The New Hope Cafe

by Dawn Atkins

  Rosie got a faraway look in her eyes. “I tried to be the woman Eddie saw when he looked at me. Not sure I succeeded.” When she looked back at Cara her face was paler, the lines around her mouth deeper, her eyes rimmed in red. “It’d take more than good coffee to fix the café and Jonah’s only marking time at the grill. You’re running off, remember?” She shook her head. “I’m bone-tired, CJ. Think I’ll turn in early.” She started off, then braced herself against the refrigerator before stepping into the hall.

  Something was wrong. Rosie would bite her head off for asking, but she intended to anyway. Cara’s grandmother had ignored minor heart problems until a massive attack killed her. Cara didn’t want that to happen to Rosie.

  When it was time for bed, Cara was surprised at how cheerful and talkative Beth Ann was. She’d had fun at Rosie’s shop. She’d told Cara that she knew how to miss Serena less. That was a relief. Maybe Beth Ann would adjust to Phoenix better than Cara expected.

  Cara dressed for bed, but the pulse of a headache sent her to the bathroom for aspirin, then to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  Moonlight cast the kitchen in silver. A metallic clunk drew her gaze to the floor. A barefoot man in jeans lay under the sink. Jonah. She gasped.

  Jonah jerked up, hitting metal. “Damn!” He rubbed his head.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, though it was obvious he was fixing Rosie’s sink. He was naked to the waist. Moonlight glinted off his chest and stomach muscles. The light he was using under the sink outlined him in gold. He looked alarmingly sexy, and her mouth went dry.

  “I was changing the U joint. Now I’m seeing stars.”

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t expect to see you…like that.” She waved her fingers at his bare chest.

  “Same here.” He looked her over like he could see straight through her dark silk robe to her cami and shorts and beyond. She clutched the lapels, but the idea gave her a charge that wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

  He touched his head gingerly. “There’s a lump.”

  “Guess I disrupted you again.”

  “You did.” He shot her a smile, his teeth flashing white in the dim room. She liked making him smile. It felt like a prize.

  “Didn’t mean to. I came for water, I swear.” She held out the pills as proof.

  “I’m almost finished, if you want to wait.”

  “Sure it’ll be safe? I’m serious. I don’t want you to lose a body part.”

  “If I keep my eyes where they belong, I should be okay.”

  Oooh. Another zing flew through her. She was almost used to the feeling.

  Cara sat. On the table was a footstool with clamped legs that Jonah must be repairing.

  There was something natural and homey about waiting while Jonah did a household chore. The silence settled around them, except for the clucking of Rosie’s chicken clock. Cara didn’t feel her usual compulsion to fill the void with words. Something about Jonah Gold slowed her down, steadied her.

  She almost felt safe with him. That was an illusion, of course. She’d felt safe with Barrett and he’d turned out to be the most dangerous man she ever hoped to meet. You had to find safety for yourself, on your own terms.

  She was glad neither of them had turned on the overhead light. It would be like the blast of a car horn on a quiet night.

  There was plenty of light to see the way Jonah’s pectorals quivered, his abdominals tightened and his biceps swelled as he twisted and hammered and pried. Cara couldn’t help but sigh. In a few minutes, he emerged, crouched, reaching up to turn on the faucet. Checking for leaks, she assumed.

  There was something extremely sexy about a man’s back. Was it the shape? The rolling muscles? The taper to the waist? She wasn’t sure, but Jonah’s was mouthwatering. She was glad he couldn’t see her staring.

  Then he turned and caught her. Their eyes locked. Cara darted her gaze to the side, totally mortified.

  He cleared his throat. “So…that’s got it.”

  “Great. Good job. Glad you finished.” What was she going to do, sign his work order?

  Jonah put away his tools, washed up, then fixed two glasses of ice water. He handed her one, ice tinkling musically, then sat across from her. She took her pills. When she finished, she caught him staring at her. He shifted his gaze to the footstool.

  “You’re repairing that?” she asked.

  “It’s crap—laminate over plywood—but it was Eddie’s, so it’s a treasure to her. I’ve offered to custom build anything she wants, but no....”

  Cara smiled. “She was talking about Eddie after supper. Something she said really hit me. She said he loved her like she was worth it and after a while she felt like she was.”

  Jonah was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft in the darkness. “You ever have that?”

  She’d never talked about her marriage to anyone. Not really. The clock marked the seconds with soft clucks. In this dark kitchen, with this quiet, thoughtful man, she wanted to.

  “At first, I thought so. But it was a trick.” She paused. “I was only eighteen when we married. I didn’t know much.”

  “That’s young.”

  “I would have waited, but he was already twenty-eight and he wanted to start a family, so I went along.” She went along with everything, too timid, too uncertain of herself to disagree.

  “Did you love him?”

  “I thought I did. I admired him. He was brilliant and accomplished. I was flattered that he chose me.” Barrett had seemed to adore her, so she hadn’t minded when they stopped going out with other couples, when he discouraged her from making her own friends. After Beth Ann came, it was Family Time all the time. She was grateful for his devotion, flattered by his focus. She hadn’t known that her isolation, his subtle but relentless digs, as well as his intense jealousy, were hallmarks of an abusive relationship. How could she have been so stupid, so blind, so slow to act?

  Cara swallowed hard. She was too ashamed to say any of that, but Jonah’s quiet attention made her want to keep talking. “Even when two people love each other—or think they do—it can go terribly, terribly wrong. You know?” She raised her gaze to his.

  “That’s true.”

  “For you, too?”

  He nodded slowly.

  She felt a rush of relief. He understood. He hadn’t been through what she had, but his marriage had crumbled. Cara and Jonah inhaled as one.

  “If I’d only figured it out sooner, you know?” she said. “If I’d paid more attention. If I known what to watch for, the warning signs. If I’d known better.” Her voice trembled.

  “Knowing better isn’t enough. You have to act better. I knew I wasn’t built for marriage, but I put us both through it.” His voice was rough, his eyes burning with regret. “Whether you know better or not, people get hurt.”

  Their eyes met again. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” Jonah said.

  “Me, too. About you.” For the first time, she didn’t feel alone in her pain. Her whole body was alive to the moment, the man, what they’d shared. Without thinking, she pushed her hands across the table toward him. As if by reflex, he covered them with his own.

  That touch turned the moment inside out, made it physical…intimate.

  This time, the zing was a rush, a steady current that turned some places soft and others tight and hot. She hadn’t felt this with Barrett, even at the beginning. She’d had a teenage crush. She’d hardly known her own
body when they married. This was adult sexual desire. It came from deep within her. She ached to be touched and to touch him in return.

  Cara lifted her eyes to meet Jonah’s, his dark pupils wide and shining with desire. He was tense, hardly breathing, his jaw muscle taut, holding himself back from what he wanted to do.

  And what was that?

  To lean across the table and kiss her? Lift her from her chair into his arms? Tear off her clothes and make love to her?

  Did she want that?

  She wanted something. Not quite meaning to, she leaned in and tilted her head. Jonah did the same. When their lips met, an electric thrill coursed through her, a wash of heat and need that made her whole body shake.

  It was too much, too intense. Cara feared she’d be swept under and drown. She broke away, yanking her hands from under his, jumping up so fast her chair tipped and hit the floor. “I have to go.”

  Jonah righted her chair. “I frightened you. I’m sorry.” He looked stricken.

  “No. It’s just been a while…” forever “…since I felt…” sexual. Say it, you idiot. “…that way. I was…” terrified “…surprised.”

  He considered her words, but he didn’t look convinced.

  “Really, it was me,” she said, backing toward the hall. “All me.” She banged into the wall. “Night.” She took the corner so fast he said good night to an empty kitchen.

  Cara leaned against the hall wall, cringing and dizzy, breathing in great gasps that didn’t bring one molecule of oxygen into her lungs. He’d looked stunned and sorry. It was awful, awful. She was so embarrassed.

  She listened for him to leave.

  There was a long silence. Jonah had to be shaking his head over the crazy woman who’d bolted from the merest kiss.

  Finally, he exhaled loudly. She heard a metallic rattle as he picked up his toolbox, then his slow tread to the door and the click when he shut it.

  Cara rushed to her room and into bed. What had she been thinking? She’d forgotten who she was and what had happened to her. The thrill of desire was one thing, actual sex totally different.

  Just the thought of it made her break out in a sweat.

  Sex with Barrett had made her feel awkward. He’d showed her what he wanted and that had been fine with her. She satisfied her own needs in private moments.

  When it got bad between them, Barrett’s touch reminded her how dangerous he was, how ready he was to hurt her. She dreaded sex then, the way it made her feel powerless and vulnerable. Sex was an assault, an invasion, an unwelcome intimacy that sickened her. She made herself numb, hid away in her mind until it was over, welcoming the brutal cramps of her period because Barrett was so squeamish he would sleep in the spare room for those blessed few days each month.

  She knew now that no matter how much she wanted sex, if a man touched her, his hands would become Barrett’s, his body, too, and his voice. She would feel Barrett’s grip, his threats, the way he made her feel like her body belonged to him and he could do with it whatever he wanted.

  She couldn’t imagine trusting a man again.

  Forgetting all that, she’d kissed Jonah. Her lips still tingled. The backs of her hands felt warm. She had the feeling they’d stay that way all night.

  * * *

  CJ HUNG UP the phone, her face as pale as the powdered sugar she’d spread like fairy dust all over his pantry two days ago. “It’s the transmission,” she told him. “Two thousand dollars and that’s with a break on labor because of the delay.”

  “I could loan you a grand if that gets you there.”

  CJ met Jonah’s gaze for the first time that day. He’d scared her last night, no matter what she’d said, and she hadn’t looked at him dead-on since. Now her talkative eyebrows shot up in surprise, then twisted with doubt. “That’s far too generous. I don’t know when I could pay you back.”

  “No rush. It’s sitting in the bank.”

  He could see she wanted to accept, but she shook her head. “Thanks, but it wouldn’t be right. I have to pay my own way.”

  That stung, being brushed off so quick.

  “Rusty says the car can stay there until I decide what to do. Sell it for parts? I don’t know. I just know we have to get going.”

  He had to admit it would be a relief to have her gone. She mixed him up.

  Last night in Rosie’s kitchen, they’d connected. Saying next to nothing, they’d talked up a storm about their bad marriages. Like when they’d talked about loved ones with demons that afternoon, only worse. He’d recognized her pain, felt the same regret and guilt she’d spoken of.

  When their hands met, the moment flipped over, went sexual. He’d been so hungry for her, like he hadn’t felt in years, wide open and raw.

  He’d kissed her. He couldn’t help it. What he wanted was to slide her out of that slinky robe and get skin to skin, run his hands over every inch of her tempting body.

  She’d been surprised, she’d said, but she’d looked hunted. He was sick that he’d done that to her. He’d been a total ass. It had taken him a bit to pull himself together and get the hell out of there.

  They spoke little for the rest of the shift. CJ’s energy had been dampened like a drizzled-on campfire. She smiled for the customers, but it was the empty smile he’d seen the first day. He hated that.

  They were finishing cleanup when Rosie and Bunny came in.

  “Look what Rosie gave me.” Bunny waved a red pogo stick with fringed handles, an aluminum hula hoop over her shoulder.

  “You shouldn’t have,” CJ said, uncomfortable.

  “I had to get rid of them anyway,” Rosie said with a shrug.

  “Yeah, I helped her clear out her inventory,” Bunny said. “Watch me!” She managed a couple of bounces on the pogo stick before losing her balance.

  “That’s very good,” her mother said, “but we can’t take them with us.”

  “There’s room in the backseat.”

  CJ took a deep breath before she spoke. “We’re not taking the car. It’s too expensive to fix, so we’re going by bus.”

  “By bus?” Bunny frowned. “But we can’t leave Grandma’s car here.”

  “Bunny!” CJ said sharply, as if borrowing a car was something that shamed her.

  “Sorry.” Bunny cringed.

  He could tell she’d known not to say that. Strange.

  “That’s a stupid move,” Rosie said. “Stay here and make the cash to fix your car. You’ll need a car in Denver.”

  So Rosie had gotten her to reveal her destination.

  “We’re expected,” CJ said. “We can’t stay.”

  Bunny sighed, took the hula hoop from her shoulder and handed both toys to Rosie. “Thanks anyway.” Her shoulders slumped and she went down the hall to the stairs.

  “You’re not making sense,” Rosie said to CJ, then followed Bunny, the rejected gifts clunking into each other with every step.

  CJ stared after them, upset. She was in a tough spot. He felt for her. He had the urge to put his arms around her and tell her it would be all right—hell, he wanted to make it all right.

  Totally misguided considering his track record. The best he could do was give her practical information. “Not many buses on Sunday. Be sure to check the schedule.”

  “What?” She turned to him, her eyes red.

  “If you need the cash, feel free to work breakfast tomorrow.” He caught a flash of hurt in her face, so he added, “But not if it holds you up.”


  Now she looked irritated. “I get it. If I’m leaving, stop whining about it and do it. I’ll be out of your hair ASAP.” She whipped off her apron, slapped it on the counter and left him with his mouth hanging open.

  What the hell? He’d tried to help, but he’d pissed her off. Should he run after her and apologize? Nah, he’d only make it worse.

  Jonah finished up at the café, eager to get to his shop. Stepping inside, he felt better. The shop had always been his sanctuary. When they’d lost the twins, when his marriage had failed, the workbench had given him solace and satisfaction.

  He ran his hand over the high-backed bench he was finishing. He’d had to wrestle the dense mahogany into the curves he wanted, but it had been worth it. Jonah tried to honor the wood, let it speak to him, guide him with its texture, its give and resistance, its grain like bloodlines.

  Today, he would carve hearts into the flared corners. Hearts modeled after CJ’s lips. Forget CJ and her lips.

  Jonah retrieved the carving chisels his father had given him. See the shape in the wood and set it free, he’d said—something like what Michelangelo said about freeing the angel in the marble he carved. His father had been a patient teacher. Jonah’s best memories of him were in his father’s shop.

  He’d noticed that since his dad died four years ago, Jonah’s good memories of the man had begun to override the bad ones.

  Jonah was halfway through the first heart when Louis whisked by, crackling the tarps over the pieces he’d finished, then disappearing in the lumber at the back.

  “Louis!”

  The shout made Jonah look up. Bunny stood in the doorway looking frustrated. “He hates me. He always runs from me.”

  “It’s not personal. Louis is his own cat. He likes the shop for some reason.”

  “Probably because it smells like the woods where he lives.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Will he ever come out of there?”

  “Eventually. You have to be patient.”

  “I don’t have time to be patient. We’re leaving.” She sounded resigned, like she was used to being disappointed. It was kind of pitiful the way an old pogo stick had thrilled the hell out of her.