Someone to Watch Over Me by Michelle Stimpson

Author:Michelle Stimpson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-05-02T16:00:00+00:00

Jacob walked me to Aunt Dottie’s porch. The sounds of crickets chirping and dogs barking in the distance surrounded us now. Back to the country.

“Thanks,” he said as we ascended the ramp.

“For what? Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“For letting me be me,” he testified.

“Who else would you be?”

“Assistant Pastor Carter. Little Jacob Junior. Who or whatever people here have pegged me to be. It’s nice to spend time with someone who just thinks of me as Jacob.”

“That makes two of us. I’m glad to be around someone who doesn’t remember me as the pregnant girl,” I admitted.

He made a clicking sound with his cheek. “I have a confession to make.”

Worst-case scenarios flitted through my mind: he’s engaged, he’s dying, he’s gay. Hey—stranger things have happened in the movies.

“When you first moved to Bayford, I had a huge crush on you.” A coy grin replaced his confident air. “You were quiet, pretty—without a bunch of makeup. Obviously smart, because every time I checked out the honor roll, your name was there.”

I stood in amazement.

“When I told my parents that I was going to ask you to the junior prom, they told me I was crazy. Said it wouldn’t look good for the pastor’s son to take a fast girl to the dance. They told me I should go with someone raised in the church who knew right from wrong.”

He motioned for me to move over to the swing so we could sit. Jacob pushed us off and the rickety hinges hummed a smooth, unhurried tune.

He continued, “So I went to the prom with Shonda Rhymes, and we actually did everything it takes to make a baby. Out of rebellion, you know.”

“T-M-I, Jacob.”

“I’m sorry. I just remember thinking to myself, how is Shonda different from Tori, except Shonda’s loud and mean and happened to be a deacon’s daughter? The hypocrisy of the situation bothered me for a long time.”

“Hmmm.” How was I supposed to respond?

“Anyway, life goes on. And sometimes we’re blessed with a second chance.”

“Jacob, I’m sure you’ve had lots of chances with lots of women.” He was not about to convince me he’d been pining for me all these years, not with all that fineness dripping off his body.

“Not really,” he denied. “I’ve been busy. Working, keeping my father’s church above water, juggling life’s responsibilities.”

I slapped his back. “Sounds like we’re both on the same treadmill.”

“I like my treadmill, but I wouldn’t mind slowing it down a notch, you know?”

Slowing down wasn’t in my personal encyclopedia. “Why would anyone want to slow down? I mean, life’s too short to spend it”—in Bayford—“on turtle speed.”

“I think the reverse is true,” he countered me. “You can speed through life so quickly until it becomes nothing more than a big blur. And at the end, maybe on your deathbed, you look back and realize you blew past everything that mattered.”

The swing’s rhythm, slow and steady, seemed to undergird Jacob’s illustration, reminding me of why I’d returned to Bedford in the first place.

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