Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Daylight
JULIE CROSS
JACK SLIDES THE key into the doorknob of his tiny apartment above my father’s church. His fingers still and he turns to me, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be at a hotel?”
“That’s so not us.” I twist the ring around my left finger. It’s foreign to my body, but in the same way a new pet is foreign to a person’s home. It represents work and responsibility, but somehow you know that it will eventually become a part of you.
Jack’s already a part of me. It’s just the ring that’s new.
He finally opens the door, stepping into the studio apartment with its combo kitchen–living room–bedroom. My heart is drumming as I pass through the doorway, listening to Jack bolt the lock behind me. I fight the urge to wipe my palms on my mother’s beautiful white dress. Instead, I glance around the room at the stacks of records and novels piled neatly in different corners and the soft brown plush couch I used to lie across on summer afternoons, reading a library book, while my dad worked on his sermons or held meetings with church members.
A wave of fear and dread sweep over me as Jack’s gaze meets mine. If tomorrow morning is the last time I see him, if he doesn’t come home from his mission, this room that has held nothing but comfort for me will never look the same.
“Audrey?” he prompts, probably seeing the tension on my face. I shake my head—now’s not the time to let fear set in—and force a smile. Though with Jack, lies and concealed emotions never get past his carefully trained eyes. “You look so beautiful,” he says, breathing out the words, giving them a moment to waft toward me before he moves closer.
He looks beautiful. Even better—he looks happy. And happy is the opposite of what I saw in Jack’s eyes the first time I met him over six months ago.
My dad had sent me up here to meet a man named Mr. Sanders and to hand over the keys to the church apartment the board had recently decided to rent out. I don’t know why, but I’d expected someone much older regardless of the bachelor pad feel to the place. It is part of a church, and that knowledge alone has a way of cutting into a person’s impure plans for their living space.
Seeing Jack with his boyish face, dark hair, and muscled body, leaning against a dirty truck, had thrown me for a loop. As I approached him that day, keys dangling from my left hand, I felt the intensity of the giant wall he’d placed between him and the world. I felt ghosts swarming around him like a hive of bees.
And those eyes . . . sadness isn’t a strong enough word to describe them.
His message was loud and clear, despite the wall he’d put up—he needed the company, he’d been alone too long. So I stayed and helped him unpack.
“Your father’s a preacher. What’s that like?”
I laughed and tore open a box filled with hardcover novels. “Tell me what you really think.”
He studied my face long enough to cause my cheeks to heat up and my gaze to fall back on the box in front of me. “I think you’re going to find a way to surprise me, Audrey. So I guess I’ll just wait for that to happen before I form an opinion.”
“Come on,” I teased. “We both know you’re thinking one of two things—either I’ve been living in a bubble for eighteen years, sheltered and protected from the evil forces of the devil himself. Or two, I’m sleeping around and partying behind my parents’ backs and then sitting in church on Sunday trying to look innocent.”
“So you do go to church, then.” Jack busied himself creating a tidy stack of old records. “And you’re eighteen. College or high school?”
“College,” I said, flustered by the rate he took in facts and information. I felt like I’d revealed some secret I didn’t even know I’d had. I eyed his records, tempted to sift through the titles and learn more about this mysterious man. “I’m a music major.”
“Music,” he repeated, not looking up.
Silence fell again and I accepted it for a few minutes and then did some probing of my own. “What about you?”
“Finished with college.” He tore into another box, this one filled with clothes.
“So you’re . . . how old?”
“Twenty-three.”
Even younger than I’d thought. “And what do you do? You must work if you’re not in school anymore?”
“I don’t go to church if that’s what you’re on your way to asking. And based on the ad your dad posted in the paper, it’s not a requirement for apartment tenants.” He stood, took the books from my arms, and nodded toward the front door. “Thanks for the help, Audrey. I can manage from here.”
JACK CUPS MY cheek with one hand and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I think we should dance, don’t you? A wedding dance.”
“That sounds nice.” My smile might be fake, but I know he hears the honesty in my answer.
He strides across the room and I’m studying every movement, memorizing him, while he sifts through his record collection. I love Jack’s music and his record player almost as much as I love him. The first couple weeks after he moved in, I’d purposely placed myself in the smaller chapel, directly underneath this apartment, and listened to him play album after album. Sometimes he’d repeat songs four or five times. Janis Joplin, Johnny Cash, and Elvis Presley were among Jack’s most frequently played artists. He kept to himself and never sought out attention from anyone. Sitting in that room below him, staring out the stained glass windows and listening to “Jailhouse Rock” for the fifth time in a row was the only way I could get to know Jack Sanders.
Until he came to church one Sunday.
I’d been up front with the choir, but when we rose and took our places at the altar to sing another hymn, I’d spotted him.
He stared straight ahead, his eyes glassed over, his thoughts obviously far from the church, and I knew he hadn’t seen me. An hour after the service, my mother sent me in search of Dad so we could head home for our Sunday dinner. I found Jack all alone, still seated in the sanctuary. I knew him just by the back of his head, which was bowed slightly, like he’d been praying. I froze in place when I saw my dad approaching from the side. He took his time moving toward Jack and left a two-person–sized space between them when he finally sat down in the pew.
I knew that I should have left them alone. I could feel the importance of this moment, but just like a train wreck, I couldn’t look away.
“It’s peaceful here,” Jack said eventually, raising his head when he spoke, but not looking at my father. “Don’t know about this God person, but I do think the demons are a bit scared to come inside.”
“Finding peace doesn’t always involve God,” Dad said, “We all have a place where we can leave our bags outside and enter with a lighter load. Perhaps this is your spot.”
“Maybe,” Jack said.
Dad clasped a hand around Jack’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Stay as long as you’d like, son.”
When my father stood up to leave, there was no escaping. He saw me right away, paused, and then headed up the aisle toward me.
“Mom told me to come find you.” The guilt of being caught eavesdropping couldn’t be hidden from my voice but Dad didn’t scold me, so when we’d distanced ourselves from the sanctuary, I added, “He told me he didn’t go to church.”
Dad tossed an arm around my shoulder, leading me toward his office where Mom waited. “He’s in church, sweetheart, not at church. There’s a difference.”
And from that point on, I ran into Jack inside the church building daily. His mechanical skills were at a level above any other members’ and the old building was too much of a temptation for him to resist offering himself up to repair a leaky faucet or a broken ceiling tile or rewire the electrical system in the sanctuary.
JACK LIFTS A record from the pile. “Give me a minute to find the perfect song.”
“Anything but ‘Son of a Preacher Man.’ ”
That gets another smile from him.
br />
“Well, technically I am now. But no, that’s not the right choice.”
I close my eyes and wait patiently for the music to fill the room, to slide inside us and join us together, closer than we’ve ever been.
The first few bars of Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good” play and a dozen different emotions rush over me all at once. The warmth of Jack’s body hits mine as he takes me in his arms, swaying to the music. I lay my cheek against his chest, the cool silk of his blue tie pressing into my skin. His hand rests above the zipper of my mother’s wedding dress, finding plenty of bare skin to brush his fingertips over.
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me.
Jack flips my hand over, kisses my palm, my wrist, then works his way up. I swallow a lump in my throat. Pain fills my chest, threatening to explode outward. It’s too much of an ending when it should be a beginning.
And I’m feeling . . . good.
Tears are rolling down my face by the time the second song starts, and after one lands on Jack’s arm, he tilts my head up. “What’s wrong, Audrey?”
I press my face into his shirt. “I’m scared,” I admit for the first time since he told me the truth about his work, about what he’d have to do very soon. “What if tonight is terrible and then . . . and then . . .”
There’s no way I can finish that sentence. Jack’s body tenses and guilt washes over me, causing me to cry harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promised you that I wouldn’t be afraid if you married me and it’s only been an hour and there’s already a broken promise wedged between us.”
He holds me tighter, stroking my hair with one hand, still swaying to the music. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. But you’re not allowed to ask me to stay and then hate me for leaving. But you can ask me to stay.”
I lift my eyes to meet his. “I won’t, I swear.”
A sad smile spreads across his face and he wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “I know you won’t.”
My ear returns to its place over Jack’s heart, listening to the steady rhythm. “I might ask you to stay. I might get desperate and start begging in the next twelve hours, but I could never hate you.”
He sighs against my hair, his lips resting on the top of my head. “No, maybe not you. I don’t think you know how to hate.”
“What if I want to write you?”
“Audrey,” he warns.
“I know.” I push up onto my toes and press my lips against his neck. I inhale his scent and I’m reminded of the first time I ever got close enough to memorize him by smell instead of only by sight or sound.
My mother and I had been in the sanctuary rehearsing a piece for an upcoming audition, when I spotted Jack, shirtless, sweaty, sporting a tool belt, and staring at me with an intensity that caused me to screw up my song.
“Audrey?” Mom said, her fingers freezing over the piano keys.
My face flamed. “Sorry, my fault.”
I watched her gaze travel over to where Jack leaned against the first pew in the empty sanctuary. She hopped up from the bench and stacked the music pages back together. “Dinner at our house tonight, right, Jack?”
My mouth opened, ready to question these evening plans. It was the first I’d heard of it. But I clamped my lips shut when I saw Jack nod. Mom’s eyes bounced between the two of us and then she flashed one of those corny grins and mumbled something about returning a phone call before leaving us alone at the altar. It occurred to me right then that my parents might actually be trying to fix me up with a boy. Well, a man, technically.
Jack fiddled with his tool belt. “I didn’t realize secular music was allowed inside the sanctuary?”
“I know, right?” I smiled and took seat at the piano so I could gather up my sheet music. “I’ll have to hide this from the choir director or Mom and I will end up being the gossip of the week.”
“I think Mrs. Leary’s alleged relationship with the summer help will cover the church gossip column for several weeks.” He sat beside me on the piano bench and laughed when he saw my mouth hanging open in shock. He shrugged and placed his hands over the keys. “I’m very good at noticing things.”
I stared hard at the side of his face. “I’ve noticed.”
He began playing a soft melody, first with his right hand, then adding the left, causing his shoulder to bump into mine. “Like you,” he said quietly over the piano. “You have very nice, nonthreatening parents. You’re not forced into silence, which is what I originally assumed, being the preacher’s daughter and all. You’re just shy. But you’re not shy when you sing.”
Normally, this would be the point where I’d blush and look down at my hands, probably find an excuse to leave, but I couldn’t look away. Maybe because he’d dismissed me so abruptly the first time we’d met and I knew he didn’t really want to like me. He didn’t want to like anyone.
“I think it’s hardest to be me,” I said practically whispering the words, admitting a truth I’d never let myself verbally express before. “Not that my life is difficult. It’s pretty simple and boring, to be honest, but it’s easier to open up as a character in a play or under the cloak of someone else’s lyrics.”
His fingers froze over the keys, the silence rushing to my ears, creating this buzz of anticipation. “I pretend to be someone else all the time. I lie. That’s what I do for my job, Audrey. You asked me that a while ago and I owe you an answer, but just you, okay?”
He lied for a living? Like a con man?
Jack’s eyes met mine, his hands falling into his lap. “It’s dangerous and people die.” He sucked in a shaky breath, still holding my gaze. “People die all the time and I have to go back in a few months and there’s . . . there’s something missing inside here.” He placed his palm against his bare chest, right over his heart, “and I don’t know what that’s going to do to me. Am I going to turn into a monster? Does wanting revenge mean that I don’t have a soul anymore?”
So many emotions filled my heart right then and all I wanted to do was transfer some of it to this man beside me, desperate for help. Empty and confused. The heat had been building between us for several minutes, and it didn’t take much for me to lean forward and touch my lips to Jack’s.
I’d only kissed one boy in my entire life and that had been an awkward disaster. But this . . . this wasn’t for me. It wasn’t my kiss. It was Jack’s.
His body stiffened, his eyes stayed open and locked on mine, but he didn’t push me away or resist. I almost smiled as I backed away from him because the feelings that stirred inside me couldn’t have happened with a soulless man. He was wrong and I just needed some time to prove it to him. I slid back off the bench and stood, keeping my focus on Jack’s stunned face. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner. You know where we live, right? Behind the church, across the cornfield.”
I turned and left before Jack could ask me any questions. I didn’t even know I felt that way about him until he started spilling his secrets, things I was nearly positive he hadn’t said out loud to anyone else.
Later that night, I’d been in the kitchen slicing tomatoes from the garden for my mother when Dad opened the front door to let Jack in. One step inside our kitchen and I knew his scent from earlier had etched itself inside my memory. Despite the fact that he was no longer sweaty. He’d showered and put on a button-down shirt and khaki pants. He looked so handsome and vulnerable. But with my parents around the dinner table, my confidence from earlier had wavered and I couldn’t speak a word to anyone without my face flaming. After only a few minutes, I went completely silent and stayed that way for the entire meal.
Eventually, my mom forced me into the conversation by saying, “Audrey, you should show Jack your telescope.”
I nearly dropped my plate to the floor on my way to the sink. She wanted me to take a strange man into my bedroom? Was she that desperate to get her daughter to talk to a member of the opposite sex?
“I don’t think—” I started to say in protest,
but she waved her arms and shushed me.
“Go on, show him. You heard the boy. He’s never seen the stars away from the city.”
Had that been part of the conversation tonight? I must have missed it.
Not only did Jack and I make an awkward shuffle toward the stairs leading to my bedroom, but in addition, my parents decided that they really needed to abandon the dinner dishes and head immediately to the evening Bible study session because it was quite possible the leader didn’t have a key and would be locked out.
As we trudged up the steps, I heard Jack laugh softly the moment my parents had exited out the front door. “It’s Wednesday,” he said. “Bible study is on Tuesday and Friday.”
“I know.” I shook my head, feeling my face flame again. “I’m sorry for them. They probably just want to make sure that I can competently talk to strangers.”
He laughed again, but didn’t comment further on the subject. I opened the door to my very purple and white bedroom, and let Jack walk through before me. He spotted the telescope right away and headed over to the window. He repositioned it and took his time gazing while I stood in silence behind him.
Finally, he held the telescope in place and turned around to face me. “This star is particularly interesting, take a look.”
I stepped in front of him and leaned down to see. The second I got a glimpse of what he’d been viewing, not only did my face heat up, but my heart started pounding. The telescope was angled at his apartment windows across the field. My mouth went dry and I couldn’t imagine looking him in the eye ever again.
“Funny how it was positioned here before I touched it,” he whispered, stepping closer.
I held my breath, my heart racing even faster as his front brushed against my back. I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s not what you think . . .”
“What I think?” His nose grazed the side of my cheek. “I think you notice things, Audrey. Just like me.”
I released the air from my lungs, my shoulders relaxing a little in the process. But that only lasted a second, then Jack shifted my hair to one side, his lips touching my neck. Warmth and goose bumps spread all over me. I closed my eyes again and leaned back into him.