by Jenni Moen
“The oatmeal is bland?” Tim’s mutter reminded me I wasn’t alone. “Not really selling it, is she? Willow really needs to take some marketing lessons.”
Tim’s hatefulness made me further regret my own bad manners. She didn’t deserve to wait on assholes, which was clearly how Tim acted.
“Cut her some slack, Tim,” John said. “She doesn’t look well.” I looked at the back of the restaurant where she was slouched against the back counter.
Wow, she changed a lot.
Not as much as you, I reminded myself.
“Whatever. She’s an odd duck.” Tim certainly wasn’t going to give her a break.
“A pretty duck, if you ask me,” John countered. “And she’s always so sweet.”
That was my memory, too. “She is sweet.” I felt the need to stand up for her after being so rude. “I used to know her.”
“A lot changes in fifteen years, bro.”
John smirked at Tim. “You’re just ticked off she was giving you such a hard time earlier over The Monster.”
“The Monster?” I asked.
Bryson scooted up in his chair excitedly. “Yeah, he’s the latest beast we’re all after.”
“He has a name?”
“Not us. So far though he’s been pretty elusive,” John said. “But everyone’s talking about him. Willow isn’t really that hard on us, but you can tell she’s not a big fan of our hobby.”
Tim sneered. “The bitch needs to chill or I’m going to find somewhere else to eat. What we do with our free time is none of her business.”
Wow. My back went rigid. I didn’t like the way Tim was talking at all. It seemed like he had a real chip on his shoulder when it came to Willow.
“God, it’s so good to see you again,” John said, changing the subject to the awkward subject of me. “You look really good.”
John had always been the peacekeeper in our group, something Tim and I frequently needed. Our similar personalities often landed us crossways with each other even though we considered ourselves best friends. John was good about stepping in and helping us settle our disputes, which generally revolved around our overlapping taste in girls.
He was a good guy, but on the subject of me, John was lying. I looked like hell, and I knew it. The dark circles under my eyes were a dead giveaway that I barely slept. I hadn’t had a haircut since I’d come stateside, and the thick layer of fuzz all over my face proved I just didn’t give a shit. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Yeah, well, it’s about time. We were beginning to think you were too good for us now that you’re a big-time hero and all.” Tim smiled as he spoke, but his voice was razor sharp. It was possible I’d offended him by not coming around sooner.
“I’m not—” I began before John cut me off.
“Of course not. Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous because you made the paper again. He still hasn’t made it after all of these years. It was a great article, by the way.” John smiled at Tim, who returned a glare. “Besides, you didn’t miss anything this morning. I don’t think there was a single buck out there.”
“The fog was so bad I couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of my face,” Tim muttered. “I hope tomorrow is better. You going to make it out there this year at all?” He’d directed the last question at me.
My stomach pitched and roiled. I’d been stupid not to see this coming. Now that I’d shown my face, they would expect me to be around more. I scrambled for a non-committal answer. With my condition, putting a gun in my hands didn’t seem like a great idea.
“I think the weather is supposed to be about the same tomorrow, so I may sleep in.” John had offered me an out, and I appreciated it.
Bryson chuckled. “Well, you know you can come see me instead. You know where I’ll be.”
“Fat chance.” Tim’s obnoxious laugh was finally something that felt familiar, but as they continued to talk, I realized their familiarity with each other carved holes in the conversation I couldn’t fill.
I had no idea where Bryson would be the following morning. I didn’t know what Tim did for a living. I’d been a shit friend to these guys over the years. Of course, there’d been other things on my mind, important things like my boys and my job. They had required my undivided attention. But as I sat at a table with my oldest three friends, it occurred to me I didn’t know anything about them anymore.
“Well, this has been real, gents, but I have to clean up and get to the office,” Tim said, standing. I tucked away the little clue he’d given me. He had an office job—one keeping him busy enough to work on a Saturday.
“No rest for the wicked,” Bryson said, laughing. “Let me know how you do tomorrow if you go out there again.”
“Yup,” Tim answered, digging in his pocket for his keys. “Go ahead and sleep in, boys. Fine by me. The mythical monster is mine.” He turned to face me. “It was good seeing you, Dearborn. We’re here every Saturday and some of us on Sundays, too.” He threw a guilty look at Bryson, who laughed.
“No judgment here, man.”
John scooted his chair back. “I have to get going too. I wish I could stick around and catch up, but I’ve been gone for five hours.” He tapped his watch. “Gretchen has a whole laundry list of things she wants me to do around the house today.”
Gretchen. John had a wife. Maybe I’d heard something about him getting married. I thought back to the girls in our class but drew a blank. I didn’t remember a bossy Gretchen.
I forced a smile. “Maybe next time.” Now who is lying? There wouldn’t be a next time if I left town.
John squeezed my shoulder. “No worries, man. We know you have other things going on.”
I nodded my response, hoping my expression didn’t give me away. My biggest problem was I didn’t have anything going on. My life and my purpose were still overseas.
My oatmeal arrived right after they left. Willow set it on the table in front of me so quietly I almost missed her altogether. “This will help,” she said softly.
I nodded appreciatively, making an effort to look her in the eye this time.
Bryson waited until she left to speak again. “You look lost, man. Is there anything I can do?”
I stirred the oatmeal with my spoon. “Nah. I’m just still getting my bearings. Honestly, it’s weird being back.”
“I can imagine.” I didn’t think he could, but it was the right thing to say. People were good at saying the right things. “You’ll get caught up on everything. I promise, not much has changed. As you can see, Tim is still just Tim, not worried about anyone but himself. John’s still trying to please everyone. They’re both great guys, though, with hearts as good as gold. With Tim, you have to dig a little deeper to find it, but it’s there.”
“Tim and I are too much alike.”
“I disagree. Other than having everyone watching you and having the weight of the world on your shoulders, I never thought you were alike at all.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s an attorney. Criminal defense work. Works all of the time.” It explained a few things, like maybe why Tim seemed so jaded.
“Where will you be tomorrow?” I asked, changing the subject.
He looked confused for a second. “Oh, tomorrow morning? Yeah, the Woodland Creek Lutheran Church, my man.”
“I guess you have a family? I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask about them when you came to see me last time.”
“No worries. I came to see about you, not to talk about myself, but yes, I’m married.” He fiddled with a paper napkin, wrapping it around his finger as if he was suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I really thought you knew. I married Hannah.”
How had I not heard he’d married my high school girlfriend? “How long?”
“Twelve years now.”
I considered this new information. “Do you have any kids?”
“Two. Elijah is three and Sarah is five.”
I nodded slowly. “That’s great, Bryson. I mean it.
”
“Yeah?”
“Really.” Bryson was the kind of guy who was meant for all of that. During high school, he’d been loyal to one girl. I wasn’t at all shocked to find out he’d settled down and started a family. I was a little surprised it was with Hannah but found it more interesting that I didn’t care. I was glad she’d moved on after I’d left, but I would definitely be giving my mother a tongue-lashing for failing to deliver that information to me in advance.
“And I’m a Lutheran pastor too.”
“What?” I asked, laughing. That was the most baffling yet.
“Seriously.” He grinned at me as I tried to wrap my brain around the idea. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? The kid who snuck out of windows with you and drank beer behind the 7-Eleven is now a preacher.” Finally, at a loss for words, I leaned back in my chair and pushed away from the table. “I started to tell you at the house, but I didn’t want you to think I’d come to see you in some sort of professional capacity. And honestly, you said a few things that made me think you might stop talking to me if you knew.”
It was probably true.
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know.” My eyes drifted away from Bryson to the front of the restaurant. An older man, who looked vaguely familiar, struggled with the front door. I thought about getting up and helping him to avoid where this conversation was headed. As tempting as it was, before I could put my plan into action, the old man opened the door. He slipped through it, taking my exit strategy with him.
“I have you to thank for it, Quinn,” Bryson said.
“I’m to blame for turning you into a preacher man?”
He laughed. “No, but you gave me the courage to answer the calling.” I stared at him, confused. “I figured if you were brave enough to do what you were called to do, then I was brave enough too. I channeled my inner Quinn and accepted that I was meant to do this with my life. God, country, family, right? Isn’t that your motto?”
I looked down at my boots. “I lost one of those in Afghanistan and left the other two to fend for themselves.” It was the first honest thing I’d said in months.
“Do you want to talk about it? Not preachy, I promise. Just one friend to another.”
I glanced at Bryson’s concerned face. He meant well, but I didn’t want to talk. “I don’t think so.”
“I understand. I get it.”
My eyes roamed the restaurant looking for something else, anything else, to distract me. It was mostly empty now. Willow was behind the counter but leaning up against it, as if she was taking a minute to herself. Maybe she was enjoying the lull before the lunch crowd would start to trickle in. Or maybe she was trying to give us a little bit of privacy to talk. The small diner didn’t provide much of that.
I watched her push off the front counter and then wobble a few steps. I started in my seat but stopped when she successfully made it to the back counter. She leaned forward on it as if she needed it to support her. John had been right. She didn’t look well.
A narrow window separated the dining room from the kitchen behind it, and she appeared to say something to whoever was preparing the food in the back. A man stepped into view and peered back at her through the window, his face etched with concern. His forehead wrinkled as he said something to her. She shook her head, and he disappeared again. When she turned around again, her eyes met mine, and I looked away guiltily.
Bryson was watching me with interest. “You know what? I really need to head out. I have some folks to visit at the hospital this morning.” He stood up to leave.
I remained seated. “Sure. I need to pay for my breakfast, and then I’m going as well.”
“If you ever want to talk, Quinn, you have my number. Maybe you could come for dinner some night. I know Hannah would love to see you.”
“Thanks for the offer. I’ll think about it.”
We both knew I wouldn’t.
“Okay, well, don’t be a stranger and don’t make me hound you.” He shook his head and chuckled. “You’re going to make me hound you. I can tell.”
“Nah, I’ll be in touch.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.”
Bryson headed for the front door. Since Willow still looked pale and wobbly, I decided to go to her rather than make her come to me. I walked to the back, sat down on a stool, and set my phone and my wallet on the counter beside me.
“Ready to go?” she asked, already digging through the pocket of her apron.
“Willow?” I asked. For some reason, I wanted her to know I remembered her.
The man from the kitchen appeared from around the corner and stood wiping his hands on a grease-covered apron. He seemed to be about our age, but his face wasn’t familiar to me. He was slightly shorter and stockier than I was, but from the way he was watching me, I knew he thought he could take me and was actually contemplating it. It was a pleasant surprise.
Willow waved him off. “I’m fine.”
I didn’t think either of us believed her.
He eyed her warily before narrowing his eyes at me again. He was protective when it came to his woman. I couldn’t blame him. Willow had grown up, and she was gorgeous. If she were mine, I’d be protective too.
“Seriously, I got this. Go do your thing.” He nodded at her once and disappeared again.
She slid a ticket across the counter to me. When she removed her hand, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first time I’d laughed in months. It felt shockingly good and filled me with a tremendous amount of guilt.
“It’s kind of early for marriage proposals, don’t you think?” I asked. “I mean, you barely know me.”
She turned as red as the ketchup bottles lining the counter and began digging through her apron again. She was flustered, but she didn’t miss a beat. “When you know, you know, though I usually wait until after lunch to issue those.”
She slid a second ticket across the counter and reached for the first one. I slapped my hand down on top of it, and she jumped. She was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen. “So you’re saying you hand these out regularly? I shouldn’t feel special?” I teased.
God, it felt so good to pretend to be normal for a second. Then again, I’d always liked being around her.
Despite her still pink cheeks and flustered demeanor, her eyes held mine, unwavering. “I always thought you were something special, Quinn Dearborn.”
I cleared my throat, now equally uncomfortable. I wasn’t the talented kid with the bright future she remembered. I dug through my wallet and threw a twenty down on the counter.
“Hang on. I’m out of small bills. Let me get you some change from the back.” She walked away, no more steady on her feet than she had been before. It was kind of early in the season for the flu. I hoped it wasn’t something more serious like vertigo or something.
As soon as she’d disappeared from sight, I turned and ducked quietly out of the diner, saving us both from any further embarrassment. As I got into my truck and drove away, I realized, even as awkward as it had been, I was glad I’d come and I wasn’t going to drive as far as I’d planned.
It was time to do something with myself.
WILLOW
RYAN WIPED HIS HANDS ON a towel before tossing it into the laundry basket I took home with me every afternoon. It would be another exciting night of laundry and studying unless I could coerce Ryan into coming over to work on our project. As sad as it was, that was the extent of my social life. At least currently.
“All right, you go first,” he said.
I held up a finger to silence him. I needed a few more seconds of quiet concentration. When I’d finished adding up the day’s intake, I smiled and looked up. Saturdays were always better than the rest of the week, but this had been a good day even by Saturday standards.
“Ahh, a good day, eh? Will it get you a new sink and bathtub?”
I closed my notebook, pushed it to the side, and nodded. “I think so. Janice would be pleased.”
He leaned forward, hi
s elbows resting on the counter. “No, Janice would be proud. You’ve turned the diner around and made it your own.”
I grinned. “I’m going to hire someone to help us. Maybe two.”
“I’m good in the kitchen by myself. I like it that way. But you need someone out here, even if it’s just so you can have a day off now and then.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a couple of mornings off every month.” The diner was open seven days a week. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had a day to myself. “But I want the same for you. You need time off, too.”
“No, I need the money.” I looked away guiltily. I didn’t know how he could afford to work here with what I paid him. It was peanuts. “Hey, I’m just kidding. I could use a day off every now and then, boss lady. As always, you know best.”
I rolled my eyes. “If that’s the case, then why am I letting you distract me instead of dissecting your problems?”
“I’m not distracting you. I’m praising you. People with manners say thank you when someone pays them a compliment.”
I huffed at him. If there was a manners contest, I would definitely win. “So what’s going on?”
“Nothing to tell.” He stared at me, his eyes begging me to call his bluff. He wanted to talk about it. He needed to talk about it, but Ryan was a big, scrappy man’s man. He wasn’t going to beg for help or cry on my shoulder. Whatever it was, I would have to yank it out of him.
“Whatever. Your little note earlier this morning—”
“The one that caused you to make a fool of yourself in front of Quinn Dearborn?” He chuckled, amused by himself and my usual lack of finesse.
Good God, it had been embarrassing. To make matters worse, Quinn had snuck out while things were still awkward between us. Meaning, it would be awkward the next time he came into the diner, which I guessed would be sooner than later since he’d left his phone on the counter.
“Yes, that one,” I answered. “Your note wasn’t an offer. It was a cry for help that made me look like a jackass.”
His weak laugh from before turned into a booming cackle filling the whole diner. “You make me laugh.”
