Читать книгу Saving The Single Dad - Cheryl Harper - Страница 10
ОглавлениеCHRISTINA BRASWELL HAD already had enough of Monday, but it was only eight o’clock and the breakfast rush was in full swing. Finding her inner peace in the chatter and bustle that filled the combination camp store, marina and no-frills diner at the Otter Lake Campground was impossible.
Her inner peace had always been elusive like that. She focused on the view through the window. Otter Lake gleamed outside. The campground was situated in a quiet cove of the lake, a shadowy forest and the steep rise of Yanu Falls forming a serene landscape.
Which was almost the perfect contrast for the controlled chaos of the busy diner.
“I missed my favorite waitress this weekend,” Woody Butler said as he yanked up his camo ball cap and smoothed down a healthy shock of white hair.
“Your wife steal the keys to the truck again?” Christina flipped over the porcelain coffee cup and poured black coffee to the rim. She was his favorite; Woody would swill coffee for hours and talk her ear off along the way before always leaving the same five-dollar tip.
Typical day ending in Y around here.
If he’d ever caught any of the fish he liked to tell her about, he’d done it before she started working behind the counter.
“Naw, you know better’n that, Chrissy,” he said with a grin. “That wife of mine don’t care what I do, so long’s I stay out of her hair.” He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s why I like to hang out here with you.”
Right. Christina had often wondered what lucky lady had married Woody right after Noah unloaded the ark, but they had discovered the key to long-term marital bliss: lots and lots of space.
Woody spent most of his hours telling waitresses fish stories. All in all, his hobby was harmless.
“You want the usual?” she asked out of habit. The menu was limited here, but the food was good enough to appease the tourists staying at the campground and enough locals from Sweetwater to keep a steady crowd coming through the place.
“Well, now...lemme see.” Woody squinted at the two pages of menu and Christina tilted her head back and rolled her shoulders. Someday she would snap. The menu never changed. He had it memorized. Just about every person through the doors had been here often enough to recite the thing from memory, and still, this “lemme see” moment. There was no doubt in her mind that she was half a step above the world’s worst morning-shift waitress, but now that her best friend had left town and taken Christina’s car with her, this job was critical.
“I’ll have me the pancakes with two eggs, over easy, and crispy bacon.” Woody slapped the plastic-covered menu down as if he couldn’t be prouder of himself for making that difficult decision. “You make sure Monroe gets the bacon crispy now.” He pointed a finger. “I’d hate to leave a bad tip.”
“Yes, Christina, I’ll have the usual. Thank you for asking.” How hard was that to say?
Christina snatched up the menu, plopped it down on the leaning stack at the end of the counter and stuck her head in the window. “Short stack, two over easy, burn the bacon.” The kid manning the griddle waved his spatula. Monroe didn’t say much, but around here, Christina considered it a blessing. Until the rush started, she, Monroe and Luisa barely spoke. Every morning they enjoyed the warm glow of sunrise spreading across the lake. It was the only real perk of the job.
And of all the jobs she’d had, the Otter Lake Campground was her favorite, even with the annoyance and noise customers brought.
“You sure are looking nice today. Real...” Woody paused as he stared up at the ceiling, searching for the right word. Whatever adjective he picked, it was bound to be a doozy. “Swimsuit model–like.”
Christina rubbed the center of her forehead in the effort to soothe the throb that had kicked up. If she thought about what that meant for too long, the throb would spread. He was proud of it and never meant to hurt her, but why couldn’t she ever inspire “first grade teacher–like” or even “girl next door.”
Then she would have blended easily with the good citizens of Sweetwater, Tennessee, something she’d never managed to do.
No one had ever disagreed she was pretty; few had ever called her nice.
When her cell phone rang, Christina pulled it out of her tight jeans pocket and checked the caller ID.
Her best friend. She didn’t want to talk to Leanne. She wanted to shout at Leanne.
Woody leaned forward as if he could read the number across the counter, but Christina turned away and answered the call.
“I’m at work. I can’t talk.” Christina walked down to the quietest corner, where she could see the boats lined up at the dock. Most of the early-morning mist had burned off already. The weather forecast was for a beautiful, warm day.
“If you’d answered any of my other calls, we might have had some time to talk when it was convenient,” Leanne snapped. Christina immediately straightened.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and covered her ear with one hand. There was something about the tremor in Leanne’s voice that reminded her of the bad times. It had been almost ten years since her best friend had dumped her drug problem, but that tremor had scared Christina enough that she’d never forget it.
“Fine. Just missing my kids.” Leanne laughed breathlessly. “And no one in your crummy town will answer their phones.”
“My crummy town?” They’d grown up here together, two poor girls with busted families in a trailer park at the dead end of a dusty gravel road. For a long time, they’d been tighter than sisters. Christina listened as Leanne took a drag on something. She hoped it was a cigarette.
“Brett? Have you been calling Brett?” Christina tightened her grip on her phone until her hand ached. Thanks to this ill-conceived disappearing act, Leanne’s ex-husband, Brett, had run out of patience with her. If Leanne pushed this, ignored his latest demand that her only contact with their kids be in person and only when he was around, Brett might eliminate all her visitation rights. What was she thinking? “You know that’s a bad idea. Give him space. He’ll come around.”
“I called Brett. His mama. Every friend I thought I had left in Sweetwater, but you’re the only one to answer, girl. I knew I could depend on you.” Leanne’s change of tone was the first clue about the reason she’d phoned.
Whenever Leanne started to butter her up, the thing that came next was going to be upsetting.
“How’s my car?” Christina asked in a desperate attempt to head off whatever request Leanne had. “And Beau? I guess he’s okay, too.” Whatever Beau had been, it hadn’t been a good boyfriend, but if Leanne felt guilty, maybe she’d figure out her problem on her own.
“Your rust bucket is still rolling and I’ll bring it back as soon as I can.” Leanne cleared her throat. “But I need you to do something for me first.”
Still no mention of the man Christina had dated three times, only because she couldn’t be bothered to tell him she had to shampoo her hair. Beau was in Sweetwater temporarily to work at the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve, home of Otter Lake. The fact that she couldn’t say what he did for a living suggested neither one of them had been serious about their relationship. Beau and Leanne might not even be together anymore. Maybe he’d gone home and forgotten to tell her about it.
“Well, all this walking I’m having to do to get to work and back has seriously hampered my free time.” Christina hoped the words were convincing. Leanne and her kids were all the family Christina had left, so she’d do whatever Leanne asked if it was possible. Forever.
Always had. Always would.
It had been months since she’d seen Leanne’s kids, even from a distance, but Brett Hendrix was doing his best to keep them in sight at all times. While he was no grand find as a compassionate, forgiving human being, he was a good father. Strong. He’d keep his kids safe, and no matter how much she missed Riley and Parker, Christina wouldn’t fault their father for doing what he felt he had to do for their well-being.
Hearing one too many stories about Leanne coming out of Sweetwater’s one and only bar had been his final straw. Christina had immediately waded in to defend Leanne, who’d only been keeping her company as she closed up, because Leanne had already been exiled. She’d had nothing to lose. Brett didn’t trust either one of them to tell him the truth and a court battle had settled the issue. He had sole custody of the kids and he wielded it like a weapon.
Whatever part she’d played in the blowup might keep her awake at night, but if this had been the moment to chase Leanne back to the pills that had taken over her life, Christina would never forgive Brett Hendrix.
“Come home, Leanne. Nothing will change with Brett if you don’t.” Fatigue was a nearly constant battle Christina fought, but it settled heavily over her. She knew Leanne was going to refuse.
“I said I’m bringing your car back. A couple weeks, that’s all I need,” Leanne shouted. Christina yanked the phone away from her ear and tried not to concentrate on how short Leanne’s temper had gotten the first time she’d fallen down the drug rabbit hole. This was emotion running high. Leanne would never be stupid enough to try drugs again.
When Monroe slid Woody’s plate into the window, Christina knew her time had run out. “What do you want?”
“Send me a picture of the kids. Please. I miss them. And if you have a chance to talk to Brett, convince him to reconsider letting me talk to them. One phone call. Please.” Leanne’s voice shook at the last.
“Come home, Leanne. The only way to fix this is if you come home.” Christina smiled at Woody to stall his impatient gestures for his food cooling in the window.
“I can’t. Not right now. Things aren’t good.” Leanne sniffed loudly and Christina fought the shiver that crept down her spine. “I’ll be home soon, though.”
“Where are you?” Christina asked. “I’ll come get you.” She had no idea how she’d get there, but she’d steal the keys to Woody’s truck herself if it meant saving Leanne from whatever was going on.
“Not now. See if you can talk to Riley and Parker. After school?” Leanne asked. “You could drop by, pick them up and take them to McDonald’s. Parker still loves the playground there.” Leanne took another drag.
“Pick them up? In my arms? Because I have no car.” Christina shook her head. “Just get back here, Leanne. We’ll go to McDonald’s together. Until then, I can’t help you.”
She ended the call over her friend’s protests, marched to the window to pick up Woody’s plate, took a deep breath, and then turned to slide it in front of him. “Sorry about that. A small emergency.” When she realized her hands were shaking, Christina made tight fists.
Would telling Leanne no ever get easier?
Woody’s puckered mouth didn’t ease until she flashed him the smile she’d used ever since she was seven years old and realized a bit of innocence could get her out of a scrape. “I hope you aren’t too mad.”
His long sigh as he unwrapped his silverware faded as she leaned one elbow on the counter next to him. “What can I do to make it up to you?” If he complained to the manager, it would be her second in a week. Since she’d been late two mornings in a row, thanks to the complete lack of friendlies who’d pick up a hitchhiker, Christina had to do whatever she could to soothe his ruffled feathers. Luisa was a great boss, but she wouldn’t forget unhappy customers easily.
Woody tapped his half-empty coffee cup. “Fill ’er up. Keep me company. That’s all, sweetness.” He’d always be easy to jolly out of a bad mood. Woody was a sucker for a friendly smile.
Christina tipped the pot up and watched the other tables in her section. “Where you headed out today?” Christina asked.
“Thought I might troll over closer to the falls.” Woody slurped his coffee. “Should be nice and cool.”
Christina nodded and propped the other elbow on the counter. Stretching the muscles in her back felt good.
“You could come with me.” He waggled his eyebrows as he shoved a forkful of egg in his mouth, one drop of yolk landing on his chin. While he chewed, he said, “Be happy to save you the long walk home.”
Christina offered him his own paper napkin. People who waited tables should not be as completely grossed out by dribbles as she was, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Were you eavesdropping on my phone call, Woody? Naughty.” She ignored the lurch of worry in her stomach at the reminder of Leanne’s request.
He took a bite of his pancakes and completely ignored the stray syrup that landed on his chin. “Heard about it in town first. Leanne stole your car, huh? And your man. Friends like that, you don’t need enemies, am I right?” He didn’t seem all that worried about the serious downturn in her luck.
She’d learned to expect that same attitude from most of Sweetwater, so it didn’t surprise her. Charity at Christmastime? The town could pull together for that, but everyday caring for people with real trouble was less common. She’d find the solution to her problems on her own, like she had her whole life.
Being flat broke, stuck in a town that hated her and in serious need of a way out was nothing new.
She’d also take care of Leanne. Always had. Always would.
“Guess everyone’s talking about Leanne,” Christina said as she replayed Leanne’s phone call in her head. In the same spot, Christina might not be in a big rush to come home, either.
Except she couldn’t imagine walking out on her kids. Ever.
“She pops up now and again. Things died down after the de-vorce,” Woody said, hitting the first syllable hard. “Then she disappeared with Beau, and you and her are both topics of convos regular-like.”
“Leanne and Beau aren’t together. It’s a coincidence they left town at the same time.” Christina had no idea if it were true, but Woody could start that rumor circulating and get them some benefit of the doubt.
And it wasn’t the first occasion she’d lied to make the people of Sweetwater let go of a juicy tidbit.
She and Leanne ought to be used to being the subject of speculation. For their whole lives, they’d been the town’s guilty pleasure. They’d grown up in the same place where people with no other options landed. Christina’s father had been in jail, so her mother worked two jobs to pay the bills, leaving Christina in charge, and Leanne’s grandmother finished raising all but one of her absent son’s kids. Climbing on the big school bus of staring children had been easier with Leanne at her back. Being on the outside never got better, but at least they had each other. And all those good people gossiping in town? Sure, someone ought to do something to help Christina and Leanne, but it was more fun to talk about them behind their backs.
“Brett and them kids are eating out in town ever’ day,” Woody added, “getting lots of sympathy, you know?” Of course he was. Brett was the hero in the story.
That was another constant. Brett Hendrix was a good man, day in and out, without fail.
He also handed down pronouncements like a heavenly judge on high.
At seventeen, Leanne had done the smartest thing she could: gotten pregnant by the class president. Instead of pretending he didn’t know Leanne or weaseling his way out of any responsibility, Brett had proposed.
Marrying Brett had straightened Leanne out and Christina was able to finish high school and even two years at a community college. Things were okay, except Brett never wanted Christina around. At least Leanne had ignored his orders.
Until Leanne messed it all up. Drugs had nearly destroyed them all, but Brett had pulled Leanne out. For that reason, Christina would always consider herself a Brett Hendrix fan.
Even when he made her so mad she wanted to throw darts at a lifelike depiction of his handsome face.
Which was all the time lately.
“I better check my other tables, Woody,” Christina said, the sadness that rolled over her when she wondered what was going to happen to Leanne hard to ignore. Space would make it easier to build her shell again.
“Just come back to me. We can talk about your transportation. Be happy to give you a ride wherever. Retirement’s a true blessing, open schedule for days, don’t ya know.” Woody snapped a piece of charred bacon and chewed.
Christina picked up her order pad and her coffeepot. She moved between the tables, refilling and dropping checks off at tables as she went. There was usually a question about the easiest way to get back to Gatlinburg or where the fish were biting. Directions were easy. There weren’t many choices.
And she always gave the same answer about the fish. It didn’t matter. Fish were notorious for making liars out of people.
She approached the last table in the corner. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked as she slipped a ticket under the cup she was filling.
“How about your phone number?” the bearded guy asked. She didn’t recognize him, but that was normal. People came and went all the time because of the campground. If she had a dollar for every time some guy on his yearly fishing trip hit on her, she might be able to swing another car.
“Sorry. I’m seeing someone.” She gave him a friendly smile and stepped away from the table. When she was younger, she’d fallen for enough charming out-of-towners to learn what a waste of time it was to look for Prince Charming in a man passing through town. Now she went straight for a lie, the easiest brush-off of all.
“Sure have been friendly to the old guy at the counter. Flirting for tips?” he asked. The complete lack of a smile on his face made her a bit nervous.
“No, just an old friend.” Christina tightened her grip on the coffeepot. She’d left bartending for this reason. Give a man alcohol and he was convinced he was the World’s Sexiest Man capable of taking what he wanted at the same time.
Removing alcohol had made confrontations like this a lot less common.
That didn’t mean she’d forgotten how to make a weapon out of whatever was at hand, though.
“I’d like to be a new friend,” he said as he leaned forward. “Besides, heard him say something about somebody stealing your boyfriend. Now, if you can give me her number, I’ll go away. Any woman who could take a man from a looker like you must be the stuff of legends.” He grabbed her wrist as Christina moved to leave.
No matter how she turned her hand, she couldn’t twist free. Setting down the coffeepot to claw at his fingers would leave her with nothing but her pencil as a weapon.
Determined not to cause a brawl at this job, Christina said, “While I do appreciate the kindness, sir, I’ve got to get back to work.” And if I shove my pencil in your eye, I will probably lose this job.
“Feisty.” The guy tilted his head to the side. “Woman like you, dressed like that. Can’t imagine you ain’t in the market for something.” There was no doubt in Christina’s mind that her hot-pink shirt and tight jeans were gone in his mind.
Before she could swing the coffeepot or make a stab with her pencil, Woody eased off his stool, hitched up his belt and said, “You need help, Chrissy?”
The last thing she needed was for Woody to wade into this mess. She didn’t want his injuries on her conscience, and she couldn’t afford a bill for repairs.
Christina moved to set the coffeepot down on the guy’s arm and jerked away as soon as he let go of her arm.
“Oh my. I almost got you.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe how clumsy she was. “I do apologize.” Should she offer to cover his breakfast in order to get him out of there?
What would she do if he returned when the crowd thinned?
Call the cops before his backside hit the wooden seat, that’s what. Being nice as a solution didn’t get more than one shot.
When the guy stood up, she and Woody both shrank back a step. He was big. Of course he was. What rule of nature made it necessary for the biggest animal on the food chain to be the one with the fewest redeeming qualities?
Armed with her coffeepot in one hand and her pencil in the other, Christina squared off. “You go ahead and leave, mister. I’ve got your ticket covered.”
She would much rather lose the ten dollars than the job. And if the guy did come back, she’d gladly shut him down and kiss the diner goodbye. In the meantime, she was no one’s victim. Not anymore.
Before the guy could make up his mind whether to throw his weight around some more or skip out on his bill and count himself lucky, the door to the restaurant opened and the park’s head law enforcement ranger, Brett Hendrix, stepped in.
The relief that swept over her was immediate, yet enraging. He had the same golden glow he’d had as he sauntered the halls of Sweetwater High, everyone’s friend and role model. Why couldn’t he have gained forty pounds and lost all but forty strands of hair? Probably wouldn’t matter. He inspired trust and that would always be attractive.
They must have appeared as if frozen, caught in the instant before chairs started flying, punches were thrown and someone howled in pain, because Brett braced both hands on his belt, his gun holstered but within easy reach, and said, “Oh good. I made it in time for the brawl. I hate to miss the first minute because then I can never follow the rest of the story.”
Christina didn’t exactly relax, because Leanne’s ex was no fan of hers, but he knew right from wrong and never wavered from it.
Brett Hendrix believed there was no gray area when it came to life’s challenges, only seeing things as either totally black or white. It made life hard for those living in mostly those gray areas, especially for Christina. She knew he was a loving father, but she wanted to help her friend, too.
It was easy to hate him for all that, but right now, watching her would-be stalker fold before her eyes, Brett’s presence warmed a tiny corner of her cold heart.
Even better, faced with a park ranger in his officially official flat hat and everything, the guy yanked a twenty from his wallet, dropped the money on the table and stomped out.
Not only did she not have to cover his tab, but he’d left her the best tip of the day.
Christina couldn’t help the grin that slowly turned up her lips as she shoved her pencil back in her ponytail. “My hero.”
She waved the twenty-dollar bill and check at Woody. “You, too, darling.” His thin chest puffed out as if he’d done something besides stand behind her and bluster, but that was okay. Any thoughts of complaining about his cold breakfast and indifferent service were gone.
“What can I get you, Ranger?” Christina asked as she sashayed back behind the counter. She tried to always sashay when Brett was around. It made his scowl darker.
“First, tell me what that was.” He stared hard at the door.
“You know, one more guy who wants to hassle me,” Christina replied as she noticed Woody glued to the conversation. “New guy, so there was some excitement. All the others have learned where the boundary is.” She smiled at Brett.
“Business as usual, then,” Brett said with a nod. “Two coffees, two slices of pecan pie, to go.”
Christina saluted and turned to box up his order, happy to have her routine restored to calm the jitters.
The weight of Brett’s disapproving stare rattled her again, but it was familiar at least. When his phone rang and he turned away to answer it, Christina managed to catch her breath. As soon as Brett was on his way, she might even take Woody up on his offer of a ride home.
And if that didn’t illustrate how bad things were, that Christina Braswell was about to ask for help, she’d eat the pencil she’d been prepared to wield like a spear.
