by Pinki Parks
Brook smiled. Although she was enjoying her walk, it was nice to have some company. “Sure! Thanks.” She got into Sheryl’s old mustang and they started driving.
“So, I hear your car is in real bad shape. Don’t worry, though. If anyone can fix it, it’s Deacon. Uh! That man.” Sheryl jumped at the opportunity to talk about Deacon. This was probably her only chance, since she’s got her in the car, alone.
“Yes, that’s what I heard. But it might take a while, though.”
“Oh, well Deacon has never been the same since his wife died. He used to be faster at his job. Back then, he was on fire.” Sheryl loved to gossip.
“He lost his wife? He was married?” Brook did not consider Deacon’s history nor that it could affect her in any way.
“Yes! His high school sweetheart. They were married for five years.”
“How did she die?”
“A freak car accident.” Sheryl turned and looked Brook straight in the eye, as though she was reporting something major. “Deacon blamed himself. He never got over it.”
“Why would he blame himself? What happened?”
Sheryl now has her full attention, which she loved. She enjoyed dangling a piece of juicy gossip in front of people until they bit, then she knew their full attention was on her. “Well, being a mechanic and all, he should have been able to fix her car properly. Something about the wheel shaft seizing, the wheel popped off, she lost control of the brakes and ran right into a semi.” Again, looking over at Brook with her eyes wide open, as though the news would shock the other person. Of course, Sheryl had a way of embellishing her stories and glaze over the facts.
“Oh, my God!” Brook was in disbelief and completely fell for Sheryl’s drama.
“Um, I know. It was awful. Everybody in town was shocked. Some say he was guilty of manslaughter. Like he did it on purpose because they had been fighting.” Sheryl embellished just a little more, looking for an angle in the story that she could lead Brook into seeing the bad side of Deacon. But Brook didn’t fall for it.
“Well, an accident is an accident.”
Since she didn’t bite, Sheryl immediately agreed. “That’s what I say! It was just an accident!” She continued to look for another angle. Deacon was never the same after that. I mean, he was des-troy-ed.” She put emphasis on the word and looked over at Brook to see her reaction. “He started drinking again and getting into fights with everybody.”
“Really?” Brook was intrigued. She was interested in what Deacon was like. He was a mystery to her thus far.
“Well, Deacon was always a drunk. I mean, he would drink morning, noon, and night. And he got violent when he was drunk.” Sheryl changed to a more serious tone now. “I mean, no one knew what went on in that house.” She added. Sheryl knew very well that Deacon loved Annabelle with all his might and never laid a hand on her. But she wanted to plant a seed in Brook’s mind. Since it was true that no one knew what went on in that house, Sheryl thought it was okay to say it. She wanted to talk more but it was a short drive into town. They had driven pass the diner and reached the main intersection. She turned to Brook. “Well, where can I drop ya?”
Brook shook her head in disarray from the story and tried to gather her thoughts. She couldn’t believe that Deacon had a history of hitting his wife. She was disappointed to hear that her sexy mechanic turned out to be a bum. “Oh, I can get off here, I really have no plans.”
“Well, nothing’s open until 9 AM, except for the church and the diner. We open at eight. You comin’ in for breakfast?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. Maybe later. Thanks for the ride!”
“It’s my pleasure!” Sheryl smiled with pleasure. She was happy with herself.
***
Brook walked into the church after moments of hesitation on the street corner. She had been feeling good, her thoughts were getting clearer and she had a date to look forward to. Now, all of that clarity and hope was knocked out from underneath her. She wasn’t sure about anything and found herself lost once again.
The church was dimly lighted. She slowly walked down the nave and sat down on a bench near the middle. She was alone. Maybe I should pray, she thought. Dear God, please help me—. At that moment, the priest walked in. He went to put his bible and notes up on the podium in preparation for Saturday morning mass, which began at 10 AM. “Oh, hello.” Father Mathew spotted Brook.
“Hello. Uh, I was just—”
He walked up to her. “No need to worry my child. Are you here for the morning mass?”
“No, father. I was just—”
“Trying to pray?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, of course. Don’t let me bother you.”
“Except, I don’t really know what to say.”
Father Mathew had seen this many times. Those who didn’t quite know how to pray, really just needed someone to talk to. He sat down next to her. “You can start with me if that makes it easier.”
“Well, I was feeling pretty good. I mean, not great. I still am getting a divorce. The man, I thought I loved was a completely different person than who I thought he was. All the luxury my parents had built for me, for us, he completely destroyed because he betrayed his employer and got caught. So, now he’s in prison. And I drove out here to clear my head, then I hear this story about a man, who I just met, but it turns out, he’s a terrible person too.”
“I see.” Father Mathew tried to put the pieces together among her babbling. “And where did you hear about this information about the man you just met?”
“From someone in town.”
“I see.” Father Mathew took a moment. “Well, I can tell you this.”
“What?” She was desperate for someone turn it all around for her.
“Not every story is related. Correct me if I am wrong, but the story between you and your husband is unrelated to the story about this new man. You are connecting these two stories in a moment of grief. Step back from it a bit, so you can see the big picture.” He tried to help her without telling her what to do. “And I think hearing something from a third part, is called—gossip.” He lifted his brow, hoping she would realize she was being a bit silly.
She chuckled a bit. “I guess you are right.”
“And, you know I don’t believe in divorce.”
Brook opened her mouth ready to tell him all the reasons why she was getting a divorce but Father Mathew interrupted. “But, I am modern enough to know that marriage these days is more difficult than ever. And that if you follow your heart, it will lead you straight to God.”
“Thank you.” Brook smiled. She felt better about Deacon’s history. She got up to leave.
“You’re welcome, my child.”
Brook spent the day wandering around the town, she went window shopping, for once, she felt like she didn’t need to take action. She sat at a bench to do some people watching. She treated herself to some coffee and a slice of cake as though she was really on some kind of holiday in Paris.
Chapter Five
When he walked into the diner that evening Deacon’s heart was racing. He hadn’t been to the gym or jogged five miles or walked up a mountain. The reason his heart was going overtime was her. Brook. The city girl.
Their first meeting had been a disaster. Despite that he’d had a strange comforting feeling the whole time. He couldn’t be sure because he hadn’t felt that way since high school. After Annabelle died, those types of feeling died in him, so he thought.
He stepped into the warm and familiar setting. The music was on just a little louder than earlier in the day and the place was buzzing with the noise of people talking, laughing, eating, living. Something else he hadn’t done much of in such a long time.
That afternoon had been tough. Every time he tried to get on with something he lost his concentration and found himself thinking about Brook. Her blonde hair as she tucked it back behind her ears when she was mad. He’s noticed her do that a couple o
f times for some reason. The ice-green eyes with just a hint of yellow around the pupils. Mind, the only other eyes he’d looked in recently were his own when he shaved of a morning and they were, more often than not, bloodshot and on more than one occasion in the last few years, surrounded by bruising. He wasn’t proud of that and he knew deep down that Annabelle would have been appalled.
He sat down at the last empty booth at the back of the diner, nodded at a couple the other regulars, and caught Sam’s eye as she worked the grill behind the counter. She held up two fingers to say she would be with him soon.
As he sat, his mind went to Brook’s figure. He had noticed it when she got out of the tow truck and had checked her out on more than one occasion. She was tall and slim, with perfect skin and perfect hair. He liked straightforward, plain-speaking women, uncomplicated. She was anything but.
She was scared, he could see it in her eyes, her face and even though he had barely spoken to her he had wanted, much to his own surprise, nothing more put his hand up to her cheek ever so gently then cup her face. Instead, he’d withdrawn immediately into his protected self. Inside the hard carapace where he kept his heart. He didn’t know why. It was just an instinctive response now.
“Hey, Deacon, what can I get you?”
“Hey, Sam. Sorry, I was thinking.”
She grinned at him. She never grinned at him. She always has a remark or a smile as though she was one step ahead of him. Why was she grinning at him?
“Steak, please, Sam. And a beer.”
“OK, be right back with your beer.”
Before she could go Deacon caught her arm and spoke quietly to her. “Sam, why was you grinning at me just then?
“Deacon, if you don’t know why I was grinning at you, I sure as hell ain’t gonna tell you. You’re just gonna have to work it out for yourself.” She grinned at him again and headed back behind the counter.
While he waited, trying to puzzle out what the hell had happened just then, he watched some of the folks in the diner. He noticed, for the first time, just how . . . animated people were. Laughing at each other’s stupid jokes. Arguing about football. Pointing at each other. Nodding at some vague idea the other had just run by them.
The only people who weren’t like that were the old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Davis who were on one of their thrice weekly visits to the diner.
They were quiet, seemingly concentrating on nothing but their food but as Deacon watched them for what he felt must have been the first time, he saw that they too were talking. But with them it was little more than an odd word, a gesture, a touch of the hand across the table, and having eyes for nobody else. He knew they had been having a tough time the last few years with what happened to their daughter, but they were there, and he could see, just in the short time he watched them, that they were each other’s’ whole world right then.
He missed that feeling and wished he could have it back again.
Brook came up the stairs. From where Deacon was sitting, he could not see her. Deacon looked around the part of the diner he could see from where he was seated. Every pair of eyes seemed to be on him and he was panicking. The last few years he had done what he could to keep out of sight, to avoid being noticed, to blend into the crowd. He didn’t want to be the centre of attention. He’d had enough of all that when . . . he didn’t want it any more. It would only hurt to open himself up again. He’d done it once and he truly didn’t know if he had the strength inside him to do it again. If he opened up this weekend, folks, those friends and neighbours who were so keenly observing him now, would expect him to do it again. They would think that things had finally changed for Deacon for the better, but they hadn’t. At least not yet. For the second time in his life he didn’t know what to do. He felt helpless.
“There you go. One cold one. Mind if I join you?”
Deacon looked up at the strange voice delivering his drink. Then he smiled.
“Sure. Why not.”
Brook squeezed herself in to the seat opposite Deacon.
“You looked like you were someplace else when I came over.” Brook picked up her own beer and took a swig, feeling the cold drink trickle down her throat.
She had gone to the washroom and had ask Sam for a beer for when she got back. She didn’t see him right away as she got up the stairs and grabbed her beer. As soon as she did see him she noticed his clothes. He had on a plain old white t-shirt, blue jeans, and boots. He had booth arms resting on the table, they were bulging from a full day’s work. His biceps curled and hardened as he leaned forward and his shoulders plumped up making him look even more massive. Brook could barely resist touching them at the moment as she sat across from him trying to talk business.
“Any more news on my car?”
“Nope, sorry.”
Deacon looked up at her. He had meant to say it several times, but hadn’t had the chance. She was still wary of the anger in his eyes but, for now at least that seemed to have gone. Those brown eyes of his were bright and smiling with the rest of him.
“Listen. I’m sorry about your car and that you are kinda stuck here.”
Brook looked over at him. He looked as though he was genuine.
“It wasn’t your fault. Joey said it might have been an oil leak. But now that I think about it, between the stress from the investigation and the arguments, neither my husband or myself have taken the car in for months.”
He hesitated. He was half distracted her sensual lips as she talked, they touched ever so gently.
“Sounds rough.” he said. “So that’s why you tried to run over a mechanic.” He floated a sweet grin across the table at her hoping she would catch on to his poor joke.
She laughed “Yup. Didn’t anyone tell you? That’s how city girls get things done.”
“Apology accepted.” He added jokingly.
She laughed.
Sam arrived with two platefuls of food that looked and smelled delicious. She left them to it with just a quick word and what Brook thought was a knowing smile.
“So, are you going riding today or not?”
Deacon looked over at Brook feeling like he had to explain. “Actually, a tranny job came in this morning so I’m going to be working on that this weekend.” He stared at her for a moment to watch her reaction. “Don’t worry, I’m not going back on my word.” Was he making an excuse, or was he genuinely sorry for letting her down. Brook couldn’t quite work out which it was.
Sam jumps in. “You better get her out there before it rains. The news said a storm in coming later on this week.” She gets back to work.
A voice piped up from the old woman at the next table sitting with her husband, leaning over towards their booth. “You could go for a nice stroll by the lake. That’s always nice?”
Her husband chimed in. “There’s always fishing and canoeing on the river. That’s not too far. And it’s quiet.” He shouted.
They both appreciated the suggestions. “Thanks, Mrs. Foner, Mr. Foner.” Deacon replied.
A young man walked up to them. From the sound of his footsteps, Brook imagined those boots were supporting a 300lb man. He the size of a line-backer, with muscles bulging out of the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid shirt. Next to Deacon he looked like the Green Giant. His belt buckle, which was noticeably large, read Rebel Rider, and was staring at her right at eye level. “Ma’am, my name is Jason, and I would love it if you came to my BBQ this Sunday.” It seemed like everyone could hear her conversation with Deacon.
Brook was a bit taken back by how forward he was, given that she was sitting with another man, and that he was not shy about introducing himself to a woman. It made her feel a little embarrassed. She didn’t see much of that in the city. He was gentlemanly, so, she responded like a lady “Why thank you. I may be free that evening.”
“I would be delighted, ma’am.” He looked over at Deacon “You’re still coming Deac?”
“You bet.”
He looked over
at Brook, tilted his cowboy had, and walked back to his table. The young man knew Deacon no longer had eyes for anyone. Everyone knew that. And he felt obliged to ask a beautiful woman to his party. Brook watched him seat himself, looked over at Deacon, her jaw dropped in amazement. She quickly turned it into a smile so it wouldn’t look like she was making fun of him. “Wow!” She whispered and let out a small laugh. Deacon smiled back. “How old is he?”
“Seventeen.”
Brook nodded. “Wow! What a gentleman.”
Deacon nodded back, in agreement. “Yup.” And added under his breath. “That’s how we breed them around here.”
“I’m very impressed.” Brook was happy to have been invited in that manner.
“So, it looks like we’re invited to the same party.”
Deacon smiled “Looks like” and took a sip of beer still locking eyes with Brook.
“So, do you know him?”
Deacon paused and for the first time, had a big smile on his face. Brook though his smile made him even more handsome. His chiselled jaw with a day stubble gave him a sexy rugged look. It was normal for him and everyone around but it was strange for her. He finally told her the secret that everyone in that diner had over her. “I know everyone in this room.” He paused to give her a chance to let that sink it. “Everybody knows each other. One way or another. If not personally, we know each other by face.”
“Oh!” Brook looked around and smiled at how clueless she had been. “So, that’s why he walked off without giving me his address or phone number. Because, where I come from, that’s weird.” She gushed.
Deacon smiled. “It’s a small town. He probably assumed that since I was going, that I would give you a ride. But I probably will be working late finishing that tranny job. I was planning on going just for a few drinks.”
“That’s too bad.” It was the first time Brook showed interest in seeing him. “I mean, I don’t know anybody. It would be nice to see a familiar face.” Brook looked at the stubbles that had outlined his jaw and could feel them against her skin.
