I’ve never wanted to hold Abigail’s hair still. I like that it flies all over the place, a riot of curls.
“She was a free spirit,” he goes on. “Got to admire somebody that can be that free.”
I nod without comment.
“So the Marshall girl was okay?” he asks again.
“She seemed fine. Wanted to sit in the rain.” I still don’t understand that part.
He suddenly stops, and out of politeness so do I. “Did she remember you?” He looks everywhere but at me, which helps to put me a little more at ease. “She did.” She’d said my name and everything. While she may have maintained the curly hair, the tall willowy body, and the startling brown eyes, she was very different from the girl I used to know. And I’m sure I’m different too. Hell, I haven’t even seen my face in years. My beard is inches thick. I’m really surprised she knew who I was at all.
“I believe I told you to stay away from her.”
“That’s my plan.” I watch as Wilbur ducks his head over and over, enjoying his bath.
“Well, if she needs saving again, you’ll probably feel obligated to rush to her rescue.”
I inwardly roll my eyes. I wouldn’t dare do it where he can see me; I’m afraid he’d jack my jaws. Mr. Jacobson used to be quick, and I’d wager that he still is. “Let’s hope she doesn’t need any more saving.”
He nods toward my duck. “Jake was telling me you found a motherless duck. This him?”
I nod. “A red fox raided a duck nest. I saw it carrying one of the parents away.”
He gives a satisfied grunt. “He imprinted on you.”
When I found the duck, I’d googled duck care and learned all about imprinting. For all intents and purposes, the duck considers me to be his parent. That’s why he sticks so close to me.
“That duck will be good for you. It’ll give you something to love,” he says. “And it’ll love you back.”
I’m not sure I’m deserving of love, at least not right now.
“I got some of those books you like to read, up at the house. Drop by and pick them up when you’re ready for them.”
I’d found out early on that Mr. Jacobson and I share a similar taste in literature. “I don’t want to be a bother,” I say. “Katie has enough to take care of with all those kids.”
“I’d wager that Katie is dying to get some time with you.” He laughs. “She has a thing for lost souls.”
“I’m not a lost soul.”
“You’re as lost as anybody I ever met,” he says quietly. “But you’ll get found. She’ll make sure of it.”
“Who, Katie?”
He smiles. “Her too,” he says with a chuckle.
That’s when I realize he was referring to Abigail. “I knew Abigail when we were younger,” I say. “We were best friends.”
He nods. “I remember. Used to drive Maimi crazy, sending that girl out with you.”
“What? What was wrong with me?”
“Not because you were you. Just because you were a boy and she was a girl, and that summer was when you two first started acting like boys and girls, instead of kids.”
I’m glad he clarified that, because I was beginning to get offended.
He points toward the big house. “Walk on up to the big house and you can get those books. Katie’s in the kitchen.” He nods toward the house like the inclination of his head can get my feet moving.
“It’s awfully early,” I remind him.
“I just said she’s in the kitchen, didn’t I?”
I immediately remember the time I smarted off at him when I was ten and he popped the back of my head. Not hard enough to injure, but definitely hard enough to get my attention. Reflexively, I reach up and rub that spot.
He chuckles. “Go on, now. Get the books. It’ll give you something to do late at night.” He nods at me and then he walks off toward the dock. He’s carrying a fishing pole in one hand and a bucket in the other. “I’m going to pretend to be fishing so I can get some peace and quiet.”
I bite back a laugh. “Sounds like a plan.” I start toward the big house, but he calls me back.
“Hey, Ethan.”
I turn back to face him. “Yes, sir?”
“Don’t let the judge-y world get you down, son. The people in this town have some growing to do, and I reckon it’s about time we helped them do it.”
I say nothing, but I nod at him.
I don’t think it’s