by F. G. Adams
Last month, we ran to Rescue, Virginia, our new home at the moment, and have been settling in, unpacking the few things we managed to grab before running from Aberdeen.
The cross-country move was meant to weaken his trail. We spent an entire month traveling and sightseeing before Grandma called with a new address. That’s how we ended up here in Nowheresville, USA, according to Harper. But I relish the homey feeling.
This quaint little town reminds me of Lakeview. The intersection of two county roads crisscross in the middle of town directly in front of the courthouse. Scattered shops litter both sides with brick sidewalks and streetlights. Ray’s Diner, the gathering place in Rescue, sits smack dab in the middle of everything.
Harper woke this morning craving waffles, and the pantry that had been stocked full when we moved in was barren and in need of replenishing. A trip to the grocery store is on the to-do list for today as well. We need food. And after little to no sleep for me, we decided to give Ray’s a try. We only live a few blocks away, and the crisp morning walk lifts the foggy sleep quickly from my tired mind.
We've only walked the first block, and I'm running out of breath, a combination of the cold air and Harper. It's hard to keep up with her long strides; for every one she takes, it’s double time for me.
She didn't inherit her height from me—I need a stepping stool to reach the top cabinet—or her long raven hair or translucent aquamarine eyes, for that fact. Underneath my camouflaged look are hazel eyes and blond hair. The only thing she got from me is my temperament. Poor girl.
This time around, I'm sporting copper hair and blue contacts. Harper is trying the I-hate-the-world-gothic-teenager look. She looks so much older than her fifteen years. The years of running have aged her, covering the innocent beauty hidden deep within. I can't even remember how many times we've changed our outer appearance to hide who we really are. I'm not even sure we know who we truly are anymore.
Blend. With every move, we have learned blending with the locals is important. The more we blend, the longer we can stay put. The longer we can stay, the bigger chance Harper gets at being a normal teenager. Being home-schooled is all Harper knows. She hasn’t experienced going to a community school. Roman could find us. Bless her heart. She accepts the differences and doesn’t expect more.
The hardest part of all this has been the lack of ties. We have no family. No friends. Just the two of us.
Folks glance up as we follow the waitress to a spot near the back of the diner. We slide into the booth and reach for the plastic menus.
“What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Coffee for me,” I reply without glancing up from the menu.
“Soda, please,” Harper quickly answers.
“I’ll get these for you, while you look over the menu. If you have any questions, let me know, but I suggest ya get the waffles. They’re the best ‘round, and you can’t go wrong with the homemade blueberry syrup. Ray’s secret recipe.”
The teenager winks. Her long, wavy hair is pulled into a ponytail. She’s wearing a white oxford shirt with a red name tag that reads ‘Susie’ and doesn’t look old enough to be working. The navy-blue poodle skirt completes the 1950’s flashback uniform.
Ray’s Diner smells like home; eggs, bacon, and grits. Eating at Tropical Palm flitters to the forefront of this crazy race down memory lane. Crazy because of the pain remembering brings, an ache lingering for days. Friday morning breakfast at the Palm with Jo, Sage, and Grandma. I miss them so much sometimes. Grayson is older than Harper by a few years. I’ve missed so much of his life. I have a sister I’ve never met. Adalyn.
I wish things were different. I wish for the opportunity to introduce Harper to her family. The family I know would love her, but harboring thoughts like that are for the foolish.
As I look around, I notice all the stares. We are strangers in this quaint little town of Rescue. Curiosity will soon get the best of them.
Sure enough, it doesn’t take long before the first question we always seem to get is asked. Susie returns with our drink order and places them in front of us.
“Ready to order?” the young waitress asks while fiddling with her pad and pen.
“I am. Not sure about Mom.”
“Go ahead, Harper.”
“I want the waffles with blueberry syrup and a side of cheese grits and bacon,” Harper orders. “And extra cheese on the grits, please.”
“Alrighty O, and you, Miss?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Good choice, ladies. I’ll get this order in and have it right out to y’all in a jiffy,” Susie replies while writing the order down. “Don’t mean to be prying into your business, but you’re not from around these parts, are you? I don’t remember seeing you before. I’m Susie,” she says pointing at her name tag.
“I’m Harper and this is my mom, Fallyn Montana.”
Harper smiles at me as I answer, “We moved here a month or so ago, and we’re just finally settling in.”
“Wowzers. Why Rescue? We don’t get many visitors, let alone folks wanting to move here.”
Nonchalantly, I shrug my shoulders.
“Just wanted a different pace of life.”
“Yeah. Well, um, Rescue is way different from any place you could possibly imagine. Around here, we tend to do everything at a turtle’s pace. The hare doesn’t go zoom-zoom varoom-varoom. More like chip-chip, dip-dip, you know?”
Her animated body straddles a pretend bike, then she leans back her arms and crosses behind her head as she sways, simulating lying in a hammock, eating chips and dip.
We giggle at her awkward gestures. This girl’s a hoot.
“You should come to the Fall Festival. The whole town will be out on Saturday night for the dance and carnival. I could show you around. Introduce you to my friends, Harper.”
Susie pops a pink wad of bubble gum, sucking the glob back into her mouth.
Deep down inside, I know she’s trying to be nice including Harper, but I’m not sure we should ‘get to know’ everyone so soon. The last time Roman caught up with us, he almost had us in his nasty little clutches. We made it out only because of years of practice. Before I can say we’ll try, Harper answers.
“I’ve never been to a carnival before.”
“What rock did you crawl out from under, girlfriend? You’ve missed one of the best rides of your life. If you haven’t done the up-chuck dance after riding the Tilt-A-Whirl, you ain’t lived.” Susie laughs. “I swear I’m not gonna ride the dang contraption, but I stand in line every year. There’s other rides, too. But none compare. We could have a lot of fun hanging out.”
“Can I go, Mom? Please,” Harper begs.
“Well…”
“Everybody that’s anybody from around these parts will be there. It’s the kick-off to the holiday season. You’ve gotta come, Ms. Montana.”
“I…”
“Don’t ya just love this time of year? My entire family will be there. Dad closes the diner early, so we can all go.”
“Mom, please don’t say no. I really wanna go. Bad.”
“We can try, sweetie. You know I’m still unpacking and trying to get my office set up. I’m behind schedule for work, so we’ll just have to see, okay?”
Harper glares at me for a minute, and then the light of hope glimmering in her eyes fades away. She wants so badly to be normal. Damn Roman. I want to give in and let her go have fun, do the things teenagers do. The constant fear of him finding us doesn’t often allow for the folly.
On the other hand, why the hell not? Fury settles in the pit of my stomach. I focus on the prison walls erected around us. The ones I've built trying to protect us but failed miserably. Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean he can’t be. I’ll just have to remain vigilant. I’m so tired of running.
“You can run, but you can’t hide, Fallyn. I’ll always find you,” Roman’s demonic voice whispers the haunted promise.
I blow out the pent-up air in my lungs.
“What time should we meet, Susie?”
Harper whips her head up, and a pretty smile has replaced the ugly frown from seconds earlier. My heart slams into my throat at the happiness radiating from her. Even with all the inky makeup coated on her face, my little Harper is stunning. I pity the fool she sets her sights on.
“How ‘bout dark thirty, Ms. Montana?”
I startle.
“I haven’t heard anyone use that phrase in years, Susie.”
My grandma always told us to be inside the house that way when she watched us.
“We just try to keep it simple.”
She shrugs and hands Harper a piece of paper.
“That’s my cell number.”
I raise my eyebrow, questioning.
“C’mon, Ms. M. Our pace might be slow as a turtle, but heck, we all like easy. Plus, Dad’s gotta be able to call me at the drop of a dime to come help with the diner.”
I nod, and the corners of my lips slightly lift.
“Gotcha. Technology with a twang.”
A bell dings and a man loudly says, “Order up!”
Susie twirls around.
“Gotta get that. I’ll be back to check on y’all in a little bit.”
“Are we really going, Mom? It’s okay if we don’t.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, young lady. We are going, and we are going to enjoy ourselves. We need a little fun now and then. Don’t ya think?”
Harper’s grinning again. One day at a time, I tell myself. We’ve got this.
We are starting our meal when the front door of the diner opens and the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on walks in. This man is sex personified in a spicy-cowboy kind of way. Holy shit.
I haven’t felt drawn to someone like this in, well, never.
Warning bells go off somewhere in my jumbled mind. Danger, Fallyn, danger.
His eyes are roaming the diner when they collide with mine. I gasp from the tremor assaulting my senses. His gaze locks on me. Oh, shit! I’m stunned by what radiates from him in that moment. Movement is futile. Am I caught?
5
Oliver
The days you are most uncomfortable are the days you learn the most about yourself. I’m stronger because I had to be. I’m smarter because of my mistakes. Happier because of the sadness I’ve known. And now wiser because I’ve learned.
A flitter of panic and insecurity crosses over the sweet young face sitting in the booth, matching my stare.
Security mode kicks in as fierce protection washes through my veins. For an instant, I can’t move. Dumbstruck by the pleading in young Harper’s eyes.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t want to scare her right out of the gate. Fallyn will never trust me if I do.
Attempting to smile, I’m interrupted by a very youthful, squeaky voice.
“Excuse me. Dear God in the morning. Hi, there, sir.”
The sound comes from beside me, and I turn to acknowledge it.
I angle my head down and come eye to eye with ‘Susie’, according to her name tag. A playful smirk is fixed upon her face, with her elevated chin pointing up in my direction. One that can’t be more than sixteen. The teenage girl tilts her head to the side, wrinkles her nose, and I recognize the signals. She’s aware of the pretty face.
“Mornin’, young lady. Breakfast?” I ask, short and to the point.
Her jaw drops open, and I want to lean over and close it for her, but she quickly composes herself.
“If ya wanna eat, you can sit down. Right over yonder,” she acknowledges and points to the table close to the door.
Her brown hair is pulled back tightly on her head, the long ponytail swaying back and forth as she walks around to the front to grab a menu.
“Thanks,” I offer as she hands me the plastic page. “I’ll take some coffee, black.”
I move over to the table, take my jacket off, and settle in.
The greasy spoon reminds me of the Tropical Palm, an old relic of a restaurant in Lakeview. Keagan introduced me to the place. He says it’s been there since the beginning of time. When we’re home, we enjoy breakfast there a couple of times a week.
“Here ya go, sir. Black. Just like ya asked.”
Susie sets down my coffee on the table without spilling a drop. The exotic, earthy aroma fills my nostrils, firing off neurons and electrons in my tired brain. She appears very pleased with herself.
“I suggest ya get the waffles. You can’t go wrong with the homemade blueberry syrup. Ray’s secret recipe. The best you’ll ever eat. And with a side of bacon, of course,” she finishes with her suggestions while bouncing up and down on her toes.
“Hmmm. That does sound pretty good. Double the whole order, and I’ll take it.”
I wink at the bubbly waitress and chuckle as I pat my stomach.
“I’m a growin’ boy.”
The blush Susie wears is priceless. Hey, I like to make folks feel good. Especially the ladies. It’s also how I interrogate without making people nervous. Nine times out of ten, they don’t know what’s happening.
I’ve always possessed a keen sense of reading people. Along with the talent to constitute a feeling of comfort and ease in most. In turn, a person will spill the beans about anything and everything. Every. Single. Time. Some might call it a gift. Not sure, but it sure as shit comes in handy. Right now, I’m unsure if Susie can supply intel, so I’ll keep the conversation open.
“Great. I’ll be back in a bit,” Susie stammers as she hurries off to the kitchen, a flush staining her cheeks pink.
From where I’m seated, my vantage point of Fallyn and Harper is ideal. The ghost vixen is sitting right in front of me, eating waffles and talking as if all’s right in their little part of the world. Not hardly.
Kudos to Fallyn, though. She’s a tough cookie. The fact she’s been on the run for so long and kept them both safe is a testament to her strength. Well, it’s downright amazing in my book.
It must be a Blackwood trait, or a Matilda Rice attribute. Jo was very resourceful a while back when we first found out about the Cabricci family. She was taken captive by one of the Cabricci thugs, Desmond Payne, and lived to tell. These women are remarkable.
The reason why Fallyn reminds me of a sly, dominant female fox is she’s dainty, yet ferocious when provoked.
I glance up as Fallyn brushes a lock of copper-colored hair off her shoulder. It seems she’s living under the bottle these days. Don’t care much for the current color. The blue contacts add to her disguise. If I hadn’t studied that photo, I’m not sure I would have recognized her. The younger Fallyn was a knockout. The older version of Fallyn Blackwood is breathtaking.
Harper, on the other hand, sits a good half a foot taller than her mom. She conveys the same demeanor and facial features. Leaving no doubt this is a mother-and-daughter pair. The differences are Harper’s long dark hair and sea-blue eyes. No doubt the unwanted gift from a madman, Roman Cabricci. My pondering is cut short by the whimsical waitress.
“Double waffles with a double side of bacon,” Susie comments jovially as she places the food and a jar of the homemade blueberry syrup on the table.
“What a spread. This looks great, Susie.” I use her name to add more comfort to the conversation. “The bacon’s delicious,” I interject, already digging in while popping another piece into my mouth.
“I guess you were pretty hungry, stranger,” Susie chimes in, giggling. “So, where are ya from?”
“Oliver,” I add during bites. “That’s my name. But most people call me Ollie.”
“Nice to meet ya, Ollie. You already know mine.”
Susie smiles, reminding me again she’s just a kid.
“Yes and no. Yes, I know your name, and nope, I’m not from around here. Arkansas. The Ozark Mountains.”
I point up to my lucky hat, like that explains everything.
“Never been west. This here’s my daddy’s place. His name is Ray. We don’t get out of town much, because he’s a
lways here. So am I.”
“Nice place,” I mumble through a mouthful of waffles.
I shove another crispy piece of bacon into my mouth, which ratchets the deliciousness up to a whole other level.
“You were right, little lady, these are delicious,” I say and shovel more food.
Susie laughs.
“You sure can put that away, huh? I’ll let you eat, Ollie. If ya need anything, just yell.”
She walks away before I can stop her.
In between bites, my eyes shift to where Fallyn and Harper are sitting. From the looks of it, Harper is almost finished and Fallyn is picking at what’s left on her plate. Fallyn peeks over and notices me watching her. I could swear she’s checking me out, judging by the parting of her lips. Whipping her head back toward Harper, she nonchalantly attempts to sip from her coffee mug.
The gasping and choking that comes next has me pushing up and out of my seat. Harper is already patting her on the back, no doubt trying to help her mom. Which doesn’t help much when choking. Susie sidles up next to her to give assistance as Fallyn coughs and gasps again. She appears to calm down a little as she mumbles a few nonsensical words.
“Ma’am?” I question but get no response.
I squat down until my eyes are in line with her counterfeit blues. I lean in.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Fallyn stares open-mouthed at me. Her demeanor goes from confused to captivated, and…disgusted? All in a matter of seconds.
A small hand slightly pushes my shoulder. I stand up and move. Harper advances her position to stand between me and her mom. A sentry station. Smart girl.
“She’s fine. Thank you, sir,” a confident Harper states then turns away and continues talking to Susie.
Going back to my table, I pull out my wallet and put a couple of twenties down. Thank you, Susie. With my jacket back on, I walk out the front door. This was not how the first meeting was supposed to go. Fuck a duck.
