Brunch at Bittersweet Café

by Carla Laureano

  No, that was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  Melody glanced at her mom sitting there, watching her with genuine concern, and crushed the impulse to retreat into denial. If she had even once rejected Grandma Bev’s insistence that she put on a happy face and make the best of things, if she had just told her mother how hurt and abandoned she’d felt, maybe they wouldn’t have had to endure over two decades of distance and resentment. Maybe she would have had her mother.

  Grandma Bev meant well, no doubt. She was trying to give Melody the resilience she’d needed to deal with all the changes in her young life, but it had only taught her to escape into fiction—both the kind in books and that of her own making. And instead of growing deeper in a true faith, one that was tested in tears and anguished prayers, she stuffed down her pain and retreated to superstition and magical thinking. She’d looked at God’s providence like she’d looked at fairy tales—blindly and without any real belief. She’d gone from man to man, trying to buy their love at too high a price, all because she wouldn’t admit how much she needed that love. How much it hurt that it always seemed to be out of reach. And because she wouldn’t admit any of it, she just went on haplessly repeating her mistakes instead of turning to the One who loved her no matter what.

  And now, she was about to do it again.

  “Stop. Stop the jet.”

  Janna stared at her in disbelief. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “What do you mean you’re not going? I thought—”

  “I can’t chase him, Mom. I can’t buy his love by giving up everything I care about. I’ve been doing this my entire life—clinging to men, begging them to choose me. If I go to him now, I’ll never know if he loves me or if he simply settled for me because I made the sacrifice.”

  Melody’s mother blinked in shock, but she rose from her seat and moved to the entrance of the jet’s cockpit. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid there’s been a change in plans.”

  * * *

  Melody sat in the back of the black sedan, too stunned by her own actions to do anything but focus on her breath moving in and out of her lungs. After her mother had halted the plane, she’d changed its destination to Nashville and gotten back her car to take Melody home, but only after making her promise that she would call if she needed her. It was such an unexpectedly motherly thing to do that it brought tears to her eyes.

  Until she followed it up with a dose of her typical passive-aggressiveness: “I sure hope you know what you’re doing. A man like that doesn’t wait forever.”

  Maybe he didn’t. But that wasn’t really the point. Justin had never said he loved her. He’d chosen to leave. If she ran after him now, she’d still be putting her own will above God’s, acting from fear instead of faith. The nudge to her spirit had made that very clear. No, not a nudge. A kick.

  She gave the driver the address of the bakery, where he took her roller case from the trunk and left it and her standing by the curb. Inside waited one of her best friends, who would no doubt have many questions. It was now or never.

  “Melody!” Rachel gasped as soon as she walked through the door to the kitchen. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

  “I’m not going.”

  Rachel set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “What? Why?”

  Melody told her everything that had transpired: how her mother’s flight had been the reason Justin had landed on her doorstep, how she’d learned the truth about her upbringing, how she wasn’t convinced the whole point hadn’t been to reunite her with Janna and show her the shallowness of her own faith.

  “I can’t chase him and force this to work,” Melody said, blinking away tears. “Not this time.”

  Rachel wordlessly wrapped Melody in a hug and squeezed hard. “I’m so proud of you, Mel. That can’t have been an easy decision.”

  Melody wiped her eyes and straightened. “Yes, well, the good news is, Talia can stop hyperventilating about the bread over there.”

  Talia laughed from her side of the kitchen, where she’d obviously been listening but trying not to look like she was listening. “Glad to have you back, Melody.”

  “I’m not sure I’m glad to be back, but it’s what I have to do.” She dragged her suitcase into the break room, pulled down her apron, and wrapped it around herself. Her emotions felt raw, close to the surface, but deep down, she knew she’d done the right thing. She was putting her future in the hands of a God who had just been waiting for her to come around. She was taking what might be her first real step of faith in years.

  Not my will but Yours be done.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  JUSTIN HAD TO ADMIT, Florida was beautiful. While Denver had its wide, brilliantly clouded skies and majestic mountains, the Sunshine State was everything that its nickname suggested: beautiful light, sandy beaches, palm trees. In some ways, the weather reminded him of Denver when he was growing up, when the thunderstorms still rolled through every afternoon like clockwork, dousing them with rain and then moving out just as quickly. Of course June in Florida came with relentless humidity that was completely at odds with the arid weather to which he was accustomed.

  He’d been here for almost a month, and he was still living in an extended-stay hotel while his furnishings were stored in a warehouse somewhere. He’d never actually thought to ask where they would be. He spent most of his time at the office with Luis Garcia, learning the ins and outs of the charter business, getting familiar with the various software suites, and working with the staff that had stayed on after the sale. He had the most contact with Monica Baudoin, the office manager who handled all the administrative work and probably knew just as much as or more than Luis. The pilots were equally capable: three of them were retired airline pilots; the fourth, retired Navy. All were friendly, as befitted an island charter, but it was clear they were used to operating by the book. Luis allowed nothing less, and Justin fully intended to continue that trend.

  Everything he learned about the new company said they’d made a good decision.

  And yet he was miserable.

  He managed to keep busy between the office and the air—he was slowly familiarizing himself with their planes, though he hadn’t yet taken any charters for himself. They were all small single-engine and turboprop craft, none of which required a type rating, but he was cautious enough to want to know the airplanes well before he flew passengers. He practically had to pinch himself to remember that he owned these planes. He should be happy. He did his best to pretend like he was.

  But he couldn’t lie and say distance had dampened his feelings toward Melody. If anything, it had only reinforced the fact that his interest wasn’t a whim, something that could be pushed away because he lived seventeen hundred miles away. He woke up every morning wishing he could see her and went to bed every night feeling like he had made a mistake.

  In short, he loved her.

  He followed her social media pages, hoping for some sign that the decision hadn’t been as easy as she’d made it seem, but if anything, she was taking his absence in stride. Books in the Bakery had exploded with followers as Melody ramped up her postings, displaying mouthwatering breads and desserts, all beautifully arranged and paired with her antique books, some of them staged at Bittersweet Café. It was clear she was exactly where she was meant to be; the fact he’d asked her to even consider leaving it behind left him awash with guilt.

  Jessica loved Florida, though. It was too soon to know if it would have any permanent effect on her MS symptoms, but she was optimistic. Seeing the light in her eyes, the relief that was palpable in Pete’s entire demeanor at the idea he might not have to watch his wife suffer through the progression of a horrible disease, made Justin swallow down his feelings and put on a happy smile. Jess felt bad enough about making him leave Denver. He didn’t need her to see that every day in Florida killed a little bit more of his soul.

  “So, have you found a house yet?” Jessica turned f
rom her spot at the brand-new stove when Justin walked into her kitchen one night. That was one advantage of moving here with them: the once-a-week dinner had turned into whenever he felt like coming over. He tried not to take advantage of it. Even more importantly, he tried not to spend so much time with Jessica that she would see through his cheery exterior.

  “Not yet. I was really looking for a place on the beach, but I haven’t found anything in my price range. I don’t want to be house poor.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Justin, you’re drawing a pretty big paycheck from the business. I think you can afford to raise your budget a little. You’re never going to find waterfront for twelve hundred bucks a month.”

  Justin rolled his eyes back at her, but he was smiling. He had been scrimping and saving for so long, it was painful to shell out the cash for a nice condo here, especially when he knew his name was at the bottom of a very large bank loan. True, should they default on the loan, it would be the business assets that were seized, but since he’d put his entire retirement savings on the line, he kind of wanted to hold on to it.

  “The hotel’s okay for now. I don’t want to commit to a lease and then realize I hate the neighborhood. I’m still getting to know the area.”

  Jessica didn’t look convinced, but she pointed to the table with her wooden spoon. “You can set the table for me if you’re going to stand there. Or you can call the kids—”

  Justin was out the back door before she had a chance to finish the sentence. The small backyard was swathed in green grass, and the kids were playing some sort of game involving hopping in and out of hula hoops. “Hey, kiddos! What are you doing?”

  Abby screeched, “Uncah Justin, you’re burning up in the lava! Hurry!”

  Ah, so the hula hoops were islands. He leapt into the center of one and swiped his arm across his forehead. “Whew. That was a close one.”

  “No,” Andrew said gleefully. “You’re all burned up now, just like Anakin Skywalker.”

  “Do I get a cool suit and helmet so I can become Darth Vader?”

  “No, you’re just burned up.”

  Justin chuckled. “Great. Thanks.” He always forgot how bloodthirsty little kids could be.

  “That’s okay, because I’m a fairy and if I sprinkle pixie dust on you, your legs will grow back.” Abby pulled out a saltshaker from the pocket of her princess dress. Before Justin could stop her, she shook it over his legs, covering him in a fine dusting of glitter.

  “Thanks, Abby,” he said wryly. “My legs are back but now they’re all glittery.”

  She gave him an adorable grin. “You’re welcome.”

  “I hate to break up this awesome lava-surfing party, but dinner is about to go on the table. And I think I hear your dad’s car outside right now. Should we clean up this mess?”

  They groaned, but they dutifully helped clean up the backyard, which really meant they picked up one hula hoop each while Justin collected the toys and lightsabers and princess accessories that littered the grass. He dropped them on the patio table and then opened the sliding-glass door for the kids.

  Pete was indeed home, and he had his arms around Jessica in the corner of the kitchen.

  “Hey, that’s my sister you’re pawing!”

  Jessica made a face, but Pete let her go and she gestured to the table. “Sit down, guys. Dinner’s going to get cold.”

  They all settled around the table, Justin getting sandwiched between the two kids as usual—something about Uncle Justin made them stick to him like Velcro. He helped portion pasta onto their little plastic plates and then carefully spooned tomato sauce over it.

  “So. Justin.” Jessica stabbed a piece of pasta with her fork and looked at him pointedly. “When were you going to tell us that you didn’t want to move to Florida?”

  Justin nearly choked on his mouthful of food. He chewed, swallowed, and wiped his mouth with a napkin before he could manage to talk. “Excuse me?”

  Jessica exchanged a glance with her husband. “You’re not fooling anyone. Why didn’t you tell us that there was a woman?”

  Justin met Pete’s eye, but his friend stayed quiet.

  Jessica looked at him. “Wait, you knew about this?”

  Pete shrugged. “Yeah?”

  “Unbelievable. Men. You know, I wouldn’t even know if I hadn’t talked to Dad this morning. He asked me how you were doing. Worried about you because he didn’t quite believe that you were as willing to leave your girlfriend as you said you were.”

  “It’s not important, Jess. I committed to doing this with you guys. Meeting Melody was an accident. And she knew that I was leaving the whole time we were dating, so . . .” The words came out of his mouth, but somehow they didn’t make a full connection to his brain. To his heart.

  “Do you love her?” Jessica asked.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s not what I asked you. Do. You. Love. Her?”

  Justin set his fork down carefully. “Yes.”

  Jessica nodded, kept eating. And then she dropped her fork and pushed away from the table. “You two are unbelievable. I swear. Justin, I would have never asked you to give her up for me. Don’t you understand that? I know this has been your plan all along, but had you said you couldn’t do it, we would have understood. It’s not like Pete couldn’t get a job as a mechanic here . . . or in Southern California . . . or almost any other state where we could live at sea level. And now you’re committed to this business and you’re hating every minute of it. Do you actually think I would want you to be miserable for my sake?”

  “Jess—”

  “Daddy? Why is Mommy mad?” Abby whispered.

  Pete shushed her, but it didn’t seem to break Jess’s stride. Her eyes flashed. “If you love her, you have to go back.”

  “It’s too late. I left her. I missed her restaurant opening. I chose this over her. How is she ever going to forgive that?”

  “Trust me. If she loves you, she’s going to forgive you. If she feels half as terrible as you do, she’s probably crying herself to sleep every night.” She seated herself and looked between the two men. “Fix it. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but you are both intelligent men. You fix this.”

  Justin looked at Pete, who just shrugged. “I’m not dumb enough to argue with her.”

  No help from that quarter. He looked back at his sister. “Jess, I know what you’re trying to do and I love you for it. But some things can’t be fixed.” He turned to his niece and nephew, who were following the conversation with confusion. “C’mon, you two. Let’s go get you ready for bed.”

  He was playing dirty, using Abby and Andrew to end the conversation, but no matter how much Jessica wanted to continue, she wasn’t going to give up the chance for someone else to take over the bedtime routine. He lifted a kid under each arm and hustled them down the hallway, their giggles trailing behind him.

  Justin got them bathed, into their pajamas, and tucked into bed with a story—all the voices included—aware that he was stalling. But when he could no longer delay, he crept out of the kids’ shared bedroom and returned to the kitchen. The table had been cleared, the dishes rinsed and piled beside the sink, and a fresh pot of coffee stood waiting on the countertop. He poured himself a cup and looked out through the sliding-glass door to where Jessica sat, a mug in hand.

  Reluctantly, he slid the door open and stepped outside.

  She didn’t look at him, just stared out onto the twilit backyard. “I know you’re mad at God, Justin, but I hadn’t realized you’d decided to take over for Him.”

  Justin frowned and pulled out the chair next to his sister. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She turned to face him. “Well, you’ve appointed yourself personally responsible for my health. And clearly you can see the future, because you’re sure this Melody doesn’t play any part in yours.”

  “Okay, okay, Jess. You’ve made your point.”

  “Have I? I don’t think I have
. Because if you were listening, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me; you’d be booking yourself the next flight to Denver.”

  Justin stared out across the lawn so he didn’t have to see his sister’s face. “You know how hard it is to make a relationship work with what I do.”

  “No, what I know is that Dad has been feeding you the same line for twenty years, and somehow you still believe it. Did you ever bother to ask Mom why they broke up, or did you just take Dad’s word for it?”

  Justin looked at her hard now. “What do you mean?”

  She gave a hard shake of her head. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have brought it up. Spill.”

  Jessica set her mug down on the table. “It wasn’t Mom’s idea to get a divorce. Dad was having . . . an emotional affair, I guess you could call it . . . with another woman. He said they weren’t sleeping together, and Mom believes that, but it would have almost been easier if they had been. She left, temporarily, because she needed some space. He needed some space to figure out what he wanted.”

  Justin stared, his mouth open. “Why have I never heard this?”

  “Because you and Dad were so close. She didn’t want to poison you against him. She knew you needed your father.”

  “I needed my mother, too.” He blew out his breath, understanding for the first time why Jessica had sided with her. “What happened? I never saw him with any other woman.”

  “I don’t know. Fizzled out maybe, once it was no longer secret and forbidden. Mom wanted to move back in, but Dad was the one who pushed for a divorce. He said she deserved more than he could give her.” She drilled him with a significant look. “He spent so much time playing God in the cockpit of a plane that he couldn’t stop when it came to his marriage. Maybe he figured he deserved to be punished for wrecking things in the first place; I don’t know. But he’s been punishing himself ever since, and he brought you along for the ride.”

  Justin stared at his sister. She’d seemed so focused on her own life, he hadn’t known she was paying that much attention to their dad’s. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”