The Last Chance Cafe

by Linda Lael Miller

  “You were married at city hall?” Chance asked, in idle surprise. He was still massaging her feet, and her skeleton was dissolving, joint by joint, bone by bone. “I would have pegged you for the whole-nine-yards kind of bride. Long white dress, big church, doves flying off into the sunset, all that.”

  Hallie was too worn down to hide the ghosts of the old dreams that must have shown in her eyes. “I wanted a big wedding,” she admitted. “Joel said it would be a foolish extravagance.”

  “A thrifty guy, huh?”

  “Cheap,” Hallie corrected, and they both laughed.

  “Drink your soup,” Chance instructed. He went to the nearest window to peer out, consulting the sky. “Bad weather’s rolling in for sure,” he said. “I’d better check the generator, make sure it’s ready to fire up.”

  Hallie nodded. “Need some help?”

  “Just stay here,” he answered.

  She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m scared,” she confided.

  “That just shows that you’re sensible,” Chance answered. And then he headed for the kitchen. A few moments later, she heard the door close behind him.

  Hallie stood, made her way to the study.

  Kiera and Kiley were piled in the same beanbag chair, sound asleep, while the TV babbled on. Hallie switched it off, covered her children with an afghan from the leather couch, and paused as she passed the computer. The screen saver showed a cowboy on a bucking bronco.

  While Chance was outside, the sky vanished behind a veil of grayish white, and the fat snowflakes caught at each other, as they fell, and joined at the edges.

  Presently, Chance brought in several armloads of firewood, while Hallie made busywork in the kitchen, rooting through the pantry for spices, flour, sugar and other tools of the trade she’d been forced to abandon, along with her restaurant, and a great many of her dreams. Maybe Simms and Baker were for real, and things would be all right. Soon, she’d probably be able to go back home.

  If, indeed, Phoenix was home. She wasn’t so sure anymore.

  “I like to see a woman cooking,” Chance teased, dropping the wood into the box next to the kitchen fireplace. “It’s old-fashioned.”

  She stopped, a bag of flour in the curve of one arm, sighed. “You need to hit the supermarket,” she lamented. “You don’t even have saffron.”

  He chuckled. “There hasn’t been much call for it,” he said. “My specialty is chili.”

  She laughed, and it felt good. Very good. “You’re a pretty good breakfast man, too,” she said. A silence ensued, not uncomfortable, but a bit on the awkward side. “Is the generator okay?” Hallie finally asked, to break the impasse.

  “Needs more gas,” he answered. “I’ll fill it after I put out extra feed for the horses.”

  Hallie tensed. Did that mean he was going to leave her and the girls alone, while he went to town to buy gasoline?

  He must have read her mind. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, spoke with quiet gruffness. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “There’s a tank out behind the barn.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  He smiled. “Might as well take care of it now,” he said, “while I can still find my way out there and back.” In less than a minute, he was gone again, and Hallie busied herself with her spur-of the moment culinary effort, a fancy version of chicken pot pie.

  Chance had been gone for less than twenty minutes when she heard a noise outside. The fine hairs on the back of Hallie’s neck stood up, even though she told herself there was nothing to worry about. It was only Chance, or maybe Jase was back. She went to the sink and peered out the window, but the glass was shrouded in vapor, and she couldn’t see.

  The dogs, quiet on the hearth all morning, began to bark.

  “Hush,” Hallie said, though she was profoundly grateful, in those moments, for any sort of company in that otherwise quiet house, canine or otherwise. Chance was nearby, but heavy snow muffled sound, even a girl from the desert knew that, and he might not have heard the car.

  Footsteps sounded on the porch, booted feet, stomping off snow, and a loud knock followed. Her breath congealed in her lungs, and she was sure she was drowning in her own fear, even as she told herself she was being silly and paranoid. The dogs, hackles rising, scratched at the back door with their paws, snarling like wolves now.

  “Chance!” a man’s voice yelled. “Let me in, will you? I’m freezing my ass off out here!”

  Hallie bit her lip. She could ignore the visitor until he went away, but he was probably a friend of Chance’s, having car trouble of some sort, and if she turned him away, he might actually die of exposure, it was so cold. The dogs were making a fuss, it was true, as though confronting an intruder, but they were territorial creatures by nature, likely to bark at anyone who approached.

  “Chance! Dammit, you’ve got to be in there—my luck just couldn’t be that bad.” The doorknob wriggled, but the lock was still engaged. “Shit.”

  Hallie tried to look through the keyhole, but all she could see was part of a blue down jacket. She watched as the jacket turned away, descended the porch steps, expanded into a whole man, with white hair and a battered leather bag in one hand. There was no sign of a vehicle and the snow was coming down so thick and fast, it had already filled in his footprints and the tracks of Chance’s truck tires.

  She struggled with the locks and wrenched open the door. “Wait!” she cried, as the cold buffeted the wind from her lungs.

  The man turned, smiled quizzically, and came toward her. It was Jessie’s friend, Hal Whitman, the veterinarian.

  The intelligent kindness in the doctor’s pale blue eyes reassured her. “Come in and get warm,” she said. “Chance is around somewhere. He went to put gas in the generator and check the livestock.”

  “Well,” Doc Whitman said, “I could sure use some coffee if you happen to have any handy.”

  Hallie closed the door behind the vet and helped him out of his coat. “Have a seat,” she said. “What brings you out in weather like this?”

  Doc Whitman bent to pat both dogs, who had relaxed now that they’d identified him to their satisfaction, and then went to stand near the kitchen fire, warming his hands. “I was on my way back to town from the Collier place—one of their cows got into some sweet feed and bloated right up—and I hit a patch of slick road and went straight into the ditch.”

  Hallie paused, coffeepot in hand. “Were you hurt?”

  “Just my pride,” he said, with another smile, and rocked on his heels a little as he turned his back to the blaze on the hearth. “Guess Jessie’s right. I ought to think about retiring. Or at least taking on an associate, so I don’t have to run from one end of the county to the other, at all hours and in every sort of weather. Thing is, I hate to let go of my practice even to a minor extent. Seems like the beginning of the end to me.”

  Hallie poured his coffee, offered sugar and cream, and was told that black would be fine. “Could be the beginning of the beginning,” she pointed out. “There must be things you’ve been wanting to do, if you could just find the time.”

  He seemed to be musing between sips. “Could be,” he allowed, after a long time. He didn’t ask Hallie what she was doing at Chance’s place, in the middle of a snowstorm, and she was grateful. She wasn’t inclined to make explanations.

  Hallie leaned back against the sink, her arms folded, too restless to sit. What was keeping Chance? He’d been gone—she glanced at the clock—twenty-seven minutes. Her imagination was kicking in, and all the scenarios that came to mind were straight out of action adventure movies.

  “Are you all right?” Whitman asked abruptly.

  Hallie dropped into a chair, covered her face with her hands and shook her head in an effort to clear away the gathering cobwebs. Before she could answer, the dogs started to bark again, eagerly this time, and then there were footsteps outside, and the door opened. Chance hurried in, shedding his hat and coat and flecks of snow as he came. Hallie’s gl
adness bordered on exultation.

  He smiled at her, then turned to the doctor. His expression was solemn. “I see you’re on foot,” he said. “What happened?”

  “Ran off the road, down toward Jessie’s,” Doc said, with a jabbing motion of one thumb. “I’m fine, as you can see. If you’ll just give my rig a tow with that truck of yours, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Have you noticed that there’s a blizzard brewing out there?” Chance asked.

  Hallie looked from one man to the other, waited.

  “I’d have to be a fool not to have noticed,” Doc replied. “I just walked a mile in that mess. Damn near froze my . . . ears off. Now, before you get too comfortable, let’s get out there and hook up that winch.”

  Chance rolled his eyes. “We’ll take care of your truck tomorrow. Tonight, we’re having a slumber party, right here.”

  “The hell we are,” Doc argued. “I’ve got sick animals at my clinic in town, and this is my poker night. I’m going home if I have to walk the rest of the way.”

  “You stubborn old coot,” Chance replied, disgruntled. “You ought to have better sense.”

  Doc glanced at Hallie, smiled, and then glowered at Chance again. “You know,” he said, “with all Jessie’s bragging, I never would have guessed you were so slow on the uptake. You’ve got a beautiful woman here. It’s perfect weather for a nice fire, a little music, even some dancing. Glass or two of good wine, maybe. And you want me hanging around?”

  Chance laughed. “Dammit, old man,” he answered, “of course I don’t, but that truck of yours isn’t going anywhere. I’d bet money you broke an axle.”

  Doc swore under his breath. “I haven’t missed a poker game in thirty years,” he said. “If I don’t show up, the boys down at the fire hall will think I’m dead for sure. Why, even if I called, they’d figure I was a kidnap victim, saying what I was told to say.”

  “Naw,” Chance replied. “They’ll want to see the body before they bring in a replacement. After all, they’ve made a fortune off you over the years.”

  Doc waggled a finger at Chance, but his eyes were bright with laughter. “That,” he said, “was a low blow.” He paused, and his expression was solemn. “I’ve got hospitalized animals to care for, Chance. They need me.”

  Chance looked out the window, grimaced and, with resignation, reached for the coat he’d just hung up. It was dripping melted snow onto the floor. He spoke to Hallie. “You’d better round up the kids and come along,” he said.

  Hallie nodded, and went to get her children. The roads were dangerous, but staying alone in that ranch house while Chance went all the way to town and back was not an option.

  Kiera and Kiley were delighted at the prospect of an outing.

  Although visibility was near zero, they reached Doc’s combination home and office at the edge of town without incident, dropping him off at his front door. After that, they stopped at the supermarket, where half the town had gathered to stock up on storm supplies. They practically collided with Katie and her daughters in the canned food aisle, and she beamed at Kiera and Kiley.

  “We’re having a combination pizza party and sleepover to celebrate the snow,” Katie said to the twins. “How about joining us?”

  Kiera and Kiley were instantly receptive to the idea, if jumping up and down and clapping their hands could be interpreted as an inclination to accept.

  Hallie’s gaze met Katie’s, over the childrens’ heads, and Hallie saw her friend’s concern. Jase had clearly told her at least some of what was going on.

  Katie took Hallie’s arm and hustled her a little distance away, while Chance kept an eye on the four kids.

  “Are you all right?” Katie whispered.

  Hallie nodded, though she wasn’t sure the answer was entirely honest. “I’m okay,” she said.

  “Let me take the girls,” Katie pressed. “Just for tonight.”

  Hallie figured this was one instance where her children would be safer if she let them go, and they obviously wanted to join the party. She put her own misgivings aside. “Okay,” she said. “I guess it would be all right.”

  Kiera and Kiley bid their mother hasty good-byes, when the time came, and left with Katie and her girls.

  “They’ll be okay,” Chance assured her, when she stood, a moment too long, watching them all drive away.

  The trip back to the ranch took twice as long as the one into town, and the road was more memory than reality, but Chance must have known that stretch well, because he navigated it without a hitch.

  The house was cold when they went inside, and the dogs welcomed them with yips of delight. Hallie thought how strange it was that, with all her problems, and all the dangers she faced, she felt so utterly safe with this man beside her. Surely it was a sweet illusion, this sense of having stepped out of the flow of time.

  He helped her out of her jacket before shedding his own coat, then went to the thermostat and cranked it up. By then, the snow was coming down so hard and so fast that Hallie doubted they’d have been able to see the barn from the back porch.

  In the living room, Chance built up the fire until it roared, then he dragged a small table and two chairs into the middle of the room. Hallie watched, bemused, as he plundered a cupboard under one of the windows. When he turned around, she saw that he was holding a battered board game.

  She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow. “You want to play Scrabble?” she asked. She realized she’d been hoping for another kind of game entirely, and was mildly scandalized at herself.

  Chance grinned, drew back one of the chairs, and gestured for her to sit. “Loser strips to the skin,” he said.

  Hallie had already decided to throw the game. Win or lose, live or die, she would have this night, with this man.

  15

  T he lights flickered as Chance led Hallie by the hand, up the stairs, along the hallway, into the bathroom, flickered again when he started water running in the shower. Warm steam billowed out into the otherwise chilly room, enveloping Hallie, as well as Chance, in what seemed like a magical mist. Within the shifting confines of that moist vapor, nothing existed except the two of them. The first kiss was a tender exploration, careful and slow. The second had them pulling at each other’s clothes, and at their own. The room went dark, and the house gave a great sigh, but the water kept running, the steam kept rising, and Chance and Hallie deepened their kiss, clinging to each other, finding their way into the shower.

  They began to bathe each other, in the darkness, and Hallie reveled in the sensations Chance’s hands created as he stroked her with lathered hands, weighing her breasts, making them slick, sliding his grasp down over her hips, her thighs. Then he was kneeling before her, parting her, claiming her.

  She stiffened with a shock of pleasure, cried out in welcoming protest, plunged her hands into his hair and held him close, and then closer still. Her body began to rock as the sweet tension mounted; she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and gave herself up to him with a sob of ecstatic surrender.

  He eased her down, until she too was kneeling, facing him, and then he kissed her again, feverishly, his hands kneading the soft flesh of her buttocks. The water, now tepid, poured down on them, an elemental baptism, a bonding of souls as well as bodies.

  Presently, Chance lifted Hallie, lowered her again, onto him, moving smoothly, deeply, inside her. She interlaced her fingers behind his neck and groaned, leaning back to let him lave her breasts with his tongue while he continued the slow, ancient rhythm that had her climbing the peak all over again, even though she was exhausted, utterly spent from the first round.

  The tempo increased until finally, their bodies locked together, they spasmed in unison for several moments, then lay curled together on the shower floor, still entwined, dazzled and struggling just to breathe. Hallie’s senses remained on red-alert and, quivering with the echoes of a satisfaction too keen to be endured for long, she looked inside herself—saw the full spectrum colors of her own soul: aqu
a and violet, blue and red, and a few she couldn’t name.

  The shower water cooled, then turned cold, and still they held each other, as if sharing the same skin, oblivious to everything but the physical and spiritual communion that had consumed them both, and melded them into some new creature.

  Chance rallied first; gasping, he strained to reach up, turn off the shower spigots. Then, gently, he disengaged himself from Hallie and groped his way out of the stall to snatch two large towels from the cabinet nearby. He wrapped Hallie in one, hooked the other around his waist.

  Hallie was still in shock, loose-limbed and only partially present, and Chance finally lifted her to her feet. She stumbled against him, and he lifted her into his arms, carried her to his bed, dried her with brisk, tender motions, pulled one of his sweatshirts over her head, covered her with the blankets.

  He was beside her before she could manage a protest that he must not, must not, leave her, taking her into his arms, warming her body with his own. He kissed her forehead, gave a low, raw sounding chuckle.

  “My God,” he breathed, “what was that? I feel like I’ve been dropped from an airplane and then hit by a freight train.”

  She snuggled closer, smiled a little. “That,” she answered, “was the best sex anybody, any where has ever had. Is it always like that with you?”

  He expelled a sharp, amused breath. “Hell, I was going to ask you the same question,” he said.

  She ran a hand down over his chest, to his belly, and beyond. She caressed him, and he began to get hard again. “I’d put it in the firestorm category,” she said.

  Chance groaned. “Hallie, show a little mercy, will you?”

  But Hallie was not inclined toward mercy, not then, at that moment, or there, in that place. She slipped under the covers.