by Mary Cantell
“I’ll admit I’ve been stalking your Facebook page,” Lissa said with a shy smile. What would he think of her now? She quickly blurted, “Your wife and kids are beautiful.”
He curled his lips up modestly. “Yeah, the girls take after Angie, that’s for sure.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“At work.”
“Nice,” she said, nodding. “Lovely family. You’re blessed.” Lissa’s heart dropped a bit. She knew there was a chance he was married but still held out the hope that he wasn’t. Okay, no harm done. He’s a great guy…no wonder he’s married.
Brian placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands together as though about to pray. “Yeah, about that,” he began. He looked down and then at her. “Unfortunately, my wife and I are having some problems right now.”
“Oh?” she said, shocked at his announcement. “That’s too bad.” Though she was sorry for his situation and sympathized with him, deep down there was a part of her that remained ambivalent. For a moment she had a strange inkling of pleasure. Inappropriate, for sure, but was it wrong to feel a tiny bit—glad? If their marriage problems couldn’t be resolved or were too difficult to overcome, he’d be a free man. How does one control her heart?
Brian set his lips in a firm line as though resigned to whatever it was. “Ah, it’s life. Our issues have been going on for some time now. Seems like Madison is the most affected, my step-daughter.”
“How old is she?” Lissa asked. His Facebook pictures painted an entirely different life than what he shared now.
“Seventeen. My wife was married before we met. Her husband ran out on them. I felt so bad for her, for both of them,” he said, twisting the gold ring on his third finger around with his thumb. “And then after a few dates…well, we became an instant family not long after that.”
Lissa nodded politely and in the back of her mind wondered whether she would have had a chance with him if she hadn’t moved away. Junior high? High school? If she’d stayed in Maryland, who knows? He’d always been special to her as far back as third grade. Call it a crush, but whatever it was, he was in his own league. A fleeting thought of kissing him went through her head.
“Angie’s child was such a sweet kid in the beginning,” he continued. “But now—stubborn, headstrong. Scares me sometimes.” He shook his head helplessly.
“There’s another girl, too?” Lissa asked, remembering the pictures.
“Yes, Heather,” he said. “She’s eight.”
“Eight? Oh, that’s how old my Lacy is. Small world.” She brightened for a moment and then shook her head, mirroring him. “The teen years are tough, but I’m sure Madison will grow out of it.”
“Juvenile Hall should help,” came his sober reply.
“She’s been to Juvenile Hall?”
“Not yet, but I’ve threatened her with it.” He balled his fists. “If you only knew the trouble she’s caused.”
The waitress approached the table and served plates of antipasto, goat cheese salads, grilled chicken breast sandwiches, and café lattes. As they reconnected, Lissa didn’t dare ask what Brian’s step-daughter did to make her a potential candidate for Juvenile Hall. She only knew one boy, Jimmy “Hot Rod” Stuart, from her old Bryn Mawr neighborhood, who went there. Never a girl. Of all the people to have a wayward child, Brian Pickering, the smartest and most upstanding kid in grade school, was the last person she could imagine having a child that needed professional counseling. Sometimes, things did not make sense.
“I’m sorry, Bri,” she said, hoping her response sounded genuine and not saccharin.
He shrugged. “Not much I can do that I haven’t tried already.”
“More coffee, sir?” the waitress chirped, hovering over the table, holding the carafe.
Brian moved his cup closer. “That’s good, thanks,” he said, raising his hand. Lissa politely shook her head and held her hand over her cup. “I’m good, thanks.”
Brian reached for the sugar packets, keeping his focus on her. “So enough about me, how about you, Liss?” His eyes danced, and her stomach did a little leap at the magnetic charge bouncing all around her.
“Oh, my daughter and I are doing fine—just trying to adjust to the change—you know, new friends, new home, that kind of thing.” She paused. “And, I’m…I’m single now.” Blood flushed her cheeks at the mention of her marital status, hoping he didn’t think she implied anything. Of course, he couldn’t read her mind and wasn’t even aware she had a crush on him since grade school. Can a school crush still linger after all these years? She hoped soft lighting would help to hide the flush in her cheeks—and the stupid blemish in the middle of her forehead. “My husband Jason,” she continued. “He died—in Afghanistan.” Brian leaned forward and nodded sympathetically. “His third tour of duty.” Tour of duty? Sounded more recreational than laying one’s life on the line kind of work. This was the first time she spoke of it without getting a knot in her stomach. The liberation so freeing, she continued. “I begged him not to go, but…” She shrugged. “But you men,” she said, injecting her words with light admonishment to all the male species. “You can be so headstrong, right?” She gave him a half-smile as she pictured Brian and Jason together. Same age. Similar handsome looks. Would they have been friends, she wondered?
As she spoke, Brian kept his eyes on her and seemed to be hanging on her every word. Her heart lightened when he reached across the table and put his hand on hers. A jolt of electricity coursed through her veins. Whoa, what was that? Her whole body warmed to his touch.
“So where are you living now?” he asked as she recovered from the unexpected response to his touch. Smooth skin, clean nails. His hands were prettier than some women’s.
“Well, um, we moved into the second floor of a Victorian on Bellevue Avenue. The flashiest house on the street—a gray clapboard with pink shutters.”
He winced mockingly. “Pink shutters?”
“I know. Flamingo pink. Can’t miss ’em.” She grinned.
“Didn’t you used to live around there?”
She nodded. “Yep, right by the park. I loved that place. I plan to send my daughter to camp there this year. If I can afford it, that is.”
They continued chatting for over an hour, sharing the good old glory days and all their mutual history. Lissa erupted in laughter at his anecdotes and he, too, at hers. Each story as memorable as the next brought out a lightness she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Remember the clubhouse?” Lissa asked, taking a sip of latte.
He nodded. “You were the only girl,” he said with a grin. “How could I forget?” He held her gaze. Electricity soared through her again, and she looked down, embarrassed by her warm feelings.
“Do you need to get back to work?” she asked when he casually glanced at his watch, taking it as a signal the date was over.
He shook his head. “Not really.”
What does that mean… he wants to linger? “I’m sure the chief of security has something on his work plate,” she said coyly. She casually picked through the remains of grilled chicken—though, at this point, she wasn’t the least bit hungry.
“Yes, but,” he flashed his trademark smile, “I know how to delegate.”
Another tiny shiver shot up her spine. Their lunch date did not begin with any romantic intentions. At least, not on her part. But now—? Her heart leaped at the thought of something more. Was something brewing between them? Brian’s story being true, she wondered about his motivations for initiating the get-together. Did he like her in that way? A tingle of excitement ran through her at the possibility and she studied him further to get a read on his body language. If he did like her romantically, he was keeping his feelings to himself. Understandably. He’d always been a quiet kid in school and nothing much ruffled him as it did the other children. Mature and reserved beyond his years.
Except today, one thing gave him away. The twinkling in his eyes. Every time she spoke, his gaze lingered on her
as though he were soaking in her every syllable, every inch of her, and she couldn’t deny the warm feeling he gave her. Sparks flew each time he flashed his toothpaste ad smile and from the looks of things, she sensed he had his own sparks simmering somewhere below the surface.
Brian held the door open for her, and she stepped outside. The afternoon sunlight played on her face and shoulders in a light caress, and the world appeared crisp and startling in clarity as though she saw the station, the tracks, and everything around her for the first time. A sense of anticipation hung in the air. Was she in love?
Brian faced her. “This has been nice, Lissa.”
Her heart sang with anticipation. This was more than a reconnecting date. The air of new love swept in and practically lifted her off her feet. “It has, Bri.” She gazed into his eyes. “Thanks so much for lunch.”
“My pleasure,” he said and gave her a smile.
At the moment she leaned close to kiss him, the restaurant door directly behind her flew open. A young woman rushed out and knocked right into them, leaving Lissa nowhere to fall other than right into Brian’s arms.
“Sheesh,” she said, “What’s her problem?” Was she crying? Dumped by a boyfriend?
Brian glanced over her shoulder at the retreating figure. A funny look came over his face. Then without a word, he planted a kiss on her cheek.
“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” he murmured; his soft voice sending a quiver down her spine.
She melted. “Sounds good. Maybe we will.”
They stood face-to-face as the rumble of the incoming train shook the platform. Their amiable small talk came easily right from the moment they met, and she longed to stay with him for the rest of the day, wishing he didn’t have to go.
The power of the train’s engine was no match for the pistons churning inside her own heart. The strength of her heartbeat at that moment could rival any source of electricity—even a locomotive engine.
Chapter Six
Lissa’s body still tingled as she made her way toward the parking lot. Before reaching her car, she stopped. She forgot to pick up a souvenir from the restaurant. No matter what, she wanted to remember this lunch date. She turned around and went back inside. In the dim foyer, a large glass bowl filled with red matchbooks sat on a corner table next to a dish of mints. She plucked one out.
Back in the car, she turned the key to the ignition and a whiny, scratching sound usurped the familiar purr of the engine. She tried a second time to start the car. And a third. No response. Great. Helpless to how an engine worked, she didn’t know what to do. She’d had AAA towing service for years. Jason insisted on it. Though now, the membership had expired.
After another unsuccessful attempt at getting the car started, she banged her hands on the wheel in frustration. Dear God, please… She said a quick prayer and thought about who might be available to give her a ride at this time of day. She first thought of Brian, who never really left her mind after he boarded the train. His well-cut suit, the way he rolled up his cuffs, his clean-cut face flashed in her mind. If she called him, would he come running to help her? The damsel in distress. She laughed to herself at her wild imaginings. He was probably still on the train. She hadn’t made many friends at work, and no one she knew lived out in the rural sticks of Pinewood. Miss Rucker? No, the woman didn’t drive.
A bus pulled out of the depot, leaving it empty except for a lone taxi. “Okay, Lord, it’s just you and me here,” she said aloud and popped the lever to release the car hood. At the front of the car, she felt around for the little latch under the hood and cringed as her fingers rubbed up against the greasy interior. She fiddled around helplessly trying to locate it.
“Come on,” she said, still searching until it seemed a futile exercise in frustration. “This is ridiculous.”
She went back inside and grabbed a spare napkin tucked into the console. With her hands relatively clean, she reached inside her purse for her cell phone. “Oh, great,” she said with a sigh. Not finding it, she thought back to earlier that morning and quickly realized it was probably still on her desk. Anxious to get out of the office to make it to the restaurant on time, she absentmindedly left without it. She fumbled for change to make a call, hoping to locate the rare pay phone that had become scarce these days. With a handful of quarters in hand, she stepped out of the car and headed toward the depot.
“Need some help, ma’am?” a voice called out. The man, wearing a baseball cap, looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.
“My car won’t start,” she said, relieved to find help so quickly. Thank you, Lord.
“That’s too bad. Let’s see here if I can help ya. That your car over there, the green one?” he asked, pointing behind her.
“Yes, the Toyota,” she said with a nod.
“Okay, can ya pop the hood for me?”
“Sure.” Better you than me. She got back inside and reached for the release knob.
“Once more,” he shouted. “Okay, got it.” He propped open the hood of her aging car and rooted around the engine. She hoped he knew what he was doing. Well-intentioned men had come to her aid before, but their efforts proved useless because the car needed a professional mechanic with the necessary parts to install. This guy, with his pulled-down cap and southern drawl, reminded her of Gomer Pyle.
He called out, “Okay, now try to start her again.”
Her? Ugh, she hated when anyone referred to an inanimate object as a female. Cars, boats, hurricanes. Why were they always female?
She turned the key. The car coughed. Then she turned it again and the car sputtered and then revved to life.
Thank you, Lord.
He closed the hood and came around to the window.
“How do I thank you?” she asked, amazed at the good fortune.
“Aw, wasn’t hard,” he said, dusting off his hands. “Sometimes, the electrical contacts get stuck is all.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help.” She wanted to reach out and hug the guy.
He tipped his cap. “Glad to do it.”
The man stood for a moment oddly transfixed as though he were lost in thought, and Lissa was so sure she knew him—but from where?
“I’d like to pay you,” she said, reaching for her purse. She dug inside and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Here, this is for your effort.”
“No, no. You don’t need to pay me.” He palmed both hands toward her, shooing the money away.
Lissa waved the bill, prompting him to hold up his hands in mock surrender.
“No, no, I don’t want your money,” he said with an aw-shucks sheepishness. One of his front teeth was missing. His boyish expression coupled with the gaping hole brought her back for a moment. Then the realization hit her. Two feet away from her stood her old schoolmate, Donny McCall.
“Donny?”
The man’s head perked up.
“I’m Lissa Leeds—from school.” She smiled.
He pointed his finger at her and grinned. “Lissa Leads.”
“Donny, you haven’t changed much at all.” Except for the missing tooth.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, beaming. “I thought I saw you around town. I wasn’t sure at first.”
“Yep, I just moved back to town this past winter.”
He shoved his hands inside his back pockets while maintaining his jack-o-lantern-like grin. “So what brings you back here?”
“Work, mainly. And I’ve always loved Pinewood.”
“Never left myself. I know this town like the back of my hand,” he said, glancing back at the cab stand. “Drive a cab now.” He gestured toward the depot with his thumb. “And a little photography,” he said, lifting his chin. She nodded appropriately.
Lissa and Donny chatted, sharing anecdotes about growing up here until she suddenly became aware of the time; she couldn’t believe it was past three. Lacy’s camp would be letting out soon. Even if she left this very second, she would be late.
&n
bsp; “Listen, sorry to run,” she blurted, hating to interrupt him, “but I need to pick up my daughter. But, hey, let’s catch up. I’m on Facebook. Why don’t you friend me? It’s Lissa Leads Logan.” She prattled on. “But I’m single now.”
She wanted to kick herself for mentioning she was single. Why do I keep doing that? She imagined him knocking on her door for a date. The former square dance partner turned dinner-and-a-movie date. Just her luck. “A lotta L’s there, huh?” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Tell me about it,” she said with a smile and tossed a queen’s wave as she pulled out of the parking lot.
Chapter Seven
In an effort to save time, Lissa made a last-minute decision to take a shortcut to avoid the heart of downtown traffic. Lacy expected her to arrive at the designated time of a quarter after three, and Lissa was seldom late. She held her breath, hoping to make it through the lights—pressing her foot on the accelerator at every yellow-turned-red light, which was technically orange. Any cop waiting to send his siren blaring would have a fair reason to ticket her, but she hoped that by God’s grace, she’d go unnoticed.
Lissa’s luck soon ran out as she managed to get caught in red lights the rest of the way. A wave of guilt pressed in. If she hadn’t spent so long at lunch with Brian, she would have already arrived at Lacy’s school. The image of his sky-blue eyes gazing at her and his shy smile lingered in her head, giving her a rush. Of course, the car not starting was the likely reason, she tried to assuage herself. It would have given her trouble anyway and taken up just as much time, possibly even more, if she hadn’t run into someone to help. The fortuitous run-in with Donny McCall was a godsend.
She unconsciously pressed her lips into a firm line, trying not to look at the clock on the dashboard. The LED light displaying the time only brought more anxiety. Better to not know than to fight time. She already knew it wasn’t on her side. Why add to the stress? Her back muscles clenched tight as a coil.
