In a Jam

by Cindy Dorminy

  “Look what the cat dragged in.” Mrs. Cavanaugh slides a plate of bacon and eggs over to him.

  I pour him a cup of coffee, spilling half of it on the counter.

  “Thanks,” he says, his eyes darting around.

  Mrs. Cavanaugh chuckles. “You two seem rode hard and put up wet.”

  Gunnar spits his coffee all over the counter. I open the refrigerator to cool off the flush on my face.

  “I was young once. Enjoy it while you can.”

  Gunnar grins. “I plan to.”

  I try to peek at him over the refrigerator door without him seeing, but he does anyway and winks again. I close the refrigerator and steady myself by leaning on the counter.

  “Andie, would you like to go out with me tonight?”

  My hand slides across the counter, and I drop all the paper coffee cups on the ground. Mrs. Cavanaugh kicks them out of her way.

  “Like on a date?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah. A date.”

  I’m not sure what to say about that. A date means he’s ready to go public about how he feels about me. I’m used to guys who never call me back, so this whole dating thing is an odd concept.

  Mrs. Cavanaugh points a wooden spoon at me. “Child, if you don’t, I will.”

  I peek over at Gunnar’s twinkling eyes. “I better if I know what’s good for me.”

  He guzzles the rest of his coffee and walks around the counter to give me a kiss on the cheek, turning me into a puddle.

  “See you later, sugar.” His fine ass walks out of the store.

  Mrs. Cavanaugh catches me licking my lips. I stiffen my back and turn toward the stove. I must focus on my jam, or else I’ll run down the sidewalk and jump Gunnar’s bones. That would give the Jackson sisters a lot to talk about, but I don’t think it’s against any of the rules. I’m about to bust a gut to tell Liza and Mel what happened. They’ve been my biggest supporters. I’m sure one glimpse at me, and they’ll figure it out all on their own.

  While I contemplate the different ways I can violate Gunnar’s body tonight, the bells over the door chime again, and a FedEx delivery person walks in carrying a cardboard tube. “Delivery for Andrea Carson.”

  I wipe my hands on a dish towel and take the signature pad he holds out. “Morning. Would you like some coffee? On the house?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  I pour him a cup to go, and after he leaves, I investigate the package. My eyes light up when I see it’s from Bilkins Properties. David Bilkins, the developer that is interested in buying my shop and others along Main Street, emailed me to tell me the blueprints were on the way.

  I fling off my apron, turn off the stove, and give Miss Etta another kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  With all the effort I can muster, I hustle up the stairs. Each step reminds me of my wonderful night with Gunnar. In my hands is something that might break his heart.

  I pop open the tube and roll out the blueprints of what David has planned for Main Street if I sell. A Starbucks, a Pier One store, and the cherry on top is the supersized Buy For Less store. It takes up the entire block, and now I can see how they can afford to offer me such a pretty penny for my property. The stats he enclosed have his projections for the next five years. Even after he buys me out and with the cost of construction, he still plans to turn a profit within three years. Wow. He must know what he’s doing. The blueprints are a thing of beauty.

  But in order for this to work, Liza and Jake and Big Ash Fitness would have to sell too. The Stokeses seem pretty settled in, but it will be hard for them to pass up this kind of cash.

  I sit at the table, staring at the blueprints. This should be easy for me. This is what I want. I think. I get Granny’s inheritance plus more from the developer than the store is worth. I could go anywhere and do anything. Sitting still makes me jittery, so I pace back and forth. Every step I take, I sense Gunnar, feel him, smell him.

  I’m going to be like Scarlett O’Hara, and I’ll think about all this tomorrow. I roll up the blueprints and stuff them back into the tube. I toss the tube into the coat closet, and step by painful step, I go back down to the shop to help Mrs. Cavanaugh prepare for the day. And I’ve got a date to prepare for. But first, I need to pay a visit to Miss Jackson. It’s the proper thing to do. Land sakes, I’m as busy as a three-balled bunny rabbit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Andie

  The last time I was in this hospital, Gunnar was holding my hair back while I puked my guts out. I tiptoe down the hallway, peace lily in hand, wondering what the heck I’m doing here. Miss Jennifer is my nemesis. She wants my money for the church. I shouldn’t care if she’s not feeling well, but somewhere along the way, I started caring.

  Ever since I figured out the secret ingredient in Granny’s jam, the sisters have been nothing but friendly toward me. And today is my way of offering the olive branch.

  “Andie?”

  I swing around, and my plant whacks Mel in the stomach. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see Miss Jackson.”

  She steps back. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Shocker, huh?”

  “I think it’s really sweet that you’re here.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders and guides me down the hallway. “So... any progress with Gunnar?”

  My face flames with heat. “You could say that.”

  She lets out a muffled squeal and squeezes my shoulder. Mel enters the hospital room ahead of me, giving her hands a dousing of hand sanitizer foam at the door. She checks the pump next to Miss Jackson’s bed that delivers something from a bag into a tube in her arm.

  She taps Miss Jackson on the arm. “Miss Jackson, you have a visitor.”

  Miss Jackson opens her eyes, and when she sees me, she laughs. “I never thought you would come visit. I’m glad I wore my best nightgown.” Her pale face and sunken eyes don’t resemble the perky pest that invades my life on a regular basis.

  I give her a half hug and place her plant on the bedside table. “I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, so I went with a plant.”

  She pats my hand. “Look at you, being all neighborly.”

  Mel gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll check in on you later. No Zumba class today.”

  “Buzzkill.”

  Miss Jackson is the hippest old person ever. She texts, has a Facebook account, and uses words like “buzzkill.”

  I sit next to her on the hospital bed and stare at the pump. “How are you doing?”

  “Better. I got real disoriented and passed out. Turns out, I have a UTI. I guess I haven’t been keeping my hoo-ha clean enough.”

  I bust out with laughter before I can stop myself. “I’m sorry, but the image... oh boy.”

  Miss Jackson laughs. “It’s seen better days.”

  Please make her stop.

  “When my Harvey was alive...”

  I gasp. For some reason, I thought they were spinsters.

  She nods. “Yep. Married, then he went off to war. He died, and I never got over it. Never remarried.”

  Tears prickle my eyes. To have that kind of love must be the most awesome feeling. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not. He was everything to me.” She blinks a few times then fidgets with her blanket. “Thank you.”

  “I would have come earlier had I known. You and your sister are my only steady customers.” I take in the room. “Where is your sister?”

  She fidgets with her blanket. “Sarah never learned to drive.”

  “You mean she can figure out the inner workings of a smartphone but can’t manage to drive two miles on a flat road?”

  She giggles. “Too proud to let anyone know. I always drive us around.”

  I take her hand in mine. “Would she throw something at my head if I picked her up to bring her here?”

  Her bottom lip trembles. “You’d do that?”

  “Well... yeah.”

  A tear tr
ickles down her cheek. She grabs me and smothers me in a bear hug. “Thank you so much. And I’m so sorry about the blog. We only wanted the church to have the money. We didn’t realize how much hurt it could cause you. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all water under the bridge now.” When I manage to pry myself from her viselike grip, I stand up and smooth out her blanket. “I’ll be right back.” Before I leave the room, I walk back to her. “I almost forgot. You need to ask Dr. Mel first to make sure you can have this.”

  I pull out a jar of jam from my bag. She almost pulls the IV out of her arm, snatching the jar from my hand.

  AFTER I PRIED SARAH’S bony hands off my shoulders from hugging me to near death, I drove her to the hospital. She insisted we ride with the top down, and she put on a scarf to hold her gray-blue hair in place. She even let out a “woo-hoo” a time or two along the way.

  She sprints into her sister’s room, and it’s as if they haven’t seen each other in years. They finish each other’s sentences, and in rapid fire, Sarah catches Jennifer up on what’s been going on in town. Sarah grabs my arm, and they surround me in a hug. Awkward.

  “Oh, okay.” I’m not used to group love, but I can get used to it.

  A snicker at the doorway interrupts our love-in. Mel gives me a wink.

  I tear away from the sisters and walk toward the door. “I’ll let you two get reconnected, but I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Hungry?” Mel asks me.

  She leads me to the cafeteria, where we get hospital food and sit in the “doctors only” dining area, which is almost empty.

  She plays with the mystery meat on her plate. “So, you and Gunnar...”

  I try to tamp down my grin, but I fail miserably.

  “I knew it.” She does a seated happy dance. Several doctors glare at her as if they are ready to commit her to the psych ward. “I’m sorry. I’m very, very happy for both of you.”

  “Still not on Team Willow, I see. Not that I’m complaining.”

  She sticks her finger in her mouth as though she’s going to induce vomiting. “She used to make fun of me because I was all knees and elbows growing up.”

  “And look at you now.”

  Mel’s face flushes. “I did all right. I need to tell you something, and it’s only a rumor, so take it with a grain of salt, okay?”

  I put my fork down and take a deep breath. “There’s usually a grain of truth to most rumors, so out with it.”

  Mel stares at the ceiling before she clears her throat. “I don’t like the rumor mill, so I hope to God it’s all lies, but I heard something bad happened when Willow and Gunnar were at Northwestern, and he has a chance to fix it, but that would mean he would go back with her.”

  I lean back in my chair. “Huh. He said there was something he wanted to tell me, but he got called in to work. If he was going to leave with her, why would he want to... he made it sound like he was done with her. His exact words were ‘I’m not going anywhere.’” I rub my temples so hard, I’m going to crush my brain.

  “Like I say, it doesn’t make sense, and it’s so out of character for him. I’m a jerk for mentioning it. Besides, I never could figure out what he saw in her. But you... you make sense.”

  Now, I’m the one with the flushed face. “Don’t go picking out my china patterns. We’re having fun. That’s all.”

  She rolls her eyes. “If you say so.”

  But in my mind, I’ve already decided on a Noritake Cardinal china pattern, like my grandmother’s. But a more urgent task is that I need to get ready for my date with George Clooney with a twang, and he needs to tell me what kind of game he’s playing with my heart.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Gunnar

  It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date, I don’t remember how to act. What do people do on dates these days? My sister, the high school literature teacher, keeps up on what’s hot and what’s not. When she told me about rage parties, I figured I would stick with bowling. It’s safe, and everyone loves to bowl, I think.

  “You’re taking her bowling?” Faith stares at me as if I grew horns.

  I haul Lily around on my shoulders through her backyard, which backs up to mine. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Uh, everything. You need something romantic.”

  “Uncle G, what’s mantic?”

  Faith shoots me a warning glance.

  I am not going there. “I better let your mother handle that conversation.”

  I put Lily down on the ground, and she spins in circles. “Is it like Burt’s Bees?”

  Before she has a chance to face-plant onto the grass, I grab her. “What did you say?”

  “Burt’s Bees. Jeffy Taylor says his brother said he was too young to know about Burt’s Bees. Why? Mama puts that on her lips all the time.”

  I nudge Lily toward Faith. “She’s all yours.”

  Faith takes her daughter by the hand and guides her to the house. “Why don’t you play in your room for a while?”

  “Can I watch TV?”

  Faith contemplates that for a bit then nods. Lily wins that round. Faith turns to me, and we both crack up.

  “Burt’s Bees? Oh dear.” She clears her throat. “Okay, mister, you are not taking Andie bowling on your first date. You are going to do dinner and a movie.”

  I groan. “Sis, there’s no place around here to eat a nice meal, and the theatre closed down years ago. I’d have to take her to Moultrie, and she’d hate that more than here. At least we have a traffic light.”

  She holds up a finger. “I’ve got it all figured out. Trust your big sister for once.”

  I BARELY GET ONE RAP on the door, when I hear her barreling down the stairs to meet me. Maybe she’s looking forward to this date as much as I am.

  Out of breath, she locks up the shop and smiles. Andie is so adorable, I could devour her. Damn. Her tight capri pants don’t leave much to the imagination. Yum.

  “Where to?” she asks.

  “Dinner and a movie. My sister insisted, but I think you’ll like it.”

  I help her into my truck, and we drive out to the lake. We both slip out of our shoes, and I hand her a blanket and cooler, while I grab a huge picnic basket and my gym bag.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re moving in.”

  “Sometimes, I wish I could.”

  We find a quiet spot away from the joggers that frequent this area at sunset. She spreads out the blanket and pulls out the cold items from the cooler.

  “Compliments of Faith.” I show her a container of chicken. “Baked chicken. I know you don’t like fried. Potato salad, her specialty, Boston baked beans, and even an apple pie.”

  She clutches her chest. “This is... nice.”

  “Nice? All I get is ‘nice’? Are you all right? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Something’s up, but I know better than to push a woman. When she’s ready to talk, she’ll blast me with more words than I’ll ever be ready for. I motion with my head. “There’s a gallon of sweet tea in the cooler.”

  “I’ve actually grown to love sweet tea.”

  “That’s step one in the ‘fitting in’ process, and I’m glad you can check that one off your list.”

  We sit crossed-legged, eating our picnic dinner. I make every excuse in the book to touch her. I graze her knee with mine. I feed her potato salad; her moans are about to kill me. She feeds me a piece of pie, and the way she licks her lips makes me want to devour her and forgo the pie.

  She flops back onto the blanket. “Best meal ever.”

  I hover over her and swipe a stray hair away from her face. “Pleased you liked it.”

  “The other night, you mentioned there was something you needed to tell me. I’m all ears.”

  Well, damn. Either I can lie to her and say it’s no big deal, or I can be completely truthful with her. I know all her secrets. She should know mine.

  I sit up and pick at a blade of grass.
“It’s not pretty. You always think I’m so perfect. Well, sugar, you’re about to find out everything you think of me is what I want you to think. I made a terrible mistake in college and got kicked out.”

  Her mouth drops open.

  “Yep. I did something. It doesn’t really matter what I did, but it was bad enough to lose my chance of getting a PhD. You see, I told you I left because I missed this place, and I did miss my hometown, but I came back because I had nowhere else to go.”

  She can’t even maintain eye contact. The hem of her blouse is more interesting. “And where does Willow fit in?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She says she can fix everything and get my PhD.”

  She snaps her head to attention. “Your PhD. At Northwestern? With her?”

  “Yeah.”

  She finally finds her voice, and she’s not shy about using it. “And you want that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She starts slamming dishes back into the basket. “What part do you not know about? Because you are confusing the hell out of me. First you tell me a whopping lie about why you left Northwestern. Then Willow comes prancing back into town, and you start panting like a dog. Was last night with me because you were bored?”

  I clench my jaw. “Not at all.” She makes it sound so much worse than it is.

  “Oh, really? And what does she get out of this? You get your PhD, but people like Willow don’t do anything without getting something in return. What does she want?”

  My silence answers her question.

  She groans. “That’s what I thought. She wants you back, and you are still in love with her, so it’s a win-win... for you.”

  “No, that’s not true. She wants—”

  Andie throws her head back and lets out a dry laugh. “We all know what she wants.”

  I crawl over to her and take her hands in mine. She won’t let me hold them at first, but finally she gives in. “I don’t love her. She only wants me long enough to fix her latest plaything’s DUI record. I don’t want to be with her. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was.”

  “Gunnar, so what? You’re imperfect. You’re flawed. Well, big whoop. Everyone is. But I don’t like lies. I’m the most messed-up person on the planet, but I own my mistakes, and I try to do better. That’s all I can do. That’s all anyone can do. And if people don’t like you because of your flaws, then screw them.”