Wandering Lost: Part 4

[dugindeep]

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DAY FOUR

For the first time since he arrived in Paradise, Jensen is up, showered, and at the dining room table by the time breakfast is served. When Mrs. G. enters the room with two full plates of breakfast—pancakes and sausage with fresh squeezed orange juice and steaming coffee already on the table—she grins like a proud mother to see he’s there.

“And how did we sleep last night, sweetie?” she asks as she sets his plate before him.

“Very well.” He drizzles syrup over the stack of pancakes, licking his lips for the amazing flavors he can’t wait to get in his mouth.

Mrs. G. puts the other plate down then lovingly pats his head. “That’s quite a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

Just before he digs in, he looks up, keeping his fork just above the food. Smiles kindly as he recognizes that, yes, it is a rather wonderful thing. He smiles in return, then gets to eating.

As he savors the fluffy cakes and sweet maple syrup, Jensen moans and shuts his eyes, even tips his head back with satisfaction running through him. It’s during his run of lascivious noises when the door to the kitchen swings open, and Mrs. G. is ushering Jared into the room and towards the other place setting at the table.

Jensen figures he could be ashamed for being caught making such noises, or he could keep on enjoying his breakfast. He goes for the latter while Jared sits down across from him.

Jared clicks his tongue. “You just might be embarrassing yourself there, Jensen.”

A mix of pancake and sausage is tucked into his cheek when Jensen replies, “I just might not care, Jared.”

“That’s good.” Jared smirks at his plate as he gets to eating his own breakfast. “That’s real good.”

Jensen pauses from eating long enough to take a healthy gulp of orange juice. As Mrs. G. refills his glass, Jensen watches Jared cut into his own food and inhale a good quarter of the stack in seconds. There’s something to be said for the size of Jared’s mouth, to take in that much food. Jensen could comment on it, but he doesn’t. Keeps the dirty thought to himself with their host still in the room and enjoys the company for breakfast.

“So, what brings you here this morning?” Jensen asks. “Another pipe need fixing?”

Jared’s gaze rises, along with the corner of his mouth, as he considers Jensen’s sly comment. “I’m always good with the pipes. How about you? What’re you up for?”

Jensen chuckles then catches Mrs. G. stalled at the door, carafe of juice in her hands as she watches them. Jensen offers her a smile and buries any dirty comment he could have fired back at Jared. Takes another big bite of pancakes as Jared gives a real answer.

“Smelled some good cookin’ going on and had to get some.”

If that’s actually an answer … Jensen isn’t sure, but he doesn’t really mind. Finds himself happy to have a breakfast buddy, rather than eating in silence like the last few meals. He tries to weigh if he’s more delighted that it’s Jared.

“And what’re you doing up so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” Jared asks, shooting a few quick glances Jensen’s way.

With Mrs. G. heading back to the kitchen, Jensen smirks. “You been checking out my tail, Jared?”

“Isn’t everyone?” Jared winks and Jensen accepts that he has faced a number of folks granting him special attention since he’s been here.

“I’m thinking of getting out for some pictures,” Jensen clarifies. “Maybe wander a bit outside of downtown. You got any good ideas for places I could check out?”

Jared takes his time to drink coffee, holds the warm mug between his hands as he watches Jensen take another forkful of pancakes. “You looking for a tour guide?”

He’s not so sure he is. He’s also not sure it’s a bad idea. “You offering?”

“You just have to ask.”

Jensen licks his lips, clears away a dollop of butter and syrup, then wipes his mouth as he realizes he’s just cleared his plate in record time. He drinks from his own coffee mug and draws out the thick silence as far as possible. Matches Jared’s stare, too. “Do you have some time to play tour guide?”

Jared’s voice is warm, caring, and thoughtful when he says, “If you only learn one thing here, you’ll find that there’s all sorts of time to do what you want.”

Jensen feels something heavy in the air, and in Jared’s answer. There’s also a strange pressure in his chest as he considers what all that really means. He swallows against the thickness in his throat and smacks his tongue in his mouth. Figures he doesn’t have anything to lose, and nods. “I’d love to learn a lot of things around here.”

Tipping his head, Jared considers him. “Really? What brought about this change of heart?”

“Well, I figure the truck isn’t gonna get fixed any sooner if I pray on it.” Jensen sets his napkin back on the table and leans back in his chair. The words slide easily out of his mouth, and he realizes he absolutely means it. “Why not make the best of the time?”

“Then let’s head on out!” Jared happily declares as he gets up from the table. He’s heading to the front of the house before Jensen can manage to stand.

Jensen grabs his camera bag out of his room, then hurries to catch up without a lick of shame that Jared’s long legs carry him quickly down the street. Jensen may be slow in letting himself relax in Paradise, but he’s fast when he gets going, and he matches Jared’s strides once they’re on the street.

They head to Dingy Dick’s to get Jared’s tow truck, which is parked right alongside the Ford F-100. Richard is, once again, eating instead of working, and Briana is there, too. She’s holding a Styrofoam takeout container of eggs, hash browns, and biscuits that he’s eating out of, moaning loudly with every bite.

“Oh, baby, you’re so good to me,” he says with his mouth full.

Briana smiles and wipes the corner of his lips with a paper napkin, then leans in to kiss the very spot. “Only the best for my sugar.”

Jensen stops abruptly to watch the scene, utterly shocked that these two lovebirds are going on like this. He’s not sure he can get past the thought of this blonde beauty matching up with the greasy handlebar-mustached mechanic.

“Heya fellas!” Briana calls out a moment later. “Whatcha all up to today?”

Jared immediately gets into the driver’s seat and revs the tow truck to life. “Gonna give Jensen a tour of Paradise.”

“Gonna be a quick tour,” Richard laughs. He takes another big forkful of hash browns, pieces sticking to his beard and mustache. “You should take him out to your lands. Let him see something real special.”

Jensen’s interest is piqued at the thought of lands, a big spread that Jared has somewhere outside of Paradise. The wonder is fleeting as Briana’s shiny, red-painted lips spread wide with delight.

“Yeah, let him see that special thing in your pants.” She then rocks her hips with a dirty grin.

Jared honks the horn twice and backs out into the street, and Jensen hurries to follow, to exit this conversation. Teasing with Jared is fun, but there’s something unsettling about Briana’s bold comment, along with Richard’s wolf whistle singing out loudly from the garage.

Jared laughs and waves back at the garage once Jensen is up in the passenger seat. He slaps Jensen’s knee, squeezes a little, and pats again before getting both hands on the wheel and driving forward. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do any of those things. I’ll be perfectly mature and play tour guide.”

There’s a tiny thread of disappointment that Jensen buries deep. He focuses instead on the view of the town thinning out to small houses dotting every other lot, if even that, until they’re surrounded by flat grassy fields. Not unlike the one Jensen had been stuck in when he first saw this tow truck.

And just like that first day, the wind whips through the open windows, and Jensen’s sunglasses shield the glare of the sun ahead of them. The landscape presents them with the greenest of grass rising up from the ground and a vibrant blue sky full of puffy white clouds, like something Jensen’s only seen in the movies. Not long into the ride, he has Jared pull over so he can catch it all with his camera.

While Jensen clicks away, Jared idly chats about the town. Mentions that hard rains had cleared out many of the farms in the area, and most folks left for other pastures. Crops couldn’t keep up with the heavy showers, even now when the land is recovering. Says most people in town don’t know a thing about farming, yet have plenty of the same values tattooed on their skin … hard work, decency, kinship to keep Paradise thriving using the values of previous generations.

Jared seems to lose himself in the stories, talking about the beauty of old Americana and being a part of a greater spirit. He continues staring out beyond any spot Jensen can see. That just gives Jensen the opportunity to take his picture and capture the softness of a man so unabashedly proud of his hometown.

Once he’s done talking, Jared turns to the camera and smiles. He leans back against the hood of the truck, lifts his sunglasses into his hair, and sets his twinkling eyes on Jensen. “What about you?”

Jensen takes a few more pictures before lowering the camera. He comes to rest next to Jared and watches the easy sway of tall grass taken by the wind. “It’s charming, for sure.”

“But you still think it’s a little weird.”

With a small nod, Jensen admits, “I grew up in a small town. Something a lot like this, though with plenty more people. Plenty of people who were a lot less kind than you all have been so far.”

“So far?” Jared asks slowly.

Jensen clears his throat against the thoughts spinning in his head. He tries to express it the best way he can. “I’ve found that sometimes you can’t trust what people want you to see. There’s often more beneath the surface that they’re hiding.”

Pursing his lips, Jared nods and looks ahead. “Sounds like you’re carrying a whole lotta baggage on your back.”

Now he laughs, maybe at himself for being so transparent. “Yeah, you could say that. That small town I came from had a whole lot of niceties on the surface. But it wasn’t the best place to stick around.”

“When’d you leave?”

“Right after high school.”

“For college?” Jared asks.

“Nah, I never went to college.” He clears his throat against the sliver of shame that rises. “What about you?”

“So, what’ve you been doing with yourself since leaving that town?”

A strained chuckle, Jensen kicks at the dirt. “Not letting me get away with that subject change, I see.”

“Not hardly.” Jared softly smiles at him, bumps their shoulders together. “It’d be nice to know how you built that tough wall you put up.”

He sighs and settles more comfortably so he can stretch his back over the curve of the truck’s hood. “My folks had their own idea of who I should be, or how we should grow up. And I … had a different plan.”

“Were you successful?”

Jensen glances over. “With what?”

“With your plan. Did you do what you wanted to do?”

Another tight laugh. “Not quite. I mean, I got out of town, but I haven’t fulfilled big-time dreams or anything.”

“If you did fulfill these big dreams, what would that look like?”

Jensen considers him, really takes the time to wonder where these thoughtful questions are coming from.

Jared spreads his arms out with a sweet smile. “If you could have anything go your way and put your name up in lights … what would it be for?”

“I like taking pictures,” he answers with a motion of his camera.

With a smirk, Jared nods. “I can tell.”

“Wouldn’t mind having some pictures go somewhere nice,” Jensen admits, then finds his mouth moving faster than he’d planned, letting it all out. “For them to mean something to someone. Money is nice, sure, but sometimes it’s just about knowing people are feeling what you’ve shot, what you find. That they see what I see, the stories these pictures tell, and what it means to me.”

Jared grins and elbows him. “Then let’s find you some more stories!” He’s rounding the front of the truck to get back inside, and Jensen blinks at the abrupt change in mood. “You comin’ or what, Jen?”

“It’s Jens—” he stops before he can get his full name out and shakes his head. “Yes sir,” he whispers as he turns around to get back into the passenger seat.


***


Along the journey, Jensen is surprised when his phone chirps. Once, twice, then a dozen times in succession. The screen lights up with notifications, and he has two beautiful bars of service.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop,” Jensen yells, flinging his arm out across Jared’s chest.

Jared’s hand comes up to Jensen’s as he slams on the brakes and steers to the shoulder. “What? What’s going on?” he asks frantically.

Jensen certainly registers Jared holding his hand to his own chest, and he slowly withdraws it, trying like hell to not care about the casual touch. He focuses back on his phone. Scooting up in the seat, Jensen’s thumbs fly across the touch screen and he hums with excitement. “I have service. Thank the Lord, I HAVE SERVICE!”

Jared smiles fondly and parks the car properly as Jensen gets to his emails. “Small miracles come in all sorts of packages.”

Partly distracted by scanning all the messages that have been waiting for him, Jensen asks, “Which uncle said that?”

“None of them.” A second later, Jared mumbles, “At least I don’t think they did.”

“I’m shocked.” Jensen smirks at Jared’s low laugh.

Jared turns the radio on, keeps it low, and they sit in a comfortable quiet between them as Jensen fires off a few dozen emails to straighten up the mess at work.

Jensen is delighted when Sheppard is quick to respond, and they go back and forth for a bit until the stuffy artist bends back to their original agreements. He still has to give in to a few specific demands, but he calls it a victory and thinks about how to celebrate.

“Gotta be something good in town we can do,” Jensen suggests. “I owe you one.”

Jared nods. “Tonight’s the Peach Party.”

Jensen dares to fill in the holes: “And that is … a party. For peaches.”

“Only the juiciest around,” Jared insists, with his eyebrow arched.

Narrowing his eyes, Jensen thinks through a million responses, yet chooses to smack Jared on the arm before pointing at the road. “Let’s keep going. Surely there’re more stories I can find out here.”



***


They return to the Inn just in time for a new batch of Mrs. G.’s white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies to come out of the oven. In the garden with glasses of tea and a plate of cookies, Jensen shows Mrs. G. some of the photos on his camera. She clicks through the buttons and squints at the screen; he has a feeling she can’t see a damned thing and just keeps looking at the same two photos over and over again.

Still, she gushes, “Oh, Jensen, darling, these are so beautiful. You have such a wonderful eye for our town.”

He chuckles because most of the pictures are from the trip they took far out of town. He thanks her anyway, unable to correct the sweet lady.

After Jared downs half the cookies, he rises from his seat and insists he has to get to Briana’s to help with something in her kitchen.

“Honey, why don’t you take Jensen with you?” Mrs. G. suggests. “Surely he can offer you a hand.”

Jared smirks. “Sure. Jensen? You want to give me a hand?”

Jensen bites his lower lip. It seems that Jared rather enjoys teasing him in situations where he can’t properly respond. Not with sweet Mrs. G. right there. “Yeah, sure. I can give you a hand.”

At Briana’s diner, Jared fiddles in the kitchen with the oven. Jensen’s not sure how he can help, so he heads back out front and sits at the counter. There aren’t many people in for the middle of the afternoon, meaning Briana can join him. She pours them both a cup of coffee, then puts a paper in front of him.

“How good are you with words?”

Jensen eyes her. “Okay, I guess?” Then he smiles when he sees the crossword puzzle staring back at him.

She’s got one as well and puts her hand out to shake. “First one to finish washes dishes.”

Jensen laughs and takes her hand. “You don’t have a dishwasher?”

“He’s presently fixing the gas line to the oven.”

“Jared is your dishwasher?”

“Someone call my name?” Jared asks, popping into view from the kitchen.

Jensen shakes his head. “What don’t you do around here?”

“One of these days, you’ll find out.” He winks, then is gone from sight.

“Deal?” Briana asks, not the least bit distracted by the side conversation, totally focused on this little game.

Jensen squeezes and shakes her hand. “You got it.”

“Okay, on three … ”

He starts reading the first clue before she finishes counting, yet finds that doesn’t even help, and he’s elbow deep in dirty dish water twenty minutes later.


***


After dinner, Jensen escorts Mrs. G. to the Peach Party. He asks her how, and why, there are so many celebrations this week, and she pats his cheek with a sweet smile.

“Silly boy. There’s a party every day!”

“How is that possible?” he asks, trying to keep his voice from rising to a shrill. “Don’t you run out of topics?”

“In Paradise, everything is a celebration.”

Soon enough, she abandons him to socialize. Jensen doesn’t mind too much; he spends time behind his camera cataloging the handful of pop-up stands selling peaches, pears, and a host of other fruits. He’s not sure how that all fits into the peach theme; he’s not really that surprised, though.

Briana and Richard man their own stand, with Rich calling out all sorts of dirty jokes about his bananas, inviting folks to unwrap the skin and taste how ripe and firm his fruit is.

Briana laughs through it all, even tries to top him. She gets a few good zingers in, and Jensen smiles as he takes their picture … takes quite a number of the outwardly mismatched couple. Maybe he’s starting to see how they sync up.

“Jensen, have you met Father Murray?”

Jensen turns to Jared, his camera still firmly in his grip, though once he sees the other man, he thinks he might drop it. “You’re …”

It’s Officer Murray. This time, however, his uniform lacks any of the badges or pins. The dark pants and shirt are the same. Only, the collar is closed with a white band around his neck. The man reaches for Jensen’s free hand, now dropping from its hold on the camera, shakes, and bows his head. “Good evening, my son.”

His tone is much deeper and almost honorable. Much different than the authority he proclaimed when Jensen first met him.

“We are so glad to have you joining us on this occasion,” he says with another bow of his head.

Jensen can’t speak; he lets Officer … Father … Murray shake his hand, all while staring at Jared.

“What’s wrong?” Jared asks with a furrowed brow.

“This is the priest,” Jensen says, though he really means it as a question.

“This is the honorable Reverend Michael Murray. He leads Sunday services at the church.”

Jensen points a thumb at the man. “This is the nut job who gave me a ticket for jaywalking.”

“It’s a serious offense,” Murray says at the same time Jared asks, “You jaywalked?” with horror.

He sighs and prepares his defense. “People do it all the time, all over the country!”

“Not here,” Murray points out. “Paradise is much more principled than the rest of the country.”

“Seriously?” Jensen asks him, then turns to Jared and repeats himself. “This is serious?”

Jared nods gravely as Murray continues. “If only you had heeded my warning, then you could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.”

“What warning?”

“When I blew you.”

Jensen gapes at the officer … priest. “You could definitely say it a different way.”

Murray resettles himself and becomes more like the man Jensen met out on the streets. An overly sensitive and wary cop. “I blew you and you just kept on going. Couldn’t even stop moving. I blew you numerous times.”

Jared’s eyebrows rise high on his forehead, and Jensen sputters to stop the whole thing. “Alright, okay, I get it. I broke the law, you blew your whistle, and I got a ticket. Are we done now?”

Jared continues to look semi-horrified and amused at the same time, while Murray returns to his more divine state. “Are you enjoying the Peach Party? You should try some of Ms. Connell’s apricots.”

Jensen blinks as he attempts to right himself from the immediate about-face.

“They are absolutely heavenly.” A second later, Murray relaxes and winks. “If I do say so myself.”

“Why are there apricots at a peach fest?” Jensen asks, immediately regretting it. “Or pears or bananas?”

“Well, peaches are quite like apricots.”

“Not really. They’re a whole ‘nother fruit. Have their own name and everything.” He kicks himself for bothering to continue down this route, though he feels rather committed to proving this one point.

Murray shares a look with Jared, then returns to his saintly demeanor. “Here in Paradise, we do our best to be as inclusive as possible. We welcome fruits of all shapes and sizes here.”

Despite his immediate need to argue, Jensen accepts that rather well. He isn’t about to fight for exclusivity, not when he comes from one of the most the diverse cities in the country.

Then Murray winks at Jared. “Isn’t that right, Jared?”

Jared simply smiles without giving anything away. But Jensen thinks enough has been said. The priest may know Jared’s intimate secrets from regular confessions; still, Jensen is amazed it would be acknowledged in the light of day.

Clearing his throat, Murray nods to them both. “Do enjoy yourselves gentlemen. It is one of our best events after all.”

As the man leaves, Jensen stares at Jared. With wide eyes, he asks, “That’s your priest.”

“Father Murray is popular in Paradise.”

“That guy is your priest. How?”

Jared shrugs. “He volunteered.”

“Well, when you put it that way …” Jensen widens his eyes, then makes a show of rolling them.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Father Murray is a very dedicated man of faith.”

“And what kind of faith is that?”

“Any kind. Are you not a believer?”

Jensen wonders if this is it … the very moment that Jared finally shows his true colors. Maybe this whole town is a cult trying to recruit Jensen, willing to save him from whatever terrible life could be waiting for him if he doesn’t accept whatever Father Murray is selling.

“My Uncle George used to say, ‘you just got to wait, because you gotta have faith.’”

Now he stares back with the greatest of skepticism. “Jared.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have an Uncle George.”

“Sure I do!”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head as he looks around them, suddenly glad that Jared’s true colors are less about cultish devotion and more about quoting random songs with terrible attribution. Again.

Jared continues, “He always said, ‘you need someone to hold you, but you gotta wait for something more. Gotta have faith.’”

Jensen dares to watch Jared out of the corner of his eye.

Holding out in silence, Jared bites the corner of his mouth. A dimple appears, and Jensen begins to smile at the devilish look in Jared’s eyes. Especially as he softly murmurs, “Faith, faith, faith.”

“Jared!” Jensen shouts, laughing through the ludicrousness.

“Yes, you gotta have faith,” Jared continues, now laughing along with Jensen.

“You’re such an idiot,” he mumbles, but finds himself absolutely charmed by the idiocy.  

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