Page 82 of Reckless

“Thank you, Jazz, but you call me Mallory, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I’ll—” She broke off and leaned forward, trying to make out what was running across the yard. Excited, she turned to Serena. “There’s a goat running across the yard.”

“Uh-oh. Is it black with a white face and black and white ears?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a tall, slender lady with short gray hair running after it, holding a red flyswatter?”

She turned back to the window and saw the exact scene Serena had just described. “Yes. How did you know?”

“That’s Henry, and the lady running after him is my aunt Jackie. It’s a game they play. He eats her gladiolas, and she pretends she’s mad at him, when we all know the only reason she plants them in the first place is because he loves to eat them.”

“Why a red flyswatter?”

Serena shrugged. “She says it’s his favorite color.” Grabbing her arm, she tugged Jazz to the door. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to both of them.”

Five hours later, Jazz was sitting amid the largest family gathering she’d ever seen. Serena had explained that every Thursday evening, everyone gathered in the field just beyond the house for a family dinner.

Jazz had never met so many people at one time. She’d met all five of Serena’s brothers, their wives, and children, as well as aunts, uncles, cousins, and both sets of grandparents. Considering she rarely spoke to a half-dozen people outside her OZ family in a month’s time, this should have been overwhelming. She’d always considered herself an introvert and quite shy. These people had changed her mind. They had welcomed her as if she were already one of them.

Since she wasn’t much of a cook, she helped set tables and ran interference for the kids who raced around the tables, almost tipping over an entire table filled with desserts. She loved that they all seemed to enjoy one another’s company and that laughter was the noisiest part of the meal.

Her day had been filled with milking a cow, cuddling baby goats, feeding chickens, and petting more dogs than she could count. Now, she sat at the table with her belly full of some of the most delicious food she’d ever consumed. She could have made an entire meal of the fried cheese curds alone.

“Is all this too much for you?” Serena asked. “They’re wonderful, but I know they can be a bit much at one time.”

“No. It’s lovely…really.”

“Feel like a walk?”

After all that food, a walk sounded perfect. From the look on Serena’s face, she had an ulterior motive.

Standing, Jazz followed her friend to the front of the house and onto the road. “Where are we going?”

“I need to show you something. I’ve not told Ash about it yet. Still feel like it’s too soon, but I want you to see it. Get your take.”

Getting more curious, Jazz said, “Okay.”

“Have you talked to Xavier today?”

“Not yet. I texted him that I milked a cow and cuddled goats, and he sent me a laughing emoji back. Have you talked to any of them?”

“I heard briefly from Ash. He didn’t have any real information other than he doesn’t believe Doyle’s son knew anything about your abduction. Says he’s so clean looking, he should squeak when he walks.”

“So it’s back to square one.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” Serena stopped in front of a pretty gray and white cottage and took a key from her pocket. “Follow me.”

Jazz went into the house behind Serena, surprised that they would just walk into someone’s home, even if it did belong to a family member. It was a lovely, simply decorated home but had an empty feel to it. “Who lives here?”

“No one. It’s actually the first house that was built here. My great-great-grandparents lived in it when they first married. It’s been remodeled and redone over the years. My dad fixed it up for my great-uncle Percy a couple years back. Percy stayed here a week in January and decided Wisconsin winters were too harsh for him, so he moved to Florida. We keep it for occasional guests.”

Confused on why they’d come here, Jazz asked, “Is this where you want me to stay?”

“Goodness no. You’re my sister. Family stays with family.”

Before Jazz could respond to her sweet statement, Serena went to the back of the house. She stopped at a door and, using another key, unlocked it. Turning back to Jazz, a glint of excitement in her eyes, she explained. “My dad tore down a lot of the original house, but one thing he kept was the bunker below it.”

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