You'll Think of Me

by Robin Lee Hatcher

Chapter 10

  Late on Monday morning, Brooklyn was balancing on a step stool, hammering a nail into the wall in an upstairs bathroom, when the doorbell rang. “Alycia!” she called before remembering her daughter was at Derek’s house, taking care of Miss Trouble.

  At the thought of Derek, she wanted to grit her teeth. She’d waffled between anger and disillusionment ever since the exchange between them yesterday. Maybe she would ignore the bell. There wasn’t anybody she needed to see. Especially not in her current mood.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “All right. All right.” She stepped off the stool. A glance in the mirror over the sink showed a woman with a dark bird’s nest for hair and a smudge of dirt on her right cheek. To say nothing of the faded, loose cotton top she wore over yoga pants. Not a great look.

  The doorbell rang a third time.

  “I’m coming,” she called as she hurried down the stairs. If it was a salesman out here in the boonies, she would give him a piece of her—“Oh! Mrs. Johnson. Ruth.” She pulled the door all the way open. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I was upstairs.”

  “Heavens, I know you’re busy, dear.” The woman wore her usual cheery expression. “No need to apologize. Waiting didn’t hurt me a bit.”

  “Come in. Please.” Brooklyn rubbed her dirty cheek with her fingertips, then wondered if she was making it better or worse. She lowered her hand.

  Ruth entered the house and walked to the middle of the living room before stopping and turning to face Brooklyn, her smile still in place. “I wouldn’t have intruded, but I have what I think is good news for you.”

  “Good news for me?” Brooklyn took a few steps forward.

  “I ran into Zach Mason at the drugstore this morning. Do you remember Mr. Mason?”

  She shook her head.

  “He owns the diner on Main Street.”

  Brooklyn might not remember the owner, but she did remember the Moonlight Diner. When she was a teenager, it had been the only place to eat in Thunder Creek, other than a drive-in burger joint. As far as she knew, that was still true, not counting Ruth’s shop, which sold pastries and other desserts to go with the tea and coffee.

  “Zach is in need of a waitress. One of his gals quit last night. No notice or anything. So he needs an experienced waitress as soon as possible. I told him about you. He promised not to give the job to anyone else until you meet with him. But you’ll have to go in today. Can you do that?”

  “Today?” She touched a hand to her hair. “I’m a mess.”

  But this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. She’d expected to have to go into Caldwell or Nampa to find employment. All of that driving in her old car would burn gas, which in turn would burn up her wages. And it would also mean more time away from Alycia. A job right there in Thunder Creek would be a godsend.

  “Not to worry.” Ruth waved her toward the stairs. “You go shower and do whatever else you need to do. I’ll look after Alycia until you get back.”

  “Thank you, Ruth. You’re an angel.”

  “Hardly.” The older woman laughed. “Now, where’s your daughter?”

  “Over at Derek’s, taking care of the dog.”

  “I should have known. I’ll walk over there. Good luck to you, dear. Alycia and I will be waiting when you get home.”

  Last Saturday’s mail had brought Derek a couple new books on organic gardening to add to his growing library, and he’d finally found a few minutes to flip through them. He hoped to find a few more ideas on how to turn a larger profit from a smaller property.

  He also hoped looking through the books would take his mind off the words he’d exchanged with Brooklyn in Gran’s kitchen. He’d been less than gracious. He knew that. Yet it didn’t take away the resentment he felt. Brooklyn could have told him about her plans. She shouldn’t have led him on, let him think she might sell the land.

  He looked up from the book on the table, staring out a window without really seeing.

  Maybe not being able to buy the land was God’s way of slowing him down. Maybe he’d been trying to move too fast. Maybe God didn’t want him going into debt. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten an idea in his head and rushed to fulfill it without considering every detail.

  There was a psalm that said a man’s steps were directed by the Lord. He believed it. He also believed Gran, who’d told him once that God’s stops were just as important as His directions to move ahead. “Waiting is more difficult than walking,” she’d said, “because waiting takes patience. But when God delays us, there is a purpose.”

  It might be good if he took that lesson to heart for a change.

  He looked down again and closed the book before him. He’d ordered it because of an excerpt he’d read on the Internet about starting a one-acre self-sustaining farm. Another chapter was about starting a five-acre farm. Although not directly related to raising and selling organic produce, the chapter had lots of important information. Maybe that’s where God wanted him to focus for now.

  Derek longed to be a good steward of the earth. He wanted to “live simply and love extravagantly,” as he’d heard a visiting pastor put it a couple of years before he bought this farm. In fact, those words had planted the desire that had led to what he was doing now.

  Still mulling his thoughts, he rose and walked to the back porch. He heard Alycia’s laughter before he saw her, seated in the shade of a tree. Miss Trouble hobbled around on the lawn, trying to sniff the ground, but the protective cone stopped the dog before her tiny black nose could quite reach the grass. It made an amusing sight, and he grinned.

  “You never learn.” The girl giggled again, her words carrying to Derek.

  “What doesn’t she learn?”

  Gran? Derek hadn’t heard the closing of a car door. But there she was, nonetheless, walking toward Alycia.

  “Hey, Gran.” He pushed open the porch’s screen door. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  “I didn’t expect it either.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Johnson.” Alycia hopped to her feet and picked up Miss Trouble.

  “Hello, Alycia. How’s your little charge?”

  “She’s doing really good.” The girl looked toward Derek. “Isn’t she, Mr. Johnson?”

  “Yeah, she is.” He motioned with his head. “Come inside, Gran. I’ll get you something cool to drink. It’s getting hot out there.”

  “I can only come in for a moment. I’m here for Alycia. Brooklyn has an errand to run, and I volunteered to stay with Alycia until she got back.”

  The instant Gran spoke Brooklyn’s name, he knew he was going to have to apologize to her for what he’d said. Right or wrong, justified or not, he needed to tell her he was sorry for his behavior.

  “Come on, Alycia,” Gran said to the girl, arm outstretched. “Let’s go with Derek. See what he has to cool us off.”

  There was no denying that his grandmother had taken Brooklyn and Alycia under her wing, becoming their only family. Reggie Myers notwithstanding.

  It must have been tough, having him for a father.

  God had blessed Derek with the best of childhoods. Parents who’d supported, encouraged, and loved him—and his younger sister, Cara—in every possible way. Grandparents who’d been his greatest cheerleaders and had spoiled him to no small degree. Funny, noisy, rambunctious aunts, uncles, and cousins who’d enlivened every family gathering. What had it been like for Brooklyn, with no mother, no siblings, no extended family that he knew of?

  “Lonely,” he softly answered himself. Which only made the need to apologize seem stronger. Blast it.

  In the kitchen he moved the books from the table to the counter, then went to the refrigerator to get the pitcher of iced tea. “Alycia, what would you like? I’ve got apple juice, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. That’d be good.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar in your tea, Gran?” He always asked, even though he knew the answer.

  “Thank you, dear. Just a littl
e.”

  After dropping ice cubes into three glasses, he poured tea into two of them and juice into the third. He added some sugar to one of the teas and stirred with the spoon, then carried all three glasses to the table.

  Gran took a sip from her glass. “Oh, that’s so good.”

  He smiled but said nothing. After all, his grandmother ran a coffee and tea shop. She served far fancier brews than what he’d made with tea bags, water, and sliced lemons. Of course, she would never say her beverages were better, no matter what he set before her. She simply wasn’t wired that way.

  “You know,” he said, “I could have kept an eye on Alycia for a short while. She was over here anyway.” He sat opposite his grandmother. “No need for Brooklyn to call you and make you drive all the way out here.”

  Was he trying to ramp up his resentment with that comment? It felt like it.

  “She didn’t call me. I came to see her. There’s an opening for a waitress at the Moonlight that I wanted her to know about. It’s perfect for her. It’s local, and the hours are somewhat flexible. Zach’s always paid a fair wage, which makes it even better. It’s an answer to prayer. Truly. So I drove straight over and offered to stay with Alycia while Brooklyn goes in for an interview.”

  Derek stared into his glass of iced tea. “She’s lucky to have you as a friend, Gran.”

  “And you, dear?”

  He knew what she meant, although she was careful not to ask the real question outright because of Alycia. She wanted to know if he could become Brooklyn’s friend as well as her neighbor. Maybe. If he tried hard enough. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to try. He’d like to stay angry with her a little bit longer.

  Only how could he stay angry and ask for forgiveness at the same time?

  He glanced up, meeting his grandmother’s gaze. She offered a tender smile, and he shrugged in reply. It was the only answer he had for now.

  Chapter 11

  At a few minutes after four o’clock—closing time—on Wednesday, Ruth sank onto a chair at a table next to the large front window for a few moments’ rest. It had been an unusually busy afternoon at Sips and Scentimentals. Camila had left an hour earlier for a doctor’s appointment, and Gina had the day off. Which meant closing the shop was up to Ruth.

  She closed her eyes. On days like this, when her feet hurt and she longed for nothing so much as a soak in the tub, she wondered if she was crazy to run a business at her age. After all, Walter had left her financially stable. Even if she lived well into her nineties, as her mother and grandmother had before her, she wouldn’t have to worry about money.

  Then again, she hadn’t opened her shop because she needed the income. She’d opened it because she’d needed something to fill her days. Days that had seemed impossibly empty after her husband passed.

  She opened her eyes and looked around, memories flooding in.

  The gift shop area was where Walter’s private office had once been. He’d had a large oak desk and a creaky old swivel chair that they’d bought at an auction soon after they’d moved to Thunder Creek to begin his practice. Nearly every spare inch of wall space had been lined with bookshelves. The shelves were still there, but now they held merchandise rather than medical books.

  What had once been the reception area, front office, and exam rooms was now the tea shop, the floor space filled with tables and chairs. No trace of a doctor’s office remained. Instead, feminine touches in her favorite pastel colors were everywhere. New plate-glass windows had been installed to let in the sunlight, making everything inside more inviting.

  With a smile, she remembered the way their three children used to come visit their father when they got home from school. Walter had always made time for them, and his receptionist had known better than to book appointments during that half hour. How precious those years had been, she thought now. And how brief. Overnight, it seemed, they’d grown up. Just as quickly, Ruth and Walter’s grandchildren had grown up too. And finally everyone except Derek and Ruth had scattered in the wind.

  “Time and tide wait for no man,” she whispered to herself.

  The shop door opened, drawing Ruth’s thoughts to the present. She was prepared to announce that the shop was closed, but seeing Sandra Dooley in the open doorway, she caught herself. “Come in, Sandra.”

  “I know it’s after closing time. If you’re busy . . .”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not busy at all. Come on in. What can I get you?”

  Sandra shook her head. “I’m not here for that. I’m here for advice.” She closed the door behind her.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Serious to me.” Sandra sank onto a chair opposite Ruth and hooked strands of auburn hair behind her ears.

  Ruth thought it beautiful hair too. Even now with a smattering of gray around the temples. The town’s postmaster for over two decades, Sandra was both pretty and intelligent. Of course, Sandra’s sense of humor could be slightly off kilter at times, but that was something else Ruth loved about her. She was amazed that no man had managed to entice the attractive woman into marriage. Not that there hadn’t been offers. Sandra simply loved her independence—or so she said. However, unless Ruth missed her guess, romance was heating up between Sandra and the owner of a bookshop in Caldwell.

  “How can I help?” she asked when Sandra didn’t begin on her own.

  Her friend tapped the tips of her polished fingernails on the table. “You know I’ve been seeing Lou Connolly for several months.”

  “Mmm.” It seemed her suspicions were about to be confirmed. “You’ve mentioned that a time or two.”

  “Well, what I didn’t mention is . . . I’ve been seeing another man too.” She stopped tapping her nails. “For about the same length of time.”

  “Good heavens. Who?”

  Sandra gave her head a small shake. “No one you’d know. He lives in Ontario. His name is Forrest. Forrest Blanchard.”

  “I see.” Although she wasn’t certain she did.

  “He’s the spitting image of Richard Armitage. You know. The actor.”

  Ruth had no idea who that was. She rarely went to movies, and she watched almost no television. But she chose to nod in silence.

  “The thing is . . .” Sandra drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “The thing is I like both Lou and Forrest quite a lot. I love them, really. Each in their own way. And they . . . they both love me. They’ve asked me to marry them. I mean, Lou wants me to marry him, and Forrest wants me to marry him.”

  “Good heavens,” Ruth said again, this time in a whisper.

  “And for the first time ever, I don’t want to say no.”

  Afraid she knew the answer this time, Ruth asked, “Not say no to which one?”

  “That’s just it. I can’t decide. I need your help.”

  Ruth Johnson was not one to shy away from giving advice when asked for it, but this was one of those rare moments when a loss for words was greater than the desire to provide wisdom. Especially since Sandra didn’t profess faith in God, so suggesting prayer or looking for an answer in the Bible weren’t meaningful options.

  “How did you know Walter was the one?” Sandra asked. “I mean, really absolutely positively know for certain that you wanted to spend your life with him.”

  This brought a smile at last to Ruth, as thoughts of Walter always did. It hadn’t been like that the first year or so after his passing. Back then, thoughts of him had brought tears and longing and loneliness. But now that he’d been gone a few years, grief had softened into sweet memories and an ever-increasing awareness of eternity.

  Sandra’s nail tapping resumed, harder this time, translating impatience instead of nerves.

  “I loved him,” Ruth answered softly. “And he loved me. It was as simple as that.”

  “Love doesn’t guarantee happiness in marriage. You know that, Ruth. All you have to do is look at the number of divorced people we know right here in town to realize that truth. Most of those people started
out in love.” Sandra shrugged. “Maybe they all started out in love. But it didn’t last. How do you know it will last?”

  Ruth heard familiar words replay in her memory. “Love is patient. Love is kind.” Words from the Bible that had been spoken in countless wedding ceremonies for decades, perhaps centuries, including at her own. But how many people lived up to them? “Love is not jealous. Love does not seek its own way. Love doesn’t take into account a wrong suffered.” Even she and Walter hadn’t lived up to them. Not without the help of the Holy Spirit, and even then not all the time. There had been countless opportunities during their marriage to ask each other for forgiveness and to learn humility in the bargain.

  “You’re right, Sandra. Love isn’t enough. Not if what you mean by love is that butterflies-in-your-stomach sensation. It takes ever so much more than that.”

  Sandra closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re going to get all Christian on me, aren’t you?”

  “Probably.” Ruth smiled. “But you knew that when you walked through that door.”

  Sandra met her gaze. “All right. Let me have it.”

  Hank McLean often asked Derek to join him for dinner on nights when his wife worked late and their kids were with his in-laws. Most of the time, Derek declined. He always had a lot of chores awaiting him at home, and spending money on dining out when there was food in the fridge seemed foolish. But today when Hank asked him, Derek accepted. Maybe that unexpected answer came easy because he no longer felt the same urgency to save money. For now, the Hallston property was out of reach.

  Hank was a twenty-year veteran of the sheriff’s department, and Derek had cause to admire the man on multiple fronts. Hank put God, wife, and children before anything or anyone else. He was honest and steadfast, never rushing to make a decision before considering all sides. He was a lot like Derek’s dad, which might be another reason Derek liked him so much.

  The two men entered the Moonlight Diner a little after six o’clock. About three quarters of the booths and tables in the L-shaped room were occupied. After a quick glance around, Hank led the way to the empty booth at the far end. Derek would have selected the same table—the one with a view of the entire diner as well as the door.