by Tessa Gray
She rounded the corner holding a Penny’s Diner bag. “I-I brought you some breakfast from the diner. I know how you hate cooking. I thought you might enjoy a homecooked meal.”
Without waiting for an invitation, she strode into the room and set the breakfast order on the coffee table. “You might want to drink the coffee while it’s hot.” She handed it to him, a stern expression on her face.
She stood quietly for nearly a minute, her eyes darting about the room. As he watched her stare at the pile of empty beer cans, he shrugged.
“I ran into Sarah at the diner.”
“Oh, how’s she doing?”
“Good, really good.”
She glided into a chair directly across from him. “We got to talking about the work you used to do for Habitat for Humanity.”
Great. They were talking about him. Nothing like two women who knew you comparing notes.
Taking a swig of coffee, he looked away. “That was a long time ago. I’m surprised Sarah even remembered.”
“They’re building on a site all day on the east end of town.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to drive over there and help out. As you can see, I’m in no shape to do that.”
“I didn’t bring it up to upset you, Jake. I only brought it up because I thought you’d like to know what Sarah and I talked about.”
“My days of Habitat building are over.” He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t.
He assumed she’d grow tired of trying to carry on a conversation with him and just leave, but she suddenly leaned forward in her chair, a smile sweeping across her face. “Since you run your own business, I have an idea I want to run past you.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’m thinking of opening up my own café. I’ve always loved cooking. I think if I work hard enough at this, I can make a go of it.” The sparkle in her eyes told him she was excited about the prospect of trying something new.
“It’s your life, Rachel. Do whatever floats your boat.”
She ignored the sarcastic remark and continued. “I’m considering taking some cooking classes at the college. I’ve always loved creating tasty dishes but rarely had the time when I was teaching. If all goes well, maybe eventually I could open up my own place. It would be small, kind of like a little café.”
“I doubt folks at the diner and tea room would be too keen about you giving them competition.”
The smile on her face faded, and for a minute, she stopped talking. Leaning forward, she continued the conversation. “Do you want me to get the clippers and give your hair a trim?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she smiled.
“Nope. Just leave it like it is. It’s not as though I’ve got anywhere to go.”
Rising from the chair, she paced about the room for several seconds. She suddenly stopped and stood with her legs slightly spread, hands on her hips.
Here comes the lecture.
“It’s effing eleven in the morning and you’ve already had four beers.”
Yup. She’d counted the beer cans. Just like he thought.
“It’s my life—”
“Like hell it is!” She raced over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Damn it, Jake.”
“Knock it off, Rachel. Leave me the hell alone.”
As he pushed her away, she was trembling. Blinking back tears she clenched her fists. “I want nothing more than to slap the crap out of you, Jake—to knock some sense into you.”
Her outburst got his attention because it was unlike Rachel to fly into a rage like this. While she could be opinionated and downright bossy at times, she wasn’t ordinarily one with a quick fuse.
“Stop getting all riled up. Sit down and—”
“Please tell me you’re not mixing pain pills with booze. Oh, my god, Jake. Please tell me you’re not!” Her eyes blazed, and he suspected she was frightened.
Her hands continued shaking, and he wanted to reach out to her, to wrap his hands around hers until she stopped.
“Calm down, Rachel, before you have a stroke.”
“I won’t calm down. Damn you for not doing more to get better. I hate you for what you’re doing to yourself, Jake. God, I hate this.”
“C’mon—”
“Maybe you can push Adam and Nathan, and all your other friends away, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you do it to me.”
She sobbed aloud now, and he realized he wasn’t the only victim here. When a tragedy happened, it wasn’t only the victim who suffered. Everyone in his inner circle suffered, too. Why hadn’t that occurred to him?
Seeing Rachel like this, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed aloud gave him pause. If he didn’t get his shit together, he’d die alone—a worthless, binge drinking, pill-popping addict without any type of legacy.
And what type of man wanted that for himself? Not this one, that was for damn sure.
By the time he thought of something to say, Rachel raced over to the door and raced outside, slamming it behind her.
Chapter 8
Jake stared into the mirror, and a man badly in need of a shower with dark circles under his eyes stared back at him. The word ‘disheveled’ popped into his head as he continued studying his reflection. He’d aged ten years since the accident.
He’d thought long and hard about what Rachel said. She’d been tough on him, but then, he had it coming. Her words hit home. Punishing everyone around him wouldn’t change a thing. It was counterproductive.
She’d been right to call him out on that. Up until now, he hadn’t thought much about what a toll the accident had taken on her. She’d gone from being outspoken, opinionated, and often stubborn to a woman who appeared to be walking on eggshells in an effort not to upset him. And that just wasn’t right.
Turning on the shower, he waited for the temp to warm up and slowly began cleaning up. As the warm water splashed his body, he glanced down at his rib cage. The scar from the surgery had nearly healed.
Closing his eyes, he grimaced as he applied weight to his ankle. Gripping the railing, he took the weight off it. He leaned against the wall of the shower, fighting off exhaustion.
You’re a loser, boy. You’ll never amount to anything. Memories of his father’s voice reverberated in his head.
Staring down at the floor of the shower stall, he fought back the sadness consuming him. When his eyes welled up, he thought of how furious his dad would be to see him crying.
A split second later, memories of his mother came back-haunting him. Don’t even think of saddling me down with this kid. I didn’t sign up for this, and I’m not giving up my freedom to raise him.
Leaning his head against the wall of the shower, Jake choked back tears, grieving for the childhood he’d never had. Except for the Wainwright’s, of course. They’d taken in the scrappy little kid in need of a home, and done what they could. But it wasn’t the same as having two parents who you could make proud.
His head pounded as he fought off the ugly monster—the depression that was nearly consuming him. More than anything he wanted to go it alone—to get his shit together. But the plain and simple truth was that he couldn’t do this alone. While he’d survived a horrific childhood, relying mostly on himself, this time, he was in over his head. The accident had changed him forever.
You’re a loser, boy. You’ll never amount to anything.
His deadbeat dad had been right. He’d lost the woman he loved; he was well on his way to losing his business; and he was losing his will to live. The struggle was just too much. Every person had a breaking point. And Jake had reached his.
He continued leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. By the time he emerged from the shower and began dressing, he was emotionally drained.
Maybe you can push Adam a
nd Nathan, and all your other friends away, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you do it to me.
As Rachel’s words echoed in his head, he realized that despite the tragedy he’d suffered, there were people who refused to give up on him. Up until now, he hadn’t really thought of how his accident had changed so many lives. But her words stuck with him. He was at a breaking point. This could go either way.
After he dressed, he picked up his crutches and slowly made his way to the living room. Staring at the empty beer cans, he began clearing off the end table. As he continued picking up items, he chastised himself for being such a slob.
It took him several hours to clean and disinfect the place, but when he’d finished, it felt good to be gaining some semblance of order.
Grabbing the keys to his truck, he headed outside. Time for a visit to the barber. He could still drive. At least he had that going for him.
Thirty minutes and one haircut later, he got back into his vehicle and drove home.
As he passed his bar, there wasn’t a car in sight. Adam must have closed the place down early. He generally did that when there weren’t any customers. Given the fact it was early August, he’d be heading back to teach college in a few weeks. Was it even worth it to consider hiring another bartender?
And that’s when he made the decision. He was stuck between a rock and hard place with the bar. He’d either get the place back on track, or he may as well sell it off.
~ ~ ~
Late that afternoon, Adam Lightfoot glanced down at the brochures on the front seat of his pickup truck as he headed over to Jake’s. If there was ever a time to try and talk him into adding education on his bucket list, it was now. Picking up the college catalog that showed the upcoming fall classes, he hoped his friend would take the bait.
He arrived at Jake’s adobe-style house, turned off the ignition and remained in the truck, going over the speech he’d planned. This would be a sensitive issue with Jake. He’d need to proceed with caution. Taking a deep breath, he climbed from the vehicle and knocked on Jake’s door.
To his relief, Jake flung the door open immediately. “Hey, Adam. Good to see you.”
He studied the plaid shirt Jake was wearing, astonished it looked as though he’d pressed it. The shaggy hair was gone, replaced by a short cut that made Jake’s gray hair much less noticeable. The place smelled of lemon, as though it had undergone a thorough cleaning.
“Wow—this place looks clean as a whistle.”
Smiling, Jake motioned him to the living room. “I’ll bring you a beer, Adam. I won’t be joining you because I’ve decided to cut back, so you’ll be drinking alone.”
The admission surprised him, and he stood in place, waiting for Jake to fetch him a beer from the fridge.
They strode into the adjoining room and sat down directly across from each other.
“I see you still have that afghan Nathan’s mom made you.”
“If the house burned down, this is the first thing I’d take with me.” Jake rubbed his hand across it as they sat on the sofa. “They’re an amazing family, the Wainwrights. I wish you could have known Nathan’s dad. He was one helluva guy. He and Elizabeth were the perfect couple.”
Adam studied Jake—at the way his eyes lit up at the mere mention of the Wainwrights. Although Jake rarely mentioned his past, when he did, he always talked about how the Wainwright family had taken him in as a kid—adding him to their already crowded household. Adam had only been in Alpine for a few years, but he knew all the stories.
Sliding the college pamphlets onto the coffee table, he waited for Jake’s reaction.
“What’s all this?”
“You’ve mentioned that you never went to college. Now might be the perfect time to look into it.”
“What would be the point?” Jake leaned forward, eyeing him curiously.
“Standing on your feet all day tending bar might prove challenging. Maybe it’s time for a career change. You’ve always been meticulous about keeping accurate records for the bar. Why not piggyback on that skill set and take some classes in business? Although you probably never thought much about this, Jake, you’re kind of a self-made guy and to tell the truth, you have a pretty good head when it comes to math.”
He watched Jake leaf through the brochures, saying absolutely nothing. At first, he considered that was a good sign—a sign that Jake was seriously considering his suggestion. But when his friend glanced across the room, a scowl on his face, Adam’s heart sank.
“Did Rachel put you up to this?”
“No, This was my idea. But if we left her out of this, would you consider taking a few classes to see what it was like?”
Jake’s brows narrowed, and Adam leaned back against the sofa, waiting for his friend to say something.
“Are you sure Rachel didn’t put you up to this?”
“Totally my idea.”
The expression on Jake’s face softened as he spoke. “You know, when I stayed with the Wainwright’s I actually considered going to college.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. But the bottom line is they had four kids of their own whose educations needed to come first.”
“I’m sure they would have found a way—”
Jake held up a hand. “I don’t dwell on what might have been.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a smart guy. Not everyone can start from scratch and build his own business. I know things are a bit shaky right now, but I’m sure, in time, things will improve. If anyone can turn things around, Jake, it’s you.”
When Jake looked at him, it was clear the comment had made an impact. His dark eyes glistened, and he stared out the window, a faraway look in his eyes. “You know, when I was a kid and my parents pawned me off on the Wainwrights, they did it because they thought I’d never amount to anything. Maybe I should go to college just to piss them off.”
In all the years he’d known Jake, never once had he talked about his parents. Adam stared at his friend, wondering if the tragedy he’d experienced was drudging up the past. Leaning closer, he said, “This is the first time you’ve mentioned your parents.”
Jake looked away and shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t like to talk about them. This is probably the last time you’ll hear me mention them.”
Adam knew Jake well enough to realize he’d become uncomfortable. Still, he wanted to reassure his friend that he could count on him. “You have a lot of friends here in Alpine, Jake. We’re all intent on helping you. You’d do the same for us.”
“Thank you, Adam. I realize that. Thanks for bringing me the brochures. At the very least, I’ll think about attending college.”
They spoke for several more minutes, and by the time Adam left, he had the feeling Jake might be ready to get his life back in order. The good thing about Jake was that he had an entire village of people who believed in him. Too bad the same couldn’t be said of Rachel. As far as he was concerned, she’d burned her bridges with their mutual friends when she’d broken things off with Jake.
~ ~ ~
Early the next morning, Rachel rapped on Jake’s door. She had serious misgivings about coming here, given the knock-down, drag-out fight the two had the previous day. But she needed to pick up some photo albums she’d left in the drawer of the oak dresser her grandfather had given her. If she didn’t reclaim them, he’d probably pitch them.
He opened the door and motioned her inside. She hesitated for several seconds, hoping he wouldn’t chastise her for breaking her promise not to bother him again.
As she walked into the living room, she realized someone had cleaned up the place. Then her attention turned to Jake, and as she studied him, something felt different. He didn’t have the usual circles under his eyes that he often had after a night of heavy drinking. His
hair was cut short, and she liked how it was tapered about his ears. Although he’d sometimes complained about the gray hair, in some ways, it made him look sophisticated.
When she studied the red Henley shirt he wore and how it hugged his shoulders, she felt a rush of relief. He looked like a different man today.
“You look well, Jake.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.”
“It’s all right, Rachel. Don’t give it a thought.” His mouth tugged into a smile, and for the first time in months, she felt a sense of hope. Maybe he was on the road to recovery. She prayed this was the case.
“I just thought of something I’d left in the bedroom.”
Turning away from her, he led her down the hallway to the bedroom the two had shared. Walking over to the oak dresser her grandfather had made, she placed a hand on it. “I see it’s still here. Good as new.”
She eyed the dresser, marveling at what a beautiful work of art it was. But bringing it back to the Antelope Lodge would prove impossible. She didn’t have enough room in her car to transport it, and the lodge provided tenants with furniture. There was simply nowhere to put it.
“Jake, I-I don’t have room for it at my place.”
“Do you want me to donate it to charity?”
Panic gripped her as she considered how few things she had of her grandfather’s. After he’d passed, Meema had doled out things the grandchildren considered sentimental. And this dresser, in particular, carried a litany of memories with it. It’s where he kept his Bible, where he kept all the children’s books he’d read to her as a child, and where he kept the peppermint candy canes to hang on the Christmas tree. She had to keep it. She just had to.
She ran her hand through the many crevices—the crevices she’d often dusted as a child—reminiscing. “Actually, I came here to get some photo albums I left in the dresser drawers. I wish I could take the dresser with me, but I can’t. Is there any way you could keep it until I have a larger place? It’s been in the family for years, Jake. I couldn’t bear to lose it.”
