by Zoe York
“I’ve got to hand it to you, this looks a lot better than I thought it would.” Robbie stepped back, admiring our efforts.
Since the team wasn’t busy bagging groceries, they’d hauled cases of beans from the storage room to make sure I had enough. Not only had I spelled out “Will You Marry Me?” I also had enough to enclose the question in a heart. The store manager had given up on trying to corral my creative energy an hour ago. Although, he perked up when Robbie mentioned he might be able to submit pictures of my creation to some book of world records and claim the store hosted the largest canned goods proposal. That must have made his day because he brought over some flowering potted plants from the floral section to add to my display.
“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?” I smiled so big it felt like my face might split right in two.
“She’ll be surprised, that’s for sure.” Robbie stepped aside as a family in church-going clothes grabbed a shopping cart and entered the store. “Where do you go from here?”
“I’ve tried calling her a few times, but she hasn’t picked up. I was wondering—”
“That’s not a good sign.”
“Hear me out, okay?”
He nodded.
“I think it would be best if you go get Misty and bring her over. Just tell her I have a surprise for her.”
Robbie’s mouth turned down in a slight frown. “Wouldn’t it be better if you went and got her?”
“I want her to be surprised when she walks in. I’ll be standing here, right by the watermelons. Then I’ll bend down on one knee…” I slowly lowered to a knee in front of Rob.
“Fine. I’ll do it. You don’t have to play out the whole scene.” He took his keys out of his pocket. “Give me twenty minutes. But in the meantime, go make sure those kids are working their asses off. We need to make a ton in tips today if we want to get them to that tournament.”
“Will do.” We parted ways—me to go get the team to turn on the charm. And Robbie to go get Misty so I could find out if she was ready to follow through on what she’d drunkenly divulged last night. I’d figured we’d start slow, get to know each other again. But when she let it slip that she wanted to make babies and get married…it made me realize that we were already on the same page.
As the minutes passed with no sign of Robbie and Misty, I started to worry. Finally, forty three minutes after he left, Robbie’s truck pulled into the parking lot. Go time. I dropped to one knee, pasted a giant grin on my face, and held the ring box out in front of me.
Robbie came in. By himself.
I craned my neck, trying to catch sight of Misty behind him.
She wasn’t there.
The look on Robbie’s face said it all. My initial instincts had been right. She didn’t really mean forever.
“I’m sorry.” Robbie thrust his hand in front of me. “Get up, man.”
I let him help me to my feet. Business had picked up since he’d been gone so shoppers swirled around us. “Where’s Misty?”
He adjusted the baseball cap then looked at his shoes.
“Rob?”
His gaze met mine for a millisecond before he looked away. “Her parents said she went back to Omaha.”
I swallowed hard. I’d been played. She had no intention of settling down with me. Sure, she talked about it, but that’s all it was. Knowing Misty, she’d probably been feeling a little homesick and decided to come slumming back at her original stomping grounds.
“Why don’t you go on home? The guys and I can clean this up,” Robbie offered.
The store shrank around me, closing in on me, making me hyper aware of every little noise. A cart with a squeaky wheel went by. Familiar faces passed. In a town the size of Swallow Springs, it was almost impossible to come across a stranger. Which meant everyone who’d been through the Piggy Wiggly in the past hour or so knew I intended to propose to Misty Greene this afternoon.
Which would be impossible.
Because she was gone.
My body went numb. I couldn’t feel a thing. Robbie said something—I could tell because his mouth moved—but I couldn’t focus on what he said. Everything moved in slow motion. I needed to shake myself out of whatever was happening to me. I closed my eyes, made a fist, and punched.
And then all hell broke loose.
Misty
I grinned as I cracked open the door to my apartment. A stale smell drifted out of the doorway. It was the smell of emptiness. My apartment had sat untouched since the day I left. I used to think it was a bright location, full of natural sunlight with a great view overlooking one of the downtown area parks. But after being back in Swallow Springs, I recognized it for what it was—a lonely, desolate hideout.
It was time to let it go. Being around Jake had cemented my goals and clarified my future. My future was with him whether that was in Swallow Springs or not. If he moved to Ireland to shear sheep or Italy to stomp grapes, or even to the moon to harvest cheese—I was going with him. I could replace my apartment, my things, and even my job. But what I couldn’t replace was the rare connection between us.
Eager to surprise him by getting back as quickly as possible, I began to throw things into suitcases. It would take multiple trips to haul everything home, but I needed to get started. I had to show Jake that I meant what I’d said and that I wanted to come back for good. For him. For me. For us.
I sorted through the mail that had piled up in my absence, making a mental checklist of everything I’d need to do over the next couple of weeks. Break lease. Quit job. Shut off utilities.
Expecting a wave of panic to bowl me over at the idea of giving up everything I’d worked so hard to attain, I was surprised by the serenity. That meant I was secure and sure of my decision. Now that I’d proven to myself I could make it on my own, I knew I could make it anywhere—from Omaha to Swallow Springs, or anywhere in between.
As I shuffled through the mail, separating the mass majority of junk from the few bills, my cell pinged. I reached for it, noticing a text from Robbie.
I clicked the link, expecting some inappropriate meme or GIF. Instead, the link took me to a social media site. A video began to play. Jake was being led out of the Piggly Wiggly in handcuffs. My mouth dropped open. What was this about? Didn’t matter. I needed to know what was going on.
Robbie answered before the phone even rang. “Figured I’d hear from you soon.”
“What’s going on? Why is Jake being arrested?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“Can you make it a short one?”
“He got mad when he heard you’d left town and took out his aggression on a cookout display at the grocery store. It’s a mess. They had to shut the whole place down.”
My heart jackhammered against the walls of my chest. “How did he know I left?”
“He’s been trying to call you all afternoon. When you didn’t answer, he asked me to stop by your parents’ place. They told me you left town.”
“But I didn’t leave town.” I’d planned on calling Jake later, after the fundraiser ended, to fill him in on my plans. I figured he’d be too busy this afternoon to even notice I’d left.
“So you’re not in Omaha?” Robbie asked.
“Well, yes. But not because I came back for good. I had to check my mail and pack up my things so I can move back to Swallow Springs.”
Robbie’s groan filled my ear. “Sure wish you’d told Jake that. He wouldn’t have gotten himself in so much trouble.”
“Where are they taking him?” I needed to fix this. It was my fault he’d ended up in such a mess.
“Not far. They’ll probably just book him then let him go. It’s not like he’s a flight risk.”
That was true. Jake had barely been out of Swallow Springs. He wasn’t likely to leave town, much less make a break for it. “This is all my fault.”
“Yeah, but ultimately he’s the one who took out a pyramid of soda pop. You should have seen the way those two-liters started spraying when
they slammed to the ground. It was like the fireworks came early.”
Only Robbie would look for the humor in the situation so soon. “I’m coming back.”
“Good. Maybe that’ll cheer him up. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets kicked off the coaching staff. The manager shut down the fundraiser so we didn’t get to earn out the rest of the funds we need.”
I tried to massage the twinge of pain pinching at my temples in an attempt to hold a monster headache at bay. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll figure something out on the way, okay?”
He sighed. “I sure hope so.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
We disconnected. I let my hand fall to my side, my phone dangling from my fingers. Somehow I had to make this right. I tossed enough clean clothes in my bag to last a few days and less than an hour after I’d returned home, I was on my way out again. Back to Swallow Springs. Back to save the man I loved. Back to salvage our future.
Jake
“Aw, hell, Dewey. Can’t you just put an ankle thing on me and let me go?” I wrapped my hands around the metal bars of the only jail cell in Swallow Springs.
“Seeing as how it’s Sunday, we won’t be able to get you in front of the judge until tomorrow.” Dewey plopped his dirt-caked boots on the edge of the desk and flipped open an issue of some hunting magazine.
“Judge Thomas is my mom’s uncle’s stepson’s dad. We’re practically blood relatives. I’m sure he’d be fine with you letting me go overnight.”
Dewey popped a handful of sunflower seeds in his mouth and tried to talk around them. “Can’t go showing you any kind of special treatment, now.”
Groaning, I paced the cell. I’d royally screwed myself over this time. Not only had I lost Misty, but I’d managed to shut down the Piggly Wiggly, guarantee the team wouldn’t be headed to the tournament next month, and piss off my best friend all in the space of one sunny Sunday afternoon.
“Fine. Do I get my phone call though?”
“Nobody said anything about a phone call.” Dewey didn’t look up from his magazine.
“Everyone knows you get a phone call. It’s in the movies. And on all those cop shows, too. I should get to call my lawyer.”
“Do you have a lawyer?” He paused flipping pages and peered at me through the bars.
“Not yet. But sounds like I need one before tomorrow.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m gonna have to talk to the sheriff.”
“You really want to bother him at home? He’s probably in the middle of Sunday supper. Just hand me the phone and let me make my call.”
Dewey’s forehead crunched up like he was mulling over all of his options. I don’t know how he’d ever secured a job as a sheriff’s deputy. Back in high school he’d been the worst shot out of the entire senior class, juniors too.
“One call. That’s it.” He hefted himself to the edge of his seat to grab the ancient rotary phone. The sheriff’s office and holding cell could have been part of a television set for a show filmed in the 1960s. “You’ve got three minutes.”
Dewey set the phone down on the floor outside the cell. I reached through the bars and picked up the receiver. Then it dawned on me. The only number I knew by heart was my parents’. Everyone else’s was stored in the contacts of my phone. I couldn’t call my mom or dad. They’d flip out on me. Neither one of them liked Misty much to begin with. If I told them what happened—that I’d landed in jail because of a botched proposal—I’d never hear the end of it.
“Any chance you can give me my phone to look up a number?”
Dewey spit shells into a Styrofoam cup. “Not likely, Duncan.”
“Fine. I guess I don’t need to make a call then.”
He grunted as he heaved himself out of the chair to collect the phone. “You’re a real piece of work, ain’t ya?”
I ignored him and plopped down on the metal bench at the back of the cell. Tomorrow would be here soon enough. And once I had a chance to explain what happened and promise to make amends, the judge would have to let me go. One night of misery and I’d have my freedom back. Although, now that Misty was gone, I’d have to start the long process of pulling myself out of the deep, dark hole she’d left me in. Again.
Misty
“Lemon tart?” I held the tray out in front of me, passing it under the noses of the Monday morning breakfast regime at the Lovebird Café. Patsy had let me come in to try to unload a few dozen tarts on the morning coffee-sipping crowd.
“You make those yourself?” An older man in overalls and a baseball cap asked.
“Sure did. All from scratch. Any money raised will go to send the baseball team to that tournament in Columbia, Missouri next month.” I flashed him an extra wide smile that grew even wider as he reached for his wallet.
I’d just about sold out of the hundreds of lemon tarts I’d baked up early this morning. After I’d stopped by the sheriff’s office and Dewey had refused to let me in to see Jake, I figured I’d be better off trying to fix one problem at a time. One way or another, I’d vowed to make up the difference in the cash the team needed since Jake’s meltdown had been partially my fault.
Once Jake saw the judge, Dewey would have to let him go. By that time I’d be out of tarts and hopefully have made enough to get the team to Columbia.
“Last chance. Fresh baked just this morning.” I weaved my way through the tables, stopping every few feet to hand over a plate of tarts.
Forty-five minutes later I’d sold out and sat at the counter sipping on a cup of coffee while I counted the cash. Robbie said they were about six hundred bucks shy of their goal. I’d managed to bring in about four and was prepared to dip into my savings to make up the difference. But first, I had a stop to make at the Piggly Wiggly. I’d saved an extra-large tray of tarts for the manager in hopes it might convince him to put in a good word for Jake.
As I entered the store, tray in hand, an aproned cashier met me at the door. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. This was probably her first summer job. “We’re still not open.”
“What happened?” I stood in the entrance, my gaze drifting over what must have been the cookout display. Or at least what was left of it.
“Oh, it was crazy. Jake, you know Jake Duncan? He helps coach my brother’s baseball team.” I nodded and she continued. “Well, he set up a whole proposal scene. Stacked cans of baked beans to spell out ‘Will you marry me’ but the gal never showed up. I’ve got a picture on my phone.” She swiped through her photos before handing me her phone.
Jake stood in the middle of an elaborate display, surrounded by pyramids of cans, bins of watermelons, and bags of potato chips. The girl was right. In front of his feet, a huge heart made out of canned goods surrounded the artfully arranged baked beans.
I gasped. No wonder Jake was so upset. He was going to propose. My mouth went dry as I flipped through a few more pictures on her phone. The series of events unfolded before me. Jake smiling in the middle of the heart, holding a ring box. Then Jake pulling back and punching the pyramid of soda. The next photo showed watermelons cracking in half as they spilled all over the floor and soda flying through the air. Finally, the picture of Jake in handcuffs, being led from the store.
“Wow. That must have been some event.” I handed her phone back.
“It was. Hopefully we’ll get everything cleaned up so we can reopen this afternoon.”
“Let’s do it. I’ll help.”
Her eyes widened behind oversized round glasses. “You will?”
“Yep. It’s the least I can do.” I set the tray of tarts down on a cooler holding cartons of strawberries. “I’m pretty sure I’m the gal the bean proposal was meant for.”
“Really? How romantic.”
I almost busted out laughing. Romance was such a subjective thing. But when it came to Jake, yes, somehow he could turn a truckload of baked beans into the most romantic gesture the town of Swallow Springs had ever seen.
“Shall we?” I wh
eeled the industrial-sized garbage can closer to the spill zone. The sooner I finished cleaning up his mess, the sooner I could let Jake know that his bean proposal hadn’t been in vain.
Jake
“When did the judge say he’d see me?” I asked. It had been twenty-four hours, and I hadn’t had a chance to make my case yet.
Dewey was back on the clock. I much preferred the quiet guy who’d worked the night shift. “Judge had a prior appointment with eighteen holes this morning. I’m sure he’ll get to you when he’s good and ready.”
“He’s golfing?” So much for being a distant family relation.
Dewey ignored me as he bit into a buffalo wing. He’d ordered lunch for himself but didn’t bother to get me anything beyond the dehydrated emergency rations they kept on hand to feed their non-existent prisoners. I’m sure that violated some code somewhere, but I was willing to forgive and forget, as long as I got out of there soon.
The bell on the outer door rang. Dewey sat up, wiped hot sauce off his chin, and walked over to the monitor. “You expecting someone, Duncan?”
“Who, me? Oh yeah, I figured I’d have a few friends over, maybe catch up an episode of ‘Law and Order’ or something.”
Dewey glanced at the screen. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Good one.” I sat down on the plastic-coated mattress. Maybe someone had finally come to get me in front of the judge.
“Wait, I told you last night, you can’t go in there.” Dewey backed into the room, his palms out.
I stood, wondering what had him so concerned. Until I heard her.
“You just try to stop me. I’m sure I still have incriminating photos of you doing a keg stand filed away on my computer somewhere.” Misty brushed past him like he didn’t outweigh her by a couple hundred pounds.
The sight of her literally took my breath away. I slumped against the bars of the cell. “Misty, what are you doing here?”
