Читать книгу The Secret Of Us - Liesel Schmidt - Страница 16

Chapter Seven

November 2008

Three years.

Thirty-six months.

Roughly eleven hundred days.

It had been over three years since I’d seen or heard from him, but here he was, in the flesh.

Impossibly, it would have seemed, as in those three years, I’d moved a thousand miles away, leaving the home I had so loved in North Carolina to transplant my broken life into Florida sand, where I shared no history with Matt. Where I thought the tides of the Pensacola Bay would wash away the pain and leave me with a fresh future, like the unmarred sand on a shoreline after a wave has receded.

I’d begun rebuilding here, in this small community set along the shores of Florida’s Panhandle, trying to find my own treasures in this jewel-box so famously known as the Emerald Coast. I’d spent the last three years trying to get over him, to forget how much I loved him, to forget how much he’d hurt me. Thinking of what I’d say to him if I ever had the opportunity to say it to his face – and now here he was.

Right in front of me, smiling at me as though he had no idea who I was. Talking as casually as he would with someone he’d never met, someone with whom he had absolutely no history.

And I had absolutely no idea what to say.

“Can I get that rare, or is that against the rules?” he asked, flashing me another smile.

A smile.

A smile that I wanted to slap off of his face.

A smile that I wanted to scream at him for, to demand explanation for.

How could he sit there, smiling at me like that, when he’d done what he’d done?

I forced my attention back to the present and reached for the menu he’d extended towards me, realizing I was going to have to pull it together. Otherwise, I risked looking pitiful and desperate, the wounded woman who’d never gotten over being dumped. No matter that I wasn’t the one at fault, that I’d been left with no real explanation.

This was my proving ground, and I was determined not to fail.

I summoned every muscle in my face to rearrange my mouth into something resembling an easy smile as I answered.

“Rare it is,” I replied, my voice sounding strained and unfamiliar to my own ears as I stood there, trying to convince myself not to reach out and dump ice water in his lap.

Trying to talk myself out of hauling off and punching him hard enough to break his nose.

Instead, I was trying to remember to breathe, to remember that I was strong.

Why didn’t I feel that way?

“Did you get that?”

It wasn’t until then that I really took notice of the man sharing Matt’s table, looking up at me with a bored expression that seemed less than respectful of my place on the food chain.

I smiled tightly at him. “Why don’t you repeat it so that we can both make sure I got it right?” I asked, my pen poised above my pad while I stared at him as though in rapt attention.

The man was positively vile. There was nothing outright about it, as he was handsome at first glance, but the attitude he seemed to exude like bad cologne ruined everything about his looks.

“Prime rib. Rare. Bordeaux mushrooms, asparagus. And get another round while you’re at it,” he added, holding up his highball and rattling the ice cubes around in the empty glass. “Got it now?” He arched an eyebrow in naked condescension and waited with exaggerated patience as I scrawled his order.

I realized as I wrote that I was almost grateful for his presence. It was absurd, but the outrage he was arousing in me was like a balm for the confused feelings of frustrated anger that Matt was bringing to light. It certainly was a distraction, at any rate.

I smiled down at him and then at Matt, upping my wattage as I shifted my gaze.

“Okay, then. I’ll go put your orders in and be right back with those drinks,” I said breezily.

I shoved my pen and pad in the pocket of my apron, turning on my heel to retreat to the sanctuary of the kitchen. There were way too many warring emotions coursing through me right now, and I wasn’t quite sure which one would end up winning. It was a little too important for me to be able to keep my cool, both for the sake of my dignity, as well as for the sake of my job.

“Eira, honey, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good,” Maggie said, sidling up next to me as I punched the order into the computer. She laid a hand lightly on my back and gave me an appraising look.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I sighed, not meeting her eyes for fear that I would give myself away.

“Tell me another one,” she replied.

Obviously, I needed to work on being more convincing. The woman was relentless, though, and I knew she would refuse to leave me alone with my thoughts if she had any inkling that something might be wrong. I gave her a sidelong glance, trying to be discreet about it so that she wouldn’t catch me looking. I didn’t want to give her any more reason to probe for details. There wasn’t enough time or enough energy in me right now to get into explanations about what had me so tied up in knots.

“Really, I’m fine,” I said firmly, finishing up at the computer and stepping away, hoping she would do me the favor of taking the hint.

“Eira, I know you, and you’re not fine.”

I stopped in my tracks and looked over my shoulder at her, leveling my gaze.

“You’re right. I’m not. And I can’t really explain anything right now, but I need you to have my back on this.” I tossed my head in the direction of the dining room. “There’s something out there that I really…” I paused, unsure of how to explain. “I’m clocking out, Maggie. Right now. There’s enough staff to cover dinner tonight, so I’m going to clock out. Then I’m going to pick up the drinks that I left on order at the bar and deliver them before I leave. After that,” I swallowed a growing lump of apprehension in my throat, “after that, I don’t know. But I need you to back me up on this. I’ll explain everything later.”

I closed my eyes, willing Maggie not to press me for details.

“Please, do this for me, Maggie. Please,” I pleaded.

I opened my eyes to find her staring at me, studying my face and my posture. She bit back the protest that was obviously working its way off her tongue and nodded silently. I turned back towards the swinging doors of the kitchen, pushing through with a determination I didn’t really feel, leaving her staring after me with concern.

Maggie was my best friend these days, someone I knew I could count on for anything, any time. We’d known each other for a couple of years now, but most of that time, it had just been on a casual level, the kind of acquaintance that is sporadic at best. We ran into one another at parties every once in a while, maybe caught a glimpse and exchanged a friendly wave or a smile across the room if we found ourselves in the same restaurant. But it had never really gelled into anything until the previous year, when I’d started waiting tables.

Porterhouse was a small steakhouse with an intimate atmosphere, an exclusive menu, and a discriminating wine list – all of which made it an up-and-coming gem in the eyes of the region’s most persnickety foodies.

The locale didn’t exactly hurt, either. With its red brick façade, leaded windows flanked by vintage lamps, and an antique door, the restaurant had an architectural charm that meshed seamlessly with its surroundings in downtown Pensacola, occupying a corner of Cervantes Street that was within walking distance of the city’s cultural hub and most treasured scenery.

I’d put in an application on a whim, needing a respite from the monotony of the corporate scene I’d somehow become mired in. I wanted a job I could leave without worry of what was waiting for me the next day, something to take my mind off the life I was living that was so far from the one I thought I would have.

Maggie Blake was the restaurant’s owner, manager, and head waitress – and her smile was more than a welcome sight on my first day of work. I had an ally, someone to show me the ropes, a familiar face among all the strangers whose names I would have to learn along with the menu. Since then, we’d forged a friendship that had gotten me through some pretty low times, days when the burning pain of loneliness felt as fresh as if it had all happened yesterday.

Even without the fifteen-year age difference, Maggie and I were, by all admissions, complete opposites. She was petite and voluptuous with bright, bottle-blonde hair cut in a disheveled pixie that placed her features front and center. Big, round blue eyes were fringed by long eyelashes and offset with expertly tweezed eyebrows that seemed, at times, to be even more expressive than her tongue. She had a pert little nose and bee-stung lips, two attributes of which I was insanely jealous. Genetics had blessed her with a cup size that regularly made men swoon, though at the end of a long shift, she seemed to consider it more of a curse.

These were not the least of the ways in which Maggie and I differed from one another. She was fearless, candid, and brash. If Maggie saw something she wanted, she went for it without fear of failure.

I, conversely, was over-analytical, diplomatic, and level-headed.

Most of the time.

I was also constantly second-guessing myself and extremely self-conscious. Right now, I would have given anything to have half of her self-possession and fearlessness.

Would Maggie dump a drink in Matt’s lap or slap that oh-so-innocent smile off his face?

Probably.

I, however, was far too aware of the repercussions, so the drink would stay in the glass – and my hands would stay a safe distance away from Matt’s face.

I tapped my info into the time clock and headed to the bar to gather the drinks from the bartender. I made my way back to the table, willing myself to forget how well I knew one of the men sitting there – how he took his coffee, what kind of toothpaste he used, where all of his scars were.

I had to forget, if I was ever going to survive.

Obviously, it was possible to do – he seemed to have done it so well himself.

“We were beginning to think maybe you had to grow the corn and distill the Scotch yourself,” said Matt’s dinner companion as I started to place his drink on the table. The man was nothing if not a bottomless font of insults.

I felt my anger boil as my grip tightened around the highball glass.

And suddenly, the Scotch was no longer safely contained in its glass. It was dripping down his face, into the lap of his overpriced Italian suit trousers.

The man stared at me in shock, suddenly silent as his brain processed what I had just done.

Before my own mind had a moment to reconsider, I picked up the remaining glass from my tray and dumped its contents into Matt’s own awe-slackened face.

I felt strangely liberated.

“That, sir,” I said, directing my first words to Matt’s dinner companion, “was to teach you to treat people with a little more respect, even when they’re just a waitress.” My voice was low with extremely controlled rage.

I felt more like shrieking, but I knew I’d already gotten enough attention simply by dumping out the drinks. My eyes flashed hotly in Matt’s direction.

“And you,” I spat. “Matt.” The name came out like a dirty word. “You. What the hell do you think you’re doing here, acting like you don’t know me? Are you really that callous that you couldn’t just leave me alone? You had to come here and see just how messed up I was, have a little laugh at my expense?” I fumed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Matt. I’m doing great. You did me a favor, you know that? At least I found out what a selfish coward you are before it was too late.” I paused, trying to get my breathing under control. “I only hope to God no woman is stupid enough to ever get involved with you.”

I straightened my spine and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as I regained my composure. Hair that was now back to its natural color, a light shade of brown that I had once considered unremarkable. Once Matt had left, returning to nature seemed almost a show of defiance, destruction of the red hair he had loved so much. It seemed to be a symbolic gesture, even though he wouldn’t be there to see it.

Or so I had thought.

“Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen. Your new server will be with you shortly.”

I turned sharply on my heel, so swift that I was a little afraid I might stumble and ruin my exit.

My last glimpse of Matt and the other man at his table was satisfying, if I’m being honest. They were both silenced by shock, and my tirade had been swift and deadly, leaving them without much opportunity to respond before I was gone again. I dashed out of the restaurant to my car and slumped into the driver’s seat, exhausted and victorious.

Maybe all of this would finally, truly be behind me.

“Where are we going, Matt?” I asked, laughing as he drove excitedly down the busy street.

“You’ll see,” he said simply, grinning wildly as he darted his truck in between the gathering afternoon traffic.

“Why won’t you just tell me and put me out of my misery?”

“And spoil the surprise? Uh uh.” He slowed suddenly as we approached a turning lane and flicked his turning signal to life.

“This is a car wash,” I said, stating the obvious as we pulled into the parking lot of an automatic car wash. “Didn’t you just wash the truck yesterday?” I looked at him inquisitively. I knew the man was a bit anal about keeping the exterior of his beloved little blue truck gleaming, but this was a whole new level I’d never seen before. It hadn’t rained, and from what I’d seen, there was hardly a speck of dirt anywhere.

“Yes, but that was different.” He snuck a quick peek at my face. “Don’t look at me like that. I can explain,” he said. “When I was little, my dad would take me to the car wash, and we’d sit in the car and watch all the wired brushes and sponges whipping around and covering everything in soapy bubbles. We had a rule that we had to hold our breaths for as long as we could – otherwise we’d drown. Winner got an ice cream,” Matt continued, his voice far off as he remembered those happy moments of his childhood. He’d never told me this one, and I felt as though he was letting me just a little farther into his heart. “I always won,” he said with a smile.

“So what do you think?” I asked Maggie three hours later, when we were sitting on her couch. The restaurant was closed for the night, and she’d called me to insist that I come over and enlighten her on the evening’s events.

As her employee and as her friend, I knew I owed her that much.

For the first half hour I’d been there, I’d talked about anything and everything except the man who has inspired such uncharacteristic behavior in me – but I couldn’t dodge her questions any longer.

Not that I really cared by that point.

There were too many questions all swirling around in my head for me to sort out, and I needed some outside input. I was hoping that maybe Maggie could help inject a dose of reality into everything, help me make sense of it all.

Or at least commiserate with me and come up some interesting scenarios to entertain my overworked brain.

“Eee,” Maggie said, calling me by the nickname she’d given me. “As your boss, I should be pissed and fire you for lack of professionalism,” she intoned, playing with the empty coffee mug in her lap.

“But as a woman,” Maggie leveled her gaze at me soberly, then broke out into a wicked grin, “as a woman, I want to give you a high five and tell you how much you rock. And you do,” she continued, her smile deepening, accentuating her dimples. “The guy deserved everything you gave him. More, actually. He broke your engagement and didn’t have balls enough to really talk to you about any of it. He just up and disappeared like that,” she finished, snapping her fingers. The sound seemed harsh in the otherwise quiet room.

“He’s a total coward, and you were way too easy on him, if you want to know my honest opinion. I think if it was me, I’d have castrated him.”

“You know, he didn’t start out that way,” I said, sounding more than slightly defensive. “In the beginning, Matt really was a wonderfully guy,” I stopped, registering the words that had just come out of my mouth.

Wait a minute. Was I defending him or me?

I met Maggie’s stare and shrugged sheepishly.

“I know, I know. Was. I’m going to shut up now and try to be satisfied with the fact that I got the last word.”

I was silent for a moment, relishing the memory of Matt with Scotch dripping off his chin.

“This whole thing is just so… I don’t know. It’s a whole new level of cruelty that I really didn’t think he was capable of.”

Was I babbling?

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “And you know this because you know him so well.”

I looked at my hands, feeling a little like I’d been slapped.

“I thought I did,” I said quietly.

“That was unnecessary, even for me. I’m sorry, Eee,” Maggie said, sounding more apologetic than I’d ever heard her. The pain must have been written plainly across my face.

“On the upside, though, after you left, he really didn’t seem to want me to fire you or put you on probation or anything.” She shook her head in mild confusion. “His friend, though. Wow. That guy was hot for me to chew you out. He was practically foaming at the mouth, insisting that his brother-in-law was a lawyer, and he could sue you so hard your children’s children would still be paying him. Matt had to calm him down and talk him out of it, but they didn’t stick around long after your grand gesture.” She smiled at the memory.

I gave her a shaky smile of my own, one that probably resembled something closer to a grimace.

“Well. Thanks for understanding, Mags, and for letting me keep my job. I’m just glad it’s over now, and I never have to see him again. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s aaaall fine,” I said flatly, drawing out the word longer than necessary.

“Uh huh.”

I sighed and buried my head in one of the throw pillows.

“How did my life turn out like this?” I wailed into the cushion.

It might have been a little hard to understand, what with the stuffing and all, but Maggie seemed to translate just fine.

“Honey, when men are involved, nothing is ever simple,” she soothed, gently rubbing my back. “Once you realize that, things become so much clearer.”

I removed my face from the pillow and looked at her.

“I should have known better than to ask a thrice divorced woman for advice on men,” I said soberly.

“Oh, stop it, you,” she shot back, laughing. “I may actually be somewhat of an expert by now. After all, what better way to learn things than through mistakes? Now I just know better what to do for the next time.”

“Next time?” I asked incredulously. “You mean there’s going to be a next time?” I paused and peered at her suspiciously. “Is there something you’re not telling me? I know you’ve been seeing some mysterious man, but have things gotten serious between you two? Or have you got a man holed up in here that I didn’t know about?”

I made a show of looking around the room for signs of another person. “Oh, Lover! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

We both started to laugh, the tension in the room lessening noticeably. I was well aware that Maggie wouldn’t be able to give me the answers I still wanted, even after all these years, but talking to her seemed to lessen the load my mind was trying to shift into some sort of order. The only one that would be able to clear all of this up was Matt, and I knew that I would never get those answers from him.

But did I truly want to stir all of that up again? I’d worked so hard to move on and rebuild my life after Matt’s disappearance, and now I was thinking about dredging all of it up again, opening up old wounds. Allowing him access to the parts of myself that I had so tightly closed off from most people.

Would he take that power and abuse it?

Would I end up with closure, or simply left with even deeper wounds?