Sacred Hart (7 page)

“Why did you come all the way up here?” Maggie wiped her hands with her napkin and gave me her full attention.

I hated questions. There wasn’t a right way to explain my history. There was no easy answer to who I was, and I wasn’t a liar.

“I needed a change.” My tone was flat, and I shifted my eyes from hers to my plate.

A few seconds ticked by before she spoke again, “How long have you been here?”

“Just over three months.” I let my gaze linger on her hands as she played with the straw wrapper. Her delicate fingers picked at the paper until it was a pile of tiny pieces.

“You like it here?”

“I do. Tony has been really good to me.” I lifted my eyes to hers and they were filled with sorrow.

“I wish I remembered Tony better. It’s like flashes. I see some of the memories but not all of them. I like knowing about my parents. About their life and their friends. It’s hard. They’ve been gone for five years, and Beth was only one when they—” She stopped mid-sentence.

“Tony told me. I’m sorry about your parents.” I wanted to put my hand on hers. But I didn’t.

She wiped at her eyes. “Thanks. It’s been difficult, but I have Beth and I have to be strong for her. She was just a baby when they died, so I try to honor their memory not wallow in it. I don’t think they’d want that. I think the dead want us to live… live for them, you know?” Her lips turned up on one side in a small, nostalgic smile.

I didn’t know. I’d spent too long dying for my own ghosts. But I nodded anyway.

“Does your family still live in Florida?”

The question made the acid in my stomach churn. “I don’t really speak to my family.” I’d cut my ties with the past after my conviction. I was nothing more than a disappointment. My parents had only one child… and he was a felon. The only family I had left was a whore of an ex-wife.

“Oh. I’m sorry… I-I’m nosy,” she stuttered and shook her head. “I think it’s a nurse thing. We have to know all the details.” Her smile was warm.

“It’s okay. It’s just dysfunctional shit anyway.”

“You said a bad word.” Beth’s eyes were wide, and her mouth was in a stern line.

Maggie laughed, and it lit her eyes. She tilted her head back slightly and her hair fell off her shoulders, exposing the curve of her neck. As much as I tried to ignore it, Maggie was more than beautiful. She was kind… she cared. It was her nature, and I could feel it. She was picking away at my surfaces, like she had with the straw wrapper. Each laugh, each smile, each minute of her gaze, a new piece was added to the pile.

“I guess I did.” I ruffled the hair on the top of Beth’s head.

“You shouldn’t say bad words.” Beth looked at me with her hands on her hips, and I had to press my lips together in order not to laugh.

“You’re right.”

“That’s enough scolding, Honey Bee.” Maggie stood from the stool. “I better get this one home. Thanks for letting us invade your space. It was fun.”

“I’m grateful for the help.” I stood as well and looked down at Beth. “Thanks for all your help, too.”

“Can we come next Sunday?”

“Beth,” Maggie admonished.

“I’d like that.” The statement fell from my mouth before I could stop myself.

“Yeah?” Maggie’s full, pink lips parted into a smile.

“Yeah.”

Maggie scared the fuck out of me, but after all was said and done, today was the first good day I’d had in ten years.

“Thanks for lunch.” Maggie took a step closer leaving little space between us.

She was too close and my pulse thundered. She smelled like the chocolate chip cookies we’d baked, and I had to fight back the urge to lean in and inhale.

“Anytime.”

She blushed, but it was short lived.

“Mom, I’m so bored,” Beth whined.

“We better go.” She puffed out a laugh. “Thanks again.”

I nodded, and she grabbed her bag as she took Beth’s hand in hers. Just before she walked out of the diner she turned to say goodbye, giving me a short wave. Beth did the same, but she sang her goodbye instead.

The jukebox was silent, and all I could hear was the ticking of the clock that hung above the soda machine. The emptiness of their absence surrounded me. The dizziness I’d felt earlier returned, and I grabbed the bar in order to steady myself. “Today was a good day,” I whispered in reassurance, staving off the guilt that was starting to twist around my heart. I tried to remember what Maggie had said earlier about the dead and the living. But the rain, it fell heavily onto the roof of the diner, and the sound of it brought me back to that night. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths trying, unsuccessfully, to push back the memory.

The rain soaked through every fiber of my clothing as I kneeled on the ground. My knees aching against the asphalt. The pain was the only thing that made everything real. I could smell her blood; the water hadn’t washed it away.

“Come on, man. You don’t need to see this!” Ganz begged me. His grip tight on my shoulder.

I couldn’t leave her, and I never would.

The warmth of the diner encapsulated me as I opened the door for Beth, and the smell of cinnamon hung thick in the air. The jukebox was on as usual, but today it was playing a slow, sad song. Beth dropped my hand and ran to the open kitchen door. The past two Sundays Ryan had propped it open with a bar stool. It was a small gesture, but I liked the silent invitation. After the third non-date, it sort of became our thing. He stopped formally inviting us, and we just showed up every Sunday. It had been about a month and a half since we started this routine, and I was still no closer to knowing who Ryan Hartford really was.

Each week we’d cook side by side, and each week the space between us became smaller. There were little touches, brushes of elbows, shy smiles, and eyes that devoured me whole even if they only dusted along my features every now and then. I might have a lot to learn about Ryan, but what I’d figured out was that he was very good at avoidance. There was something inside of him that triggered if he let himself get too close. He was that wounded animal pulling on my inner heartstrings. Every time Ryan took a step backward it would reel me in further. The fact that he made my heart race and caused my skin to prickle with anticipation made me want to fight for him that much harder.

I heard Ryan laugh, and the warm tone sent my pulse into overdrive as I moved closer to the sound. I leaned against the frame of the kitchen door and watched as Ryan took Beth’s hand in his and brought her over to her rice bucket. He lifted her at the waist and she squealed. His smile was the fullest I’d seen it. He hadn’t caught me staring yet, and seeing him in this unguarded moment with her, it took my breath away. He was good with her. She beamed as he handed her what looked like a ball of dough and spread out a few utensils for her to use. Beth turned suddenly and hugged him a bit too aggressively. The gesture made his smile expand as he lifted her into an embrace, and the lump in my throat became almost unbearable.

He set her down lightly and turned his head just enough that he finally noticed me in the doorway. His lips now pulled into an easy, quiet smile. “Hey, Maggie.” He nodded his chin at me, and the sound of my name on his lips stirred the butterflies in my stomach.

“Hey.” I pushed off the door jam and moved further into the kitchen.

He stood at his full height, which I’d surmised at this point to be at least six-foot-two. Ryan’s smile hadn’t fallen, and he rubbed his hand on his jaw. I was jealous of his fingers. I wanted to touch the coarse hair of his beard and run my fingers through his thick, dark blond hair. The top two buttons of the flannel he wore were unbuttoned, and as he neared, I could see just a small bit of hair on his chest. His large frame hovered over me, and his lips pulled to the side in a grin as his big hand rested on my shoulder. It was the first time he purposefully touched me, and if I was in an old southern movie I might’ve actually swooned. The clean scent of soap and cotton, it was one hundred percent Ryan, and it surrounded me, making it hard to think.

“Hope it’s okay I got her started on a side project.” He dropped his hand from my shoulder.

I tried not to seem disappointed. “I’m intrigued.”

“I use to make…” He paused and his smile wavered. He swallowed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You all right?”

He shook his head. “Yeah.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Just a headache. It’ll pass.”

I nodded.

“Mom! This stuff is so cool!” Beth’s high pitched voice probably wasn’t helping Ryan’s pain.

He chuckled. “I made her some salt dough last night. Figured she could play with it, make something out of it.”

I glanced over at Beth and laughed openly at the lopsided sculpture she was working on. “It’s perfect… thank you. It was sweet of you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and brought his gaze to mine. “I’ve got to make eight dozen cinnamon rolls for Tony’s church. They’re picking them up early in the morning. Guess they’re driving into Seattle. Some sort of homeless breakfast thing they helped sponsor. You ready to work?”

“Eight dozen?” My eyes widened on their own accord. “Um… I—”

“Don’t worry. I already got four dozen done and wrapped up,” he said with a proud smile.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” His eyes drifted to the ground.

He looked sad again, and I hated it. Without thinking, I bumped him on the side with my hip. “You were that excited to see me?” I laughed and smiled without opening my lips more than just a coy smirk.

He ran his hand through his hair and gave me a small grin. “Maybe.” He observed me with a weary brow and laughed as he shook his head. “Come on, I’ll show you the recipe.”

The music from the jukebox floated in from the front of the diner as we worked. The kitchen had two working surfaces, but Ryan chose to stand next to me. He was so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I tried
not
to hope that his close proximity meant something more than just two friends cooking in a kitchen together, but it was in vain. Instead, I decided to ignore how his arm kept touching mine, and how his muscles pulled tight as he kneaded the dough with his hands. I tried to distract myself from the slow burn he was building in my stomach and hummed along to one of my favorite songs as I rolled out what felt like miles and miles of dough. At one point, I actually thought about breaking the freaking rolling pin.

“I don’t know how you did this on your own for so long,” I groaned, as I sprinkled flour onto the wood to prevent the dough from sticking.

“I think Tony’s giving me more work now that he knows you come here on Sundays.”

“You think.” I giggled. “I might need a break. My arms are killing me.”

“I’m dying of starvation,” Beth moaned, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll make you something.” Ryan wiped his hands on his apron.

“You really don’t have to. We can—”

“Are we going to do this every Sunday?” he asked and raised his left eyebrow.

“Go wash your hands.” I shoved him playfully on the arm, and we both walked over to the sink.

“I’ve got chicken noodle soup I can heat up, or I can make sandwiches.” He rinsed his hands under the water, and I waited next to him.

“Soup!” Beth jumped down from her bucket and ran over to the sink.

Ryan lifted her and set her on his raised knee, helping her wash her hands. He was a natural with her, and she ate up all the attention. I worried about Beth and if growing up without a father would have a negative impact. I’d hoped my dad would’ve been around longer to give her a proper male role model, but that wasn’t something I liked to think about too much. I exhaled, and Ryan’s eyes met mine. He gave me a quick smile and placed Beth back on her feet.

“Go pick a song, Honey Bee.” I shook my head as Beth skipped out of the kitchen, and I turned to the sink. Ryan hadn’t shut off the water, and the warmth soothed my tired fingers.

“Thank you for being so sweet to her. She doesn’t get very much male attention.” Ryan handed me a towel to dry my hands. “Her father… I mean Adam… he’s not around. I mean, he’s not involved… he’s an asshole.”

“You know, that’s the first time I’ve heard you really swear.”

“Well, get me talking about Adam and you’ll hear a slew of swear words.” I draped the towel over the sink.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan closed the spaced between us and my heart skipped a beat.

“It’s the hand I was dealt, and we do fine on our own. I’m lucky to have her.” My throat constricted with a sudden wave of emotion. Ryan’s body heat, the feelings he conjured, and the subject of Adam, it was all so overwhelming.

Ryan lifted his hand as if to touch my cheek, but paused, and instead placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a good mom.” He squeezed my shoulder gently and then released me from his grip. My pulse rushed as my heartbeat sounded loudly in my chest, and I was grateful he had turned away. I was grateful for the distance he afforded me because I was too close… and I was afraid he’d hear or sense what his touch was doing to me.

“Thank you,” I spoke quietly, the two words were shaky.

He opened the fridge and pulled out a large white plastic container and set it on the counter. “It can’t be easy raising her on your own. This guy, Adam…” His jaw clenched and his brown eyes darkened. “I’d never abandon my daughter.”

It was a declaration, and the intensity of the truth resounded in each syllable with an undercurrent of some unspoken pain. I wanted desperately to know this man. This man who stood before me now with conviction and pride. He swallowed deeply, and the firm line of his broad shoulders fell, his eyes cast down as if the burden of the one statement had been too much.

“Will you let me help you this time?” I took a few steps forward and he raised his head. I’d asked him the question in regards to lunch, but when he finally met my gaze, the pain in his eyes pleaded for me to throw him a lifeline.

He nodded and turned away from me again. We didn’t need to speak as we prepared lunch. It was enough he was actually allowing me to help. After that first Sunday, he never let me make lunch again. I wanted to ask him questions. I wanted to know about his life before he came here, but I knew if I asked, he’d pull away, and I was finally making some headway.

Beth had chosen for us to sit at one of the booths near the window so she could watch the raindrops race along the surface of the glass. I tried to sit as close to the wall as possible, but Ryan’s large form took up a lot of space. He sat comfortably and seemed at ease with his thigh resting against mine. Beth was chattering about boys at school, and how they wouldn’t let her play with them at recess. Ryan offered her some sound, yet shady advice and she giggled. Kicking boys where it hurts wasn’t a practice I preached, but what did I know. I’d joke and he’d laugh. It all felt so familiar, and the perfection of the moment made me wish the invisible boundary line between he and I would burst into tiny fragments.

Beth yawned and leaned her head back onto the green vinyl of the booth. “Are you tired, Little Bee?” I asked, and Beth nodded. Her head rolled forward and then backward dramatically.

“Would you hate me if I left you with the last two dozen?” I scrunched my nose and furrowed my brow.

His chuckle made me grin. “Don’t look so worried. I’ve done this on my own before, once or twice.” He placed his hand just above my knee with a gentle grip and my lips parted with a soundless intake of breath. The heat of his touch saturated my senses, making it impossible to speak. His mouth pulled to the side into that flawless crooked smile of his. “I think I can handle it.”

He removed his hand so he could hold the table as he shifted his body in order to stand. I exhaled a whispered breath and tried to tamp down the question that was niggling its way into my brain. Did he do that on purpose or was he on autopilot?

“When we get home will I have to take a nap?” Beth’s brows narrowed seriously, and I pursed my lips.

“Maybe.”

“Aw, Mom, can we watch a movie? That’s just like resting.”

“I’ll think about it. Get your jacket on while I help Ryan clean.” I stacked the bowls and then picked them up.

“You don’t have to clean up. I got this.” He took the bowls from my hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Just say, thank you, Maggie.” His glare was almost comical.

“Thank you.”

Ryan placed the bowls on the counter as I pushed my arms through my raincoat and then pulled my bag over my shoulder. “One of these days you should come to our place, let me wait on you for once.”