by C. B. Stagg
“Christian, not Christine, you little fish.”
She smiled back at me—a clear indication her mistake was no mistake at all—and I reached out to flip another bracelet. But she moved too quickly, bouncing off the seat and out the door, bottle in hand. Her attitude was almost visible in her wake.
“I’m going to fill up number six, Mom.”
I stood and met the woman’s light grey eyes. “I’m Christian Clark, Claire’s son.” I offered my hand and she took it.
“Nice to meet you.”
Her chestnut hair, neatly pulled back into a braid, accentuated the delicate structure of her jaw and collarbone. Her dark hair, in contrast to her pale skin, made her face appear as if it were made of porcelain. Her bone structure was tiny, but perfect in all the right ways.
“Your mom talks about y’all all the time. Are you the one who just got married?” I shook my head, inwardly rolling my eyes. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? “Oh, then you must be the preacher, because I know you’re too old to be in high school. No offense.” Her smile lit up her face, showing me a mouthful of sparkling white teeth.
“Yep, I’m the preacher.” Releasing her hand, I stuck mine in my pockets, realizing I’d maybe held hers a little too long during our initial shake. Delicate, soft, and warm… I hadn’t wanted to let go.
“Well, I’m Katy, and I run this place. And the tornado of giggles and curls is my daughter, and before you ask what ‘pickle’ is, she means PKD, Polycystic Kidney Disease. That’s why she drinks water all the time and consequently spends half her day in the bathroom.”
I nodded in acknowledgement that I’d heard the words. Awkward silence, my favorite. And this is why I don’t have a girlfriend.
“That sounds challenging. Is there anything I can do?” Oh my Lord in Heaven, please let me choke so I’ll stop talking right now.
“Nope.” She shrugged as if it was the most common question in the world. “Not unless you have a spare kidney lying around?”
We both smiled at Katy’s attempt at a joke, but her smile stopped midface, and I was pretty sure mine did as well. Everything about her looked to be about twelve years old, with the exception of her eyes. Somehow I knew they’d seen a lot of pain, and every instinct I had told me to pull her into my arms and offer assistance in any way possible.
“Um, you have something… ” I reached and pulled a piece of paper from the leg of her jeans. “Here, this was stuck to you.” I handed her a Post-it note, reading it first. Life is about making dreams come true was written on it in distinctly female script.
“Oh, thanks.” She blushed. “Cara Jo, my boss, likes to leave these little notes all over. I never know where I’ll find them.” She tucked the paper into her back pocket.
Lucky little note.
My mom found her way back inside the diner about that time, a little less flustered than when she’d left. “Mom, your keys were in your purse the whole time.”
“Oh, look at this.” She stopped short at the sight of us, and that’s when I realized how close we were standing to one another. I stepped back. “So, you two have met, I see?” We nodded, like an idiotic pair of bobblehead dolls. “Okay, then. Just let me gather my things.” She reached for her bag and grabbed her keys right from their usual spot, tucking them into her pocket with less discretion than I’m sure she intended. “Well, Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”
“Thank you, Claire.” Katy pulled my mother in for a hug that spoke of their closeness, catching me off guard. “You can’t know how much I appreciate you… and everything.” Soon enough, the little one joined the ladies and they were all hugging.
“Thanks for coming to see me on my birthday, CC.” That got my attention. CC was my mother’s grandma name. It’s what Julian, Taj, and even Whiskey and Red had started calling her; it struck me as awfully personal to be coming from the mouth of a random waitress’s daughter. But then again, my mother didn’t visit random waitresses on Christmas. It was clear nothing about this visit was random. No, there was more to this friendship than my mother was letting on.
“Bye-bye, Miss Waverly. Don’t drive your mother too crazy and I’ll be back in a week or two, okay?” The little girl nodded and smiled before turning her attention toward me.
We all watched in wonder as Waverly climbed up on the seat of the booth, placing her about chest high to me. Instinctively, my arm shot out to wrap around her. I’d only wanted to prevent her from falling, but she interpreted the move as a hug and wrapped her tiny little arms around my neck, pulling herself up to me. She smelled like candy canes.
“Bye, Christine,” she spouted, using her sing-song voice, and placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for visiting me on my birthday.” I poked her in the belly, and she erupted with laughter.
“Bye, Little Fish.” I kissed the top of her tiny little hand. “Don’t float away.” Her laugh danced through the small space, as she got my joke, while the two women in our lives observed our interaction in awe. Swinging her off the seat, I gave her a twirl and another quick squeeze before settling her onto her feet, which carried her away, back through the swinging doors. I watched her little curls bounce until I could no longer see her.
I want one of those.
Chapter 6
Kaitlin
THAT MAN.
He was something else. The look in his eyes was familiar, warm, and affecting me like a drug. Though I was positive we hadn’t met before today, I felt like our souls had maybe shared a conversation, a meal, or possibly more once upon a time. His touch sent a shiver of chills up my spine, a feeling I’d all but given up on in this lifetime. Open to possibilities. My psalm.
And amazingly enough, I was pretty sure my daughter felt it, too. Other than Roy, Cara Jo’s husband and Waverly’s surrogate grandfather, I’d never seen her show any type of affection toward another man. And for a moment—just one moment—I considered how different both of our lives would be if she had a true father figure, rounding out our little family. I sighed. Usually, I avoided these types of thoughts, but watching her climb up on the booth and cling to Christian Clark’s neck reminded me of a drowning man holding on to a life preserver. It stirred something in me. Her reaction to him was similar to how I felt holding his hand when he’d introduced himself. I hadn’t wanted to let go. Ever.
Was I depriving her of a complete life by avoiding relationships that could lead to someone filling that role? Great. More mommy guilt. Merry Christmas to me.
“Sorry.” I motioned to where my devil child had been just seconds ago. “She’s kind of a hot mess.”
“Hmmmm.” Christian grinned. “So, I’m wondering, does all that personality come from her mom?” His flirty tone did not go unnoticed. Ducking my head to hide my face, I smiled. I smiled… and I smiled… and when I finally realized I’d probably never stop; I stole a peek up at him through my lashes and saw he’d been watching me too, his face mirroring mine.
“Yep.” I nodded, the world falling away as I drowned in those crystal blue eyes. “She’s just like me.” I wanted to jump on him. Get a grip, girl!
“Funny, how she acts like you, but she sure doesn’t resemble you much, does she?”
I smiled, feeling a familiar pang of longing that always seemed to pop up when that observation was made. It wasn’t the first time someone had pointed that out to me. It was true, though. My dark brown hair and light grey eyes, offset by my milky white skin, gave me a haunting, vampire quality no amount of sun could change. Waverly, with her blonde hair and bright blue eyes, could step into the sun for ten minutes and have a golden glow for weeks. She was the embodiment of a girl from The Beach Boys song. Genetics were funny that way.
“Nope, she looks just like her daddy.” I shrugged, hoping to cut the conversation off at the pass before it even had a chance to find legs. I wasn’t a fan of talking about her dad.
“Well, I’d better head outside and get Mom squared away.” He pulled worn, brown le
ather gloves from his back pocket, stretched them over his big hands, and walked out the door.
Lucky gloves.
With Claire and Christian out in the parking lot working to get her car started, I had a chance to watch him without fear of being caught.
“Who’s the hunk?” Startled that Cara Jo had snuck up beside me, she followed my eyes to the view on the opposite side of the window.
“That’s Claire Clark’s son.” I went back to watching as he bent at the waist, checking things under the hood. I’d sure like to take a look under his hood. Cara Jo howled with laughter. “Did I say that out loud?” My old friend nodded, trying to catch her breath. I lightly punched her in the arm for laughing at me.
“Can’t say that I blame you, though. If I were a little younger, I’d let that man tickle my biscuits.” I whacked her on the arm. “Is he the preacher?” I nodded, then took one last, long look before shaking myself from the daze he’d put me in.
“Yep. A preacher. The man is a preacher.”
“You know you shouldn’t be thinking dirty thoughts about a man of God, Katy.”
“Are you serious, old woman? Jeez.” I ran my hands over my face. My cheeks were warm and sore from smiling and I felt the heat on my neck. Please tell me my blush had started after he left the diner. “I need to get back to work.”
As I stepped away, Cara Jo shook her head. “Nah, let’s close up. No one else is coming in today. We’ll go out back and watch Wave play with her toys. Roy promised he’d teach her to ride her new bike, but really I think he just wants to avoid moving the training wheels from the old one to the new.” She looped her arm in mine, but when she saw Christian walking back toward the door, she dropped it and made herself scarce. I jumped back from the window I’d been using to spy on him and dabbed my chin, checking for drool.
“Hey.”
It was hard to miss the way his determined look softened when his eyes met mine. It was even harder to ignore the gymnastics routine my stomach performed at the sight of his clean-shaven, handsome face. His smile could easily become my undoing.
“It looks like Mom needs a whole new battery and since it’s Christmas… ” He shrugged. Boyish charm surrounded him like a halo. “I just wanted to let someone know we’d be leaving the car.”
I waved him off. “No worries, you can leave it. I live right back there,” I pointed in the relative direction of my house, “in the Airstream. So if I’m not in the diner, chances are I’m out there. If you need anything when you come back, you know where to find me.” Here, let me draw a map for you on your hand. I’ll give you my number while I’m at it. What was I thinking? Like he would need my help for anything.
He smiled, and my legs quivered. He was a beautiful man, and I felt like a scrawny, pimply faced teenager in his presence.
“Good information to have.” His smirk hit me right in the knees. I grabbed the countertop to keep myself upright. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” And with that, he walked back out to his truck.
“Oooooh, he said ‘we.’ I think he likes you. Katy and Preacher Man, sittin’ in a tree… K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Cara Jo danced out of her hiding spot and poked me in the ribs. I lost my irises in the eye roll I gave her.
I wish.
I sighed again. “Well, who wouldn’t? I mean, I’m such a catch.” I looked at my bootcut jeans and realized my shirt said, I’m on the naughty list. Seriously? “Single mom… with no money, no education, no boobs… ” I grabbed my chest, crass, but impactful and typical of my snarky sense of humor. “I mean, I live in a house with wheels. I’m surprised he didn’t propose on the spot.”
I pulled the blinds, locked the front up tight, turned off the open sign, and left Cara Jo in the dark diner while I went to find my daughter and calm my wildly pounding heart.
Chapter 7
Christian
THE SIMPER ON MY MOTHER’S FACE spoke volumes, but it wasn’t until we’d traveled a couple miles down the road that she addressed the events that had taken place.
“Do I really need a whole new battery?” When had my mother become so gravely concerned about her car?
“Of course you don’t. You didn’t even need a jump.”
Her blush confirmed everything I’d suspected upon finding her keys in plain sight. “So, why did you tell her I needed a new battery? Why are we leaving my relatively new Jeep at a diner twenty miles from home when I could have just driven it back?”
“Well… ” It was my turn to smirk. I’ve got your number, lady. “You lured me out to this little ramshackle diner by the bay so I could meet her, right?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “And now that I have… ”
“You wanted a reason to come back.”
Bingo!
I nodded, while she giggled and bounced in her seat, clapping her hands like a little girl. “So I’m guessing there’s no husband in the picture?” Mom shook her head. “And Waverly’s dad? The one she apparently looks exactly like?” Why did that thought make me so angry inside?
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Katy plays her cards pretty close to her vest. I think she’s been hurt.”
That was probably the understatement of the year.
“Did you know that Waverly’s sick?” I hadn’t been able to let that go since Katy told me, and planned to do some research once I’d fulfilled my holiday commitments. I didn’t know anything about her condition, but something was driving me to learn more.
“Yeah, she has PKD, which means she has cysts on her kidneys. I don’t know much about it, but Grandma had a baby about a year before I was born, who died from cystic or nonfunctioning kidneys—I’m not sure which. That happened in the early sixties, and there wasn’t much that could be done about it back then, but medicine has changed drastically.” She sighed. “I know Katy worries. There’s a lot that goes along with having a sick child, and to shoulder all that responsibility as a single parent can’t be easy.”
I watched my mother’s face cloud when talking about the little family I’d only met minutes ago. Katy wasn’t the only one worried about Waverly. “She’s okay though, right? As long as she drinks three gallons of water a day, or whatever?”
When my mother gazed over at me, she shook her head, tears perched on her eyelids. “She’s recently been placed on the transplant list.”
Her words struck me like a knife to the heart. Waverly seemed so normal. People waiting for transplants should look sick, not spunky, right?
I let everything I’d learned about Katy and her daughter settle into my brain for the rest of our drive home. But pulling up in front of our house, I had to confirm my suspicions.
“Mom, just admit it. This was a setup, no? Your ultimate goal in all this was for me to meet Katy and ask her out, am I right?”
Her slight smile warmed me, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m not sure.” She shook her head ‘no,’ but switched and nodded ‘yes’ as if she struggled to make up her mind. “Yeah, I guess it was, but there’s more to it than that.” She twisted to face me in the cab of my truck. “Christian, you were born to change lives. I’ve said it since you were born. And you will.”
“I still don’t understand.”
She talked in circles. My mother notoriously took her sweet time getting to the point. Although she would, undoubtedly, offer words of wisdom I’d think back on and know for certain she knew exactly what she was talking about.
“I watched you the other night at the ceremony for Casey and Vaughn, and Jase and Becky. While I know you were thrilled to join the two couples in marriage, everything in your eyes shouted Why can’t this be me? Will this ever be me?”
Tears welled up in my eyes, as I sat in awe of my mother’s intuitive nature.
“Christian, I firmly believe that you are in the perfect position to have everything you’ve ever wanted, and maybe even things you hadn’t considered. You need to take a chance. Promise me you’ll be open to the possibilities.”
Before I could respond, Mom hopped out and I foll
owed her inside the house. Almost as soon as we walked in the door, we were off to the Pearsons’ for Christmas dinner.
By the time I’d wrapped things up at work and arrived at my parents’ house the following day, my father had already taken Mom to get her car from Perrilloux’s. Miracle of all miracles, the battery was fine and the car started right up. Maybe it was a missed opportunity, but the more I thought about the situation, I realized it was probably for the best. Katy had enough on her plate. She didn’t need me pulling her in yet a different direction.
My eyes were starting to glaze over, and my brain had turned to mush. “Oh my jeez, the FBI requires less personal information for a job application than this freaking site.” Running my hands through my hair for the hundredth time, I questioned my decision to ever start the process in the first place. And if I thought the registration process for a dating service was bad, setting up my member profile was pure torture. The questions were ridiculous.
Shark diving, bungee jumping, or skydiving?
None of the above. Or skydiving? I wouldn’t rule that one out.
Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, or NSYNC?
I will not dignify this question with a response. Goo Goo Dolls.
What is the weirdest scar you have and how did you get it?
Two puncture wounds in the arch of my foot
from a nail cross.
If you could choose any fast food restaurant to start offering delivery, which one would it be?
Sonic. (Route 44 Diet Dr Pepper with vanilla cream and a chili cheese coney)
What do you like best about being single?
Nothing. It stinks. I’m surrounded by people in love, and I’m always the odd wheel.
What is your favorite food for a midnight snack?
Nutella and a spoon.
