by Dana Wayne
“Uh-huh. My mom needs a male companion.”
The wrench used to tighten the handle bars slipped from his hand. His eyes widened, and he stared a full ten seconds before he could form a reply. “She what?”
“I overheard Miss Gail tell her that the other day.” She handed him the dropped tool.
“I see.” Like hell I do.
“I didn’t know what it meant, so I Googled it.”
“You Googled it?”
She inspected the handle bars. “Uh-huh, I mean yes, sir. We don’t have a computer, so I used one in the library.” She slipped him a curious glance, eyes focused on the scar on his cheek. “Some of it I didn’t really understand.”
Yah think?
“But I got the gist of it, and I think you’ll do fine.”
The little pixie left him speechless. “How old are you?”
Blue eyes sparkled with glee. “I’ll be eight on Christmas Eve.”
Eight going on thirty.
“I’m pretty smart. They wanted me to skip some grades at school, but Mama didn’t like that idea, so they put me in some special classes for smart kids.” She looked at his scar again. “Did you get that being a soldier?”
Off balance, he gave a quick nod of his head and tried to focus on the handlebars.
Undeterred, she fidgeted on the step beside him. “I have scars, too. I fell off the monkey bars in first grade and broke my collar bone real bad. And I had my ‘pendix took out when I was five.” She concentrated on his hands as he worked. “Mine don’t hurt, though. Do yours?”
Suddenly, images of the ambush, screams and bullets flying, swamped him out of nowhere. He couldn’t get enough air, and his hands trembled. His heart rate soared, and he froze. Don’t let it in. Concentrate on the now…what you’re doing. Don’t let it in.
He had no idea how much time had passed as he sat there, fingers frozen around the rusted handlebars. When he finally regained a measure of control, he looked up and saw those all-too-seeing eyes focused on him.
She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. “It does hurt, doesn’t it?” When he offered no reply, she raised up and placed a soft kiss on the wound that went so much deeper than the surface.
“Mama always does that when I have an ouchy.” She rubbed a tiny finger over the puckered scar and sat back down. “I know it doesn’t actually help, but it always makes me feel better inside.”
Max couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as his heart rate slowly returned to normal, and his labored breathing calmed. He looked at the wide-eyed, innocent child beside him, wise beyond her years, and a shard of light pierced through the darkness eating away at his soul. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome. I’m sure Mama would kiss it, too, if you asked her.”
The wrench hit the ground again.
Half an hour later, he watched as Maddie, now bundled up in a scarf and mittens, rode her wobbly bike down the driveway.
“Maddie!” Sky called from the kitchen door. “Time for lunch.”
“But Mama, Max fixed my bike, and I wanted to ride down to Bonnie’s house.”
“Now, Maddie. I have to get you to Miss Gail’s before I go to work.”
The child stopped in front of Max. “Can Max eat, too? He fixed my bike for me. See?”
Instinct told Max an extra mouth to feed might be a burden. “Thanks kiddo, but I need to finish wrapping pipes.” A little white lie to save them all from a potentially embarrassing situation.
“It seems I am in your debt again, Max.” Sky’s cheeks held bright spots of pink, and she didn’t quite meet his gaze.
“No, problem, ma’am. Glad I could help.” He turned to leave, and Maddie spoke up.
“We’re having chicken spaghetti, Max, with garlic bread. Mama makes the best you ever tasted. You have to try it.”
“Maybe another time,” said Max.
“Mama make him stay. He fixed my bike. And he made Blue work.”
“Max?”
His name on her lips was music to his ears, and he looked back.
“You’re more than welcome to join us. That is, if your pipes can wait.”
He started to decline again when Maddie grabbed his hand.
“Good. Come on. You can sit next to me.”
Max had never eaten chicken spaghetti before, but after today, he decided it was one of his favorite dishes. Especially when he added something Sky called Hot Stuff to it. The zesty, sweet-hot mixture resembled pickle relish. She claimed it was like a spicy chow-chow, whatever the hell that was, and went well with the spaghetti dish. Pungent garlic bread, sweet tea, and a simple tossed salad completed the meal.
Maddie chattered away about school and some kid named Bobby Franklin, who apparently had oatmeal for brains.
Sky appeared more relaxed, though she kept an eye on the wall clock.
When the little magpie finally ran out of things to say, Max looked at Sky. “Do you have any outside faucets?”
Brows bunched together, she stared. “One, I think. Back of the house. Why?”
“Have you wrapped it?”
The frown deepened. “Wrapped it?”
He wiped his mouth on the paper towel that served as a napkin. “It’s gonna freeze this weekend. Maybe not a hard one, but outside pipes can freeze pretty quick and burst.” He pushed back from the table. “I’ll take a look at it. Thanks for lunch.”
Her cheeks glowed a rosy color, and her stubborn chin jutted out. “I can do it myself if you can just tell me what I need.”
He shook his head. “I have enough left over.” He walked toward the door. “Thanks for lunch. That hot stuff was really good.”
Maddie jumped from her chair. “Can I help, Max?”
“No,” said Sky, “you can’t. I’m sure he’s got other stuff to do. I’ll take care of the pipes myself.”
Max figured pride prompted such an assertion and doubted she had a clue what needed to be done. “When?”
“When what?”
“When will you do it? You have to work today, and the freeze should happen tomorrow night.”
“In the morning,” she replied a little too quickly, “before I go to work.”
“Do you have the stuff you need? Do you know how?”
“He’s got a point, Mama,” interjected Maddie. “Might as well let us fix it.”
“You have to go to Gail’s.”
“I can walk across Max’s yard to her house when we’re done.” She reached up and took his big hand in her tiny one. “Max doesn’t mind me helping, do you?”
Max knew he was in deep trouble when he couldn’t stop the smile edging up one corner of his mouth as he gazed into trusting orbs, blue as a summer sky. He tapped her upturned nose with his finger. “Mind your mother, Tink.” The nickname rolled naturally off his tongue as he looked back at Sky, whose face held a strange expression. “I’ll have it done shortly.”
Before either of them could protest further, he left.
When he saw them drive away a few minutes later, he grabbed up the supplies he’d placed by the door and went in search of the faucet. Turns out she had two, and he was working on the second one when he heard soft footsteps behind him.
“Shoot. I wanted to help.”
Maddie’s exasperated voice brought another infrequent smile.
“Mrs. Brown know where you are, Tink?”
She nodded. “You called me that before. What does it mean?”
“Short for Tinkerbell.” He glanced at her when she squatted down beside him. “Do you mind the nickname?”
Ebony curls bounced when she shook her head. “No, sir. I like it.” She craned her neck to watch him wrap the roll of foam around the pipe. “Mama calls me Munchkin sometimes.”
The next few minutes passed quickly as his companion bombarded him with questions, peppered with comments about her mother.
He discovered Sky liked to sing and, according to Maddie, had a nice voice and at one time was a nurse. He wondered why she would
give that up to work in a diner but decided it was none of his business. The child never mentioned her father, and his curiosity grew on that point.
His experience with kids was limited to waiting rooms at the VA clinic or when they accompanied parents to the auto parts store where he worked. Most of those fell into the noisy-bothersome-kids category. Maddie, however, was different. She was so intelligent, he sometimes had to remind himself she was a child.
When both faucets were wrapped and a loose board on the back steps repaired, he placed the unused supplies in a small portable shed behind his house. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to Mrs. Brown’s.”
She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry if I ask too many questions, Max. Mama says I do that sometimes.”
“Your hands are cold. Where are your gloves?”
She ducked her head. “Well, I left ‘em on the playground when…”
“When what?”
Thin shoulders sagged, and she shook her head. “Bobby Franklin.”
“The kid with oatmeal for brains?”
She stopped and looked up at him. “Can you keep a secret?”
Uh-oh. Danger ahead. “Depends on the secret.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I don’t understand. If it’s a secret, then it’s a secret.”
He squatted down so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up to him. “I think it’s very important to always be honest. It saves a lot of unhappiness down the road.”
She gave a light nod, and he continued.
“And some secrets are okay to keep.”
“Like when?”
“Like when someone tells you something really special. Something only the two of you know.”
She looked off in the distance, then back at him. “Like how your scar sometimes hurts?”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah. Like that.”
“So, when do you not keep a secret?”
Happy to talk about something besides his scars, Max nonetheless chose his words with care. “Let’s say someone I cared about asked me to keep a secret. A secret that might mean the other person could get hurt or maybe get in trouble.” He paused, maintained eye contact. “Then, I couldn’t keep that secret.” He waited a beat. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I think so.” She tugged on one corkscrew curl next to her cheek. “It might not be a bad secret. I’m not sure.”
When they reached Gail’s back steps, she plopped down on the middle one and pulled the zipper of her jacket a little higher. “He’s always teasing me about stuff.”
It took a moment to pick up the thread. “Bobby?”
“Yes, sir. He’s in third grade and lives next door to my friend Bonnie down the street.”
He nodded and joined her on the steps, allowing her to proceed at her own pace.
“He’s always around at recess and lunch. He pulls my hair and stuff and calls me a nerd.” She glanced his way. “I’m in second grade, but I get to take special classes because I’m smart.”
No brag. Just facts. “And he teases you about that?”
She nodded. “He did before.”
“…Before?”
She sat up straighter and angled her body to face him. “He said I’m a bastard because I don’t have a daddy.”
Ouch…didn’t see that one coming.
“I know that’s a bad word, but I wasn’t really cussing, Max, I was just telling you what he said.”
“Roger that.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Is that soldier talk?”
“Yes. It means I understand.” He folded his hands over his knees. “Is that the secret? He called you a—bad word?”
She nodded, curls bobbing around like pogo sticks. “I’m not really sure what it means, but I don’t think it’s good. I could ask Mama, but if it ain’t good, it might make her sad, and I don’t want that.” Earnest eyes searched his. “Can you tell me what it means, Max?”
Holy crap. Walking through a minefield wasn’t half as scary as trying to find an answer to her question.
When he didn’t answer right away, she asked softly, “It is bad, isn’t it?”
He inhaled and started. “Just because your dad isn’t around doesn’t mean you’re a—that word he said.”
“But what does it mean?”
He focused on a faded plastic watering can on a table beside the steps, praying he’d say the right thing. “In my experience, when someone picks on someone else, it’s because they want their attention or because they’re bigger than the other person, and it makes them feel even bigger when they pick on someone smaller.” He cut his eyes toward her. “Understand so far?”
“Roger that. Like a bully.”
He nodded. “Sometimes a boy wants to let a girl know he likes her but doesn’t really know how. In Bobby’s case, my guess is he probably likes you but feels intimidated because he thinks you’re smarter than him.”
“I am.”
He covered his snicker with a cough. “Calling people names is never cool, Tink. It can be really hurtful and usually makes things worse.” He paused. “But my guess is when Bobby pulled your hair and stuff, he just wanted to get your attention. When that didn’t work, he tried something else.”
“Like calling me a bad name?”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Uh-huh, I mean, yes, sir.”
“Then he achieved the objective.”
Eyes wide, she sat up straight. “He called me that just so I’d talk to him?”
“I can’t be certain since I wasn’t there, but that’s my guess.”
Her mouth moved from side to side as she digested the conversation, then she gave a light huff. “Men.”
He laughed. Out loud. For the first time in a very long time, he laughed out loud.
She stood and faced him, hands planted on her tiny hips. “Well, if you’re gonna be Mama’s male companion, Max, talk nice to her. Don’t call her bad names and stuff. Women don’t like it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Just then, the door opened, and Gail Brown stood there smiling down at them.
“Hello, Max. I hope Maddie wasn’t a bother to you.”
He stood and shook his head. “No problem, ma’am.”
“Didn’t talk your ear off, did she?” she asked with a smile.
He glanced at Maddie. “No, ma’am. She was fine.”
“I haven’t thanked you for wrapping those pipes for us. Or for fixing the leaky faucet in the kitchen. Frank’s back is much better, but he still can’t stand for very long.” Her expression softened with a heartfelt smile. “You’re a good man, Max. I wish you’d let me pay you for your trouble.”
He shrugged off her gratitude. “No problem, ma’am. If I can do anything else for you, let me know.” He looked at Maddie. “Next time Bobby tries to get your attention, Tink, talk to him. See what he has to say.”
Her smile melted his heart.
“Roger that.”
Sky couldn’t stop thinking about how Max looked when he smiled at Maddie and softly called her Tink. Everything about him changed. The rock-hard soldier became soft and approachable. Dark, perpetually hooded eyes were open and warm. His deep, masculine voice softened and hinted at a hidden, gentler part of him.
A part that suddenly intrigued her.
“I think Max will do just fine for your male companion.” Maddie’s parting statement as she dropped her off at Gail’s house kept playing through her mind.
The more she tried to ignore it, the harder it persisted. Maybe she did need a male companion. Maybe it was time she put some emphasis on her own needs. She declined each time anyone asked her out, mainly because she worried about how Maddie would react, but also because the ones doing the asking didn’t interest her.
Max, on the other hand, interested her on a totally unexpected level.
Now that the seed was planted, she struggled with what to do about it. “Nothing. That’s what I’ll do,” she chastised herself. “Nothing. I have too
much to deal with as it is.”
She parked behind the diner and hurried inside. Saturday afternoons were typically slow, but, hopefully, things would pick up later.
She donned her apron and walked out front.
“Hey, Sky,” said Ruby Sloan, the owner. “Everything all right? You look a little down in the dumps.”
“I’m good. A little distracted today.” By dark brown eyes and a haunting smile.
“Blue’s not acting up again is he?”
“No. He’s fine.” She saw no reason to elaborate. “Where do you want me?”
“You got it alone till four. Bethany called in sick, and Louise can’t come till then.”
“No problem. Things are usually slow this time of day.”
“I’ll be in the back making pies if you need me.”
The next hour flew by as a few locals came in for afternoon pie and coffee. A couple of travelers wandered in as well, which meant slow tips.
The tinkle of the bell over the door announced another customer. Without looking around from her task of making coffee, she called out over her shoulder, “Sit wherever you like. I’ll be right with you.”
Coffee started, she turned to find Max sitting at one of the stools at the counter. Every rapid beat of her heart sounded in her ears as she moistened suddenly dry lips. “Hey.” Really? That’s the best you got?
In his usual way, he simply nodded and didn’t answer.
“What can I get for you?”
“Just coffee.”
She placed the cup in front of him and started to ask about the pipes when another customer walked in.
Cade Jackson, a local businessman, headed for the counter.
Oh, just great. Why him? Why now? The man had been asking her out for weeks, not the least bit put off by her refusals.
“Afternoon, Skylar,” he said as he sat a stool away from Max, placing his black Stetson on the seat beside him.
“What can I get for you, Cade?”
“Usual.”
“Coffee and apple pie coming up.”
She placed the order in front of him. “Anything else?”
Hazel eyes gleamed with interest as he picked up his fork. “Not unless you changed your mind about the dance next Saturday.”
She forced herself not to look at Max, even as she felt those penetrating eyes focusing on her. Cade was attractive enough, with thick, tawny-gold hair that tapered neatly to his collar and fair skin that magnified the rich hazel color of his eyes. A dimple in his left cheek drew attention away from a thin, cynical mouth. But he was a player looking for his next mark. It would not be her. “I have to work.”
