by Muldoon, Meg
Maybe it was just never meant to be.
That was what I wanted to believe anyway.
The truth, of course, was that I didn’t believe it.
Daniel had left me heartbroken, yet again.
I went to the cash register and looked up.
It wasn’t him.
“The usual, if you would,” John said, taking off his scarf and coat.
“Well hey there, stranger,” I said, smiling. “Long time no, see. I’ve got a backlog of strawberry rhubarbs nobody’s touched for a week.”
He smiled back. A real smile. Not the usual nervous one he gave me.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry. I left town for a week. Went to go visit my folks and clear my head a little bit. I didn’t get a chance to tell you with everything going on.”
I sliced a big piece of the pie for him, and placed it on the plate.
“I hope your folks are doing well,” I said.
“Yeah. I mean, loud and brash, but that’s normal for them.”
I smiled. I always got the impression that John’s family embarrassed him in some ways.
“Listen,” he said. “There’s something I came over to talk to you ab—”
Just as he said that, a gust of cold air blew through the shop as the front door opened. The door jingle bell slapped back and forth across the glass.
My stomach tightened as he walked in, tracking snow into the dining room.
“You’re so popular these days,” he said. “So much competition I’ve got.”
A groan of disappointment escaped my mouth, which was followed by an awkward silence.
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re not glad to see me, Cin,” he said.
“What do you want, Evan?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
I knew this day was coming. Since the competition, I knew he’d be coming around, sooner or later.
“To finish that conversation we started the other day.”
He suddenly looked at John.
“Would you leave us for a moment? Cinnamon and I have a few things to discuss.”
John didn’t say anything. But he stayed where he was. He wasn’t about to back down.
Evan approached the counter, leaning over. He started saying things in a low, honeyed voice.
“It’s finished, Cinnamon,” he said. “I told Bailey that I didn’t want her anymore.”
I cleared my throat, adjusting my stance.
“That’s great,” I said. “What does that have to do with me?”
He smiled. An almost-cruel smile that sent my skin crawling.
“Everything, honey,” he said. “I meant what I said that day. That I can’t live without you. That I’m sorry for what I did. I was a damn fool. I made a mistake. I just… I lost it there for a while.”
“Two and a half years,” I said. “You lost it for two and a half goddamn years.”
He looked away and back at me.
“It’s all in the past now, honey bun,” he said, reaching over and stroking my hand. “We’ve got our whole future ahead of us now. I’m back, Cinnamon. I’m back and I’ll never do that to you again.”
I bit my lip and felt my eyes welling up with tears.
I wanted to kick myself. I didn’t even know why I was crying. It was just a reaction. I was overwhelmed with so much emotion, I couldn’t control myself.
“Aw, see,” Evan said, dipping his head so he could meet my lowered eyes. “I know you still love me. I’ve known it the whole time. You belong to me, Cinnamon.”
You belong to me…
It was that last line that really did me in.
That last line that broke me down.
The last line that really hit it home.
I pulled my hand back like I was escaping the sharp teeth of a striking rattlesnake.
“Get out of here, Evan,” I said, my voice quiet and shaky.
He looked deep into my eyes and we both knew, in that instance, that the tables had turned.
That I was the one now who had the power.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“Get OUT of here,” I said, raising my voice. “Or so help me, I’ll throw you out myself.”
He stood up straight, looking at me with pained eyes, or whatever insincere emotion he really felt.
“It’s over, Evan,” I said. “It has been since the moment you stepped out on me.”
He stood there for a moment, stunned.
And then he shook his head angrily.
“All the same,” he said, backing away. “You’re all the same. But that’s okay. There’s a million out there just like you who’d love to take what I’m offering.”
“Then find yourself one,” I said. “And leave me out of it.”
He gave John a hateful look and then opened up the front door, slamming it hard behind him. I watched him stomp across the street, like a child throwing a tantrum.
And I hoped that would be the last time I ever saw Evan.
That he was now, officially and finally, out of my life forever.
Chapter 47
“I’m sorry about that,” I said to John when I’d regained my composure.
I sat down across from him at his booth, the uneaten slice of strawberry rhubarb between us. Something I rarely did. But because nobody was coming in, I had a little extra time.
He held up his hand.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Something like that always seems to come up when we’re about to talk,” I said, rubbing my hands nervously on my apron.
“Well, you’re a busy lady,” he said.
“Thanks, uh, thanks for having my back there, too,” I said. “It’s nice to know I have someone I can count on.”
“I’m glad to do it, Cinnamon,” he said, poking at the pie with the prongs of his fork. “I’ll always be there for you if you need me.”
I nodded, and took a deep breath. I stared out the window at the Christmas decorations lining the snow-covered streets, and then I looked back at him.
It was time to tell him. To do the right thing.
To tell him there was no chance of this ever going beyond what it was now.
“Listen, John, I’m glad you came in today,” I said. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
He reached across the table and placed his hand on mine. It was warm and gentle.
“You don’t need to,” he said. “I already know how you feel about me.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I’ve always known it, but I saw it clearly that day that Daniel guy came into the shop. I saw something in you then that I’d never seen when I’ve looked at you.”
I sighed.
“I’m that easy to read, am I?” I said.
He shrugged.
“It’s easy to read a woman when she’s not in love with you.”
I bit my lower lip.
“I feel like a real…” I said, struggling to find the right word to describe the poor way I had acted. “A real ass. I should have told you sooner. I didn’t want you to think I was leading you on or something.”
“I know,” he said. “I wanted something that just wasn’t working. I wanted it so badly that I couldn’t even see that it wasn’t working. But listen, Cinnamon, I don’t mind. Really. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?” I said.
He smiled. A bashful kind of grin that I’d never seen on him.
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?” I said.
I couldn’t possibly think of what he meant.
“I know this is kind of formal, but we both thought that it would be wrong to sneak around behind your back. But I just wanted to ask you if you’d mind if Kara and I… you know. If we started seeing each other.”
My jaw nearly hit the floor.
John and Kara?
I wouldn’t have put them together myself in a million years.
But once the i
nitial shock wore off, it started making sense.
I could see the qualities that each of them would be drawn to. John was serious and down to earth. Kara was vibrant and full of energy and life.
“You see, I’d seen her a few times in your shop before,” he said, his voice quaking a little. “And… well, we talked a few times and we hit it off. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t mind, though.”
I was silent for a moment, processing it all.
It was still hard to believe, but the more and more I thought about it, the more… the more it seemed right, in some sort of strange way.
John stared at me intently, waiting for my reply.
I smiled.
“John, I’m not her father or anything,” I said. “You don’t have to ask me my permission. But I appreciate you doing it.”
He let out a long sigh of relief.
“And I hope… I wish you all the happiness in the world. Truly I do,” I said.
I held my hand out across the table to meet his.
“Friends?” I said.
He took it after a moment.
“Friends,” he said, gripping my hand sternly.
I got up from the table.
“But I warn you,” I said. “You’ve better start getting some new clients at your practice. Strawberry rhubarb pie’s a lot cheaper than the ornaments Kara sells at her boutique.”
He laughed.
“And not nearly as tasty, either,” he said.
I grabbed the slice of uneaten pie from the table.
“Does this mean I can stop making this flavor for you?” I said. “You’re about the only one who orders it these days.”
“Well, I guess,” he said. “But don’t count me out completely. I’ll still stop by from time to time if that’s okay with you.”
I smiled at him before leaving his table to go in the back and check on the cherry pies baking in the oven.
“Of course it is,” I said. “My door’s always open to my friends.”
He got up and tried to pay, but I wouldn’t have it.
His money was no good here.
Chapter 48
It was Christmas Eve day, and after making a fresh batch of pies, I closed up the shop early and went for a long walk in the woods.
It felt like I’d spent the entire month slaving away in front of a hot oven, baking pies and rolling dough and building houses that all eventually crumbled to the ground.
The sky had a cold, steely looked to it, and the air smelled like snow. Christmas lights and wreaths hung from bannisters as I left downtown, and took the footbridge over the river and got to Shevlin Trail.
I dug my hands deep in my coat and tried to think about everything I was thankful for, as I always tried to do on Christmas Eve.
I was thankful for my family. For Warren, who I could always go to for anything. For Kara, who always had my back, no matter what.
I thought about her now. She’d been as embarrassed as I’d ever seen her when I told her what John had said to me. She’d said she was going to ask me herself as soon as everything settled down. It almost seemed as though she felt bad about it. But there was no reason to.
As long as she was happy, so was I.
And she did seem to be happy. When she talked about John, it wasn’t in that same humorous, condescending way she usually talked about men. She respected him.
It made me so happy to hear it. It had been ages since I heard her talk that way about any man.
Things seemed to have worked themselves out. John and Kara, Bailey and Evan. Everyone seemed to have gotten exactly what they deserved.
Maybe I had too.
I walked deeper into the woods, listening to the sound of my boots crunching against a layer of old snow. Listening to the trees creak in the wind and feeling the cold wind blowing against my cheeks. Birds were whistling in the branches, their song filling up the forest.
I was strong, though. I would move past it. I’d had plenty of experience with broken hearts. I knew that after a little while, the noose of pain would loosen its grip around my throat. I knew that one day this would all be a distant memory. One day, I’d find someone new and learn to love again.
Until then, I would just do the best I could.
So much of life seemed to be about loss. About people coming and going out of your life. Of the empty voids they left behind when they did.
I thought about Daniel, even though I told myself not to. I thought of little Huckleberry, even though I told myself not to.
I hoped both of them were safe. Warm and safe with full hearts and stomachs.
In the end, that was all I could do. Hope.
I walked through the forest with a heavy heart until the sun started sinking low in the sky.
Then, I popped over to the Christmas River Catholic Church. The one that my mom used to take me to when I was a kid. When she died, I stopped going.
I went inside, opening the giant doors, and I walked down the long aisle up to the altar. The church was mostly empty, save for a few volunteers readying the pews for Christmas Eve mass.
I went to the row of candles flickering on the table, and I lit one for my mom. Thinking about how much I still missed her.
After I left the church, I went back to the shop and loaded up a shopping bag full of the meat pies I had made earlier.
I would deliver them to the humane society after I picked Warren up from the store and dropped him back home. The dogs would have them for Christmas morning.
Because even dogs deserved to have a merry Christmas.
Chapter 49
“I’ve got the eggnog under control, Cinny,” Warren said as we drove along the cold and frozen streets. “You just get yourself home before eight.”
He had a bagful of groceries at his feet. He’d walked to the store a few blocks from our house for his daily exercise, and I was giving him a ride back home.
“Okay,” I said. “You fellas just pace yourself, though, okay? It’s a long ways until midnight.”
Warren was having a few of the boys over for some eggnog and to play some poker before watching the Vatican’s Christmas Eve mass on TV.
Leave it to Warren to drink, gamble and watch the Pope ring in Christmas all in the same night.
It was a tradition he’d had for years, though. Ever since Grandma Mae passed, he’d spent the eve before Christmas surrounded by his buddies, and me. This year, Kara was going to stop by too for a little while. But she had Christmas Eve dinner with her folks, so she wouldn’t be able to stay long.
I pulled up to the house and Warren got out.
“Hey, one thing,” he said, leaning into the car. “I’ve got one more guest on the list tonight, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, raising my eyebrow.
I’d thought that he’d already invited all his friends from the tavern, but maybe he’d missed someone.
“Yeah,” he said, hesitantly. “Her name… it’s Catherine.”
“Oh?” I said. “Catherine Harris? The new barmaid at the Pine?”
Catherine was new to town, in her mid-60s, and worked at the tavern on the weekends to supplement her social security checks. She was a widow whose husband had died about ten years earlier.
“I think she prefers the term bartender,” Warren said.
“Oh… so it’s like that, is it?”
Warren’s face broke out into a giant smile.
“If I’m lucky,” he said.
“That makes me real happy,” I said. “I look forward to seeing her later.”
I laughed at that big grin on his face.
“You old dog,” I said. “Get out of here already.”
“Okay, but you hurry home now,” he said, winking at me.
He was laughing as he shut the car door and walked up the steps to the house.
I watched, making sure he was safely in. Then, I drove back over to the shop.
The streets were deserted. As deserted as they ever got in Christmas Rive
r. It was ironic. The night before the biggest holiday, and Christmas River felt like a ghost town.
The lights were on everywhere, but the shops were dark. Soft snow was starting to come down from the sky, but it wasn’t magical. It was bleak and cold and empty.
I sighed and got out. I went in the shop and grabbed the bag of meat pies, and walked a few blocks to the humane society.
The lights were on, but the door was locked. I knocked on it several times, but nobody answered.
“Damn it,” I muttered out loud.
I knew someone was in there caring for the dogs, but they didn’t seem to want to answer the door.
I sighed, the shopping bag of pies feeling heavy in my hands.
Finally, I set it down on the doorstep and walked away down the icy steps.
The dogs would eventually get the pies.
But it didn’t leave me with that warm and cozy feeling I’d been searching for. That feeling of doing something good for someone, or something.
It left me feeling cold and empty, like a hollow chocolate Santa.
I walked slowly back to the shop, through the thick falling snow, not caring that I was getting drenched.
Chapter 50
I walked into the shop, not bothering to stomp off the snow that had collected on my boots.
I took my jacket and scarf off, and hung them up on the coat rack.
There was still a load of dishes left to do before I could close up. I thought for a moment about just leaving them until the day after Christmas, but knew that they’d be even more of a pain to do then.
I stood over the sink, scrubbing out bowls and utensils, and placing them in the dishwasher.
It was no good, though. Doing dishes just led to my thoughts wandering all over the place.
And that, inevitably, led to thoughts of regret.
I felt the lump growing in my throat and my eyes starting to grow heavy and waterlogged.
I wanted to pretend it was just the steam from the hot water causing it to happen, but who was I kidding? There was no one left to kid. Just me, alone, scrubbing dishes on Christmas, miserable and alone, and probably having years and years of the same scenario to look forward to.
