Page 22 of First Moon

To the right, a workshop stood with both bay doors open. A white truck with James Plumbing painted on the side was parked out front, along with two other trucks, a fire department decal on one back window and a construction company logo on another.

A woman with silver-streaked hair twisted into a loose knot stood on the porch, wiping her hands on a dish towel. A tall man with silver hair, a close-cropped beard, and the muscular forearms of a man who’d worked every day of his life stood next to her.

Gus and June James.

I parked, and, while I grabbed the flowers, Ivy ran across the yard, up the steps and into her mama’s waiting arms. She hugged her daddy next and then pulled them down the stairs to where I stood waiting to be introduced.

“Mama, Daddy, this is my Jack. Jack, these are my folks. June and Gus.”

I suddenly became aware of every inch of myself. My boots on the gravel. My hat in my hand. My shirt, which had seemed fine when I put it on, but now felt too well-ironed.

“Glad to meet you, Jack,” Gus said, shaking my hand. He was an inch or two shorter than me but broad-shouldered and fit for a man in his early sixties. His hand was broad, rough, and strong when he shook mine.

“Mr. James, it’s a pleasure,” I said. “Thank you for having me.”

“Gus is fine. And you’ll sleep in separate bedrooms. That’s how we do it here.”

I nodded. “Gus. I wouldn’t think otherwise, sir.”

“You hit any traffic?” Gus asked.

“No, sir. We had a nice drive. Took us two hours, but we had to stop for your daughter’s favorite barbecue on the way.”

“Wally’s, sure. That used to be what Ivy always asked for on her birthday,” Gus said.

One corner of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile. Maybe the ghost of one.

June was pretty in that effortless way some women are. Slim and graceful, wearing jeans and a soft green shirt, her face bare except for what looked like a little lip color. She stepped closer and placed cool, dry hands on the sides of my face, peering into my eyes hard enough that my intestines might have rearranged themselves. “Jack Wilder in the flesh. I thought you’d be shorter.”

“You did?” I managed. She was so close she was crushing the lilies in the bouquet, which had them unleashing pollen that I felt certain was going to make me sneeze and scare half the county.

She dropped her hands from my face to my shoulders, still taking me in with eyes the color of a hazy summer sky. “I sure did. I thought they made everyone look taller on TV, and you’d be short like the Mission: Impossible actor in real life.”

“Mama, it depends on who you’re standing next to on stage,” Ivy said. “Jack’s band members are all freakishly large.”

“Well, now, freakish might be stretching it,” I said. “But yeah, none of us are what you’d call dainty.”

I realized I was still holding the flowers. “These are for you.”

June’s face lit up like she’d just noticed them. “Well, isn’t that kind of you. Thank you, Jack.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men coming from the barn.

“Beau! Caleb!” Ivy shouted, running toward them.

I knew from photos which was which. They were twins but fraternal. Beau was blond, with a big smile and mischievous green eyes. The clown of the family Ivy had told me, always trying to make their mother laugh. He was a firefighter and paramedic, and it showed in the breadth of his shoulders and chest. He wore jeans, a blue T-shirt, and a white cowboy hat.

Caleb, according to Ivy, was the intense one. He built houses for a living and from the look of him he did a lot of the manual labor himself. After hugging Ivy, he came forward, thrusting out his hand. “Caleb. Nice to meet you.” Similarly to his mother, he looked deep into my soul with eyes nearly identical to hers from under his brown cowboy hat.

“Same,” I said, forcing myself not to break eye contact.

Beau held out his hand, smiling, dimples appearing on both sides of his mouth. He wore a straw cowboy hat pushed back on his head, a denim shirt open at the throat, and possessed the kind of grin that had probably gotten him forgiven for a lifetime of bad ideas.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Beau said. “And by a lot I mean you’re all she talks about, all she texts about. We feel like we know you much too well for never having laid an eye on you.”

“Hush now,” Ivy said, slipping her hand into mine. “You’re going to make me sound like a stalker.”

“Nothing wrong with being in love,” Gus said. “Unless you take advantage, and then I’ll have to take you out to the woodshed.” He smiled, but I had a feeling he wasn’t entirely joking.