From Roots to Sky by Amanda Dykes

Author:Amanda Dykes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, FIC042030, FIC042110, FIC027050
ISBN: 9781493424986
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2021-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

eight

AUGUST 1945

For the next few weeks, Luke replayed that dance in his mind more times than he cared to admit. It wasn’t until Jerry called him a “human jukebox” for whistling “Stardust” one too many times that he realized he had, perhaps, lost a grip on reality.

“Hey, Jukebox,” Jerry said one day as the August heat drove them to work on inside projects.

“Yeah?” Luke said with some difficulty from his place holding up the mantel—­the extremely heavy mantel—­as Jerry mounted new braces for it.

“You still planning on leaving?” Jerry asked, in uncharacteristic simplicity. So direct the question scalded him.

“I . . . don’t know,” Luke said. “Don’t know where else I’d go if not New York, with the job waiting. They’re holding it since they can’t start commercial international flights up again just yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Jerry reached out a hand and flicked Luke hard on the forehead.

Luke exhaled in pain. Convenient that Jerry had waited until he couldn’t defend himself to mount his attack.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked

“’Cause you’re dumber than an ox with his head in the mud,” Jerry said. “Nobody around here has seen Hannah so—­so alive—­since her brother passed.” Jerry turned his attention slowly back to hammering a nail in place.

“That’s good,” Luke said. “I’m glad to hear she’s doing well.”

Jerry tossed his hands up in the air in frustration, letting his hammer fall to the ground. “I’m glad to hear she’s doing well,” Jerry said in a nasal tone. “You hear yourself? You sound like a heartless old catfish.”

Luke braced his shoulder beneath the weight of the mantel, flushing in heat from the strain of it, and from frustration at his own self. Why was he so bad at saying what he meant? He propped the mantel up with the ladder and crossed his hands over his chest, facing Jerry.

“I just mean that if anyone deserves joy, it’s Hannah.”

“Good,” Jerry said. “’Cause you know if you up and leave to New Jersey or New Connecticut or wherever—”

“New York,” Luke muttered. Not that it mattered.

“New Timbuktu, for all I care! If you leave, you leave that girl in a world of hurt. So you’d better change one or the other of those things. Either don’t you leave, or you better tell her now that you’re not fixin’ to stay.”

The words settled heavy in him. The truth was, he’d give anything to stay. But who was he to presume a place here, with a girl like Hannah Garland, who could have any fellow in the world? She deserved the very best.

“Or take her with you,” Jerry said. “She ain’t married to this land, you know.”

That didn’t mesh with what she’d told him when he’d first arrived. It was clear Oak Springs and Hannah Garland were a part of each other. How had she put it? “Some dreams fade away. . . .”

Still, the truth of Jerry’s words resonated with something that had been tumbling around inside of him for weeks now. So, he took himself to his room that afternoon and did what he did best: reconnaissance.

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