by Dylann Crush
Jake’s foot connected with my shin. “Didn’t know you were such a freaking sap, bro.”
“Dude, I never did either.” I’d kind of forgot what that towering cake tasted like. But now that I’d remembered, vanilla just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Mr. Hayes could take my business away, but having a shot at making Cassie mine again was worth it.
“Misty said Cassie’s doing the food for her mom and dad’s anniversary party in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh yeah?” I knew Cassie had been helping out Mrs. Cahill with some catering side jobs. “Wonder how long she’ll keep that up if she’s moving back to Dallas?”
“I dunno, bro. But sounds to me like you’re running out of time if you want to try to convince her to stay.” Jake reached into the bag beside him and pulled out a folder. “Right now we’ve got a more immediate need.” He tapped on the folder. “Should we talk about this if we think we’re gonna stand a chance this weekend?”
“Sure.” I leaned across the aisle, ready to review the scouting reports he’d compiled on our opposing team for the first game for the tournament.
Jake was right. I was running out of time. As soon as we got back from St. Louis, I needed to amp up my efforts. I’d lost her once and barely managed to come back. If I let her slip through my fingers again…hell, I might not survive.
24
Cassie
The sun sat low on the horizon, filling the sky with shades of orange, pink, and red. I pulled open the door to the Dive Inn, the only watering hole in Swallow Springs. While my eyes adjusted to the dim, wood-paneled interior, Misty raised a hand and waved me over. I wound through high-top laminate tables and cracked vinyl stools until I reached the back of the room. Even in the murky darkness, I could tell the place hadn’t been updated in at least three decades.
Misty bounced up and down on the cracked vinyl seat as I approached. “I’m so glad you made it, girl. Come sit down.”
I scooted onto the bench across from her. “So this is what this place looks like inside? We used to be so eager to sneak in.”
“Yeah, now you know you weren’t missing a thing.” Her lips clenched a plastic straw and she took a long sip of a clear bubbly beverage.
I reached for the drink menu but withdrew my hand when I touched something sticky.
The waitress approached our table, and I ordered a beer and the sampler appetizer basket, otherwise known as every flash frozen fried food available on the food distributor’s menu.
“So what are you drinking tonight?”
Misty screwed her lips into a frown. “Sprite. God, I could really use a beer, but I’m late.”
“Late for what?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know…late.”
“Oh, like your period?”
“Can you believe it? And with Fisher not even one yet?” She wound the straw wrapper around her finger. “I’m gonna have to quit my job at the Cut ‘n Curl. There’s no way I can afford daycare for three kids, even if my mom started watching them more.”
I grimaced. “I take it this wasn’t planned?”
Misty slumped against the back of the booth. “That’s an understatement. I mean, Jake and I want more kids. But I thought we’d take a little bit of a break. I know it’ll all work out. My daddy always says God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.”
I reached out and put my hand over hers. Growing up, I hadn’t had a chance to make a lot of friends. My dad’s job never kept us in the same place long enough. Getting reacquainted with Misty over the past several weeks made me realize how nice it was to have a real girlfriend.
“I’m sure your dad’s right. It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “We’ll see.”
The waitress brought Misty’s refill and dropped off a red basket with a checkered paper liner. No plates. The smell of hot fried food settled around us. My stomach growled and recoiled at the same time. What I wouldn’t give for a spicy, chipotle shrimp roll right about now.
“Enough about me. I want to talk about you. Tell me you’re not still planning on moving back to Texas.”
I reached for a cheese stick. “I’ve worked too hard to let it go.”
Misty’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “But Robbie broke up with Caroline. You two are meant to be together. You’ll get married and make babies and be just as miserable as me and Jake. Come on, I’m counting on it.”
A sharp bark of laughter escaped my lips. “I don’t think so. I’ve got to at least try to make the restaurant work. I’ve always wanted to own my own place. This is my shot.”
“But what about you and Robbie?”
Good question. How did I feel about him? At one point he’d been my world. But now, with nine years of perspective, I’d chalked up the memories to a series of summers spent in the throes of teenage lust. Of course Robbie and I had fallen for each other. There hadn’t been another kid even close to our age within miles. He’d given me something to look forward to each year when my dad dumped me off with my grandparents. And in time we’d grown from friends to something more. But it never would have lasted once we got out of school and entered the real world. Our summers had been insulated by dirt roads and fields of corn. From what I could tell, Robbie wouldn’t be able to hack it in a real relationship.
Misty cleared her throat. “Do you have any feelings for him at all?”
“Did he tell you to corner me and ask me that?” My nails tapped on the laminate tabletop, click-clicking in time to the bluesy country tune the grizzled trio on the risers had started to play.
“Nah. He’d be pissed if he knew I was even askin’. But I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. You can’t tell me you don’t still get all the feels from him.”
“We’ve had a good time this summer”—I dipped another cheese stick in the jarred marinara—“but summer’s coming to an end.”
Misty shrugged. “Looked to me like you were pretty cozy at the lake.”
I shrugged. “It didn’t mean anything. We just got carried away. I’m blaming your margaritas for that.”
“Sure, blame the tequila. We shoulda named Junior after Jose Cuervo since he was probably more responsible for me getting knocked up than Jake. But still, good ol’ Jose can only push so far. You’ve got to take some responsibility for whatever happened that night.” She waggled her eyebrows at me.
“What am I going to do?” I sighed, a bleakness settling in my gut. “I’ll admit it, being around Robbie after all these years has stirred up some old feelings. And God, when did he get so freaking cut? He didn’t look like that back in high school.”
Watching him work on the house had been more than a little distracting. No telling the number of times I’d stopped what I was doing to appreciate the sight of him hauling something out the door, his muscles taut, shirt straining. A few times he’d even yanked his shirt off. I didn’t get much done those days, just followed him around the house holding some screws or handing him the right drill bit when he asked for it until we stopped fighting the attraction and fell into bed.
“Come on, food’s getting cold. Help yourself.” I gestured toward the basket and Misty picked up a greasy onion ring.
Misty smirked. She liked to be right. “You’ve got yourself in quite a pickle, that’s for sure. You know Robbie’s takin’ care of his dad. Works like a crazy man in order to pay for his daddy’s medical bills. Takes him into Kansas City every couple of months for all of his appointments.”
A commotion over by the bar drew my attention away from our conversation. An argument broke out between the bartender and an older man who sat slumped on a tall stool. The man raised his voice and lurched halfway across the bar. The bartender threw his hands in the air then set a short glass down in front of the guy. He sat back down and sipped the amber liquid.
Misty didn’t even glance over, just kept her gaze drilled in on mine. “So?”
“So what?” I shrugged. “What do you wa
nt me to do? Give up my restaurant? Stay here in Swallow Springs, start up a catering business, and make babies with Robbie?”
She took a long sip of her soft drink. “Hey girlfriend, I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said so far tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. I can’t just give up everything I’ve been working for. This restaurant is my chance to make something out of myself. I’m ready to settle down and pour my heart and soul into this business.”
“And what about your Mr. Right?” she asked.
“I don’t have time for that right now. But if I did, he’d be all the things that Robbie’s not.”
“Such as?” Her cool tone was starting to piss me off. How dare she assume she knew better than I did what would make me happy.
I ticked my fictional Mr. Right’s most important qualities off on my fingers. “He’ll be smart. Responsible. Dependable.” I struggled to come up with more adjectives to describe him.
“Sounds like a real keeper.”
“Chivalrous. Respectable.” I’d counted off on all five fingers of my right hand and I wiggled them at her.
“And who’s gonna get your panties all twisted into knots and keep you warm at night?”
“I’m not going to talk about that with you.” My fingers closed around the handle of my mug, and I gulped down a large sip. Maybe Misty wouldn’t make such a great girlfriend.
“I’m just saying, Jake isn’t any of those things you ticked off on your list.” She leaned toward me. “But that man sets my soul blazin’, just like if I was standing next to the sun.”
The guy at the bar stood up yelled at the bartender.
“I’m tellin’ you Jeff, I’m cuttin’ you off. Now let me call Rob and have him come pick you up.” The bartender reached for the phone.
“Misty, is that Sheriff Jordan?” I hadn’t seen Robbie’s dad since I’d been back in town. The frail, gray-haired man tipping off the stool at the bar bore very little resemblance to the man who used to make me tremble with just a glance.
She squinted in the direction of the bar. “Well, I’ll be damned. Sure is. Robbie will be pissed as hell. His dad’s not supposed to be drinkin’ on his medication.” She scooted out from the booth and before I could stop her, she walked over to the bar.
Misty leaned over to exchange a few words with the bartender. Then she put a hand on Sheriff Jordan’s shoulder. He’d slumped over the bar by then, all the fight apparently gone. She said a few words to him, then made her way back to our table.
“Is he okay?” I asked.
She reached for her purse and tossed a few bills down on the table. “He will be once we get him home.”
“Oh no.” I shook my head.
“Come on, Cassie. I can’t get him into the car or the house by myself. We can’t leave him here. He shouldn’t even be out of the house. He’s supposed to be on oxygen.”
Had I broken a mirror recently? When was my luck going to turn around? I took a final gulp of my beer and peeled my legs off the seat of the vinyl booth. They made a suction sound as they separated.
“Fine. What do we have to do?”
Fifteen minutes later, we had Sheriff Jordan sprawled out on the backseat of my SUV. Hoisting him into the car hadn’t been nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. Gone was the broad-shouldered, imposing law enforcement officer. He’d disappeared, leaving a shell of a man behind. Now he probably weighed all of a hundred pounds, and Misty and I easily manipulated him into the backseat where he promptly passed out.
“I’ll follow you back to his place and help you get him into the house.” Misty climbed into her four-door coupe with double car seats in the back.
I got behind the wheel and glanced into the backseat. He mumbled something in his sleep. Sounded like angel or something. Great, if he was talking to angels, did that mean the old man was going to die on my watch? Dense cloud coverage kept the moon and stars from peeking out. My high beams cut through the suffocating darkness as Sheriff Jordan and I hurtled toward home.
Every once in a while he muttered or stirred. I kept checking the rearview mirror but couldn’t make out anything in the pitch black. I thought about calling Robbie, but what would I say? Your dying dad is passed out drunk in the back of my car. Misty and I noticed him slumped over a barstool and decided to run him home. Come home when you can?
The Jordan house was dark when I turned into the drive. As the car got closer to the house, a big outdoor light turned on. I remembered sneaking out with Robbie as a teenager. We’d figured out exactly where to step to avoid the motion-sensing lamps turning on in the yard and driveway. The car came to a stop, then Misty pulled in behind me.
As we opened the back door, Sheriff Jordan squinted up at us. “Angel? Is that you?”
“What’s he talkin’ about?” Misty asked.
“I don’t know. He was mumbling off and on the whole way here. Should we check the front door to make sure it’s unlocked before we try to get him into the house?”
Misty rolled her eyes. “Who in the hell locks their doors around here? Come on, grab an arm.”
We tugged, pushed, and pulled, and eventually got him out of the car. As we shifted him to a semi-standing position his glassy, bloodshot eyes found mine. “Angel?”
I draped one of his arms over my shoulders and Misty ducked under the other. Together we stumbled toward the door like a couple of drunks in a three-legged race. Misty reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open. She flipped on the lights as we entered and Sheriff Jordan clutched at his eyes.
“Sorry, gotta be able to see where to put you.” Misty staggered toward the couch, dragging me with her. She sat down on the edge and let Sheriff Jordan roll onto the cushions.
He sat up and reached a frail hand toward my face. “I knew you’d come back to me, Angel.”
I pulled back. What was he talking about? Misty located the oxygen tank sitting next to a worn recliner. She wheeled it over and placed the tubing under his nose. He took a few deep inhales and sank back against the cushions. His gaze remained on my face, and I squirmed under his intense stare.
“Help me get his boots off,” Misty said, already yanking on one of his heavy cowboy boots.
I tugged his jeans up his leg and helped her free his foot from the tall, leather boot. Then we turned our attention to the other one.
“Just lay back and close your eyes.” Misty grabbed the granny square afghan draped over the back of the sofa and spread it over him.
Sheriff Jordan nestled under the blanket. “Angeline, you came back. I knew you would. I’ve been waiting for you for all these years.”
“Who’s Angeline?” Misty asked.
Mrs. Cahill’s words from earlier in the week ran through my head. I hadn’t wanted to believe that my mom had ever been involved with someone like Robbie’s dad, but based on his actions and the way he was looking at me now, there was no longer any doubt in my mind.
“Angeline was my mom. Sheriff Jordan, I’m Cassiopeia Belmont. Angeline is dead.” I removed his hand from my arm and placed it back under the afghan.
“Holy shit.” Misty’s hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened. “Sheriff Jordan and your mom? Did you know?”
I shook my head. “Not until Mrs. Cahill said something the other day. What are we going to do with him now? Do you think it’s okay to leave him like this?”
She looked around the room. “I’ve got to get home to my mom. She’ll be madder than a wet hen if I’m not there when the boys wake up in the morning. Junior’s been getting up in the middle of the night to go wee wee. Half the time he only makes it to the middle of the hallway. Can you stay for a bit? Make sure he doesn’t stroke out or anything?”
“Sure.” The only thing waiting for me back at home would be a dark, empty house. Maybe when Sheriff Jordan sobered up he could clarify a few things for me. I looked around the small front room. Empty cans covered the table next to the recliner. Dirty dishes piled up on the coffee table, and a
fine layer of dust coated most of the horizontal surfaces.
“I’m sorry our girls’ night got interrupted. Want to come over for dinner Saturday night? The boys won’t be back until late. We can pick up our conversation again then.”
“That sounds great.”
“Do me a favor?” Misty stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at me.
“Besides babysitting Robbie’s dad for the night?”
She smiled. “Just think about giving Swallow Springs another shot.”
“It’s too late, I’m—”
Misty put up a hand to silence my protest. “It’s not too late yet, Cassie. But it will be if you go through with this. Take it from me, your checklist ain’t worth the paper it’s written on if you don’t have someone to share that spark with. Why do you think I put up with Jake? True, he’s a bull in the sack, but beyond that, we belong together. You and Robbie have that between you. Just set with that for a while.”
My gaze traveled to the floor, and I shook my head.
“Unh unh. Fate’s brought you together twice now. Don’t fuck it up again or you might not get another chance.”
“Are you done?” I grabbed the front door and slowly closed it, nudging Misty out into the darkness of the moonless July night.
“God, you’re just as stubborn as he is.” She gave me a quick hug then darted out the door and to her car.
I listened for her engine to catch then shut the front door as she backed down the drive. The quietness engulfed me. The tick-tocking of a clock drew my attention to the mantel, and I crossed the room to take a closer look at a collection of pictures.
Framed photos of the Jordan family stared back at me. Sheriff and Mrs. Jordan on their wedding day – now I could see the faintest bulge of a baby bump under her white lacy dress. There were a couple of family photos of all four of them, the last one appeared to be taken right around the time of Jeffy’s accident. Robbie’s smile showed two giant front teeth. He must have been about nine or ten—before he spent several years in braces.
