Ruling the sky the golden crown of the sun shown down across the meadow, sending children running for any shady break they might find. The few remaining parishioners skirted the cemetery picket, prolonging the inevitable stroll under the now blazing sun, back into town. No matter how the heat rolled on, the surrounding flora basked in the lit splendor. The chartreuse stems of sour grass sprang up along the borders of the field, with their striking yellow trumpets stretching open mouthed to the bright sky. Round plump bumblebees hummed along the random patches of pastel cornflowers, lazy saffron poppies, and the pure white spokes of jumping daises.
Unperturbed by the brightness of the sun, Lucy searched about the clover beds near the church steps, plucking up the fat feathery orbs of dandelion snow. With each snowy orb which she held to her chest, Lucy closed her eyes tightly willing her wish into the delicate ball. Her chest heaved inward before she blew with all her might sending tiny white parachute pappas drifting out into the air.
"What'd yah wish for?" Jake's long body cast its shadow over Lucy. His face was shaded by the bowed brim of his hat, as he smiled down at her. The gray storm had passed in Jake's eyes turning them back to their usual dark lapis hue. A flippant spring played within his countenance bringing him back to life.
Lucy rolled her own kaleidoscope of blue and gray spheres which shone through her laughing eyes, "Papa! You're not suppose to tell."
Like a reflex, his hands flipped back the squaretails of his duster, before resting on his hips. He smiled crookedly tilting his head. "Not even me?"
Unknowingly, Lucy mimicked his stance, curling her blushing lips into a similar lighthearted smirk. "If I tell you…it won't come true."
"Oh! Well," Jake exaggerated his tone, rolling his head back. "That's different then."
He reached out caressing her cheek with his curled forefinger. Her flushed skin felt rather warm to the touch, alarming him. Without a second thought, Jake plucked the hat off of his head, running his long white fingers through his hair. Plopping the black Stetson playfully over Lucy's ebony curls Jake stifled a chuckle. The too large hat fell passed her eyes and over her little nose, somewhat blinding her. Lucy giggled pushing the wide brim back on her head. She breathed in enjoying how the hat seemed steeped in the essence of her father. It smelled like the barbershop, cologne musk, wood, leather, and cigar. Her fingers pinched at the rough and hardened felt as she held the brim from her eyes.
"Jake?" Teresa called to them from where she stood next to the wagon in a confidential cluster with Michaela, Dorothy, and Grace. Izzy was draped over Teresa's chest with her slumbering head resting atop her shoulder. Her hand gentling rubbing circles on the babe's small back, she smiled as Jake and Lucy drew nearer. "I think it is getting far too hot for Izzy."
"Here," Dorothy offered stepping forward with her pink parasol overhead. She held the much needed silk panel over Izzy, as she took up the spot between Jake and Teresa. Fawning over the sleeping child, Dorothy lightly soothed a wavy lock of autumn from Izzy's forehead.
"As I was sayin'," Grace continued, fanning herself with a braided wicker fan. Her brow rose up under the bangs of her sable ringlets. "Most every night, she's had Robert E fetch her ah horse…she's gone most thah night. COMES back. And that horse is in the stable 'fore the break of dawn! Now las' night she stayed away and he says he saw her sneakin' intah the boardin' house! So whatcha gottah say about that?"
Michaela shifted nervously. She knew full well that Celina was creeping around Jake's home, however; the need to maintain level heads prevailed. With her petite hands clasp in front of her cobalt skirts, Michaela calmly suggested, "Well, no one has really seen where she's gone off too. It may well be completely innocent."
Michaela turned her moss and earth toned eyes toward Jake, forcing him to read her expression. "Have you noticed anything odd? Jake?"
"No," he cleared his throat exhaling rather forcefully. He could feel Dorothy and Grace studying him, searching for any minuscule hint that he'd been concealing any falsehood. Wanting desperately to look away, Jake thought he'd caught a glimmer of doubt in their eyes. It was only there for a second. Could it be they imagined he could stray from his wife? However, before anyone could say another word, Izzy stirred. She shifted uncomfortably in Teresa's arms, scrunching up her face with a slight whine.
" sh sh sh," Teresa swayed softly, gingerly caressing Izzy's back. "I really think I must get the children out of the sun."
"Yes," Michaela smiled in relief. She turned about searching for Sully and Katie. As if on cue, the quiet pair appeared from around the massive oak canopying the small cemetery. Even beneath the thick cooling shade, their matching cool eyes beamed with all the clarity of sapphires. Upon joining Michaela, Sully absently ran his tan fingers through Katie's satiny gold and copper tresses, as she strolled along in front of him.
"Everything ok?" he asked shifting his warm terra cotta hued waves back over his shoulder. Under the bright sun, tiny golden strands shimmered lighting up his tan face to advantage.
Michaela nodded as they shared an unspoken secret. "I'm hungry," Katie pressed shading her eyes with her hands.
"Me too," Lucy joined in, before her father's hat fell back down over her face.
"Well, I know just how tah fix that," Grace sashayed forward taking Lucy and Katie by the hands. As the group started to move, Jake maneuvered around them and knocked on the graying wood of the side of the wagon.
"I'll be right there," he jumped up onto the high bench intending to park the wagon in front of the barbershop. However, at the sight of Teresa's hesitation he added, "Go on. Get outta the sun…won't take a minute."
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One minute turned into twenty, as Mr. Dickenson had haughtily jumbled his way up the barbershop steps, waving his birch cane in Jake's face. The bowed old gent went on to demand his usual trim and shave, of which he'd been robbed of for the passed few days. With a gruff sigh, Jake had obliged, opening the doors for him, but leaving the closed sign out. Jake worked steadily, focusing on the task at hand, brushing the creamed lather over the man's rough cheeks and jaw. As he slid his straight razor back and forth along the polished leather strap, Jake was never so grateful to have such a taciturn customer. Yet, his eyes wandered back to the door, fearful that someone else may come barging in for a shave. Jake's practiced hands made quick work of the job, and before he knew it, he was wiping Mr. Dickinson's face clean, and brushing off his lapels.
Mr. Dickinson groaned lurching from the barber's chair. Irately, he tossed Jake his two bits without a second thought and shuffled his way out the door. Jake sighed pulling the gold fob out from the small black sheath of his vest pocket. His middle finger pressed hard into the tiny snatch pin, snapping the round door open with a click. He was more than just a little late. Hurriedly, he clasped the faintly ticking timekeeper shut, replacing it, as he shot about the shop. The straight blade must be sanitized and the hair trimmings swept up and thrown into the ashcan before he left. With his back turned to the door, he filled the white porcelain basin from the pitcher and began washing his hands. So preoccupied was he that the gentle way the door opened and closed behind him didn't register alarm.
"I'm closed," Jake said without turning as he wiped his hands dry with a linen towel.
"I need to talk to you," her voice was light and melodic like the straight note of a flute. "I really think you've got the wrong idea about me…and now your wife is here…and well people are talking."
Jake spun around feeling an insatiable need to back up, only to find himself pressed against the shelf drawers. "Celina? I-I-I mean Ms. Marrow! You can't be here."
She drew closer maintaining the façade of meek grace and salacious intrigue. Resting her hands on the back of the barber's chair, she drew her lashes downward, in an attractive pose. "Please, don't send me away," her face wore the mask of innocence and beauty, as she peered into his shaken eyes. "I can only imagine what you must be thinking of me. And you couldn't be more wrong."
As Jake took her in, he couldn't knock the sensation that she seemed poisonous somehow. Everything in him was screaming to bolt from this viper before she struck filling his life with her venom. "I'm married. I love my wife."
"Yes, I know you love your wife Har-," she stopped herself demurely stepping around the chair and standing directly in front of Jake. "Mr. Slicker…My only interest is friendship."
Her swan like neck tilted her chin up bringing her pink lips into his line of sight. Jake's hands were clenched around the rim of the shelf bureau tethering him to the spot. Short of knocking her down, he had no place to run. Why was he so frightened of her? She was such a wisp of a creature he felt he could snap her like a twig. But those eyes, those murky emerald eyes, transfixed him. Holding him in her sway like a mesmerized fool, Jake couldn't comprehend the scene happening before him. Celina rose on her toes bringing herself so close to his face she could feel his breath on her lips. Could see the pulse in his pale neck as he swallowed nervously. Before Jake knew it, her white laced hands were pressing on his chest as her lips softly grazed his own.
There was a crack in the world. A crack so deep Jake actually felt pain deep down in his soul. It stirred something. Stoked some ember down in the depths of his belly, turning it into a flame. The flame that raged waking his temper and giving strength to his arms, creating iron in his hands. As Celina began to deepen her kiss, her lips parting into his, he reached up and grasped her shoulders. Brow furrowed Jake shoved her away from him sending her sprawling into the barber's chair. Wiping her kiss from his lips like it was burning acid; Jake took a step feeling a searing pain in his heart. It was the feeling of a heart breaking and shattering into a million pieces, in his chest.
Only this feeling didn't seem to be his own. It was lying like a fog over his anger and outrage, causing the silvery cords of his heart to vibrate. The vibration was anguish calling his attentions finally to the now open doorway, and there she stood.
"Teresa," he pleaded taking another step closer to her.
Teresa held up her hand instantly freezing him in his tracks. Her chest rose and fell in labored waves chilling Jake down to the bone. Lips fighting not to tremble, her darkening russet eyes watched him. They drooped beneath her worried brows, filling with tears. Jake had seen her frighten before; had seen her terrified and shocked. Had seen her bursting with worry and physical pain. But never had he witnessed the look of abject derailment. It was Teresa's heart which had broken, ripped to tattered shreds within the walls of her chest, and Jake had felt it. There was a crack in the world, and they stood at its precipice. Waiting…