Climbing Heartbreak Hill

by Joselyn Vaughn

  “You can ask.” His mom measured the coffee grounds and poured them into the coffee maker.

  “But I’m not going to get an answer.” He settled at the kitchen table, his knee screaming after the jaunt up the stairs.

  “Nope. All meetings are confidential.” She said it like they were debating the formula for cold fusion.

  After pouring two cups of coffee and placing them on the table, she filled a plate of cookies and placed it in front of Ryan. “I shouldn’t eat any of those, but they’re here.” Scraping a chair across the kitchen floor, she selected a chocolate chip cookie. “It’s so nice to have you home. Even if it is because you broke your leg.”

  He spun his coffee cup. He’d been stalling long enough with his questions about his mom and her group. He needed to ask about Tara.

  “What else is going on in town?” He chickened out. Again. Some things he couldn’t discuss with his mother.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tara shivered in front of the dairy display, studying the various containers for an organic, hormone-free cream cheese. Simply grabbing the cheapest wouldn’t work as Charles’s delicate taste buds would be traumatized, and she’d lose the rest of the afternoon. He wouldn’t get anything accomplished while sulking, and she’d have to run over to the health foods store in Glendale to appease him.

  She picked up another container and studied the label. It didn’t mention whether the dairy products used were from cloned cows or not. A familiar swish whispered up the aisle. Ryan’s wind-pants. She instantly swung toward the sound, eager to see Ryan and hear how his appointment went. She hadn’t dared to call him the previous evening, though she’d contemplated it several times. Would that be presuming too much about their friendship? She had only known him a little more than a week and didn’t want to confuse the excitement of attraction with the first steps of falling in love.

  Love.

  As that four-letter word crossed her mind, she dropped the cream cheese back in the display as though its non-pasteurized microbes were creeping out. Falling in love? She shouldn’t be thinking about Ryan and love. If he got good news from the doctor, he would be returning to training camp soon. While she was happy for his healing, she was reluctant to see him go.

  As he came around the castle of bananas, she saw that instead of hunching over his crutches, he was walking gingerly with a cane. The side of his chin sported an angry red scrape.

  “Ryan!” she bubbled, feeling a little too much like a giggly, high school girl with a bouncy ponytail. He came to stand beside her. She tentatively touched the scruff near the scratch. “What happened here?”

  The jaw under her fingertips tensed. “Slipped on the sidewalk yesterday.”

  Tara dropped her hand away. Switching from crutches to a cane must be a difficult adjustment.

  “I thought Charles would have you tied to your desk by now.” His teasing tone was marred by a wince each time he put his weight on his left leg.

  “Not when he has a craving for fresh, gluten-free organic bagels with lactose-free cream cheese.” She shrugged and snatched up the cheese spread container she had been studying. “You know Charles. Only the most specific and annoyingly hard to find.”

  Ryan took the container from her. His fingers grazed hers and a delightful zing slipped up her arm. It was enough to make her happy to be at the grocery store on Charles’s stupid errand.

  “What are his requirements this time? Only Japanese cows?”

  “Oh, don’t give him any ideas. Organic and hormone-free cows. I thought this errand would be easier.”

  Ryan chucked the cheese back into the display and selected another container. “This one should do. Does he make you pay for everything, too?”

  “Strangely, he doesn’t. He gave me a twenty.” She pulled it out of her pocket and waved it. “He did demand change and the receipt.” She spun the container and gaped at the price sticker. “Good thing too, because I wouldn’t shell out six dollars for a fancy cream cheese spread.”

  She beamed at Ryan. It was so good to see his improvement. A cane today, and he’d probably be running in a week. When he wasn’t bent over crutches, his T-shirt stretched across his tall frame and the short sleeves wrapped snuggly around his biceps. He was taller than she expected, too. She had to tilt her face up and her eyes met the scruff on his chin. She imagined she would fit perfectly under his arm. She had to wrap a vise-grip around her brain to keep it from running away with that idea as delightful as it was.

  “You must have had good news from the doctor.” She tapped the cane he gripped. “This is a step up.”

  Ryan flexed his hand around the handle and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Monday, actually.”

  “Oh.” She wavered between wanting to know what he found out and being hurt he hadn’t called her right away. Good news meant he was leaving, and he must not have gotten as attached as she was. He’d said his stay was temporary, so she had tried not to invest much of her heart in him, but given the sting of this small rejection, she had failed.

  From the look on his face, she could tell whatever the doctor said hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. Still an upgrade in equipment had to be a little good news.

  Ryan’s chest heaved as he took a breath and slowly deflated. “Not what I was hoping for.”

  “No running yet?” She reached out to touch his arm. His muscles tensed into ripped cords. Who knew runners had such strong arms?

  “Possibly not ever.” The words were tight as if saying them required sawing them from a piece of overcooked steak. “My ACL seems fine, but the cartilage is gone. I’ll be lucky if I can walk without pain.”

  “They can’t do anything?”

  “A knee replacement eventually, but he wants me to wait as long as possible.”

  Tara inched closer, wanting to hug him, but not daring in the middle of the grocery store. His balance with the cane might not be the steadiest, and with her track record, she could send him sprawling into the bananas. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you were hoping for better news.”

  “Better news?” Ryan snorted. “I would have rather heard my ACL was still mucked up. I can run with a bad ACL.”

  “The doctor said that?”

  Ryan wavered a moment. “Not competing on a world class level, but I’d still be able to run. Now, I can’t do anything. Even walking without this—” He waved his cane and sneered. “Walking without this might not be possible.”

  “You could get one with flames on it,” Tara teased, trying to bump him out of his funk. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on the past and what might have been. She’d tried when she’d been cut from the dance team. Each day hoping the management would change its mind about the uniforms or her scars and call her back. She had jumped for the phone each time it jingled. It had taken her months to find her footing. Not until Leslie had hired her had she found a direction or a new purpose.

  She had to be Ryan’s Leslie.

  Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know what to think yet. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Who cared what the town gossips might say? He needed her support right now. She slipped her arm around his waist, squeezing him to her side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly to him. She fit snugly there and some of the stress of dealing with Charles eased. “It doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll make it. You have options.”

  Ryan shook his head. “I can’t give up a lifelong dream in the blink of an eye.”

  “No one’s saying you have to, but you are more than a marathoner. You are more than how fast your legs can carry you. Don’t you have other dreams?”

  He stared away from her as if the tubs of cottage cheese might start a song and dance routine about the importance of calcium for bone development and he didn’t want to miss a second of it. Was he hearing anything she said?

  “Could you do something running related? Like coaching, developing training plans, or something. You could probably write a mobile phone app to create c
ustom training plans and make millions.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “Nothing I’ve planned for. Nothing that will get me through tomorrow.”

  “You know all that computer stuff. My only skill was talking on the phone when I lost the cheerleading gig. I floundered for a long time. You’ll hit the ground running.”

  He grimaced.

  Not her best tact, but at least he was listening. It was a start. He’d need time for the seed to germinate.

  “Sorry, bad choice of words. Just because your life isn’t turning out how you planned doesn’t mean where it’s going is wrong.” She studied him, searching for a glimmer of understanding, of hope, or a hint he wouldn’t collapse on himself.

  She was jealous of all the opportunities he had. But he needed time, she reminded herself.

  “I’m sure that will be comforting at some point, but today it’s meaningless.”

  “Yeah.” She hugged him tighter, then reluctantly let go. Gave him some space. No matter how good his body felt next to hers. Maybe a change of topic would help, like when she would see him again. A topic of much more interest. “When are you bringing your other papers in?”

  “I found the old returns in the basement, but I need to find some other documents. They’re down there somewhere, but I’m avoiding stairs as much as possible.” His voice was terse.

  The basement wasn’t the only thing he was avoiding. But she was going to see him again soon. She wasn’t going to allow him to wallow in his despair for long.

  “Gotcha. Well, bring them in as soon as you get a chance.” She waved the cream cheese which had been out of the refrigerated display for longer than something with no preservatives should be. “I better get this to Charles before he or it expires.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charles had settled on the futon with his feet on Leslie’s body pillow for an afternoon nap. He’d been doing it every day after the lunch rush. Despite all his disparaging of the futon, he made generous use of it. Not in the way he insinuated to Tara, but he’d logged more snoozes there than Leslie had.

  Tara closed the door to the break room to block Charles’s snoring and scurried back to her desk. She had twenty minutes to tackle the pile on her desk before he woke up and started demanding she run errands for his latest minuscule cravings. Weird cream cheese, chocolate-covered raisins, and super-mint breath fresheners. Each time he only wanted one thing, and he always rolled a shiny new twenty off that stack of his. At least he wasn’t trying to expense all his junk. He’d probably send her on another errand as soon as he woke up, but right now she had a stack of 1040s to enter into the computer system.

  She opened the first file and tapped away at the keypad. Before she made it halfway through their income statements, the door jangled and Minnie blew in. The gust of wind thumped the door shut behind her. Tara winced, hoping the cacophony of the bells didn’t wake Charles from his beauty sleep.

  Minnie smoothed her hair and plopped into the seat next to Tara’s desk. “How’s it going?”

  Tara flipped the folder closed and punched the save keys on the computer, knowing her twenty minutes of free time were gone. “Not too bad. We’re staying on top of things.” It wasn’t completely false as long as she referred to herself in the royal 'we.'

  “I was up to visit Leslie. She’s doing well. May even be able to go home this afternoon.” Minnie pulled a compact out of her purse and checked her hair. “This wind did a number on my hairdo. I don’t know how they’ll ever get it straightened out for the pictures.”

  “Great news about Leslie. I suppose she will still be on bed rest for the duration.”

  “That’d be my guess too. Speaking of pictures — do you know where I can find a dunk tank?”

  Tara had no idea how Minnie connected pictures to a dunk tank, and probably didn’t want to know. “Doesn’t the high school have one?”

  “Thank you. I didn’t even think of that. I need to arrange one for the library benefit.”

  “I thought it was a black tie event.”

  Minnie looked at her like she’d questioned the wisdom of putting peanut butter with jelly on a sandwich. Alrighty then. It’d go well with the mechanical bull Bubba’s Demolition was sponsoring. Leslie had sponsored the drinks, figuring it was an easy way to get people to add a zero or two to their checks.

  “The dry cleaner wants to do a ‘Dunk a Hunk.’ They want the men in tuxes. Maybe they’re hoping for a twofer and getting their suits in to be cleaned, too.” She screwed up her mouth as if contemplating the business sense. “I promised I’d help rope in some hunks. What’s this Charles look like?”

  Tara wrinkled her nose.

  “Oh well. Yvonne thought Ryan would do it.”

  The picture of Ryan all wet that jumped into Tara’s mind was definitely not safe for work. Although the thoughts incited by the image of Ryan in a tuxedo probably weren’t either. Too bad whipping a baseball at him and knocking the ‘woe is me’ out of his head had almost as much appeal. She wasn’t going to let him feel sorry for himself and her fastball hurtling toward his head just might jog him out of his funk.

  “Well, I better be off. We’re all due at the photographer at one. Have a good afternoon.” Minnie disappeared out the door as quickly as the wind blew her in.

  Tara grabbed her files, refusing to contemplate the mystery that was Minnie when she had work to do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After digging through the basement and talking with his mom, Ryan’s brain was fried. As much as he wanted to find a solution to all the things bugging him, his mind was too overloaded to concentrate. Normally, he’d go for a run. The steady rhythm of his feet pounding the pavement shook the jumble into some kind of order. At the end he had a game plan. This morning had proved that was no longer an option. He needed a distraction, so his brain could slow down for a while. Maybe he’d rent a movie.

  He drove to the last video store in town. None of his mom’s movies appealed to him. Every DVD case featured flowers or some sappy couple embracing in the rain. Not a car chase, explosion, or gunfight among them.

  As he drove by Knotts Accounting, he happened to notice the place was still lit up. You didn’t “happen” to notice, he amended. You looked, wanting a glimpse of Tara. He wanted to see her at her desk like a beacon, calling him out of his storm. She could settle his agitated thoughts. She could bring him calm, and remind him how to move through adversity.

  She was still in front of her computer. Nine o’clock at night, and she was still at work? Tax season sucked, but he admired her dedication. Who else would work so hard and put up with so much for a friend?

  Ryan stopped at the video store and wandered through the displays. The decent-looking new releases were gone. There were about ten copies of some teeny-bopper thing. He didn’t need any reminders of his high school experience. He wove around the older shelves. Most of the movies had been replaced by video games, so even the selection there was sparse. Nothing appealed to him any more than his mother’s collection of outdated exercise videos.

  He debated whether to pick something randomly and hope for the best or find something else to do. Then he remembered Tara sitting at her desk. If she had been there all day, she could probably use a break. Charles had surely hightailed it hours before. Maybe he could take her something to eat.

  It would be a chance to focus on something besides his own misery. And if it didn’t, well, the eye candy would be better than the flamboyant exercise videos.

  He stopped at Bart’s and picked a wide selection from their take out menu, being sure to add a couple of milkshakes, because who didn’t like those? Tara’s tastes couldn’t be judged from their only dinner at Bart’s. She’d ordered fries and a hamburger, but hadn’t taken a bite after the call from Mark. He took the bags and headed back to her office. The sign said office hours were extended during tax season, but closing time was two hours before. The door was still open, so he let himself in.

  “I’ll be with you in a
moment,” Tara said, barely sparing him a glance. She’d wound her hair on top of her head and stuck a couple pencils through it to hold it in place.

  “You should lock up. Anyone could waltz in here.” He shook the fast food bags; the paper crinkled enticingly.

  “Do you have food?” She let go of her mouse and leaned back in her seat. “I can’t lock up until we close. I’ve got another hour.”

  “Not according to your sign.” He laughed as she scrambled for the clock on her desk.

  She pulled it out from under a pile of receipts and rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s so late already. Where does the day go?”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun?” Ryan dropped the bags on the chair beside her desk.

  “I wish. This return is giving me fits. Charles filed it this morning, and it keeps bouncing back.” Tara shoved the mouse across its pad.

  “What’s the problem?” Ryan slipped around the desk and skimmed Tara’s computer screen. He spared a glance at the blonde curl that looped around her ear and spiraled toward the neckline of her blouse and his thoughts followed it. Any memory of what was on her screen fizzled.

  “I don’t know. I’ve double checked all the numbers. The social security numbers match, addresses, everything.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Although, I’ve been looking at it for so long there could be a big red arrow pointing to the problem and I wouldn’t see it.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I came. You need a break. I wanted to see if it worked for me to look at the servers tomorrow.” It just popped into his head. It was as good an excuse as any should the dinner idea not go over. At least he’d seem less like a stalker. “Bart’s. In case you haven’t eaten.”

  Tara’s stomach growled in response. She tossed a pencil down on the pile of papers. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “I saw the light as I was going to the video store.” Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets.