by Amanda Tru
This time, as Kelsey squeezed his hand, she wrapped her other hand around his arm and leaned against him as they walked. “Your poor mom. That must have been hard to admit. Sounds to me like she was yelling at herself instead of you.”
He hadn’t planned it—couldn’t have if he’d tried. But in front of a pet store with a display of cages of every kind, Reid pulled her close and kissed her until he forgot where they were and what they were doing. Only when a few snowflakes turned into a shower of half-dollar sized ones did he step back and take a steadying breath. “Maybe we should go meet this uncle of yours—ask him to join us for dinner. I think we need to have him join us.”
When her hand slipped back into his as they turned to face the wind on the way back up the street, Reid could have sworn she said, “And maybe your mom.”
The Diner bustled with shoppers stopping in for hot chocolate and pie. But in a coveted corner booth near the window, the men sat across from the women. Kelsey listened to Reid’s mom tell Uncle Mel about her latest fishing escapade, while she tried not to laugh at the tiny jabs he gave her shins under the table at each effusive exclamation over Uncle Mel’s equipment or trips.
Stop that before I bust out laughing!
She may not have spoken the words, but Reid read them loud and clear. He winked and assured her in equally silent words that he had no intention of stopping. As Pat and her uncle debated the use of strike indicators and things Kelsey only had the slightest knowledge about, and Reid kept tapping her with every exclamation, she opted for a new approach.
So, when her “chili size” arrived, Kelsey waited for Uncle Mel to offer thanks and about choked as he reached out to take Reid’s and Pat’s hands. Since when do we hold hands for grace? Is that my benefit or yours, Uncle Mel?
Another tap followed Pat’s murmured, “Amen?”
“Will you and Reid come to church with us on Sunday?”
At the sight of Reid’s face, Kelsey deduced that the growing flirtation between Uncle Mel and Pat would end with that question. But Pat just beamed. “Well, I’d love to, but Reid has his own church, you know. I wouldn’t want him to—”
“Mom!” Reid stared at Pat until she dragged her eyes away from Uncle Mel. “If you’re going to church, I’m going with you. Period.”
“Then it looks like we’ll be joining you. When and where?”
Reid gave Kelsey a, “Can you believe this” look and eyed his mother. Her time had come. This time, she jabbed his leg. Reid gave a yelp.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, it’s just church. You’d think I’ve never been or something. We used to go for the pageant when you were a kid, remember?”
As Reid stammered an apology and tried to deflect the conversation, Uncle Mel gave her a sharp look. Kelsey tossed him an impish grin and waited. Uncle Mel didn’t disappoint. “I think you can blame Kelsey for that one. I taught her better, but kids these days…”
This time a different kind of friendly debate began. Pat insisted that kids are always looked down on as not as good as their parents’ generation. Uncle Mel argued that the truth of that didn’t negate the fact that each generation did degrade into less and less desirable behavior. “Manners—there aren’t any anymore, or so it seems.”
Bite after bite, fry after fry, sip after sip. Reid and Kelsey fought not to look at one another for fear of losing all self-control, and Pat argued that kids these days had a better grasp of the state of the world around them than hers had. And by the time they finished, Uncle Mel suggested a short walk around the square to “cool off tempers.”
Reid and Kelsey found themselves standing out in front of The Diner. Alone. Staring as their respective parental influences took off together, deep in discussion and apparently oblivious to them. Reid found his voice first. “Did that just happen?”
“Yes and no.”
“Huh?” He took her hand and tugged her toward his apartment. “We can talk in the entry to The Pettler until they get there.”
“Uncle Mel is interested. That’s for sure. But I saw him give us that look. He’s giving us a bit of privacy, and if it happens to give him more time with a pretty and interesting woman, he’s not going to complain.”
They’d only made it half a block when a girl stepped out between two buildings. “Hey, got any…” An unsavory euphemism for drugs dropped into the night air. “Mmm… sorry. Wrong guy.”
Reid stared after her, oblivious to her questions. When he did snap out of his reverie, he gave Kelsey an odd look. “She’s looking for a fix. That’s the second person who started to approach me and took off.”
“Fairbury has its first dealer?”
“Fairbury has dealers, Kelsey. Just not as many as some places, and from what I’ve seen, they’re not very successful… yet.”
“Why do you think people are coming to you? Reputation?” Even as she spoke the words, Kelsey winced. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”
“I don’t think so.” Reid led her to The Pettler and pulled her into the covered little alcove that held the entrance to Wayne’s shop. There he pulled her into a hug and just held her. “I had fun tonight.”
“Me, too.” She didn’t want to ask, but needed to. “Reid?”
“Hmm…?”
“Do you mind Uncle Mel and your mom?” Kelsey stepped back to try to see his expression in the semi-dark nook, but he pulled her close again.
“Nope. Hope you don’t, because I haven’t seen my mom flirt like that—ever.”
This time, she stood back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Admit it, Reid. You liked her flirting! I was sitting there mortified at Uncle Mel doing everything he could to encourage her, and you were over there enjoying it, weren’t you?”
One soft brush of his knuckles across her cheek, a kiss that could have lasted a second or an hour—she never knew—a murmured whisper that she only understood because she recognized the love in the tone… Kelsey thought he’d forgotten the question, but Reid finally shoved his hands in his pockets, gazing down at her.
She couldn’t see his eyes, but she felt the intensity of his gaze. “Kelsey, any guy loves a little flirting.
The bay window overlooked Fairbury’s ice rink, and Kelsey and Michelle from The Prayer Room sat there across from each other, chatting over plates of scampi. But after a good hour, Michelle glanced at her phone, for what seemed like the hundredth time, and excused herself. “Sorry, but I promised Kelly Cox I’d take her watchman shift tonight. She has kids in the pageant.”
“This has to let up soon enough. I have a full battery and a new book I can read on my phone. I’ll be fine.”
Even as Michelle counted out bills to cover her part of the check, she asked again, “Are you sure?”
“Totally. Thanks for coming.” Guilt almost prompted her to confess that she’d like a bit of time alone. Almost. Then again, she doesn’t need to know why. I’ll just enjoy teasing him a bit. I sure hope his phone doesn’t chime or buzz while he’s working.
Kelsey gave one last wave as her friend rounded the corner to the entrance and whipped out her phone. First, she zipped him a message asking about tickets to the pageant Michelle had mentioned as she worked to compose her first message. With that sent, all efforts went to a little fun. And her creative juices failed. Text two: I miss you.
Two minutes later, she thought of another one. Did you know you get adorable crinkles around your eyes when you smile?
Her nerves gave out on the next one, but they rallied when she imagined that smile, those crinkles, and the joy he’d feel hearing about her love of them. Kelsey typed fast and hit send before she could chicken out. They make me swoon & I’m not even Southern.
Giggles—they prompted several curious looks, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t prevent them. Her sense of proportion got the better of her, and Kelsey decided she should add something a little less frivolous… not quite so shallow. What do I love most about him? What made me love him in the first place? She tried to think of as man
y things as possible, but one jumped out as preeminent.
Psst. Nothing makes my heart flutter like you when you’re praying with me.
Would he be disappointed? Did guys feel like stuff like that was the spiritual equivalent of saying, “She seems… interesting”?
Just in case, she zipped off one more. And did you know your eyes go from amber to umber when you’re moved by something? Talk about dreamy.
And with that, she couldn’t—not another one until she saw how he responded to them. If I went overboard, Lord. If it’s too much too soon. If six months of knowing him and seeing him daily, praying with him almost daily, dreaming of him… daily. If all that is still too soon because it’s just been a couple of weeks since those flowers accidentally ended up in my hands… on purpose, of course. If that’s the way it is, can You just kind of delete the ones that are too much? Please? Thanks. I knew I could count on You.
Page after page of her novel flipped past with a swipe of her finger on her phone screen. Only when she’d made it through ten percent of the novel did she remember it was supposed to be a comedy… and she hadn’t laughed once.
Better start over.
But she didn’t. Before she could slide the progress bar back to the beginning, Reid paused by a table across the room to speak to someone. Kelsey’s mind ordered her to settle itself—behave rationally. Her heart responded with cartwheels and handsprings. Aren’t you pathetic. You told Uncle Mel not three hours ago that you still weren’t sure a relationship with him was a good idea… yet. Do you remember that? Do you remember saying maybe that was the point of Oberton’s prophecy? Maybe it was God? And look at you. Fickle. Wishy-washy. Double-minded and unst—
There the self-recriminations ceased because she saw it. Clear as day, easy as you please, and another dozen or two of obnoxious clichés—Reid shaking the man’s hand as he tucked something into the man’s shirt pocket. Reid shoving his own hand in his own pocket as he turned to go.
Heart sinking, aching, crying, she fought back tears and stood to go. As Reid moved her way, she flopped back down in the chair and stared… gape-jawed. It wasn’t Reid.
The kitchen bustled at twice the speed as usual. With half the staff out with a virus, Reid watched order after order pile up without any hope of staying on top of it. The next time their top server stopped to ask about an order, he pounced. “Can you get Mike in here? We need the help.”
She took one look at the row of tickets and bolted. Mike appeared just as Reid finished plating a pot pie and roasted Brussels sprouts. “Anya said you needed hel…llo! Whoa. Let me grab a coat. Where do I start?”
“I’ll get everything down, concentrating on main dish and appetizers. You plate and deal with appetizers and dessert if I get further behind?”
“Done.” A moment later, still buttoning up the black chef’s coat, Mike said, “By the way, your girlfriend is out there.”
The words hardly registered. Reid pulled two more tickets from the lineup and began prepping them. “Is she?”
“When she saw the crowd, she started to go, but Anya put her and some other girl at the table overlooking the ice rink. I think Anya’s trying to keep the place packed with loungers so we can’t get any more orders.”
“Who’s covering the front?”
Mike took an order for an onion loaf and began dredging the spiral-cut onions through the batter before dropping them in the fryer. “Ramon’s out there.”
The first time or two, Reid didn’t know if he’d noticed or imagined things or if Mike’s distraction was real, but after five minutes—minutes in which they received as many orders as they filled—Reid decided to ask. “Something wrong?”
“Huh?”
“You just look… well, ready to bolt.”
That seemed to snap Mike out of it. “Sorry. My brain tells me we’re ignoring the diners.”
“Ramon’s got ’em.” Reid passed three plates in close succession and began an order of sautéed mushrooms.
For two more hours, the orders arrived almost faster than they could stay on top of them, and then everything fizzled. Exhausted, they collapsed against the prep table. In near perfect synchronization, each man pulled out his phone. Mike read his and bolted from the kitchen. Reid glanced up just for a moment and went back to reading a text from Kelsey.
The simple, “miss you” prompted a smile. And last week, I thought this was over—done.
A moment later, his ears burned at her “crinkly comment.” At swoon, his face burned as well. Swoon. That’s a word you don’t see or hear every day. A good one, though, I think.
An order for two cheesecake slices interrupted his chance to devour the next text, but when he’d drizzled cranberry-orange sauce over them and sent them out again, he tapped one that began with “Psst.”
She likes it when I pray, huh? I guess that answers the whole question of whether it’s a lame way to get to know someone. Cool.
His fingers itched to reply, but another text popped up. Wow. You were busy. Love it.
Any doubts he’d entertained about her ability to forgive, her sincerity regarding her feelings, or the chances of a long-standing relationship forming died at “dreamy.”
Scrolling back to the first message, Reid read it once more. Bought tickets for the fundraiser pageant-play thing for Uncle Mel and your mom. If I buy 2 more, will you go with me?
Reid zipped back a one-word reply. No. He called Bookends and asked them to reserve two tickets for him. As soon as he confirmed they were his, he zipped back a second reply. Just kidding. Sort of. I’ll go if you will, but we have to use my tickets, or they’ll go to waste.
Now, let’s get back to missing each other. Great place to start.
As he typed, another one came through. So, I have a date with the cutest guy in town. Cool. And before he could finish his text and reply to the latest, another one popped up. Reid. Get out here. I’m in the dining room.
Diners turned to greet him as Reid wove around table after table. He paused, shook a hand, smiled, nodded, offered thanks for compliments. And across the room, Kelsey appeared to be recording every movement. Then, as he turned away from the police chief’s table, he watched her swing the phone to the other side of the room. What are you doing? That’s… that’s just weird.
A text buzzed his phone. It took only one glance to confuse and alarm him. Call the cops on your case. Fast.
Reid stood in the center of the restaurant, his gaze darting back and forth between Kelsey and his phone. He tapped the screen and put the call through as he worked his way across to the most coveted table in the restaurant. “Wha—”
Kelsey jerked him down into a chair beside her. Finger swiping, tapping swiping again She groaned, looked closer, and nodded. “Watch.” And with that, she shoved the phone in his hand.
In a rather odd, out-of-body experience, he watched himself shake hands with a woman he hadn’t actually seen. Laughing, nodding, and then he turned. “Wow. Never realized how much we look alike from the back and the side.”
“Did you hear yourself?” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Those people who thought it was you? The one who thought he could get drugs from the…” Kelsey hung air quotes as she continued her whispered rant. “‘…chef’ at The Coventry. That’s who it is. It’s Mike. He’s selling drugs right here in the restaurant!”
Her phone glued itself to his hand as Reid stared at the screen. “No… Mike wouldn’t. Man, I can see how someone would confuse us, though.” Reid froze. “Wait! Is this why I called Crane? The police chief is over there, Kelsey. And he’d say this isn’t even circumstantial evidence. It’s just coincidence.” At the disappointment that formed around her mouth, Reid forced himself to add again, “But yeah. I see how it would look like it.”
Mike neared the table, and Kelsey stiffened. Heat streaked up Reid’s neck as she turned to him, one hand sliding around his head and her fingers twirling in his hair. Again, her lips brushed his ear. “Try to keep
him here… talking. Trust me. I saw him put something in someone’s pocket. And that person gave him something, too. I bet it’s cash.”
A little far-fetched, Kelsey, but it’s cute that you want to clear me.
“Reid, please.”
Mike paused as he passed, a smile on his lips. “Looks like you found her.” He gave Kelsey a searching look before adding, “He’s a good guy. Happy for you—both of you.”
Another patron two tables over called out to Mike, but Reid, feeling Kelsey’s near panic, acted on impulse… instinct. “Hey, Mike. Thanks. Have you guys actually met yet?” His mother had once mentioned who should be introduced to whom, but in the moment, he could hardly remember her name.
“I haven’t, actually.” Mike stuck out his hand. “Mike Lapora. Nice to meet you, finally. Reid never stops talking about you.”
He froze, confusion and embarrassment mingling into an uncomfortable mixture in his gut. But I don’t talk about her at work. Not to you. Why would you say that?
Kelsey, however, didn’t miss a beat. “Wow. It seems like you know everyone in here. I guess that’s probably your job, isn’t it? I mean, I know a lot of people in here, but that’s because I’ve squeezed their arms to death in an attempt to keep them alive.”
The words—they made no sense. However, Reid suspected she’d planned it that way. She paused for just the right amount of time before leaning forward with a conspiratorial flair and murmured, “Blood pressure cuffs. If I die under suspicious circumstances, check my recent patients. I think testing the blood pressure sometimes sends people over the edge.”
