eyes flashed up toward him, wide with surprise before they narrowed again. “Alex for real?”
The question held an inexplicable weight. “Alex for real.” He felt exposed for no reason. He stared at her, wondering if she’d share her own name. Any such wondering was squelched when his marshmallow burst into flames, a tiny black torch burning against the darkening sky.
“JJ,” she said as he blew it out. The thing was too burned, even for him, but he knew he’d eat it anyway. Alex wondered if he’d ever know what JJ stood for or why such a thing should matter to him at all.
“You’re not really going to eat that, are you?” Behind her scowl was the barest hint of a smile.
“Blackened. The best kind.” Alex smacked his lips for emphasis as he squished the lavalike confection between the cracker and chocolate. “Savory.” He bit into it, tasting nothing but burned sugar. “And crunchy.”
JJ assembled hers with the attention of a chef. She ate it just as carefully, in strategic bites, whereas he’d just stuffed the whole thing into this mouth in one gooey-black splurge.
“You’re a careful person, aren’t you, JJ?”
She bit another precise corner off with an assessing glance. “You’re not.”
They went on for hours. Talking about little things—ice cream flavors, whether or not barista coffee was really worth the cost—and big things—why nature calmed the soul, what was going to happen to little places like Gordon Falls, why the high school version of who’d they’d be when they grew up had proved to be nothing close to the truth. The subjects seem to go deeper as the last traces of sunlight faded. Without ever speaking of it, they’d come to some sort of no-detail pact between them. No last names, no careers, none of that stuff. Wonderfully, effortlessly mysterious. A dark, luminescent bubble in the middle of nowhere.
“Alex,” JJ began, and he found himself wallowing in how she said his name, “why are you here?”
That could require another six hours of conversation. How do you explain being confounded by success, losing focus when focus was once your stock and trade? Really, what kind of person gets weary of their own supposed genius? Part of him was ready to spill it all, and part of him felt like he’d emptied out half his soul already. “I’m trying to figure out why it doesn’t all fit together anymore and what to do about it.” It was true, but nowhere near the full of it. He was here to figure out if he had to lay down Adventure Gear, the business he’d once loved and now hated. Only he couldn’t tell her that. To speak it out loud would bring that mess here, and he wanted all those problems to stay far away.
He looked at her, pleased to feel so startlingly close to her despite not even knowing her last name—or even what JJ stood for. “Why are you here?”
She sighed and looked out over the water. It was now full dark, and a perfect crescent moon cast sparkles on the water where she swished one foot into the river. “Because I don’t feel like I belong anywhere else. Anywhere at all, actually.”
He laughed softly.
She scowled. “It’s not so funny, you know.”
“No, it’s just that I’ve felt like I belong everywhere for so long, that actually sounds nice. I know it’s not—I mean, not for you—but isn’t it crazy how God skews the world for each of us?”
JJ hugged her knee again and propped her chin up, looking childlike and elegant at the same time. “So you believe in God, huh?”
Alex leaned back on his elbows and took in the glory of the sky. “I’ve seen so many amazing parts of the world that I can’t help but know He’s there. The big, grand creation stuff has always been easy for me to believe in.” He rolled his head to catch JJ’s eye. “It’s the up close and personal stuff that seems to have come unraveled lately. I’m not a guy who does well with questions and doubts.” He was grateful she didn’t ask for an explanation.
After a long pause, JJ offered, “I did, once. Believe, I mean.” Her voice was quiet, almost weary. “At least I thought I did.”
“And then?” He rolled over so that he was on his side facing her. She was fascinating. There wasn’t another word for it. Alex felt like he could stay up and talk out here for weeks.
“And then I saw too many things that made it hard to keep believing.” He knew not to press for anything further, but some part of him was grateful when, after a long pause, she added, “I was in the war.”
It explained so much. Her hard edges, the way her eyes assessed things, the weariness that seemed to inhabit every part of her. Suddenly every response he could think of sounded trite and placating.
“Yep,” she said, twice as wearily as before. “It’s always a fabulous conversation killer.”
“No, it’s just...”
“Please.” JJ held up a hand. “I’m so used to it by now. I’ve heard all the standard required replies and silence is actually a nice change.”
“I don’t know how you come back from something like that.” His own weariness, how globetrotting for adventure had lost its luster seemed downright ridiculous now.
“I suppose that makes two of us.” She got up to leave.
Alex scrambled upright. “Don’t. Please don’t go like that. Not now.” Her eyes looked a thousand miles deep, boring into Alex the way they did right now. “Two minutes. Just stay two more minutes.”
She stayed two more hours, still lingering when it started to rain. They got past the awkwardness, settling into a companionship that was as startling as it was soothing. Even soaked to the skin, it was the best night of his life.
Chapter Two
Worst day of my life.
Alex let that thought sink in as he raised his hand to knock on her cottage door two nights later. Sure, he could have called—the office had given him her cell number—but this wasn’t the kind of news that ought to be delivered over the phone. I owe Josephine Jones the dignity of hearing about this face to face. Now he knew her full name and was stunningly sorry he did. It’s going to be awful. In so many ways.
He knew she’d be up despite the excruciatingly early hour. In the days since they’d met, he had come to adore her insomnia with as much strength as he had once hated his. It was a terrible thing to lose the ability to sleep when the rest of the world could. Until JJ, he’d cursed his night-owl tendencies. For the past days, he had welcomed them.
Alex had checked the dock before heading up the gravel path that led to her house. He’d tried to tell himself that he was hoping to find her there because the peaceful surroundings might soften the hard news he carried. But he knew that wasn’t the real reason why he’d gone to the dock. He had taken the time down there to gather his own composure, to pray for the right words.
Finally, he’d realized there were no right words. Not for this kind of news. There was no easy way to admit to her what he knew, who he was, how much of the blame for this tragic news he was bringing her could be laid at his own feet.
I asked You to show me why I shouldn’t leave Adventure Gear behind, Lord. Did You
