“So, what do you do when you aren’t out shooting photos?”
“Well, Michael and I have a lot of editing work. We have to keep up my website, send in submissions for freelance jobs. Stuff like that. Otherwise, we hang at the inn.”
“If you ever want to get together while you are here, I would love it. No pressure, but if you feel like some girl time, let me know.”
“I’d love that! You have my number. Just text me yours.” See. That’s easy. Exchanging numbers. Why didn’t I do that with Jack? Ugh.
“And, if you want, I attend a small group. You’d be welcome to come anytime if you have an open Thursday evening. It’s a gathering of young adults from my church.”
“I’m game. That sounds fun. I’ll let you know if a Thursday opens up.”
Mindy mentioning church gets me thinking about the people of Bwindi. Their faith dominated their lives in a way I haven’t experienced elsewhere. I’ve seen so many ways that people view God as I’ve traveled around the world. Some people don’t believe in a deity. Others have thousands. That idea exhausts me. Most of what I grew up around was plain old-fashioned Christianity. People were thoughtful, put others ahead of themselves, and practiced manners and courtesies.
These days my faith feels more personal. Give me a wide-open savannah in the middle of Africa with the sun setting low and orange. That could be my cathedral. Or a wide mountain pass with a torrential waterfall cutting deep into rock as my worship song. I experience God in nature. I believe He created it, and as an artist, I appreciate the way art reflects the goodness and skill of the artisan.
chapter ten
Jack
The coffee shop has officially been open for three weeks now. I’m starting to get into the rhythm of how things flow and working out the expected kinks that come after an opening. Bryce has been a godsend. My other part-time employees are also amazing. The week before we opened a woman named Betty came in inquiring about a position as a barista. While most of my employees are in their 20s, Betty is in her late 50s and has adopted the title “Mom of the Shop.”
I’m finishing up reviewing some invoices in the office when Betty walks in. She gives me a considerate smile that reminds me of my mom. “Hey, Jack. Just checking on you.”
“Thanks, Betty. How are things out front? I’ll be up there in a minute.”
“Going smoothly. I just did the rounds and chatted with a few college students as I picked up empties people left on their tables.”
“Thanks. You have such a way with the college kids.” I look up from my papers to see her smiling warmly.
“Well, since Ethan and Hannah left home, I feel a special connection to the kids here at MSU. I know what it’s like to be away from home and need someone who isn’t your roommate or your mom to bounce things off of.”
“Maybe we need to set up a counseling office for you in the side room.” I wink.
“You know it’s true. Bartenders, hairdressers, and baristas – we’re all amateur therapists. People tell us their woes and secrets. Hopefully we listen and help them along.” She smiles.
How did I ever get so blessed as to have that woman come to work part-time at my shop? I realize I need to go get a pulse on the main room. “Let’s head out and see where we’re needed.”
“Sounds good, Jack.”
The sound of frothing milk, the low hum of people conversing, and the coffeehouse music piping through the speakers fill the air. I walk through the front room greeting customers and taking stock of everything. Raw sugar packets are low. I head back to the storeroom to get more. I swear these college kids stock up on their dorm room supply from my condiment stand.
As I’m walking out front, I hear a voice that reminds me of Katrina’s. Now I know I’m losing it … hearing her voice in Montana. I set down the box of sugar packets, step past the counter and blink. Someone says something to me. At least I think they might be speaking. All I can do is stare. Then I vaguely hear Bryce say, “Jack? Are you okay, Jack?”
A slow smile crosses Katrina’s lips. I feel like I’m seeing a hologram. In her bubbly voice she says, “Well, well, Jack Anders. What brings you to Bozeman Montana?”
I step closer and before I can answer, Katrina has her arms wrapped around me in an eager hug that tells me I wasn’t the only one reminiscing about our connection. And she feels good. Really good. Like coming home and everything that’s right in the world.
Katrina steps back, her brown hair framing her recently tanned face. I realize I haven’t been speaking yet. Great first impression as always. “Hey, Katrina. … Well, actually, I grew up here. It’s good to see you. What brings you to Bozeman?”
She still takes my breath away. Katrina Bradshaw is standing here in my coffee shop. How likely is it that Katrina would be here of all places? Statistically, I’m sure the odds are slim. Yet, she’s standing in front of me, vibrant, stunning, and leaving me breathless like she did that first time I met her at the truck stop and every chance meeting since.
I’m trying not to let her see how huge an impact her presence is making on me. She’s been traveling all over the world. Her life is nomadic, and she likes it that way. She may even have a man, or men in her life. Maybe I’m just a good friend to her. I don’t want to be friends with Katrina Bradshaw. Seeing her here like this confirms to me that I have feelings for her.
“Michael and I actually arrived almost three weeks ago. I landed a contract to put together a coffee table book of photos of Montana wildlife, scenery, and lifestyle so I’m here for a while and then I’ll be making trips up here over the next few months to wrap up shoots and interviews. I’m using Bozeman as a sort of home base. Are you here in town long?”
My head is spinning. Michael? She has a man in her life? I’m guessing she hadn’t noticed the fact that I was restocking the sugar packets, so I hold off telling her I’m the owner of this shop. I can’t bring myself to tell her I named a shop after a kiss we shared in light of her having a boyfriend I never knew about. Instead I say, “I’ll be in town for a while too.”
She jots down her information on a scrap of paper from her purse. “Let’s get together while you’re here. Here’s my cell, and here’s the address of the inn where I’m staying. It’s the cutest place. All raw hewn wood and rustic.” Then she picks up two to-go cups. “I’ve gotta run. Michael’s waiting out in the car. It was great seeing you Jack. Really. Call me. I’d love to get together.” With that she heads outside, leaving me feeling winded.
Michael? Yes. Of course, there’s a Michael. She’s beautiful, full of life, creative, spontaneous. She lights up a room. How would she be single? She’s got a Michael. And I’ve got my dream of a coffee shop. Only right now that isn’t quite as fulfilling as it had been before she came through the door.
chapter eleven
Katrina
Michael and I are sitting on the wraparound porch of the inn doing work. I look over at him. “It’s been three days since I walked into the coffee shop downtown and bumped into Jack Anders. I gave him my number and told him where I am staying. He hasn’t texted or dropped by. I was foolish to think he wanted to pursue something.”
“His loss, Kat.” Michael keeps his eyes on his laptop, obviously not wanting to play junior therapist to my sad love life today.
“Ugh. You are no help.” I groan. “He was more than a little distant when he saw me. I really thought that day in Santa Monica meant something to both of us. Maybe he moved on. He might even be in a relationship now.” The idea of another woman kissing Jack makes me want to crawl up a tree.
“Who knows. Thing is, if he’s not calling, that’s a message in itself. I’m sorry, though. I know you’ve been really feeling something for him. He’s crazy not to call if you ask me.” This time Michael does look up with brotherly admiration in his eyes.
“Well, I know I’m crazy. I don’t have any claim on him. Obviously, he’s moved on. I need to as well.”
Thoughts about Jack ping through my brain as I go
back to editing photos on my laptop. Michael’s across the way on the chair by the little table updating the blog and getting other projects firmed up. We work pretty amicably together. I take him for granted sometimes, that’s for sure. My phone vibrates and I see an unknown number with an L.A. area code. I wonder who it could be.
Unknown: Hey, Katrina. It’s Seth Greene. I was thinking about you as I sit here on my deck overlooking Manhattan Beach. I got your number from the venue coordinator. I hope you don’t mind. Just wanted to let you know the photos you took of the band were amazing. That guy of yours is one lucky man. See you next time our paths cross.
Katrina: Hey, Seth. So glad they worked out. Thanks for letting me know.
Guy of mine. Yeah. There’s no guy of mine. And as kind and flattering as Seth is, he is still a man and even though things are obviously dead between me and Jack, I’m not picking up something with Seth. This is the perfect time to solidify the man-fast. No Jack. No Seth. I’m like a heat seeking missile, but instead of heat, it’s estrogen all the way. It’s nothing but girl time for this man-fasting woman.
Michael looks up from his work. “Who was that texting you?”
“Seth Greene. Thanked me for the photos.”
Michael gets this wicked little grin and waggles his eyes at me. I wad up my paper plate and toss it in his direction. “No, Michael. Just so you know I may as well be in a convent now, so stop already.”
“Okay, Sister Katrina. Good to know.” He mockingly makes the sign of the cross. I roll my eyes at him. He is such a baby brother. He could give lessons on how to annoy your older sister.
We settle back into our respective work. The atmosphere on this porch is something I could get used to. There aren’t many places like this in L.A. The beaches are always crowded with people. So are most parks, libraries, and everywhere else in that city. Here, there are miles of open space with mountains, trees, and open sky. There’s something easy about it that makes my heart slow a bit. Just like being home in Texas.
Thinking of Texas brings Mama and Daddy to mind. I click open my web browser and search flights to Austin from LAX. It’s high time I get back home for a little bit.
Things are far less complicated there than they are here in Montana since I ran into Jack. Why is he avoiding me? I don’t know how long he’s even here in town, but the least he could do while he’s here is to text or call. If he is seeing someone else, it would have been easy enough for him to say something. He could have said, “Great to see you, Katrina. I’m dating someone.”
Okay. He probably wouldn’t need to blurt it out abruptly. He did say “good to see you,” but maybe that was just his way of trying to be kind.
I look over at Michael. “What is the likelihood that Jack and I would happen to both be in Bozeman?”
“I mean, you and that guy. It’s been chance all along. First, he helps with your car in Ventura. Then he shows up at your cousin’s wedding. Now this. It’s almost too coincidental to believe.”
“I know! We should be lottery numbers or something. Someone would make a million on our odds.” Only now, we’re nothing.
Turns out Jack is a typical guy. He doesn’t seem to be the man I dreamed him up to be. Honestly, who could live up to that ideal? I don’t mean to be cynical, but I’ve had too many unfortunate relationships and dates gone south. Jack is proving to be one more of many. What seems amazing at first ends up being a huge disappointment in the end.
Maybe I will end up marrying Michael and saving rent after all. He’s right, he does make me smile. I could do worse. Or maybe I should just give Seth Greene a call when I get back to L.A. and take him up on brunch. Or better yet, maybe I need to buy some poster board and write “NO MEN” on it in bold neon marker. There’s a reason for that wisdom. Actually, there are many. One of them was named Thomas Johnston. Another is named Jack Anders.
chapter twelve
Jack
Betty, Findley and I are covering the shop today. Watching Betty work the counter and the tables is like having a little piece of Mom back.
“Betty, you remind me a bit of my mom.”
“I met your mom years ago. She was a sweet woman, very caring, from what I remember.”
“Yes. She was a soft place anyone could land.” I let out a slow breath. The feelings of loss are still right at the surface for me.
“I’m sure you miss her more than you can say.”
“I do. I wish Mom and Dad could be here to see Ferris Wheel Coffee. They would be so proud.” I sigh and feel that tight place in my chest. “It might sound weird, but I feel like I live around an empty hole that reminds me they aren’t here and never will be.”
“I read something by Bonhoeffer on grief a number of years ago, and it stuck with me. He said something about not trying to fill the hole left when someone goes – we can’t fill it if we try. The size of the whole just shows how big a place they had in our life and heart”
“That definitely fits. It’s true. Thanks, Betty.”
“Well, I’m glad I remind you of your mom.”
“You do. You’re never in a hurry. You listen to people – really listen. I watch you. You’re not intrusive, but somehow you make your way into people’s hearts and lives. I also noticed how quickly you pick up on people’s names. That kind of touch matters. I am blessed to have you here.”
“You just made my day.”
Betty heads over a table where two college girls have all their books, notebooks, and laptops spread out around themselves. I watch as she obviously asks all the right questions. They look like they’ve known her forever. I would have never imagined picking someone like Betty to work here, but I’m sure glad I did. After she finishes chatting with the young women, she helps me clean up and when everyone leaves, she heads out.
I stand here alone looking around. This place is real. I did it. Still, it feels a bit like a letdown not being able to tell Katrina as I had planned. Of all the surreal experiences, she came here. I had so many thoughts of how I would let her know about the risks I took based on her inspiration. When she finally shows up, I find out she’s dating another guy.
It’s not like I had a claim on her. I don’t think I could have told her how much she was coming to mean to me without freaking her out. The feelings I have for her surprise me. I’m sure they would have sent her running if I shared them. But none of that matters. There’s nothing to do but let her go now that I know she’s with Michael.
After locking up the shop, I get in my car and drive up to my rental as the sun is going down. I check the mail and listen to my messages. I’m not even hungry right now. The house feels empty. I think I’m getting old for the bachelor life. I thought it was just L.A., but now that I’m home I realize it’s more. I don’t want just any woman to come home to. I’m realizing I would have eventually wanted to share my life with Katrina, and now she’s taken.
I feel a bit like my world is crumbling apart. Caleb lives over in Yellowstone, Mom’s gone, and now Katrina’s out of my life. The grief of all these losses is creeping up inside me like a poisonous vine, choking out my ability to experience happiness.
* * *
I’m sitting at one of the corner tables taking a break during the late afternoon lull. My mind seems to wander back to one subject whenever I am not busy. I lean back in my chair and blow out a frustrated breath. Caleb said he should be off the last fire he was fighting either today or tomorrow. I’m taking a chance at reaching him.
“Caleb! You have no idea how glad I am you answered.”
“Jack, are you alright? We actually just rolled into the station a few hours ago. Everyone is cleaning up right now.”
I look up at the tiled ceiling, trying to sort my thoughts. “Yeah. I’m alright. No. I don’t know. Katrina came into the shop a few days ago.”
Caleb shouts, “You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s crazy! And awesome!”
“Yeah, but she was with a guy. Well, the guy was in the car. She hugged me and gave me her numb
ers and then ran out to this guy, Michael.”
“What the what? That’s not what I expected to hear you say.” He sighs. So I’m not crazy. He sees it too.
“Yeah. She’s up here for her photography business. But this relationship with Michael must have developed in the past month. That’s awfully quick to be bringing a guy on an extended trip with her to Montana.” I feel my blood boil as I say it, even though in my right mind I have no claim on Katrina.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I know. I just want you to help me get out of my head with this. I can’t make sense of it. And the worst part is I feel like she’s mine and Michael is an unbidden intruder. I’m confused. And jealous.” I clench my fist and release it. How did I let this woman root herself so deeply in my heart?
“That’s a toxic combo, bro. So you want my expert opinion, even though I can’t seem to approach the woman I love?” He laughs.
“Right. I really know how to pick my advisors, huh?” We both chuckle at that. “Honestly, Caleb, I just wanted to have you in this with me. You don’t have to solve it. I doubt there’s even a solution. I just needed to share my thoughts so I wouldn’t be so stirred up in my own head.” I realize telling him did lift a weight somehow.
“You know I’m here for you. I only wish I could be there. We could take a run, grab some pizza, hang out. I’ll be there when fires let up in the fall, and if we get a day free, I’ll come out. Okay?”
“That sounds just right.”
“Give this time. There are plenty of good women in Bozeman. Of course, I’ve got dibs on the best one. But, if Katrina’s not the one for you, you’ll meet someone in due time.”
“Maybe. Well, I’m going to go back to work. Thanks, Caleb. Be safe. Love you, bro.”
“Love you, Jack.”
I hang up with Caleb and pull out the piece of paper with Katrina’s number. I stare at it and wonder if I ought to just call her anyway. No. If she’s with another man, that’s the end of the line. I have to let go of Katrina Bradshaw no matter how quickly and deeply she has rooted herself in my heart.
Love's Second Chance Page 8
