Just a Little Series (Part 1)

by Tracie Puckett

  Grace and I had met on several occasions to discuss the floral arrangements for the Oakland Holiday Parade. Of the times we’d met, we’d never discussed anything outside of business with the exception of normal pleasantries. When Luke was brought up, it was only in discussion about the Grand Marshal float. As far as she—or anyone else—knew, Luke and I weren’t involved in any way, shape, or form.

  Still, Grace had been the person to welcome Luke into their home the morning after the big storm in October. She’s the one who’d told him that I was upstairs sleeping in his old bedroom. She’s the one who’d welcomed him with open arms, despite the tension between him and Lonnie. So, in a way, it was hard to tell exactly what Lonnie and Grace Reibeck knew about Luke’s social life. What had Detective Bruno, Grace’s brother, told them, if anything? Did Lonnie know that the little blonde girl he’d swept off the ground, rescued from the storm, and sheltered in his home was (somewhat) romantically involved with his estranged son?

  Grace forced Lonnie to the neighboring table before turning to us and smiling.

  “What a pleasant surprise!” she leaned over to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “How are you?” She asked her question as if it’d been years since she’d seen or spoken to either of us. It was one of Grace’s many qualities that I’d grown to love and adore; she always knew how to make a person feel incredibly special.

  “Wonderful,” I looked behind her to meet her husband’s stare. “Hi, Lonnie.”

  He looked up and nodded, incoherently mumbling under his breath. Grace shrugged and looked back to Luke. “Lucas, sweetheart, how’ve you been?”

  Luke imitated his father, grumbling as he took a drink of his water. It was no wonder Lonnie thought his son hated Grace; Luke was acting as cold and distant as I’d ever seen him.

  Grace and I shared a solemn sigh.

  “Grace, Lonnie,” I took my purse off the chair next to me. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “What a lovely idea!” Grace said, now turning to pull Lonnie out of his own chair. Grace slid in next to Luke, and Lonnie slouched in the chair next to mine.

  “This is absurd,” Lonnie said, his eyes darting across the table.

  Luke met his stare with an equally hate-filled look. “It’s not a walk in the park for me, either—”

  “Now, boys,” Grace interrupted with a motherly scold, “can’t we just enjoy one meal together?”

  “Not hungry anymore,” Luke pushed his plate away. He rolled out of his chair and stood up. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and threw a few bills down on the table. Snatching his jacket, he looked at me for a moment before turning to walk away.

  “Luke,” I grabbed my purse and stood up. “Where are you going?”

  “Stay here and eat, Julie,” he said, turning back. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Luke,” I took a step forward. “Come on, don’t do this. We had plans—”

  “Don’t expect much else,” Lonnie said, finally making his words loud and clear. “After all, running is what he does best.”

  I turned back and glared at him before looking back to his son.

  “Please, Luke,” I said, and suddenly my eyes welled with tears. After all the weeks I’d spent waiting to hear from him, waiting to see him, waiting on my chance to just reach out and touch him, I couldn’t believe that he was standing there so eager to just walk away. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I don’t know when I’m gonna get to see you again. We were supposed to spend the day together—”

  “Jules,” he dropped his head to the side. He took a few steps to meet me in the middle of the diner. He lifted his hand to my face and wiped away the tears that had fallen on my cheeks. His brown eyes softened as he lowered his stare. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  “Luke—”

  “I’m sorry, kid,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I still have too much anger. I can’t be in the same room with him.”

  “Please don’t,” I whispered, feeling the tears fill my eyes once again. “You have to fix things with him. You have to.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Luke—”

  “Julie,” he said, the softness in his voice fading away, “goodbye.”

  He dropped his hands and turned on his heel. He was through the door and out of sight before I had time to register exactly what had just happened.

  Lonnie scoffed behind me, and I turned to look back at him.

  “You!” I took another step back toward the table. “This is all your fault.”

  “My fault?” he looked from me to Grace and then back to me. “How do you figure?”

  I stood there, my heart slamming against my chest, staring at the man who’d scarred Luke—physically, mentally, and emotionally. My blood boiled as I watched him sit there so nonchalant, acting as though Luke was the only one to blame for their falling out.

  “Let me ask you a question,” I said, bending at the waist to meet his gaze. “Where were you a couple of months ago when your son was laid up in the hospital with a bullet lodged in his chest?”

  “Excuse me?” he straightened his posture. He quickly became defensive, and his body language said it all.

  “When Luke was shot,” I widened my eyes, “I was at that hospital day and night for weeks. Where were you? I mean, you did know he was shot, right?”

  “Read something like that in the paper, yeah,” he acted as though it was just another casual article on the front page.

  “And it never occurred to you that maybe you should get in your car, drive down to the hospital, and be with him?” I asked. “He nearly died—”

  “Looks like he pulled through just fine,” Lonnie still wore an emotionless expression.

  I leaned closer, now pointing my finger in his face, and I lowered my voice.

  “Your son took a bullet to save my life. Had he not been there to protect me, I’d be six feet under and nothing more than a vague memory in this town. I owe him everything. This town… they owe him infinite gratitude. But you… you owe him more than the rest of us combined.”

  Lonnie pursed his lips, but remained silent.

  “I lost my father, Lonnie,” I said, not giving in to the fear that boiled just beneath the surface of my skin. “A reckless drug dealer put a gun to his head and took his life. He left me, but not by choice. If he could be here, he would be because that’s what a good father does.”

  I watched as he rolled his eyes, surely convinced that my speech had nothing to do with him or Luke. But he was sadly mistaken….

  “The sickest part of all is that you think you were a good father,” I continued. “You had a chance, but you abandoned your son. You had a choice, and you let him go. You stripped him of his will and dignity; he runs because of you. So stop acting like he does what he does to hurt other people. He runs, so he doesn’t get hurt.”

  I turned to walk out. I had nothing else to say, but Lonnie’s voice interrupted my dramatic exit.

  “You might wanna get your facts straight before you start tossing around accusations, Miss Little” he said, now standing. The steadiness in his voice told me that he wasn’t the least bit rattled by anything I’d just said. My words seemed to roll right off his shoulders. He took a few steps toward me and shrugged, “If you knew what my son had put me through—”

  “I don’t care,” I said. “I know what Luke told me, and I believe every word.”

  “So he told you that he just up and left?” Lonnie asked, raising his voice. His anger caught the attention of the diner workers, and everyone turned to watch. “Did he tell you that he just left? No explanation. No note, no call. Nothing. And that he never came home? He didn’t bother to call, to check in. He just disappeared. It was like he vanished into thin air.”

  His eyes suddenly seemed hollow, and he shook his head in disbelief.

  “A year passed… still, no word. I met Grace, moved on with my life…,” he scoffed and dropped his head. “When I fina
lly found him, and sent him an invitation to my wedding, I never even got so much as a simple rejection, Julie. It wasn’t until three years ago that I even heard he’d come back to Oakland. Even then, he didn’t bother to stop by.”

  But why would he? I wanted to ask, but Lonnie wasn’t eager to stop talking just yet.

  “Do you care to explain that,” he asked, “since you apparently know everything?”

  I couldn’t tell if his question was genuine, or if it was just simply his attempt to belittle me. I lowered my gaze and took a step toward Luke’s father.

  “I heard you had a bit of a drinking problem right after your wife passed, Mr. Reibeck.”

  “That’s public knowledge,” he shrugged a shoulder. “But I got help. What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “Let me tell you a little story.” I knew I’d have to rewind the clock to really drive my point home. “It dates back to a few months ago, not long after I met your son.” Lonnie didn’t look the least bit interested in hearing what I had to say, but he listened nonetheless. “Luke was over at my house for my uncle’s annual poker night and had one too many drinks with the boys.”

  Lonnie grumbled, but I could tell—given the glazed expression that swept across his face—that even that much information hurt him. Did it scare him to know that Luke hadn’t learned from his mistakes? Was he disappointed that his son hadn’t recognized his limits? I didn’t know, but I continued anyway.

  “That very night,” I said, “just before he left, he told me he loved me.”

  “So you and Luke are an item, big deal.”

  “We’re not an item,” I said definitely. “Luke was my mentor for a school project. We weren’t even friends, if you want to put a label on things. Needless to say, we’ve always had a bit of a love-hate relationship.” Lonnie’s brows lowered as he waited for elaboration. “The whole point of my story is that when Luke came to pick me up the following Monday to continue our project, he didn’t remember telling me that he loved me.”

  Lonnie shrugged as if those words were irrelevant to the argument.

  “He was so wasted, Lonnie,” I tried to make him understand as best as I could. “He was so far gone that he said and did things that he wouldn’t have normally done under any other circumstance.”

  Grace was now standing. She rested her hand on Lonnie’s back, caressing him and comforting him the best she could. It was clear that Grace had followed what I was saying, but Lonnie appeared just as clueless as ever.

  “Your drinking problem was more of a problem than I think you realize, Mr. Reibeck. Just remember that before you start pointing fingers,” I turned again to leave.

  “Julie,” he said, and his voice was suddenly laced with anger, “you’re not leaving until you tell me what he told you.”

  “It’s not my place,” I looked over my shoulder. “Luke made it clear that he wanted to fix things on his own terms, but I think it’s wise for you to remember that he’s not the one responsible for what happened.”

  Once again, I turned to leave, but a hand landed on my shoulder to stop me. I defended myself out of reflex, turning to slap Lonnie Reibeck square in the face. A bright, red handprint glowed from his cheek almost instantly.

  We stood and stared at each other for a few long seconds.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Lonnie said, his face turning red as he inched closer.

  “Why?” I swallowed hard. Despite the steadiness in my voice, my heart felt as if it would explode from my chest at any moment. “You gonna hit me back, Lonnie? Beat me to a pulp the way you did Luke?” The expression melted from his face. “At least this time you’re sober, so you’ll remember every strike. Go ahead; hit me—since hitting kids is what you’ve proven to be so good at—”

  “Stop it!” he dug his fingers into my shoulders as he shook me with every word he screamed. “I—never—hurt—my—son!”

  “Lonnie, no!” Grace darted forward to put herself between me and her husband.

  I stood staring at both of them, undoubtedly a mess. I rubbed my shoulders where Lonnie had grabbed me, doing my best to keep tears from my eyes. My hair was disheveled, and my clothes were wrinkled and creased.

  I’d provoked him. I saw the look in his eyes, the one I’m certain Luke saw on the night that Lonnie had struck him.

  Lonnie’s eyes welled up with tears as Grace stepped forward to examine my arms. I shrugged her away and took a step back. Just as I turned to leave the diner, a police siren bleeped outside on the curb.

  I glanced at the waitress, who clung to the telephone receiver, and then back at the Reibecks.

  The bell over the door rang, and Charlie rushed in. His face was red and twisted as he stared between me, Lonnie, and Grace. He nodded at the waitress, who’d obviously called him in, and then turned back to me.

  “Get outside,” he pointed back to the car. “Now.”

  I walked around him and reached the door as he nodded at Grace and Lonnie. “Sorry for the disturbance. I assure you she won’t be bothering your family again.”

  FOUR