Page 6 of When the Night Comes Knocking

More than likely, it will be their father’s usual misplaced cheerfulness and their mother’s slightly sanctimonious “bless your heart” face while they all shovel their carbs, pretending life is kind.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody look so perturbed by marshmallows before.”

Jane glances up to see a young man standing a few feet to her right; she didn’t even notice him arrive.

“May I?” he says, gesturing down to the bottom shelf, where bags of semisweet chocolate chips have been precariously stacked.

“Sure. Of course.” She steps back, noting the flex of his back muscles through his flannel shirt.

“I would go with the mini ones,” he says, standing back up to a height nearly a full head taller than her. “They make for a nice snack while waiting for the turkey to finish.”

When he flashes a gentle smile, she is shocked to find her insides do not immediately squirm. In fact, she allows herself a moment to acknowledge that he is handsome.

A tall drink of iced tea, as her mother would no doubt lean in to loudly whisper if she were here.

Jane swipes the hair out of her eyes, unable to remember if she even brushed it that morning. “Consider me persuaded,” she replies quietly, then reaches for a bag of the mini marshmallows.

More words sit limp in her mouth, but before she can swallow them down like she usually does, she tells him, “The fate of our sweet potato casserole is in your hands.”

His smile grows, and as a dimple pops beneath his stubble, she looks to her boots. “I’ll bear that cross,” he says, with his body angled toward her.

In the back of her mind, she is aware of the fact that she is meant to be running this errand quickly. The last thing she needs is one more reason for Thomas to be annoyed with her before they are stuck together in a remote cabin for three days.

“I should check out,” she says, and he nods in agreement while walking a few steps behind her toward the front of the store.

The cashier is scanning various packaged foods for the pregnant couple Jane heard earlier in the aisle over. They are beaming at each other like only people truly in love do, and Jane accidentally meets the eyes of the young man in the flannel again as they wait in line.

“So, what brings you up this way…?”

Her cheeks go hot. “Jane,” she fills in, averting her eyes. “My family is renting a cabin for the holiday. What—um, what about you…?”

“Jackson.” He introduces himself, then holds out a hand for her.

She eyes it for a few too many seconds, then holds her breath at his strong grip before tugging her hand back.

Way to treat him like a leper, Jane, she thinks, holding on tighter to the marshmallows.

Jackson’s kind smile remains unfazed. “My grandparents have a place near here. Our whole family travels out from Tennessee to do Thanksgiving with them—cousins, aunts, the dogs.” He pauses to look out the glass front doors, pointing to a Jeep Wrangler parked close to the entrance. Inside, a lively German shepherd pokes its head out of the passenger-side window.

“That’s my dog, Winnie. My family’s not expecting us until the morning, but she wanted to surprise them early.”

Jane grins, watching the dog sniff the air curiously. “She’s adorable,” she says, wondering if perhaps a pet dog might fill some of the empty space inside of her. “I bet your family is completely smitten with her.”

“Only when she’s not being a drama queen,” he replies, then flashes another dimpled smile.

Jane averts her eyes to the floor again, wondering what it must feel like to be able to deal out such looks with total abandon, to smile invitingly at someone with no great concern for the possible consequences.

“Next,” the cashier calls out, and Jackson holds his hand out, urging Jane to go first. Through the windows she can see that the sun is merely a tangerine glow beyond the trees now, suspended briefly at the horizon so that the rest of the sky blurs upward into a purple bruise.

“Hi, how are you?” she greets the cashier, who forces her eyes open while standing up from her slouched-over position.

“Kimi,” her name tag reads. Her thin-lipped smile is one of obligatory customer service as she offers a one-word response, the total opposite to the warm Southern hospitality of the young man standing behind her. Jane sits the marshmallows on the counter as something like faint shouting filters in from outside.

The pregnant woman’s voice carries as she fishes around in their grocery bags before pulling out a king-size Hershey’s bar, her wedding band flashing against the overheads. “All I’m saying is that a Christmas baby means getting presents done all in one go. It’s more convenient,” she says.

“It’s more boring,” her husband replies, leaning over to bite off a piece of chocolate. “A New Year’s Day birthday has so much more poetry to it.”

Jane is listening mindlessly, handing over Thomas’s five-dollar bill to the cashier, when a shout sounds again, this time loud enough to draw her and Kimi’s attention toward the front of the store.