay get’s her reserved nature. Though I’m not sure if he’s just always like this, or if he’s being extra stone faced just for my benefit. I can see right through it of course; he’s just doing this to make me afraid of him so I won’t think of doing anything to Shay, but it’s not necessary, I’d never hurt her.
“When will Shay be back home tonight?” he asks me.
I jump on the opportunity to prove myself, “As early as you want, sir.”
“A second later than ten and you’re done.” he says.
“I understand sir.” I say.
His eyes shift to the left behind me and I slowly turn; she doesn’t make a sound as she descends the stairs, and I’m struck with how she looks. She’s not making some grand entrance or showing off; she’s coming down the stairs like she usually does, and that’s the thing that gets me.
Her normally dangled mess of dark hair has been straightened, but I can tell by the red marks on her hands she isn’t used to a flat iron. She’s in a sage green dress with faded yellow flowers falling down the front, and brown leggings that run down into leather boots.
She swings around the banister at the bottom and smiles at the two of us, “What are you two talking about?” she asks.
I sigh and shake my head, trying to find words that aren’t coming. “Uh—we were uh—talking—about—“
Shay raises her eyebrows.
He slaps me on the shoulder, “I was just getting a few details out of Jacob here, and letting him know when I want you home, right Jacob?”
I nod at him, “Yes sir.”
Shay nods and steps around the corner, then returns with her jacket. “Well I’m ready if you are.”
I nod, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Her father flashes me one more murderous glare before I walk behind Shay out the front door. Once I’ve shut the door behind us and I’m sure we’re out of hearing range, I let out a deep sigh that reflects how nervous I was and how relieved I am to be out of the house.
“I thought he was going to kill me for sure,” I say, “he wouldn’t stop glaring!”
Shay laughs as we walk down the driveway, “Sorry, I didn’t think he’d do that.”
I shrug it off, “Doesn’t matter, you’re worth it.”
Shay’s eyes flash up to me in what I can only describe as surprise, before she looks down at the ground. “Thanks.”
She always does that; whenever I’ve complemented her on anything she looks as if she’s almost startled to hear it, and then her ears turn red.
“I mean it,” I say, “I really do.”
Shay glances up at me, “I know.”
Sometimes…I’d swear she can hear my thoughts.
“So…where’s your dad?” she asks, “I thought he was picking us up?”
I grin, “Change of plans…I’ve got my own wheels.”
Shay arches an eyebrow, “Since when?”
I pull the keys out of my coat pocket and jangle them for her to see, “Since today. Dad took me to the lot this morning as a surprise and told me to pick a car.”
I see her glance from the keys in my hand to the empty driveway, “Well—where is it?” she asks.
I motion with the keys, “I parked it down the street. I wanted to surprise you.”

****

“Okay, close your eyes.” Jake tells me.
I flash him a purposefully suspicious stare before closing my eyes, “As a general rule I hate surprises,” I say, “this better be good.” Jake covers my eyes with one hand and I feel the warmth of his body behind mine as he gently leads me toward the street, “and you’d better not walk me into a pole.”
Jake chuckles, “Just trust me, okay?”
I hesitantly shuffle forward, clinging to Jake’s free arm for support. Gradually I notice the sound of grass beneath my boots replaced by the sound of wet pavement. “How far down did you park?” I ask.
“Far enough,” Jake says, “be patient.”
I shuffle a little further forward before Jake stops me, “Okay,” he says, “open.” As he removes his hands I release my death grip on his arm and open my eyes. It takes me a moment to take it all in; the rolled back top, the sleek red curvature, and the emblem over the rear bumper.
“J-Jake,” I stutter, “You got a corvette?”
“Yeah,” Jake says, “C’mon let’s take it for a spin.”
I shake my head in disbelief as he takes my hand and starts leading me toward the car, “Is that even legal? I mean—you just got your license.”
Jake opens the door for me and I slide down onto the silky smooth leather seat, and I momentarily freeze; the seat is toasty warm. I look up at Jake for an explanation and he’s grinning right back at me, “Built in seat heaters,” he says, “thought you’d like that.”
He runs around to the other side of the car and hops in over the door, and slides down into his seat. “So…” he says, “were to, me’ lady?” I clip on my seatbelt as my eyes rove around all the buttons and gadgets, and I don’t really hear him. “You who… earth to Shay.” Jake says.
My head comes up and I look at him, “What?”
Jake grins in satisfaction; if he wanted to surprise me out of my wits, he’s succeeded brilliantly, “Ready to go?” he asks me.
I nod, “Yeah.”
When he shifts gears and abruptly speeds forward I’m taken by surprise and I’m pushed back against my seat, “Please obey traffic laws!” I screech.
Jake laughs and does something with the sifter in the middle console, “Fast, right?”
I grip the sides of my chair like a lifeline and nod, “Uh huh, sure is.” I’ve never been more glad to live in a town with such a low population as I am right now; a low population means not very many people out on the roads, and I’m pretty sure Jake is going at least twenty over the speed limit the whole way to the reservation. I can’t help thinking that this is a bit of a wreck less way to treat a brand new car, not to mention the human lives involved.
By the time I see the reservation coming into view my knuckles are white around my seat, and my teeth are clenched to the breaking point. The whipping, wet wind has largely undone all the work I did straightening my hair, and it’s reverted to its usual curly mess.
Jake at last pulls to a stop in front of a small log cabin next to a small car and unclips his seatbelt,
“So, was that fun or what?” he asks.
I loosen the grip I have on my seat and nod, “Terrifying, but fun,” I say, “I think I left a few pounds behind on those hairpin curves, though.”
Jake chuckles and slides out of the car, “I’ll get the door,” he says. He runs around the back of the car and opens the door with a dramatic bow, and offers me his hand, “m’lady.”
I take his hand with a huff and step out onto the muddy ground, “Thank you. Is your dad already here?”
“Yeah,” Jake tells me with a nod toward the car beside us, “that’s his car.”
Jake starts to lead me toward the cabin but I’m suddenly overtaken with jitters, “Do you think he’ll like me?” I ask.
Jake smiles and squeezes my hand, which I forgot he’s still holding. “He’ll love you, don’t worry.”
I flash a nervous smile before going along beside him to the front door, and before we even get there the door is opened. The girl who meets us at the door looks to be about my age, she has the same dark hair as me but hers is silky smooth and straight. She’s the same height as me, and when she smiles her whole face lights up.
“Hi!” she says, “I’m Winter Taylor, you are Jake and…?”
“Shay,” I say. Really, what is it with people and not knowing my name?
She smiles, “Shay…that’s a beautiful name. Nice to meet you.”
We both briefly shake hands with Winter before she leads us into the small house. Inside we stomp off our boots on a rug and Winter deposits our coats in a closet for us, “My father and Mr. Cain are in this way,” Winter says, and leads us down a dim hall to a large room that I’m surprised fits in this tiny house.
“I guess things really are bigger on the inside,” Jake whispers, quoting Dr. Who.
I snigger, “Guess so.”
Winter steps aside, allow Jake and I to enter into the room first. A skylight lets in light to the wood room, illuminating wooden carvings of Indians, dream-catchers hanging on the walls, and handmade woven blankets hanging on the walls. I guess they’re all probably parts of the Lummi’s culture, or traditions.
Two men rise from chairs in the middle of cozy room and walk forward to greet us, and I can instantly tell that the man on the left is Winter’s father; he has the same smooth, dark, complexion, long black hair, and the same dark eyes.
Since I’ve already eliminated one from the mix, I know the man on the right must be Jake’s father but I can’t see a thread of resemblance between them. The man in front of me has snow-white skin, blonde hair, and he’s at least six inches shorter than Jake; a little taller than me.
“Harry,” he says to the man beside him, “This is my son Jacob.”
Harry shakes hands with Jake, “And this—absolutely lovely girl is…?”
“Shay,” Jake says, “Shay Connor.”
Harry extends his hand to me, “Very nice to meet you both,” he says, “Charlie speaks of nothing else but his son when we are together.”
Jacob’s father smiles, “And Jacob speaks of nothing else but Shay.”
I realize that Harry hasn’t let go of my hand yet and he’s starring at me, but when I stare back he releases my hand and smiles. “Please, come and sit.” Jake and I sit side by side on a couch; Harry sits on a recliner across from us, and Jake’s father Charlie takes a seat next to Harry.
“So,” harry says, “Charlie tells me you are a senior Jake, do you enjoy school?”
Jake smiles, “I have since I came here.” I don’t miss the indication; he’s complimenting me not the school system, but he gives my hand the tiniest squeeze just in case I missed it. By the way Charlie discretely snickers at Jake, I wonder if he got Jake’s subtle hint too. Harry just stares at me with this intrigued smile on his face and a distant look in his eyes.
I keep a grip on Jake’s hand the whole time which is odd for me, because I’m not usually the ‘touchy—feely’ type. But I’m completely out of my element, and Jake is the only familiar thing for me to cling to. We flash glances at each other in between Harry and Charlie chatting about weather, politics, and new things on the reservation. These things include—but aren’t limited to—Widow Clearwater’s roof leaking in the last storm, Jimmy Black’s son running away, and needing new computers for the school.
It amazes me what boring subjects’ people chose to pass the time.
“So Shay,” Harry says, “are you a senior too?”
“No,” I say, “I’m a junior.”
Harry nods slowly, “My daughter Winter is a junior as well.”
I smile politely, “That’s…cool.”
“Do you know what college you’ll attend yet?” Charlie asks.
I shudder inwardly at the idea of college, “Uh no,” I say, “I’m—I mean—I haven’t figured out the whole—college thing yet.”
Charlie smiles, “That’s fine, you’ve still got plenty of time.”
“You’d think she’d at least have an idea by now. After all she’s graduating in a year.” I flinch when I hear his thought; so much for making a good impression on Jake’s dad.
I’m about to despair when I hear a door open behind me and the mouth watering smell of bread and soup wafts into the room. A middle aged woman in a plaid shirt and jeans steps into the room, wiping her hands briefly on a towel before tucking it in the pocket of the apron she wears.
Harry practically leaps out of his chair. We all take the initiative and get up as well. “Jake, Shay, this is my wife Sue.”
Sue steps forward and shakes our hands in turn, “Nice to meet you both,” she says, “Shay; is that short for something?”
“Shaylene,” I tell her, “but you can call me Shay.”
She lets go of my hand but grabs my arm, “C’mon, let’s leave the men to their talk. You can come meet my daughters.” I cast a desperate look at Jake before she whisks me off arm—in—arm through the door into the kitchen.
Inside a round table is set for eight people, Winter and another older girl are sitting in barstools at the island peeling carrots, and a fire burns in a hearth—type oven in the corner.
“These are my daughters Winter-Frost, and Doe.”
Winter gets up from her seat immediately and collides with me in a bear hug, “So nice to meet you!!” she says, “I knew the minute I say you we’d be great friends!”
I stiffly return the hug until she breaks away, “Doe, come say hi.” Winter says.
Doe is taller than both me and Winter, she has the same long dark hair, but golden brown eyes that—quite frankly—remind me of a wolf’s.
She doesn’t smile, but stares at me as she extends a hand, “Nice to meet you,” she says simply.
I give her hand one firm shake, “Nice to meet you too, I’m Shay.”
She tears her hand away and nods, “Yeah, I heard.”
As we stand staring at each other, the hair on the back of my neck starts to stand on end and I feel a distinct presents of danger. I don’t know if it’s just how uncomfortable I am with the situation, or if it’s the glare Doe is giving me that’s setting this off, but whatever it is, I feel that something is wrong.
Sue picks up on the matter, “Shay honey, why don’t you come sit at the counter?”
I tear my gaze away from Doe and smile politely, “Sure.”
Sue looks past me, “Doe, go fetch Ian.”
I don’t look, but I can tell by the sound of stomping strides that Doe is leaving the room, and I have absolutely no idea what I did to make her angry at me! “Please forgive Doe,” Sue asks me, “she’s had a rough few weeks at college and she’s—getting over a—back problem.” I nod my understanding, but think it odd that someone as young as Doe would be having back problems. Sue motions to Doe’s recently vacated barstool, “Please, sit.”
I hook the heels of my boots on the frame of the barstool and cross my legs as Sue and Winter resume chopping vegetables for a salad on the other side of the counter, “So tell me,” she starts, “how long have you and Jake known each other?”
“Five days,” I tell her.
She and Winter simultaneously look up in shock, “Seriously?” Sue asks.
I nod, “Yeah.”
“And you’re already holding hands? Oh that’s so cute!” Winter says, and she’s looking like a ball of energy that’s about to bubble over.
I laugh nervously, “Well—today’s the first time we’ve actually—touched—I guess.”
Sue discretely nudges Winter with her elbow, “Keep chopping, honey.”
I don’t like where the conversation is going, so I resort to the only—and cheesiest—thing I can think of; changing the subject. “So who’s Ian?” I ask.
Sue smiles and tosses some lettuce in a bowl, “Ian is son, and he’s the oldest. He should be in any moment now; he was just finishing some wood splitting.”
Right on cue the door behind me opens. Before I see him I can smell the unmistakable aroma of fresh pine and hay; two of my favorite smells.
Sue drops her work and holds her arms out, beckoning him. “Ian honey, c’mere,” she says, “come meet one of our guests.”
He walks silently across the kitchen to his mother, where I really get a full view of him; he has black hair like the rest of his family but—unlike his father’s—it’s cut short, his eyes are a black-brown, and he’s between mine and Jake’s height. The second our eyes meet I feel dazed; I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I can’t put my finger on where. I’d remember seeing him—I’m sure—but—
My lips part an I go rigid as I realize…he’s the exact image of what I pictured Brice looking like if he was a human. I make myself breathe again and smile at him, only—he’s starring back at me like he’s just come across a math problem he can’t solve.
“Ian, you already know Mr. Cain right? Yes well, this is his son Jake’s girlfriend Shay Connor.”
I smile as we shake hands, “Actually—‘girlfriend’ implies—possible future, we’re just—friends.” I don’t know why I’m explaining myself, but for some reason I feel like I’m explaining this to Brice instead of Ian, and like I’m betraying him.
“Nice to meet you all the same,” Ian says. He shoves his hands in his back pockets and glances at his mother. He looks very troubled about something, and I notice his breathing quickens significantly. “Will you excuse me?”
Sue starts to say something in reply—possibly protest—but he darts for the door and is gone before either one of us can say a thing, “Well—“ Sue says with a smile, “that’s my Ian! He’ll probably be back once he’s cleaned up.”
I look after him and nod absent mindedly to Sue’s comment.

****

I’ve never been so happy in my life to see someone as I am to see Jake when he, Harry, and Charlie come through the door for dinner. Jake’s eyes search the room as soon as he enters until they find me, then he smiles that winning grin of his.
“Miss me?” he asks.
I stand up and grab onto his hand again, “Ever second.” I lower my voice, “Sue and Winter must have grilled me on every single event that’s ever happened in my life.”
Jake nods understandingly, “I won’t let you out of my sight again, I promise.”

Once Doe and Ian have found their way to the dinner table, we’re all assigned seats and I end up sitting between Jake and Sue. At least I know with Sue next to me there won’t be any lack of conversation, but with Ian and Doe’s intense eyes trained on me from across the table, I’m not sure that I could keep up a conversation without being distracted out of my mind. I can’t help wishing I would hear a thought or two from either one of them so I could decipher a; why Doe seems intent on boring a hole through me with her eyes and—b; why Ian is looking at me like he’s trying to read my mind.
Before too long, however, I don’t have to worry about it because we’re all made busy eating Sue’s homemade bread, salad, and chicken noodle soup. Harry drains three consecutive bowls of the stuff and only comes up briefly for air. But even then it’s only to comment on how wonderful his wife’s cooking is, and ask the rest of us if we don’t think so as well.
Jake periodical gives me an encouraging smile or a wink, and I think he must know how uncomfortable I am with the whole thing. I wonder if he was once like me and that’s why he seems to have an insight into how I feel, but with his outgoing personality I highly doubt it.

When everyone has finished eating and the three women have carted away all the dishes, Harry pushes his chair back from the table and pats his now protruding abdomen, “No one knows how to cook like my Sue,” he says, “she should be famous.”
Charlie smiles, “I agree Harry,” he says, “that’s the best chicken soup I’ve ever had.”
“And the bread she makes,” Harry says, “I’ve never tasted anything finer in my life! I swear…”
Jake leans over and whispers, “You okay?”
I take a deep breath and nod, “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get to know them better.”
“…and that reminds me,” Harry continues, “we need to get going if we’re going to get to the social.”
I look at Jake for an explanation and he winces, “What social?” I ask him.
Harry and Charlie look at each other, then Jake, then me. “He didn’t tell you?” Charlie asks
“Tell….me what?”
Harry comes out of his chair and grins, “The Reservation Social, it’s today. You know—dancing, music, desert,” he waggles his hand in the air mystically, “old horror stories around the campfire.”
I flash a glance at Jake, “You didn’t tell me?”
Jake closes his eyes, “Sorry…I was going to, then I forgot and you’d already said you’d come so…I just didn’t.”
I hook a piece of hair behind my ear and feel my hands start shaking, “Oh, no—problem,” I say, “it’s uh—it’s fine.” Jake heaves a sigh of relief, and from the corner of my eye I see Ian cross his arms.
Harry claps his massive hands together, “Well, let’s make tracks in the mud!” I must look a bit frazzled as I work out the meaning of that phrase, but when I finally figure it out I smile and get up from the table. As I’m a bit caught up in the flow of people heading for the door, I catch glimpses of Ian watching me with those intense dark eyes.
I can’t help wondering what he and Doe find so either irritating or disdainful about me, and I’m not sure which one it is because whenever I catch either of them looking at me they look away. At last I tell myself to just forget about it and take advantage of the time I have to spend with Jake.
He and I tag along after the rest of the group in his corvette, only this time I’m glad to have the speed limit under twenty. “Did you know the Lummi reservation is over thirteen thousand acres?” I ask Jake.
He looks over at me with one arched eyebrows, “And you know this how?”
“I googled it,” I say, “I wanted to appreciate what I was going to be seeing.”
Jacob smiles, “No, I didn’t know that.”
I turn back to the window to watch the woods and occasional houses flashing by. I try to turn my thoughts away from him but no matter how much I try I keep seeing Ian in my mind, feel his rough hand encircle mine as we shook hands. His hand was a lot different that Jakes; his were rough and callused from obviously doing work with his hands, but Jakes are softer and chilly to the touch.
“You’re so beautiful.”
I look over at him even though I know he didn’t say it out loud and smile, “Thanks Jake.”
Now he looks startled, “For what?”
I put my hand over his on the shifter and smile, “For being here for me, it really means a lot.”
Jake smiles sadly and slips his fingers in between mine, “I’m—glad to.” he says.
I feel and blush burning my cheeks and look away, “So…what did ‘the guys’ talk about while the women were away?”
Jake shrugs, “Sports, hunting, trucks, barbequing, you know—the usual stuff.” he looks over with an innocent smile, “how about you?”
I decide to play along, “Oh you know, hair, nails, fashion, the newest ‘chic flicks’.”
Jake guffaws at the idea.
I glare at him but am fighting back a smile.
I realize then that the cars ahead of us are stopped and Jake is putting on the brakes, “We here?” I ask.
“Looks like,” Jake says.
Jake shuts off the car and runs around to open the door for me. As he extends his hand to help me up I take a deep breath and prepare myself for whatever is coming, hoping not to be noticed or have any attention called to me. If I thought Jake would enjoy it, I wouldn’t mind sitting off in a corner while everyone else dances and parties, but I think Jake will probably at least ask me to dance at some point. I haven’t decided yet whether or not I’ll say yes, but at this point I’m just hoping that he won’t ask.
“Just so you know,” Jake says, “I won’t ask you to dance if you don’t want to.”
I glance up at him and feel my heart swelling, “Do you mind that?”
Jake squeezes my hand, “Not if it makes you happy I don’t.”
This gesture leaves me beaming as we walk toward the small group of the Taylor family, and Jake’s dad. Jake’s father breaks away from the group and comes right up to me, a broad grin on his face.
“Hello Shay,” he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to formally introduce myself.” he extends his hand to me, “I’m Robert Cain, and I’m glad you could come today.”
I shake his hand, “Shay Connor. And I’m glad I could come.”
He smiles as if we’ve been best friends since birth and, “It’s good to finally meet you,” he says, “I wasn’t joking when I said you’re all Jake talks about.”
Jake makes an exaggerated throaty growl, making his disapproval obvious. “Thanks dad,” he says, “that’s just…perfect.”
Robert chuckles and slaps Jake on the back repeatedly, “Just making conversation son. C’mon, let’s get to the dance. You like dancing, don’t you Shay?”
Responses to that question come to mind so rapidly that I have a momentary brain freeze; my mouth makes several shapes, but I can’t find one that fits what I’m trying to say. “Uh—I—“
Jake picks up on my distress and hooks his arm around mine, “Shay’s had a long day Dad,” he says, “we’re probably just going to take it easy for now.”
The diplomacy of that answer is brilliant; it gives me a reasonable excuse to sit out as many dances as I want, but an open door if I decide I do want to dance. So, heaving a sigh, I let Jake lead me toward the sound of music and laughter up ahead.
“You’re my hero,” I tell him, “thank you.”
Jake squeezes my arm, “I take chivalry lessons every Tuesday and Thursday.”
I snort a laugh, “Yeah, right.”
I flinch when I hear a voice echoing in my head, “You’d think so by the level of cheesiness.” Scanning my surroundings for the source I don’t see anyone, but I get the distinct feeling that I’m being watched by whoever thought it. I realize that I’m whipping my head from side to side and being quite obvious about the whole thing, and if I’m going to keep this ability a secret I can be acting like a bobble head every time a thought enters my mind.
“Something wrong?” Jake asks.
“No—nothing,” I say, “I just thought I heard something.”
Jake eyes the woods on either side with exaggerated worry and nudges me with his shoulder, “You know, I’ve heard these woods are teaming with mountain lions, tigers and bears.”
I put a hand to my chest, “Oh my!”
Jake abruptly leans down and kisses my cheek; a gesture that makes me flinch. I’m fine being very good friends which—I think we will be—but I decided a long time ago that if a guy ever expressed interest in being more than ‘just friends’, I didn’t—and don’t—want a physical relationship. I want to love someone because he’s a good person; he takes care of me, and knows how to act like a man.
Not because he’s a good kisser.
The fact that Jake feels comfortable kissing my cheek the first time we’ve been out together makes me wonder if we’re both not entirely on the same page, at least, as far as relationships go. But I decide not to read too much into it right now; it might have just been a spontaneous thing that he’ll never try again, or something that has different meaning for him than it does for me.

The Lummi Social is—I have to admit—a total surprise for me; the dance floor is a large area spread with straw under a hollowed out part of a weeping willow tree. The vines hanging down form a circular wall around the dance floor, and inside strings of white lights have been wound around the trunk and tree limbs; it’s one of the most magical things I’ve ever seen. Extension cords artfully hidden beneath the straw floor and then wound around the tree power speakers that play alternating slow, then fast paced music. But most of its country or folk.
My eyes rove around the inside of the room made of willow, “This is not what I was expecting,” I tell Jake.
He grins, “What, you were expecting war dancing, tomahawks, and war paint?”
Laughing, I nod, “I would have expected that more than this. This is so…”
“American?” Jake offers.
My eyebrows go up, “Yeah, I guess.”
It’s then I realize for the first time that there’s a small wooden platform with a microphone set up near the main trunk of the tree, and I only notice because Harry Taylor steps up and taps the microphone, sending off a burst of static.
“Is this thing on?”
In answer a high pitched ringing makes everyone close enough stop and clamp their hands over their ears.
Harry seems satisfied with the attention, “I guess it is on,” he says with a grin, “Okay now for the announcements and we’ll get this shin—dig going!” everyone whoops and applauds for a spell before he continues. “Alright, alright,” he says, “we’re gonna have some dancing for about an hour, then after that we’ll be having the raffle, pie eating contest, and then desert for everyone. Kids games and competitions will be available on the other side of the old willow throughout the evening.” he waits a moment for the info to be acknowledged before clapping his hands together, “All right then, let’s all cut the rug!”
As people start clapping and filing onto the dance floor, Jake leads me to the side where chairs are set up in rows for those sitting out dances.
The music and foot stomping going on all around us is already making it hard for Jake to hear my voice, but I manage to get the words out anyway, “I think I’ll leave the rug exactly the way it is.”
Jake sniggers but doesn’t say anything.
Once we’re seated the level of noise becomes so intrusive that it becomes a bit hard to hear myself think, let alone talk to Jake. So what little communication we share is in looks a gestures; I realize Jake has a knack for keeping a completely straight face while subtly pointing out something hilarious. He does this several times, effectively making me burst out laughing but when all the questioning stares point in my direction, he looks off innocently or stares at me as if my hair has just lit on fire. This, of course, just makes me laugh more and I end up holding my ribs and trying my best to ignore him for fear I’ll tear a muscle or something.
After I’ve managed to gain control again, the upbeat music slows down to a ‘slow dance’ pace and it’s a little easier to hear. Jake takes immediate advantage of the opportunity to talk; he rests his elbow on the end of his knee, and cups his chin in the palm of his hand.
“So—having fun yet?”
Sniggering, and trying very hard not to add to the stitch in my ribs, I nod, “Yeah, I am.”
A triumphant grin spread on Jake’s face until his eyes are taken up with it, “I’m glad.”
Jake’s gaze wonders out over the crowd without settling too long on anything, and I start to notice he’s tapping his boots in time with the music. “Do you like dancing?” I ask him.
Jake shrugs a smile, “Yeah. I used to dance with my mom; she’s the one who taught me how.”
The constant tapping of his boots on the ground draws my gaze again; should I or shouldn’t I? It only takes me a second to make the decision, and I know if the idea is considered a moment longer I’ll probably change my mind, so I stand up and slip my purse under my chair, “Okay, let’s do it.”
Jake’s eyebrows go up but he doesn’t make a move toward me, “You’re serious?”
My head bobbles between a nod of ascent and declining, but I finally make a decisive choice, “Yeah.”
Jake stands with a beaming smile and taking my hand gingerly he leads me out onto the dance floor. Once he’s found a clear spot that seems to suit him he swings me around to face him and we start to rock to the slow sound of the music. I notice that most of the other men have their hands in places they shouldn’t be on their dance partners, and I appreciate that Jake is being appropriate with me; he’s not pulling me close to him or sliding his hand down my back; if someone were to see us they probably would think we were just friends or siblings, and that’s just the way I want it for now.
“You’ve never danced before have you?” Jake asks after a moment.
Looking up from my shuffling feet I frown at him, “How can you tell?”
“You keep looking down at your feet,” he tells me, “it’s kind of a dead giveaway.”
“Well—I think this is the first time I’ve ever danced with anyone in my life so—it’s odd.”
Jake shakes his head as if it isn’t important in the least, “Just follow me and move to the music, and don’t think.”
Don’t think.
Jake smiles as if he’d be happy to stare at me forever, but I don’t have the desire or courage to stare back; people get hurt when they develop feelings before they even know each other, and that’s the last thing I need—or want—to happen.
“She looks happy with him,” the sound of someone’s thoughts brings me out of the moment, “very happy.” Fighting mightily the urge to look around for the source of the thoughts I hold on tighter to Jake’s hand, but keep my eyes trained on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asks.
I look up and shake my head, “Nothing—“ my eyes catch sight of Ian and Doe Taylor standing at the edge of the dance floor, conspiratorially flashing glances at Jake and I while whispering to each other. Ian and I lock eyes for an instant and the frown fades from his face, Doe maintains her scowl. Then a battle plays across Ian’s features; a battle between replying to something Doe said, and looking at me. When I finally can’t stand the intensity of his stare any longer, I look away and use Jake as a wall to shield me from Ian’s view.
I suck my lips through my teeth and let them out slowly, trying to think of an explanation for this odd behavior; Harry, Sue, and Winter Taylor are all so bubbly and outgoing, yet it seems the Ian and Doe have some personal miff with me. But I can’t possibly understand what I could have done to warrant this kind of treatment; I’ve only just met them this evening!
Jake stops dancing, abruptly bringing me out of my thoughts; he cups my face in his hand and stares down at me, “What’s going through your head?”
My heart pounds in my chest and I would reflexively glance at Ian if I weren’t held captive by Jake’s stare. I blink and give my head a little shake, “Nothing much, just—“ Jake steps closer, so close I can feel his body heat. He uses his hand on the side of my face to gingerly pull me toward him, and—I have to admit—I feel some kind of magnetic pull enticing me to let him. He leans in, and for a moment I feel his breath on my face before I pull away,
I put my hand over his on my cheek and gently pull away; I want to make it clear that I’m not going down this path, but I don’t want to hurt Jake. “Jake—“ I say, “this isn’t—“
He blinks and bites his lower lip, “I understand. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—“
“No it’s fine,” I say, “Just—not now.”
Not EVER.

****


Once the front door is closed behind me I lean against it with a sigh, my tired eyes fall shut for a moment before I slip off my boots and hang my coat up. I would have expected dad to be waiting at the door for me, but Jake got me home half an hour before the curfew dad assigned for me, probably as a sign of good faith.
I was worried that there might be some awkwardness between Jake and I, but after what I told him when he was about to kiss me he continued on as if nothing had happened.
I can’t decide whether that is something good or something I should be worrying about, but for now I’m happy; I’m just starting to like Jake as a friend, and I don’t want to have the companionship he’s given me torn from my life.
“Shay, that you?” his voice calls from the library.
I walk down the hall and lean in the doorway, “Yeah dad, it’s me.”
The book in his hands closes with a pop and he comes forward in his chair, and when his eyes find the clock on the wall he smiles to himself. “Half an hour early,” he says, “I should give that boy a medal.” I cross the room and curl up in the window seat, my thoughts in a bit of a jumble over the whole evening; the combination of overbearing and intimidating family we had dinner with, the stare Ian and I shared that made me feel guilty, and the kiss that I didn’t let happen.
Dad comes to sit next to me, and I lean against his shoulder. “So, how was it?” he asks.
“It was nice,” I say, “we had dinner then went to the social.”
I feel dad nod, “Oh, I forgot that was tonight, what was it like?”
I shrug and nuzzle closer, trying to drink up every ounce of warmth I can. Dad just listens while I relate the whole event—excluding ‘the incident’—and he doesn’t say a word until I’ve finished. “It was strange,” I say, “Harry, Sue, and Winter were all really outgoing and cheerful. But Ian and Doe were like—distant and…almost angry looking.”
Dad wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head, “Some people are just like that,” he says, “I wouldn’t sweat it.” he pauses a moment before adding, “Did anything else happen that I should know about?”
The process of deciding the answer to that question speeds through my mind; maybe I should tell him, but what ‘almost’ happened would only make dad worry, or cause him to doubt my judgment when—in reality—my judgment is what kept it from happening. I could even see dad encouraging me to ‘not be so shy’ and that’s not what I want; shy has nothing to do with my reasons for what I did.
So I answer no exit the situation, using the excuse that I have to go to school tomorrow and so must get to bed early. Dad doesn’t question this and kisses me once before I run up the stairs to my room, the picture of Ian’s black eyes still playing before my eyes.