“It’s a feast,” I say, forgetting myself. And it’s true. Where I come from, this is a bona fide feast.
“It’s a winter picnic,” he says, “and this will be our tablecloth.”
He removes his scarf and spreads it on the rock. I help him move the food onto it.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, waiting for him to laugh at me, but he doesn’t.
“I only have one regret.” He hands me half of his meat loaf and ketchup sandwich. I hand him an apple juice and half of my PB&J.
“Which is?” I take a swig of my juice.
“That you can’t play violin with food in your hands,” he says.
I laugh. “I reckon it’d be worse if I were a singer.”
“I love to hear you play.”
I chew my sandwich slowly, and when the familiar heat flushes my neck and face, I let it. Deep down, I like the way it feels. What’s wrong with that?
“I don’t mind playing for you,” I say, giving him a quick look.
I stay still as he reaches out with his fingertips and lightly traces the purple callus under my chin.
“I still think you should play for people—in the Memphis Symphony, maybe, or in the school band.”
I take the Twinkie he hands me, closing my eyes in delight as the cream filling twinkles on my tongue.
“My mother played in public, and she found it so stressful. She lost the joy, she said. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost the joy.”
I search for phoebes in the branches above us. Looking up that way, I see the branches spiral out in overlapping circles, trunk to trunk to trunk, forever and ever.
“You’re not your mom, though,” he says.
I feel it again, the rattling. Someone walking over my grave. I look into his face and see so much, I have to look away. It’s like if I look too long, he’ll know about me.
The only person I’ve ever been close to is Jenessa. It’s amazing to see the same potential for closeness in his eyes.
“I know. But I already stick out so much, coming here in the middle of the semester, not knowing anyone. Being younger.”
“Pixie can help you there. She’s in the same boat, and she sure doesn’t mind sticking out.”
We laugh, thinking of Courtney. If only I could borrow a cup of her gumption ...
“Where did you live, before you came to Tupelo?”
I can’t tell him we lived in the Obed Wild and Scenic River National Park, tucked away like termites inside rotting, lightning-split trunks. But I can tell him the surrounding town.
“Wartburg. With my mom and my little sister.”
“Where did you go to school?”
I use the word Melissa so generously attributed to my and Nessa’s prior education.
“We were homeschooled.”
I see an understanding enter his eyes.
“That explains soooo much. So the high school experience is totally new to you. I get it now.”
I drain my juice, nodding. “It’s like a whole new world.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, broken only by the snow cover sliding from the oak and hickory trees surrounding us.
“So, Delaney’s your sister.”
I stare at him, mouth open, food on my tongue.
“No worries. I can keep a secret.”
I chew, absorbing the gravity of this breach of my secret life. Does anyone else know? I swallow the food in a lump.
“Delaney is my stepsister. My father married her mother. We don’t share blood or anything.”
“And you’re not the best of friends, obviously.”
“Not yet.”
We both smile at that. Then I surprise myself.
“I reckon it’s tough, Jenessa and me popping up out of the blue like we did.”
Ryan nods, but he’s gone to school with Delaney for years and knows her better than I do. Perhaps because of Mama or my bond with Ness, it means more to me than it does to Delaney.
“What’s your stepmom like?”
“That’s easy. She’s wonderful. She really is. And she’s amazing with my sister.”
“What about your mom?”
“Mama?”
He takes a bite of banana, offering me a bite. I shake my head no.
“Was your mom good with your sister?”
I take another bite of Twinkie. Again, I don’t know how to answer. I’m not used to sharing, especially information about ourselves. After all those years sworn to secrecy, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.
“She tried to be. She did her best by us, I reckon. But she had her own stuff to deal with.” The lie tastes bitter, tainting the moment. I wish I’d never said the words.
Ryan stares off into the distance, avoiding my eyes, like he knows I’m lying. All of a sudden, I’m feeling naked as the trees without their snow cover.
“I reckon you know something you’re not saying,” I venture. “I’m not stupid.”
He scrutinizes my face, then looks away. My leg begins to jiggle. I rest my arm on my thigh to make it stop.
“I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“Please,” I say quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Just say it.”