I can practically hear my mom thinking through the phone. "Well, that's a good call. Having her with you alone might terrify her. And you live out in the woods. I'm not saying your place isn't safe, but..."
"I know, Mom. No one's been living there for years. It's a little cold and pretty empty. I feel like your home, your cottage is the kind of place that would make someone feel comfortable."
"Oh, Jake. You just got home and look at you. You're already putting yourself in harm's way."
"I'm not in harm's way. The police are looking for her father and that guy Jesse. Nobody is harming me. My job right now is to protect Faith."
"Jake," mom says, "no one is asking you to do that."
"I know there's no one asking me to, Mom, but it's my duty. And more than that, it's my desire."
6
FAITH
Being discharged from the hospital with Jake at my side is so unexpected. This is literally the last way I expected my day to go, but here we are, together.
I have nothing to my name in the whole wide world but the clothes on my back. Thankfully, I have a pair of shoes that aren't broken. The social worker brought me them before she left, along with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
"I feel like I'm wearing pajamas outside," I say with a cringe. It's then I notice the balloon arches in the distance, and the dozens of people walking down the sidewalk. "Where's everyone going?" I ask Jake.
"Main Street. It's the Fourth of July parade."
"Oh," I say. "I didn't even think of that."
"I did," he says. "That's why I was headed to the woods today, to avoid all this."
I swallow, my cheeks hot. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to put you out. I really didn't..."
He cuts me off. "Faith, don't say that. I never, in a million years, thought you were doing anything to hurt me. You are nothing but gentle."
"And I'm guessing, then, you weren't looking forward to going to the parade today?"
He chuckles. "The last place I want to be. Everyone in this town is going to be there."
"You don't like the people in this town?"
"No, that's not what I mean. I love the people in this town. They're good folks. It's just, well, it's a long story and I just got home."
I'm not quite sure what he means. But before I can ask, he clears his throat. "So my mom's place is just around the corner. We could walk there. My truck's up at my cabin, so I can't drive you. I'm sorry. Or I could get up there and then come back for you and..."
I cut him off. "No, that's fine. As long as you don't mind walking with someone who looks like such a hot mess."
He frowns. "That's not what I was thinking at all, and I honestly am not the kind of guy who cares what other people think anyways."
I walk step by step with him down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of everyone else. A few people pause, give him a nod or welcome him home. Someone claps him on the back, thanking him. Jake, though, doesn't seem to like the attention, and I wonder what that is all about.
He keeps looking over at me, asking if I'm okay. And when a throng of people threaten to separate us, he reaches out and takes my hand. Maybe it's because I have this bandage wrapped around my noggin, but he's extra careful with me.
"I feel like all these people looking at me are probably going to be asking questions."
"Well, it's a small town. Gossip travels fast."
"I suppose so," I say.
"Here. My mom's place is right here."
"It's so cute," I say, and it is. It's a charming little white cottage tucked behind maple trees, a narrow sidewalk leading up to a door that has a wreath on the front, a garland made of red, white and blue ribbons, and an American flag hanging on the side of the house. "She's very patriotic," I say.
"Yeah." Jake runs a hand over his jaw. "The whole family kind of is." He pushes open the front door and we're greeted by a woman who is just lovely. That's the best way to describe her.
She has on blue capri jeans and white tennis shoes, a red polo shirt with an American flag pin on her chest. She has short, dark hair in a bob around her ears and bright blue eyes. I look over at Jake. He shares the same eyes as his mother, the same dark hair, and there’s a gentleness about him that she also exudes.
"Oh, Faith," she says, "Jake told me everything you've been through. I'm Greta, and I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You've been through hell and back. Come on in. Jake," she says, "why don't you get Faith some iced tea? Or do you prefer lemonade? I got both."