Page 67 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
She laughed, a rusty kind of sound, while tugging at her coal-black locks, which had dried in clumps. “Now there’s an idea. I could bleachmy hair like Blondie, or dye it all sorts of colors, just to throw people off the trail. Maybe even rub lemon juice on my freckles.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said, even as I grieved inside that this girl couldn’t be a regular teen instead of thinking of ways to hide herself. But I could give her control over this one thing. “Have you decided on your name?”
She stared at her combat boots, so at odds with the surgical scrubs, clicking her clunky heels together while thinking. Yet it called to mind her own odd sort of Dorothy clicking her way out of Oz.
Destiny looked up with her eyes taking on the first light I’d seen in her, all the brighter for shining through the darkness.
“June,” she said, simply. “As in the month. Because my life starts today, on June the first.”
Chapter Eighteen
2025
Bailey Rae pushed open the door to the Fill ’Er Up Café, the bell chiming its signature gas station–style tone. She scanned the packed noontime crowd full of familiar faces but didn’t see Martin. Her lunch date.
Even though the Fill ’Er Up was the logical place to meet him, she also appreciated the opportunity to say a quick farewell of sorts to the place that held such special memories of Russell, with all the stories he’d told her about his family’s time owning the place—until he and Winnie needed to sell it off to pay Russell’s medical bills after the barn fire. Maybe his injuries presented yet another reason Winnie had hoarded cash.
Bailey Rae paused at the register, rusty road signs on the wall calling to mind old landmarks. “Kinsley, have you seen Martin Perez? The game warden? I’m supposed to meet him here for lunch.”
So far, Bailey Rae had done a good job of avoiding overlong goodbyes or too much nostalgia as she packed up her life in Bent Oak. The tug of melancholy now surprised her, in the place where she’d worked for years.
Behind the counter, the teenage waitress looked up from her phone. “He’s at an outdoor table by the river. I didn’t think we would see you in here before you moved.”
“I can’t resist one last dish of fried catfish before I leave town,” Bailey Rae said with a smile as she snagged two menus.
Her heart squeezed as she threaded her way around the tables toward the door leading to the outside seating area. A wall of warm air hit her, made bearable by the strategically spaced misting fans. A dock stretched out back, where clientele were invited to walk down the planks and pitch leftover hush puppies and fries to fatten up the catch for another day, drawing in schools of bluegill, largemouth bass, and of course, catfish. Winnie had taught her to throw in a line here when the place was still a gas station.
She’d sworn the best fish were caught using a good old-fashioned cane pole, like the kind used by the two teens dangling their feet off the end of the dock. Bailey Rae curled her toes in her sandals. Winnie had taught her how to bait her own hook and cheered with the first catch.
They’d eaten fried catfish for supper that night, surprising Russell who’d driven into town for a checkup. His arm had been giving him trouble, and there had been talk of another surgery. Years later, Winnie had told her how fishing together that day had helped distract her from worrying about Russell since he’d insisted on driving himself.
She would miss the restaurant. She’d told herself she would be carrying the spirit of the place with her, but the plan felt muddier now. As a child, she’d found it easier to leave a place by distancing herself ahead of time.
Not the healthiest of coping strategies, but it was too late to rewire her synapses now.
Martin waved to her from a picnic table closest to the water’s edge, standing as she drew nearer. “I went ahead and ordered tea and fried pickles. I’m learning to like them.”
Laughing, she tucked onto the bench and unrolled her napkin from around the silverware. “Before you know it, you’ll start speaking with a drawl.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “Hey, since Gia came to see you yesterday, I stopped by the police station thismorning and asked around about Ian Abernathy, just to check if there’s been any headway on his location.”
“And?” She gripped the picnic table until splinters dug into her palms.
“Authorities had hoped Ian would show up for his brother’s memorial service, but no luck.” He tapped a packet of sugar into his iced tea. “Rumor has it that Ian and his brother Owen had a big falling-out before he went fishing. The police are investigating if it might not be an accidental drowning after all.”
So much turmoil and violence in one family. Thank heavens Gia had broken free. “She mentioned staying away from the service too. How sad that she and Cricket had to miss it out of fear of Ian.”
He reached across to ease her hand loose and link their fingers, his thumb circling the inside of her wrist. “You did a great job helping her make a fresh start. If you ever decide to give up the restaurant business, you have a real calling. There sure are plenty of people in need of assistance around here.”
The words landed like a brick in her gut, mirroring all the ways she’d second-guessed herself lately.
She squeezed his hand until his thumb stopped moving. “Martin, I’m leaving Bent Oak. You know that.”
Frustration flickered in his deep brown eyes, and he leaned closer. “What about whatever is happening between us?”
Did he really think she was like some lovestruck girl putting aside her dream college to follow him? She understood he wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, he was very much the best of the best. Even so, she couldn’t stem the disappointment at his pressure. She’d intended to keep her personal vow not to be like Yvonne.
“Martin, I have my future mapped out. If you’re coming to the Myrtle Beach area, let me know. We can see the sights, go out. I don’t want to lose touch, but I am leaving.” She kept her voice kind, but firm. “Now, what were you planning on ordering for lunch?”
