“Hey, Coach. I just stopped by to get this signed.” He handed him a pink slip of paper. “My folks want to leave tomorrow after lunch. Dad wants to get an early start on some freakin’ family road trip.” The teen, now a junior and with a promising future in football, leaned against the doorframe.
The paper fluttered in the breeze left in the wake of the small oscillating fan Justin had brought in and put on the file cabinet to keep the air moving in the locker room.
The boy sighed. “Don’t you think that Canada in the summer pretty much looks like Montana?” Eric asked despairingly. “I mean, why now? We’ve never taken one. It’s the summer before my senior year. I have to take off work, miss doing stuff with my friends—who, by the way, are heading down to Texas.”
Justin chuckled softly under his breath as he added his name to the list getting the boy out of tomorrow’s study hall. He handed it back, sympathizing with the boy’s frustration—parents were impossible to understand. Even so, he felt compelled to offer a bit of ‘teacher-like’ wisdom. “Hey, your senior year goes pretty fast. Then you’ll be heading off to college on a scholarship, no doubt.”
Eric shrugged, though his expression remained unenthusiastic. “I’m keeping my grades up, so yeah, I guess.”
Justin continued. “Well, then, you’ll be starting your life at college, meeting new people, maybe a girl—”
Eric snorted. “I’ll have to fight them off.”
“Yeah, then the next thing you know, you’re married, starting a family…”
“Whoa, Coach, slow your roll. I haven’t even met ‘the girl’ yet.” He crooked his fingers for emphasis.
“My point,” Justin said, “is that this road trip that seems lame right now might look pretty good in the rearview mirror. You get what I’m saying?”
The teen—his hair grown longer in the off season, along with the scruffy beard—gazed at Justin for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, I’ve got my laptop and noise-cancelling headphones. I can watch movies, right?”
As a teacher, he could only advise so much. “Right.” Justin leaned forward. He dropped his pen on the desk and the invitation fluttered to the teen’s feet.
Eric picked it up and casually glanced at it. “So, your class reunion, huh?” he asked, raising a brow as he handed Justin the card. “You going?”
Uncomfortable to be placed on the spot, Justin took back the card and tossed it on the desk. “Not sure. The timing isn’t very good for me.”
The boy’s mouth turned up in a challenging smile. “What was that you were saying about rearview mirrors?”
Damn. He had been listening. Justin glanced at the card, picked it up, and tapped it against the desk. It’d been a long time since he’d set foot in Atlanta…and he had his reasons. “Go on, Eric. Enjoy this time with your family. Life’s too short.” His mother’s words popped out before he even realized it.
“Yep, like you always tell us, Coach—family is everything.” He turned to leave. “Have a good summer. See you at football camp.”
“Family is everything,” Justin muttered. His mom was right. This had gone on long enough. While he couldn’t control all that had happened, he could straighten things out with Jake. Maybe in doing so, he’d be able to put the past to rest in his heart and his brain.
***
“Sorry I’m late. My pre-marriage appointment with a young couple from church went longer than I’d expected.” Leslie Cook—now Reverend Leslie Cook of the First Church of Christ in End of the Line, Montana—slid into the booth across from Justin. Considering they lived in such a small town, the two old friends barely saw one another, and lately it had become increasingly difficult even to schedule a dinner together.
“Did you warn them off about the pitfalls of romance?” Justin offered a slanted grin as he glanced over the menu at Betty’s diner.
His friend gave him a smile. “Cynicism doesn’t look good on you, Justin.” She picked up one of the menus Betty had left.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I haven’t seen you two out on a date together since you moved here.” Betty smiled at one and then the other as she set their wrapped utensils and water on the table. “Glad to see you managed to get this guy out on a real date.” Betty chuckled under her breath.
Justin and Leslie looked at her. “It’s not a date,” they said in unison.
The owner and part-time waitress of the popular eating spot in the little town glanced at each of them and smiled. “Of course, you’re not.” She pulled out a small tablet and licked the tip of the pencil. “Ok, kids”—because anyone younger than her was considered a kid—“what’ll it be? We’ve got a tuna melt special tonight that comes with my Jerry’s seasoned fries, and we have our Thursday night Betty burger topped with pulled pork, coleslaw, and my special Cajun sauce. And you’re going to want to save room for dessert because Rebecca just baked up some delicious Dutch apple crumb pies that are to die for.”
Justin’s stomach growled plaintively. He’d skipped lunch in lieu of an oatmeal cookie he’d found in the teacher’s lounge. “What say you, Reverend? My treat,” Justin said with a grin.
Betty smiled, but kept her eyes to the notebook.
“It’s not a date, Betty,” Justin reiterated.
Betty shrugged, then looked at Leslie and grinned. “If I were you I’d order the twelve-ounce steak.”
Leslie smiled. “Tuna melt for me, with Jerry’s fries. I haven’t had those in a long while. Oh, and may I have a house salad, with ranch dressing on the side?”
“You bet.” Betty scribbled a few notes and looked at Justin. “How about you, Mr. Reed?”
He closed the menu and handed it to Betty. “A Betty burger. May I get extra Cajun sauce on the side?”
“Well, that convinces me you aren’t on a real date.” She grinned. “Coming right up.”
After she left, Leslie folded her hands on the table and leaned forward with an expectant look. “Have you made a decision about that reunion?”
She, too, had been haranguing him about attending, but like his Mom, more for resolving his family issues than anything. She had suggested–more than once—that it was best to get things out in the open and to forgive and forget.
Justin glanced up as Betty brought over two salads, glad to stave off answering Leslie’s question.
“It’s on the house. You looked a bit pale.” She scooted the salad toward Justin. “Your specials are coming up.” She started to leave and turned on her heel. “I’m sorry, but Reverend, I keep meaning to ask you how many loaves of bread you’ll need for the Easter church supper? Now that I have the bakery next door, we’d love to help you any way we can.”
Leslie grabbed Betty’s hand and squeezed it. “Betty, you are one of the reasons I love this town. You’re an angel to offer, but are you sure you have time now with two businesses to run?”
Betty waved her hand dismissively. “It’s no problem. I’ve got a cracker jack team between Rebecca Greyfeather and her granddaughter Emilee, who has been helping after school in the kitchen. And then there’s Clay’s sister, Julie, who has an amazing head for business. I just get to come in and offer new recipes and brainstorm ideas for new products. I’m the one who is blessed with such a crew.” She nudged Leslie’s shoulder. “Why, Julie is even working on a website for the bakery to see if we can drum up some online business.” She gave Leslie a wink. “But helping you out with feeding the folks in this community and at Miss Ellie’s shelter in Billings is my top priority. Besides, we had so many in this town helping out after Jerry’s stroke that it’s our pleasure to give back any way we can.”
Justin smiled as he listened to Betty. It had been her kindness one fateful Saturday morning years ago that had been powerfully influential—in part—to Justin deciding to return years later to End of the Line. His Uncle Roy used to take him and his brother Jake fly fishing once a year at his cabin on the north Yellowstone River. As was tradition, they’d first stop at Betty�
�s for a large breakfast and then make a stop at the town’s one and only grocery store to get supplies before heading north. Justin’s love of the area—his love for the wide-open spaces, the mountains, being able to breathe—hadn’t changed, except that his appreciation had gotten stronger since his youthful days spent on the river, water swirling around his waders as he listened to his uncle’s stories. Not a lover of the outdoors, Jake usually opted for sitting on the front porch with his nose in a book, wondering when they were going to eat. Oddly, it’d been his good friend, Leslie—having moved there to take on her first position at First Church of Christ—who had plugged him into the teaching position when it opened in End of the Line.
Diving into their food after it arrived, Justin was relieved when the topic turned from him going to Atlanta to gathering volunteers to serve the Easter dinner. He should have known better. Since meeting her in college his freshman year, he’d never known of anyone like his good friend who could juggle so many projects at once and still be abreast of all the tiny details.
Leslie dabbed her mouth after eating half of her sandwich, sat back, and eyed him. “I’m stuffed. I’ll take the rest home.” She dabbed a napkin to her mouth and snagged his attention. “Now, about that reunion?”
Speaking of details. Justin took a sip of his water. “I’ve thought about it.”
“You’ve been doing that the past three months.”
Justin leveled her a look. “And I’m still thinking about it.” Justin picked off the tomatoes from his burger.
She smiled. “That sounds like you got another call from your mom.”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. Justin sunk his teeth into the warm pretzel bun and nearly groaned. After the rigors of a busy day, there was nothing quite as calming as Betty’s comfort food. That might require a few extra sit-ups to be added to his daily routine of chores and exercising horses. He’d also stepped in and had been helping out at the Last Hope Ranch, replacing Clay Saunders who was enjoying being at home with his newborn twin girls born this past December.
He glanced at Leslie, not exactly excited to pick again at the old wound between him and Jake. “Okay, I’ve spoken to Faith about coming down. I haven’t been able to pencil myself in to my brother’s schedule as of yet.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just need to let it go. Forget all the crap that happened in the past. Stop letting it color our relationship.”
She tilted her head. “Crap? Sweetheart, you and I have had many a conversation about what happened at your dad’s funeral. You’ve carried this hurt around for a long time—too long. And it’s festering.”
That was an understatement. He’d thought he’d be able to accept walking away from Georgia and simply chalk it up to one of life’s difficult lessons. But he couldn’t do the same with his brother. “I’ve been waiting for him to make the first move—you know, apologize maybe for going behind my back the way he did.
She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. “Justin, from what you’ve told me about your brother, he isn’t likely to make the first move. You’re going to have to be the better man and get the ball rolling.”
Deep down, he knew she was right. After he and Georgia had split, he’d tried to convince himself that what he’d found out, purely by accident—that his Dad, Jake, and Georgia had all been involved in a game of manipulation—no longer mattered. But he’d been lying to himself. He needed closure.
Leslie patted his hand, getting his attention. “You know, this is less about them and more about you, Justin. Clearing this up, confronting Jake, will do a lot toward you being able to move on and find someone new.”
Justin considered his friend’s wisdom. They’d met in college and had dated a few times, only to discover that they made better friends than lovers. She’d listened to him lament over the Georgia girl who’d gotten away, the one who’d broken his heart. The girl for whom he had been prepared to forego college and marry when there’d been a pregnancy concern; for whom he’d been prepared to settle down, stay in Atlanta, and get a job in his Dad’s advertising firm.
He sighed and swiped his hand wearily over his face. “You know, you’re right. I need to sit down and have this out with him.” He shrugged. “This has less to do with Georgia and more about getting back on an even keel with my brother. Like you said, it’s long overdue.”
Leslie studied him. “And really, what do you care? I mean, you’re clearly over Georgia Langley, right?
Justin met his friend’s gaze. “Absolutely.”
***
Georgia looked at the array of bills scattered across her father’s old desk. The wood was marred, and still reeked of smoke from days gone by when Langley’s had allowed smoking inside. She was grateful he wasn’t here to see how the urban cowboy bars were putting his beloved bar out of business. Lord knows, she’d tried her best to juggle the mounting bills, but with recent increases to property and business taxes, the upkeep of the tiny business—her father’s legacy to his only child—had been suffering in the wake of her son’s mounting medical bills.
A knock sounded on the open door. She looked up to see Tank, the ex-marine her father had hired just before he died. He was her bouncer, bartender, manager, and loyal friend. He stood just inside the office door, his muscled arms folded over his faded Metallica T-shirt.
“Hey, kiddo. That was Kevin. He can’t make it in tonight.” He scratched the now-grey stubble on his chin, which had been darker when her father had found him homeless on the streets in Atlanta and offered him a job.
“Again?” Georgia met the formidable man’s steady gaze. “Isn’t that the second time this week?”
“Third, lady bug.” He offered an I-told-you-so look. “Do you remember me mentioning I didn’t think the guy seemed too reliable?”
Georgia sighed. She needed reliable. This filling in at the last minute wasn’t fair to Kolby or to her aunt who helped her take care of her son. “Let me see what I can do,” she answered, leaning forward to pick up the old rotary dial phone. She’d kept it after taking over the bar, respecting her father’s belief that not all customers carried a “a damn cell phone.” He never had.
“Sure thing,” Tank replied. He hesitated a moment. “You want me to set up an ad in the job-find website?”
Georgia snorted. Thus far, she hadn’t had much luck with the applicants from the site. Most were looking for full benefits on part-time work at over minimum wage and were unwilling to work nights, weekends, or holidays. Though these days they closed on major holidays, mainly so she could spend time with her son. “I suppose, if you think it will do any good. Maybe just keep your ears open, maybe tell some of the regulars that we’re looking for help.”
“Got it,” he said as his gaze softened. “Hey, how’s that awesome son of yours?”
She smiled at the big man’s gentle kindness. When it came to Kolby, Tank was the world’s largest teddy bear. “In remission after his last bout of treatments.” Georgia crossed her fingers. “Hoping it sticks this time.”
The six-foot-three wall of muscle and brawn grinned through his silvery handle-bar moustache. “He’s a tough little guy. Learned it from his mama.” He glanced at his feet and sniffed once. “Okay, then, I’ll get started on that ad.”
“Thanks, Tank.” The brief conversation had managed to divert her attention briefly from her worry about the mounting bills, but her thoughts swung instead to the cherub-like face of Kolby—her brave little boy. She cradled her head in her hand, forcing herself not to get mentally dragged down by the “what ifs.” Together they’d faced the challenge head on since they’d discovered the cancer at the age of three. She opened her eyes and met the twinkling mischief in the photo the two had taken at a recent trip to the zoo. He was far more brave in all of this, never shedding a tear, fewer complaints than she’d ever had, and giving her a smile when she looked sad. He was her little ray of pure, unwavering sunshine.
The shrill ring of the phone jerked her from her thoughts. She touched her fingers to her l
ips and tapped the photograph, took a cleansing breath, and picked up the receiver. “Langley’s bar, how can I help you today?” She cleared the lump that had formed in her throat from her previous thoughts.
“Just double-checking on the date of our meeting. We’re getting tons of responses, which is great,” Jolie Harris asserted with her usual, to-the-point brightness. A high school classmate, once head cheerleader, and Georgia’s chief nemesis, Jolie now served on the reunion committee.
“I have it on the calendar.” Georgia scanned her calendar and noted the red circled around the date.
“Good. I’m anticipating a wonderful turn out given that we missed the five-year mark. There’s even the possibility that Jake’s brother…what was his name?”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Justin.”
“Oh, right, that’s it. I’ve gotten an email from him that he may show up.” There was a pause. “Didn’t you two date for a time back in school?” The woman had claws and the bitch attitude down to a science.
“I’ll have the lists ready for the meeting,” Georgia said, side-stepping Jolie’s remark. “I’ve got to run.” She slipped the receiver into the cradle before Jolie could respond.
If all went according to plan, the class reunion could be the break her new catering business needed to supplement the bar’s income. Having become aware that many local venues didn’t provide bartending services, she decided to answer the need with a portable bar, including staff. The venue being used for the reunion dinner dance was the newly renovated Trolley Barn over in the Inman Park district. Given that she’d much rather attend as a business than socially, she’d agreed to Jolie’s query to cater the event. At least this would give her extra capital to stave off the bill hounds for another month.
The downside was the remote possibility that she’d run into Justin Reed. Of course, it’d been ages since their difficult break-up, and she’d gone on to fall in love again with someone else. Still, her heart did a little flip when she thought of her first love.
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