Page 15 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“But if Chloe had needed money for one of her singing things—” He broke off as if trying to think of the right words.

“We’ve all donated to the college’s music program as well as the high school’s music and drama program.” Meghan laughed.

Chloe had often hit them up with her winning smiling and enthusiastic energy, and she’d also bopped around town—her students in tow in service of one fundraiser or another.

“But yes, if she needed financial help personally, any of us would help her, but that’s family. That doesn’t count.”

“I’d argue, counselor, that it counts.” He shifted into gear, and they drove toward the gnarled-looking orchards. Whiskey ran ahead as it was toward Jackson’s home.

“Would you say Miss Millie was a woman of her word?”

“Of course,” Meghan said, no doubt.

He continued to drive but rather than looking at the bucolic scenery she found herself watching him—the way his hands looked on the wheel. The jut of his jaw, high scraped cheekbones, the curve of his mouth that looked more set now, not smiling.

“Why do you ask?”

He didn’t answer.

“Jackson?”

“How’s your pain level?”

What, was he frickin’ psychic? Her ankle had started throbbing along with her ribs, but she’d schooled her features, sure he’d drive her back to the couch where she’d remain all day.

“Manageable,” she answered, hoping she’d arranged her expression to radiate the serenity of a woman enjoying nature on a late spring afternoon.

His perusal was as pointed as any opposing counsel or judge she’d faced.

“Hmmmm,” he said.

“Really, I’m happy to be outside, grateful for your time and this field trip,” she said honestly. “The ibuprofen is doing its job,” she lied.

Whiskey ran back toward them when Jackson turned right instead of continuing down the hill toward his grandparents’ place. Jackson slowed, slapped his chest, and Whiskey jumped in and settled in the back. Meghan noted that the blueberries were still a hard green, but that most of the plants—though they looked wild—were still alive.

“You still didn’t answer me,” she said. Relief relaxed her shoulders.

“Good catch, counselor. Guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.” Something about the way he said that hit her all wrong.

“What just happened?”

“Touch of reality.”

“Huh?”

He smiled, but it was sharp. “Just remembering you and your sisters were handed this land, all went to college, so many choices, and I—”

“Don’t say it,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “Don’t.”

Her voice was sharp, like broken glass, and she didn’t soften it. Not at all. She’d worked her ass off for everything she had, but she’d been handed a lot. She’d started on third base with a home-run batter in the box. She knew that. Grandma Millie had always reminded them of that.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with your life that is the measure of character.”

“You believe that?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, staring at him, willing him to believe her, imagining herself diving into the clear blue of his eyes and being washed clean. Then she realized she was still holding his hand.

“And yet you’re thinking of changing your life.”

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