Come Again

by Kate, Jiffy

  “The desire for another relationship isn’t to replace, but to find that happiness again.”

  She pauses again and I rub at my chest, trying to ease the constriction.

  “Humans have an unlimited capacity to love. It’s inevitable that we’ll compare the next person who comes along to the one we lost, but remember we’re all different. And this new person needs to be the perfect person for this season of your life. That means, they’re probably not going to be exactly like your deceased wife or husband. They’re going to have their own strengths and weaknesses. Let them. And let yourself love them just the way they are so they can love you right where you’re at.”

  Ellen sighs heavily, standing from her chair.

  “Who knows? Maybe we’re all the lucky ones? Maybe we’re going to have not one, but two great loves in life?”

  Chapter 25

  Avery

  “You are one stubborn woman,” CeCe declares when she walks into the coffee shop.

  I give her an innocent-looking smile before continuing to wipe down the espresso machine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, the dark circles under your eyes and the yawns you think you’re hiding say otherwise.” Her tone turns sympathetic as she continues. “You’re exhausted, Avery. You’ve been running yourself ragged all week. Go take a nap before you have to go to The Crescent Moon. I can handle things here.”

  I know my friend means well and I know I should take her advice, but I have to stay busy. I like being active, so helping CeCe and working at The Crescent Moon accomplishes that. Besides, when I started staying with her, I promised I’d help out as much as possible and I never go back on my word. Plus, working all day allows me to crash when I get home and sleep soundly, which then leaves me zero time for thinking. Specifically, thinking about Shaw.

  It’s just too hard, even after two weeks. If I think about him, I start analyzing every moment of our time together at his house—what went right and what went wrong.

  If I think about him, I realize how much I miss him.

  It’s later in the afternoon, as I’m busing tables at Crescent Moon, I feel my back pocket buzz. Since I only have a few customers and they’re all tucked into their meals, I take my phone out and see my mama’s face on my screen.

  “Hey, mama, I’m at work so I can’t talk long. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine, honey. And I’m glad you’re at work because I need you to ask that sweet boss of yours for some time off.”

  In the short time I’ve worked at The Crescent Moon, my mama has fallen for Wyatt. She doesn’t even know the man, but everything I tell her about him makes her love him more—the sweet southern manners, the suspenders, the bowties...all the way down to his cowboy boots. She’s kind of obsessed. I actually think it might be what gets her and Daddy to New Orleans.

  Last week, she conned me into taking a picture of him and send it to her so she could really put a face with the name. I rolled my eyes, but obliged. Her chocolate chip cookies, which I missed dearly, were on the line, and they showed up two days ago, just like she promised.

  “Mama,” I sigh, loving her stubbornness, but also feeling exhausted. “I know this is hard for you, but I don’t know if I can make it to Oklahoma. I just started working here and I don’t feel right asking for time off yet.” Wyatt has already mentioned the restaurant will be closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but I’m sure other people here would like an extended holiday, too. I’m at the bottom of the totem pole right now, so I’m expecting to be covering shifts all month.

  “Now, you listen to me, Avery Cole. It about killed me and your daddy to not spend Thanksgiving with you and I’ll be damned if it’s gonna happen at Christmas.”

  I still feel awful about cancelling on my parents at the last minute and I miss them terribly, but I just don’t want to rock the boat here. Wyatt has been so good to me and I don’t want to take advantage of his niceness. Besides, it’s already so close to Christmas, I’m sure travel prices are way out of my budget by now. I already know from buying a bus ticket for Thanksgiving that the bus trip alone takes three days round trip—eighteen hours both ways. So, if I expect to spend any time at all with my family, I’ll need at least two extra days off.

  “Now, you need to ask off for twenty-third through the twenty-sixth. I’ll forward you the email with all your flight information in just a minute,” Mama says, obviously not taking no for an answer.

  “Wait. What? What flight information? What do you mean?”

  “The day after Thanksgiving I bought you a plane ticket for Christmas. Your daddy will pick you up at the airport and don’t worry about presents. We just want you here with us. I wish you could stay longer, but I know you have a job to get back to.”

  My eyes fill with tears as I process her words. “Oh, Mama. You’re so stubborn and I love you.” I set down a bucket of dirty dishes and smile as my heart fills just thinking about seeing her. “Okay, I’ll go talk to Wyatt and I’ll call you when my shift ends.”

  “Okay, sweetie,” she replies. I hear something shuffling in the background as my multi-tasking mama is off to the next thing on her to-do list. Sharon Cole gets shit done. “If Wyatt gives you any trouble, you tell him to call me.”

  I let out a soft giggle, wondering if that’s just a sly way of her getting his number.

  “Love you, Mama.”

  Walking into the kitchen, I place the dishes in the sink and leave to check on my customers. Wyatt, meets me at the swinging doors with a smile and a stack of plates.

  “Table ten would like some bread pudding,” he says, handing the dishes off to me.

  “Oh, sorry, I was on my way out to check on them now,” I tell him, feeling my cheeks heat up at the thought of falling down on my job. I never want to be that employee—the one everyone is always picking up the slack for. I pick up the slack.

  Wyatt gives me a smile and waves it off. “No worries, I saw you were on a phone call.”

  “Sorry,” I say again, “I wouldn’t normally take it but it was my mama and I was worried something was wrong. She never calls me during the day.”

  “Avery, relax.”

  “Okay.” I let out a light laugh. With another apology on the tip of my tongue, I bite it back. “This probably isn’t the best time to ask you, but...” I hesitate for a second, turning toward the prep station. “Just a second.” Walking over, I plate two pieces of bread pudding and pour the sweet, buttery bourbon sauce on top. Quickly, I walk back out into the dining room and take the desserts to table ten. The sweet older ladies smile up at me, one patting my hand gently.

  “Can I get you anything else?” I ask.

  “You know, I did change my mind on that cup of tea you offered earlier.” Her warm presence reminds me of my nana and I can’t help but want to be at her every beck and call. Shoot, she could change her mind a million times and I wouldn’t care.

  “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

  Wyatt is still standing at the door when I get back to the kitchen. As I prep the tea, he walks over. “What were you needing to ask?”

  “My mama bought me a plane ticket home,” I give him an apologetic smile and sigh. “She’s kind of dead set on me being home for Christmas.”

  “I couldn’t agree with her more,” Wyatt says, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. “When do you need to leave?”

  “My flight leaves on the twenty-third.” I cringe, still feeling bad about already asking for a day off when I haven’t even been here very long.

  “Absolutely,” he says without a second thought, walking around the counter to inspect what Shawn has going on at the stove. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, he dips it in for a taste test and I have the briefest flash of Sarah...a different kitchen...a different taste-tester. My chest momentarily aches.

  Damn, I miss them.

  “Just let Dixie know,” he continues, giving Shawn a slap of praise on his shoulder as he tosses the spoon i
nto a basin of hot, soapy water in the sink.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, letting out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t want to have to tell my mama you said no.” The sly grin is inevitable because bantering with Wyatt comes so easy and natural.

  “Ah, shit.” Wyatt lets out a low whistle. “No one wants Mrs. Cole out of sorts, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, she might’ve taken your posters out of her locker,” I tease.

  He’s well aware of my mama’s school girl crush on him. And he likes it.

  “Avery,” he calls out as I’m heading back to the dining room, tea for two in hand. “I meant to tell you that I know of an apartment for rent, close by, if you’re still looking.”

  Looking down at the piece of paper in my hand, I check the address Wyatt gave me one more time. The house in front of me is gorgeous—pale yellow with large columns that frame the porch and balcony. As I glance around, taking in my serene, picturesque surroundings, I take a deep breath. The typical hot, humid days have relinquished their hold on the city for a brief moment. As December has settled in, the temperatures have dropped enough to give us all a reprieve. It’s not cold by most people’s standards, but after the sweltering heat of the summer and fall months, I can see why everyone is wrapping up in scarves and pulling on their tall boots.

  Your blood starts to run a little thinner the longer you’re here.

  I notice large, grandiose trees above me have strands of beads in the tall branches. They’ve caught my eye from the streetcar and an older gentleman who I see from time to time told me they’re leftover from Mardi Gras—Mardi Gras Trees, he called them.

  They make me smile.

  “You must be Avery,” a sweet, southern voice greets from the direction of the front door. Turning, I see a pretty blonde smiling at me. Her blue eyes are obvious from where I stand and her pleasant demeanor leaves me no choice but to smile back at her.

  “Yep, I’m Avery.” Walking up the short sidewalk to the steps, she meets me at the bottom.

  “I’m Eliza Walker,” she says, offering me her hand. “Wyatt said you’d be stopping by. I was just getting ready to drop my kids off at a Christmas party.” She looks at her watch and I immediately feel bad about coming at an inopportune time.

  “I’m sorry,” I begin, but she cuts me off.

  “No.” She shakes her head and gives me another warm smile. “Believe me, I meet myself coming and going most days. So, don’t even worry about it. I’ve got about fifteen minutes before I absolutely have to leave. What do you say we check out the apartment?”

  She’s already walking down the sidewalk that leads to the back of the house, so I follow her.

  “There’s really not much to see, so it shouldn’t take you long to decide if it’s a good fit for you. My brother used to live here, about five or six years ago. Since then, we rented it out one time to another college kid.” Stopping, she turns and rolls her eyes at me, putting the key in the lock. “Bad mistake. One we never made again.”

  Pushing the door open, she steps to the side. “It’s mostly been used for family and friends who come through town...but we’ve been through it recently—fresh paint and carpet.”

  This is nice, much more than I expected when Wyatt told me about it. “I love it,” I tell her, meaning it. It’s cozy, kind of reminding me of Shaw’s apartment, which I shove down to the pit of my stomach.

  “We also put a brand new stove and refrigerator in a few years ago. There’s not a dishwasher, but a nice big sink,” she says with a small chuckle. “Oh, and you can wash your clothes in the washer and dryer inside the garage downstairs.”

  “I’ll take it,” I breathe out, immediately feeling at home in the small space.

  Eliza laughs lightly. “Well, okay.”

  “It’s five hundred a month?” I ask, repeating what Wyatt had told me.

  “I was thinking more like four,” she says, looking around the space.

  My eyes grow wider, knowing that four hundred dollars is well within my budget. I have a little over two thousand saved up right now, keeping as much of my paychecks as possible to cover first month’s rent and deposits when I finally found a place.

  “Is that too much?” she asks with a frown.

  “No, no...just the opposite. It’s great,” I tell her, taking another look around and walking into the bathroom which has a basic combination shower and tub with a small vanity. It’s nothing special, but it’s clean and fairly new. “Everything I’ve looked at so far has been either way out of my budget or in a scary place.”

  “I believe it,” Eliza replies, sighing as she leans against the counter. “I’m sure it’s a little nerve-wracking being a single woman in a city like New Orleans, but you have nothing to worry about here. We’ve got a great security system and my husband, Ben, is usually home in the evenings. Jack and Emmie, our twins, are always playing in the yard. So, I hope you don’t mind a little noise and action.”

  “I think I can handle that.” It really sounds perfect—too good to be true—but I feel like things are finally swinging in my favor and I don’t want to jinx myself by saying so.

  “Well, you can move in as soon as you’d like. If you’ll stop by tomorrow, I’ll have the key waiting for you.”

  “What about deposits?” I ask, wondering how much money I should bring with me.

  “Just first month’s rent will do. All your utilities are included,” she adds, walking back down the stairs after locking the apartment up. “The only thing it doesn’t have is a telephone, but since everyone has cell phones these days, we didn’t think it was necessary.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “You can tap into our Wi-Fi, though. I’ll give you the password when you move in.”

  I know she needs to go and so do I. Glancing at my phone, it’s almost five and I’m supposed to be at Charity House in twenty minutes to start volunteering.

  But for some reason, I want to hug her.

  “Thank you,” I say instead, not wanting to freak out my new landlord before I’ve even moved in.

  “You’re welcome,” she says, turning toward the house and yelling, “Jack! Emmie! Let’s go!”

  She smiles, pulling me in for that hug I wanted to deliver and I soak it up, feeling my chest warm. “Just think of yourself as one of the family.”

  “Okay,” I reply when she releases me from her fierce grip and watch as two kids run out of the house, arguing about who’s riding shotgun.

  “It’s Jack’s turn,” Eliza cuts in, ending their argument, rolling her eyes at me. “Kids.”

  Huffing out a laugh, I wave at the two of them, noticing that Jack shares his mother’s ice blue eyes. Emmie has long, dark hair and big dimples. They’re really cute kids. It’s been awhile since I’ve been around any and I’m feeling like a hit the jackpot.

  I love kids.

  When I was growing up, babysitting was my favorite gig. Honestly, I always felt like I was getting paid for nothing. Once upon a time, I thought I wanted to be a teacher, but changed my mind when I thought about dealing with parents and not getting paid shit.

  “Guys, this is Avery. She’s going to live in the apartment,” Eliza announces.

  “Cool,” Emmie says with a curious smile. “I’m Emmie.” Just like her mom, she gives me a sweet smile and offers me her hand to shake before jumping in the back of the SUV.

  “I’m Jack,” the little boy says, with another shake, like he’s twenty, instead of ten or eleven. I’m just guessing, but I bet I’m close.

  “Nice to meet you both,” I tell them.

  “Well, we’ve gotta run,” Eliza says turning to get in the driver’s seat and then stopping. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

  “Oh, no. I’m good. Just heading back to the streetcar. I’m volunteering at Charity House tonight.”

  “That’s really nice,” Eliza says with sincerity dripping from her words. “You sure you don’t need a ride?”

  “No, go,” I say with a smile. “Don’t b
e late for the Christmas party.”

  “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m jumping off the streetcar and jogging the couple of blocks to the large house that sets behind a church. I can’t be late on my first day. Even though I’m not getting paid, I still think of this as a job, people are depending on me.

  Walking in, a lady with a clipboard looks up and smiles. “Can I help you?”

  “Avery Cole,” I tell her, a bit out of breath. “I called about volunteering.”

  “I’m Samantha. Welcome to Charity House,” she says, taking a few steps toward me, checking her clipboard, marking something off and then looking back up at me. “We’re just changing shifts, so it’s perfect timing.”

  Samantha walks me around the large house, showing me the rooms on the top two floors that people who are trying to get back on their feet—after a stint in rehab or falling down on their luck—occupy. She explains that it’s transitional housing. They come and go as they please, but unlike the temporary housing, which is located on the bottom floor, they’re guaranteed a bed every night. The room is theirs until they move on, usually to permanent housing.

  As we walk through the hallways, I wonder which room was Jeremy’s and I think about asking, but I can’t bring myself to do it. If I did, I’d probably see him there any time I was up here. As much as I want to do something to help people like him and honor his memory, I don’t want to always be reminded. I’m here for closure, not to open up wounds every time I walk in the door.

  “This is the pantry,” Samantha says, walking into a back room that was probably once an office or even servant’s quarters. Being an older house, anything is possible. The walls are lined with shelves and non-perishable foods fill each shelf. A few are a little sparse and I wonder where their donations come from. Who pays for a place like this? I’m guessing the church it sits behind might offer some contribution, but I would think it’d take quite a bit to keep a whole house, with anywhere from twenty to forty people under its roof, going on a daily basis.