Reborn Yesterday - Tessa Bailey Page 0,4
fall moving in gradually, the wind had a cool bite but summer was still laced throughout, carrying the scent of scorched sand and saltwater. Apart from a handful of people sleeping on benches and the occasional rat scurrying out to retrieve pieces of popcorn and dropped pizza crusts, the boardwalk was empty of life, quiet enough to hear the waves crashing nearby, the sizzle of the whitewash.
Jonas walked beside her with his hands clasped behind has back, staring straight ahead, occasionally mouthing phrases to himself. I shouldn’t be doing this seemed to be his favorite, with have you gone insane coming in at a close second.
I get one hour.
That was her favorite of his mutterings so far.
He hadn’t said, “You get one hour.” He’d said, “I get one hour.”
And maybe, just maybe, that meant he was enjoying being with her, even if he looked like he was being boiled alive in a pit of hot oil.
A girl could dream.
“One hour,” she murmured now. “And then I won’t see you again?”
Grooves formed between his brows. “Correct.”
She ignored the pang in her chest. “This is a unique opportunity then.”
He seemed reluctantly intrigued. “How so?”
“Since we’re never going to see each other after tonight, we can say the weirdest things on our minds without fear of reliving the embarrassment every time we meet. Maybe I can even pass on the secrets of womankind. Aren’t you curious why women open their mouth when they apply mascara?”
“Not until now. Why do they?”
“It’s reflexive. When a woman is trying not to blink, the oculomotor nerve is activated, triggering the trigeminal nerve that opens the jaw. Mouth open equals no blinking—and our bodies just do it naturally.” She beamed at him. “Aren’t you glad you came on this walk?”
He laughed, the full, deep sound making her think of underground wine cellars and the dark, less traveled sections of a library. “It’s going to be impossible to forget,” he said, seeming suddenly at a loss for words.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he responded, looking over at her curiously. “I just can’t remember the last time I laughed…without making myself do it out of politeness.”
“Are you always polite?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I always try to do the appropriate thing. The right thing.” Under his breath, he said, “Usually, anyway.”
Ginny stopped short, something terrible occurring. “Are you married? Is that why you shouldn’t be doing this? You said you had roommates and I just assumed that meant you were a single man—”
“I am unattached, Ginny.” He seemed transfixed by her hair blowing in the breeze. “In a manner of speaking.” With a visible effort, he gathered himself. “What about you? Do you always do the right thing?”
“I’m in the funeral business. I like to leave room for a gray area.”
Amusement broke across his face. “Care to elaborate?”
Ginny hummed. “We had a client once, back when my father was still alive. The deceased asked to be buried with his gold watches. Jonas, he had fourteen of them. Seven on each arm.” She shook her head at the memory. “His sons couldn’t afford to pay for the funeral or his burial plot, so we snuck them two of the watches inside a Big Mac carton.”
He flashed a smile. “I detect no gray area there. What good would fourteen watches do buried six feet underground? You can’t take it with you.”
“Exactly.”
“When you’re dead, you can’t lift your wrist to check the time, anyway,” Jonas said.
Ginny laughed into her palm—and the sound made him misstep and stop walking.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.” He opened his mouth and snapped it shut. “It’s almost as if I missed your laugh more than mine.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
When they started on their way again Jonas appeared quite distracted. “All right, my turn for a question. Are you an optimist or a pessimist?”
“Pessimist to the bone. You?”
“Definite optimist.”
“An optimist who works in a funeral home?”
“Owns a funeral home.” She squinted an eye at him. “Jealous?”
He shoved his fingers through his hair, leaving it tousled and directionless. “Christ, Ginny, you are so endearing, it’s painful.” His jaw set. “Let’s head back.”
Reluctantly, she turned and they started off in the direction they’d walked. “Why a pessimist?”
“Seen a lot of things go wrong in…my time.”
“Name something you’ve seen go right.”
“Is this a technique optimists use to bring one over to the light side?”
“Nope, I just invented it.”
His white teeth flashed, but his smile slowly melted away. “Time gets things right, I suppose. The seasons show up without fail, cycle after cycle. People put up