As Mom and I sit in the early morning silence on the farm, I consider asking her about the suitcase I found in the trunk of her car. But even though I’m dying to know, I can’t bring myself to form the words. Reb is sitting with her head tilted back against the chain of the porch swing, and she looks more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a long time. Lighter. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that she seems like a woman unburdened of something that had been weighing her down. I wonder if she would confide in me, but I don’t dare to ask. It feels like an invasion of her privacy—and I have secrets of my own.
It doesn’t take long for Law and my brother to clean up after chores, and shortly after seven we’re all buckled into Law’s truck. This is usually only a Sunday morning occurrence, and though it feels a bit strange to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Jonathan in the backseat, the drive into Jericho around the Fourth is always a treat because this is one holiday we know how to celebrate.
Nearly every farm and every house as we enter the outskirts of town is decorated with stars and stripes. Flags hang from poles and porches, red gingham tablecloths cover picnic tables, and kids are dressed in red, white, and blue. It’s a slice of Americana straight from a Hollywood movie, but there’s an earnestness to our celebration that defies cliché. We aren’t trying to be this way, we just are. I know that there will be American flag toothpicks on top of our pancake stacks, and someone will undoubtedly be serving in a sparkly headband that looks like a firework exploding. Later, the actual fireworks will be small but spectacular, and I already have plans to watch them with Sullivan. Just the thought makes me feel warm all over. And then ice cold. Even if Sullivan and I are fuzzy on what exactly they’re doing, tonight’s the night.
“You meeting up with the Tates later?” I ask Jonathan innocently as Law pulls into a parking space near the shelter house.
He shoots me a barbed look and yanks open the door. “Maybe,” he says.
“Well, either you are or you aren’t.”
“Not now,” Reb says, shutting her door just a smidge harder than necessary. “I can’t take the two of you going after each other this morning.”
Apparently, Jonathan and I haven’t done a very good job of pretending lately.
The shelter house is open air, and I can see the long picnic tables decorated with paper sparklers and flag napkins. There’s already a bit of a crowd gathered, but Ashley is the very first person I see. She’s behind the serving table, helping people collect plates and plastic utensils before they walk through the line. In shorts and a bright white tank, she looks impossibly tall and thin. Gorgeous. My heart snags at the sight of her and her quick, easy grin when a little girl drops her plate and reaches for another. I’ve betrayed Ashley in the worst possible way. It would have been one thing if I was honest with her about my surprising feelings for Sullivan. But I’m falling for him a little more every day, and she has no idea.
I feel almost feverish as I join the line, but when I get close to Ashley, I smile and reach over the table to give her a hug. I’m wicked—a lying, backstabbing Jezebel—but, God help me, I love her. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.
“You going to the barbecue later?” Ashley asks, a glint in her eye. She hangs on to my arms even when I back away, and I wonder what’s gotten into her. But then her eyes flick off to the side and I follow her gaze. Sullivan. Actually, the whole Tate clan—minus Sterling and Kari—though I know that Ashley hardly notices the rest of them. My heart sinks.
“Yeah,” I say, wondering how I can avoid the Tates. There are less than a hundred people here, and although hundreds more will come, the crowd isn’t big enough to get lost in right now. I accept a plate, fork, and knife from Ashley and wrinkle my nose in apology. “Actually, I don’t know. I’ve got some packing to do and…”
When I trail off, she stares as if I’ve lost my mind. “You’re kidding, right? June, you don’t leave for weeks. It’s the Fourth of July. You have to come. I insist.”
“She’ll be there,” Jonathan says from behind me.
A flash of anger almost makes me spin around to give my brother a piece of my mind, but now is not the time or place. I have enough balls to juggle without worrying about what will come crashing down if Jonathan and I get into it in public.
“I’ll be there,” I affirm, hoping my smile doesn’t look as thin and insincere as it feels.