Love at the Salted Caramel Cafe

by Angie Ellington

  *****

  Footsteps clambered down the hardwood floors of the hallway in a pitter-patter of enthusiasm. Eden rounded the corner into the kitchen with an old Cabbage Patch doll that had once belonged to Roxie snuggled in her arms. Sierra reminisced for a moment over an argument she'd had with Roxie over the doll as children. It had been at a yard sale when Amanda, the blonde haired Cabbage Patch Kid, had been discovered by Sierra.

  She had been around eight and Roxie around five. Roxie had blonde hair at the time, although it had later turned to the same dark blonde-caramel brown as Sierra's. She had wailed embarrassingly for the doll, insisting it looked like her and not Sierra. As usual, Sierra, had given in and handed her younger sibling the doll. She was glad now that it had remained in good condition since Roxie played with it for a week or so until she got a bike for her birthday. Roxie was always more inclined to play in the mud, while running through sprinklers irrigating their family's tobacco crops, than playing with dolls. Sierra had taken over the doll. She had slept with it next to her, and even talked to it. She felt as though Amanda the Cabbage Patch Kid was the sister she preferred to Roxie.

  “What is it, sweetie? Shouldn't you be getting ready for your bath and bedtime?” Sierra asked kindly as she put the final dish into the cabinet.

  “Milk. My night-night milk. Mama cwying. She said 'find Aunt Rie',” Eden said rubbing her fingers over the doll's eyes as if she were wiping away tears.

  Sierra felt a lump forming in her throat. “Sure, baby. Does Amanda need night-night milk?” Sierra asked noticing a little doll bottle on the counter.

  “Yes, pwease,” Eden said as her cheeks filled and a smile displayed her dimples of joy only a child can possess.

  After sitting with Eden and her doll for a few minutes, Sierra walked her down the hall and knocked on Roxie's door. Roxie opened it with reddened eyes and puffed lids. Her teal blue eyes usually sparkled like the Caribbean. Tonight, they were dull and showed signs of despair.

  Roxie shifted her face quickly downward to Eden and turned on the cheering squad of happiness. “Come on baby. Let's go get you in the tub. Time for Mr. Ducky, so let's leave Amanda on the bed, OK?”

  Eden did as told and bounced across the room to take her mother's hand. Sierra followed them.

  “I can give Eden her bath if you...you know, need some alone time,” Sierra said softly.

  “I've got it. Thanks. This isn't my first rodeo with feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. My child always comes first, though,” Roxie replied without looking back at Sierra.

  As Roxie turned off the water, and helped Eden inside, Sierra watched from the doorway. She was in awe of her sister's ability to shift gears from one emotion to the next so quickly. Inner strength was something both possessed when times were tough, but Roxie had far more obstacles than Sierra had encountered. Granted, many of Roxie's issues were by choices made at will, but still. Sierra watched Roxie splash water and play with the rubber duck as though she had just returned from a day at the beach rather than a day spent working, moving out belongings into her parents' home, and crying over the realization that she would have to explain why Eden's dad wouldn't be around anymore.

  Sierra pulled the door closed behind her and paused. Her own life was in chaos. If ever there were a time to lean on each other, this was it. She needed her sister, and it was abundantly clear that she was needed in return.

  Sierra breathed in deeply. She was not one to cry easily. She hadn't shed a tear when she ended her relationship with Miles, nor when she packed up her office without any job prospects. She had only shed tears in private when her mother had been diagnosed and battled cancer. Being the oldest child, she had always put on the brave face.

  Roxie had accused her of being cold and detached. Perhaps she were a bit detached, if she were honest. It's how she dealt with remaining focused on the tasks at hand. It's why she had likely never given anyone her whole heart; always keeping a safe distance.

  Standing on the other side of the door, listening to her sister exude false smiles to cover her pain, brought salt into Sierra's mouth and moistened lids around her eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Morning dew glistened atop blades of grass as a dense fog ascended from a fishing pond in front of the Blake family's modest ranch style brick home. Sierra sipped a rich dark brew coffee from a large mug as steam swarmed around the edges. She pulled the opening of a long beige cable-knit cardigan upon her bare shoulder, and secured her feet on the rail of the front porch, leaning back against the cushion covering a wooden patio chair. Her brown Ugg short boots warmed her feet. The chill of the crisp Autumn air wafted across her face, as she ran her finger around the rim of the coffee mug.

  I've missed this. Fall weather. Changing leaves. Watching them tither to the ground.

  Sierra surveyed the open view of the Virginia countryside she'd often taken for granted in the past. Rolling hills in the distance provided a wondrous backdrop for the rising sun. A family of deer scurried across the tree line of pines and into the woods behind them. She peered over at the cabin in the distance.

  Wes Carter had arrived late the night before. She had seen headlights as they had turned down the drive. Living next door to her would be a handsome stranger she'd felt both annoyed by and attracted to upon their first meeting. She raised her brows and propped her hand against her cheek, leaning over to rest her head upon it. She noticed a silver Tundra parked in the driveway next to the cabin. Rising from the chair, her cardigan slid below her shoulder once again, exposing her black tank and leggings. She leaned against a post and took a sip of coffee.

  Guess I'll be seeing you soon, Dr. Carter.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Richard appeared in the mudroom, groaning as he removed his soiled work boots. He began washing his hands in the sink as Sierra entered the kitchen and into his view.

  “Sierra. Help me get this wet shirt over my head. I slipped in a dang puddle while walking back to my truck. I was about to take some firewood over to the cabin for the tenant.”

  Sierra tugged at the damp shirt and aided her father in removing it, all the while turning up her nose as she stood behind him. She had helped her dad many times when she were younger with removing dampened shirts from working in the fields when they had a tobacco farm. There was no sweat quite like that from a hard day's work in a tobacco field. She could still smell the leaves from the plants as the memory floated through her mind.

  Richard meandered across the tiled floor of the kitchen as Sierra followed.

  “Do you want me to take the firewood over?” Sierra asked, hoping the answer would be no, as she didn't envision her next encounter with the handsome stranger who was now living only footsteps away to be with firewood in her arms.

  “No. I'm going to change into something dry and head over there. You could go on over for me and check the stove to make sure it works. Roxie failed to share that only one stove eye was working and that the oven wouldn't heat over 350. I had hoped that good-for-nothing live-in freeloader would have fixed it. That was his job, after all. He said he had his own handyman business doing home improvement and whatnot. Personally, I never heard of any real jobs he did and he certainly didn't fix anything at the cabin. Don't even get me started. I'm hoping she's done with him for the last time. He won't be welcome back on my property. That's for sure,” Richard fumed.

  “Get him to compile a list of what's not working and I'll be over in an hour. I need to fill our wood box first before your mother leaves me. She's been after me for two weeks to get the box filled before the first cold snap of the season hits and it's going to later in the week.”

  Sierra nodded. After taking a quick peek in the bathroom mirror, she decided to skip her makeup routine. She didn't want to look as though she cared what Wes Carter thought about her appearance, although she did brush through her hair and swept it into a freshly loosened ponytail, and added a clear shade of lip gloss. A gargle of mouthwash to mask the smell of coffee brea
th and she was on her way across the field.

  It was a cool and crisp morning with leaves aglow. A perfect firestorm of reds, oranges, bold yellows, and deep hues of almost purple. The wondrous beauty of the mountains in the distance exuded a masterpiece of art that many only viewed in magazines and art galleries. This was her own back yard. At least it had been. Going for walks along the picturesque waters and palm breezes of Tampa were tranquil and calming for certain, but Autumn in the Virginia mountains was invigorating and even mystical at times.

  She arrived at the steps to the cabin and a wave of prickles of warmth ran through her body. She paused, recharging her focus, and knocked on the door. After a minute, she reached to knock again, as the door opened against her folded hand in mid-air. Wes stood in the doorway, shirtless, and with dampened hair. Quickly lowering her arm, Sierra forced a half-smile, and looked away.

  “Hi,” she stammered. “I'm not sure if you remember me, but...”

  Wes interrupted with a widening grin. “Of course, I remember you. The cafe girl whom I had to coax into selling me coffee.”

  Sierra nudged her lip. “I wouldn't say 'coax'. More like asked nicely,” she replied feeling more confident.

  “Yes. Well, what can I do for you? I'm guessing you're one of the daughters of the Blake's since you were in the cafe yesterday and now at my doorstep at 9 am.”

  “I'm Sierra,” she asserted.

  “I thought that's what I heard as the door closed at the cafe Saturday. Nice to see you again, Sierra Blake. It is still Blake isn't it?” His brows raised with curiosity.

  “Yes, it's still Blake. Anyway, I'm here to...” she paused. “You know, I can wait if you need to go finish getting dressed, or come back later,” she said unnerved by his perfectly aligned abs and chest hair that lingered over his chiseled midsection.

  Miles would never have opened the door without a shirt on. His chest would've been covered in baby oil and a Caribbean tan if he did. He was always slippery to the touch. Another sign he wasn't the one.

  “Are you waiting for me to shut the door in your face over my lack of full attire?” Wes asked amused as he cracked a grin reminiscent of James Dean.

  Holy heck! Why am I fumbling my lips over my teeth like a teenager adjusting to new braces? What is wrong with me?

  Wes lowered his head and eased back up staring into her eyes in such a way that felt like he could see every inch of her soul.

  “No, of course not. I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but I can see that is a rather impossible task. You're quite unabashed about...well, you know,” Sierra said. Her cheeks filled into a rosy pink upon realizing she was waving her hand over his torso.

  “Perhaps I should throw this on to make you feel a bit more comfortable,” Wes smirked as he grabbed a flannel red and black cotton shirt off of a chair. He motioned for Sierra to come inside.

  “Come in, please. The wind is kind of howling this morning, isn't it?”

  Sierra stepped inside the cabin and tucked her hands into the pockets of her oversized cardigan. Wes stepped closer to her; shirt still partially unbuttoned. She swallowed hard and straightened her back. Wes closed the door behind her and slowly walked by her, breathing out as he neared her neck. He was enjoying watching her squirm.

  “Anyway, dad said for me to come by and check the stove and get a list of anything not working. He'll be over shortly to bring firewood for the wood box,” Sierra said, feeling relief at finally mustering a string of complete sentences without fidgeting. She walked over to the kitchenette and began twisting a knob on the stove to test the burners.

  A mostly buttoned-shirted-Wes leaned on the countertop on the other side. “There's one burner working, but really, that's all I need. I'm going to replace the wires underneath that runs to the other three later today, though.”

  Sierra shut off the knob and turned to face Wes. “We can do that for you, or deduct from your rent for fixing it. I'm sure that's what dad will say,” Sierra replied.

  “Nonsense. I like fixing things up when it's something I can fix, that is. My dad owns an appliance store and repair shop. I've never met a stove that either I couldn't fix or use parts from. I'm going to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom sink, also. It just needs a new washer, and tightening back up.”

  Sierra liked the idea of her parents having a tenant next door who would be a good neighbor to them, and a handyman to boot.

  “Don't let dad on to how Handy Andy you are or be forewarned; he'll be asking you to help him fix something on the tractor or mend a fence next.”

  They both chuckled. “If I didn't have so much work to do and were going to be here longer, I wouldn't mind. Although, I'm handy with more interior projects than farm equipment and such,” Wes added.

  “If you do think of anything, here's my cell. You can just shoot me a text. I'll let dad know. He doesn't buy into texting and modern technology. While I'm here, I'll be happy to relay issues or assist if I can. How long do you think you'll be in Mill Hollows?” Sierra inquired.

  Wes walked over to the refrigerator and took out two waters. Would you like one?” Sierra smiled and accepted.

  “I'm not sure exactly,” Wes began. “My contract with the Corps of Engineers is for three months. I'm collecting soil samples and running lab tests to determine if there's any coal ash from a spill down in North Carolina that may have migrated, as well, as other pollutants. The state wants to install a new water mill along the river and the county wants to turn an old flour mill into a historical landmark. Both require safety testing and regulations. Red tape type of stuff. Depending on how the process goes, I could leave earlier or have my contract extended. What about you? Your dad said you live in Tampa, is it?”

  “Yes. I'm a hotel manager. Well, I was. I'm taking some time off.” As Sierra contemplated what to share and keep to herself, a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Richard called out. “Hey Wes. Sierra. You two in there?”

  They replied for him to enter. Sierra moved toward the living room space as Wes greeted Richard.

  “I got you some firewood. You wanna help me load it in the box?” Richard asked in a husky voice.

  “I'm right behind you. I was getting acquainted with your lovely daughter. I was just asking how long she's in town for,” Wes said, looking back at Sierra.

  “I wish she'd move back up here. Florida has had her for a long time. That salty air and warm weather year 'round are hard to beat with that one. She's always been part fish. You know, swim team, skiing, and suntans.”

  Sierra and Wes exchanged a silent shrug as Sierra rolled her eyes and smiled.

  “I'm not sure, dad. I'm kind of summered out these days. The appeal changes when you live in a tropical city for several years. You start to miss the seasons. I know I'm loving the weather since my arrival. I usually make it home for Christmas and in the summer. I've made more trips home while mom was sick, but my only focus was on her during those visits. I finally feel like I can breathe and not be on a schedule. I'm not sure how long I'm staying, but I'm going to enjoy every moment while I am here.”

  “We're glad to have ya home for as long as we've got ya. Wes, too bad she's taken. She's a looker, ain't she?”

  Wes nodded and ran his hand through his light brown hair, as it glistened in the sun shining along the porch. He cleared his throat, and widened his cheeks, as a mortified Sierra did her best to inch past both of the men in her path to the yard.

  “Yes, sir. She is most certainly a beautiful woman. I'm sure someone in Florida is a lucky guy,” Wes said as he reached the yard behind Sierra and Richard.

  “I've got to get going. I'll see you later, dad. Wes....I'm sure I'll see you around,” she said flatly with a hastened glance of polite acknowledgment among the Halloween freak show that was happening at her expense.

  Typical dad. Usually mothers are known for matchmaking. Not in my family.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Roxie rushed into the cafe tying an apron around her waist
over her jeans. She darted into the restroom and tossed her purse-slash-everything tote onto the counter and began swiftly applying a coat of foundation over her blotched skin. Although most women of her twenty-six years of age could go sans makeup; late nights of tossing and turning while being kicked in the stomach, arms, and thighs by a three year old sleeping ninja didn't provide the necessary beauty sleep needed to hide darkened circles and puffiness.

  She dabbed a lip gloss wand over her lips and rubbed them into a popping sound. She had been late getting Eden to pre-school after a night of lying awake had led to snoozing the alarm for too long.

  After a shrug and a frown in the mirror of the lesser version of herself staring back and judging her, Roxie grabbed her bag and headed into the kitchen.

  “Sorry, Carlotta. I'm going to get it together soon. I promise. Well, I hope.”

  Carlotta rubbed Roxie's shoulder. “It's alright, Roxanne. You'll get through this. You're strong, like your mother.”

  Roxie smiled and began whisking eggs in a bowl.

  Sierra entered from the front door and greeted neighbors and family friends as they dined. Roxie watched from the kitchen as her sister exuded confidence and enthusiasm as she twirled from one table to the next. She wished she had that congenial spirit. People had always gravitated toward Sierra.

  Carlotta cleared her throat and nudged Roxie and raised her brow sternly.

  “I think the eggs are ready for the quiche pan, don't you?”

  Roxie looked down at the grip she still had on the whisk and removed it.

  “Yes, I'd say so. I love my sister, Carlotta. You know I do. It's just...sometimes I feel like she has the ocean at her feet and I have nothing but mud at mine. I mean, moving to Tampa only made that feeling become more...what's the word? See, she'd know the word I'm looking for.”