by J. H. Croix
Jess cuffed me lightly on the shoulder before leaning forward and giving me a quick hug. Stepping back, she said, “Thanks for your help. Call me.”
I drove away, my mind churning over Jess’s uncomfortably accurate observation. The thing was, it was easy to keep people at a distance because our parents’ marriage was fucking shit. Beyond the fact our father was an asshole, Jess’s accident had given my mother something to throw herself into. She ignored the wasteland of her marriage and my fathers’ years long infidelity with another woman.
My mother had been utterly occupied with Jess. My memories weren’t all that clear of exactly how long Jess was in the hospital after the initial accident, but I’d understood it was serious. I remembered my mom being gone most of the time while I was alone in the house a lot. My dad was there occasionally and barely paid attention to me. Our interactions were limited to him snapping at me if I left a mess anywhere. Boys weren’t exactly legendary for being tidy and clean, so that was fun.
After the initial scare for my sister, there were other surgeries as they tried to repair her leg. All in all, the time added up. By the time I reached high school, it felt like I’d been functioning mostly on my own. The one and only bright spot was Jess and I had each other. Somehow, we fostered a strong bond when she was home more and constantly chafing at my mother’s heavy worry and sarcastically calling out my dad’s absence.
Hockey had been my escape and I’d been damn good at it, which was a blessing. Being that competitive at the sport absorbed all of my spare time. Parents usually had to be absorbed as well. The one thing my father did was take me to practice. We would ride in silence in the car. My mother’s contribution had been to rustle up carpools to games and practices with various friends when needed.
When I had to accept the bitter pill of my knee injury sidelining my hopes for a pro career, I’d known two things: I didn’t want to work for my father, and I knew I wanted to find a place where I could create my own life, preferably someplace where people didn’t worry about things like money and superficial success.
It was a blessing to have my sister move to Vermont as well. She was the only person I was close with in my family. I loved my mom, but we weren’t tight.
My thoughts spun back to Jess’s comment that I was a master at keeping my distance. I knew she was right, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Belle tugged at me. Whether she meant to or not, little hooks had caught on the binding around my heart, loosening and unraveling it. She was leading me to an unfamiliar place, one where perhaps I wanted more.
When I got back to Colebury, I aimed for Speakeasy. The moment I parked my truck, anticipation sizzled through my veins. Because I knew Belle was here. Even if she was working, just as I would be in a few minutes, knowing she would be near had anticipation humming in my veins.
A few minutes later, I was in the brewing room checking on a few things. Alec and Griffin were bantering about beer and cider, a favorite topic for them.
“We don’t have to worry about Goldenpour stock here,” Griffin was saying.
Alec nodded enthusiastically at this. “And, your cider’s getting a reputation.”
Griffin rubbed his hand over his beard. Griffin was a big guy, more brains than brawn. The guy actually had a degree in chemistry. Like me, he’d played sports in college, football in his case. Every so often we chatted about our former sports lives. He was as philosophical as I was, and lately, he was also damned happy. He had a girl he loved and a kid. Plus, brewing was a serious passion for him. The guy would happily chat about the nitty-gritty details for hours.
“You planning on expanding your cider operation?” I asked. Griffin’s cider was a favorite at Speakeasy.
“As soon as I can make it work, money-wise,” Griffin replied.
“Making award-winning cider should help solve that problem sooner rather than later,” I offered. Griffin grinned at that. I glanced at my watch. “I gotta get up front, guys.”
Just then, Audrey appeared with her and Griffin’s toddler on her hip. The second Griffin saw them, a smile broke across his face.
“Good to see you Audrey,” I said with a wave as I passed her by.
She gave me a smile. “We have your favorite muffins today,” she called.
“Pear ginger?” I asked as I stopped briefly in the doorway.
“Of course!” she replied.
“I’ll stop by and get some if I have time.”
I hurried up front, immediately getting swept into the busy afternoon. Lily was raking in the tips for us at the bar. I only got a few glances of Belle as the afternoon rolled into evening. There was a local wedding at a nearby family farm, and it brought in plenty of people looking for the best beer around and Colebury’s newest restaurant.
Phoebe’s grand opening had been a smash, and we were continuing to build on that. I was in the middle of restocking some beer when I heard Belle’s voice. “Oh, I didn’t know you guys were coming tonight.”
Glancing beyond the bar, I was surprised to see her in the restaurant. She still had on her chef’s jacket. She was standing beside an older couple. With a quick glance, I deduced they must be her parents. The woman looked quite a bit like Belle, although her dark hair was streaked with silver.
“It’s okay, dear,” she was saying as she patted Belle on the shoulder. “We just wanted to get some dinner.”
Lily, bless her charming heart, stopped beside them as she was returning to the bar from checking on something. “We’ve got an open table right now,” she whispered to Belle.
Belle looked distracted and worried. She happened to catch my eyes. I got the sense she felt a little out of sorts and vulnerable, and I experienced a twinge in my chest. I wanted to tell her it was all going to be okay, and I had no idea what she was distressed about. There was nothing I could do though. The restaurant was hopping.
It was one thing to want Belle. That was easy, as easy as breathing for me. But this other feeling—wanting to protect her, to comfort her—was entirely unfamiliar. I felt as if I’d been dropped in the middle of nowhere without a map to help me find my way.
15
Belle
I zipped through the motions of getting a dish ready before checking with the line cooks about a confusing order that had been sent back by a table.
Phoebe appeared at my shoulder. “You know, you’re done for the night.”
Glancing up, I shrugged. “We’re still really busy. I can stay a little late.”
Phoebe held my eyes for a long beat. “Your parents are here for dinner, right?”
I focused, rather intently, on making a pretty display of raspberry sauce on a cheesecake dessert special. “Uh-huh.”
“Why don’t you go eat with them?” Phoebe pressed.
When I looked up toward her, the anxiety on my face must’ve given me away. “Oh,” Phoebe said softly. “No need to explain. We can always use you for a little extra time.”
She hurried off, and blessedly, the restaurant stayed busy. I knew when my parents’ order came through, because the waitress actually put “Belle’s mom and dad” on the order.
Although Phoebe probably understood the broad strokes of my reticence to have dinner with my parents, my emotions were all tangled up about it. I loved my parents. I even actually liked them. Not everyone could say that about their parents, and I knew I was blessed.
It’s just the last few years had created a chasm between us, one that had twists and turns and narrowed and expanded at points. It was only after I had to face them the morning after I’d spent the night in a psychiatric hospital that I learned my mother had a sister with Bipolar Disorder. Somehow, no one saw fit to tell me that before.
I was still a little disgruntled about that detail, although I was even more vexed at the knowledge that no one had paid attention to what that might mean for me. Before I ended up in a full-blown manic phase, I felt like an engine that was running a little too hot all the time. Also, I felt freaking a
wesome—confident, on top of life, funny, outgoing, and also able to get a shit ton of stuff done. While other people complained about being tired and running out of energy when they were juggling school and work and life, I thought somehow I had a special magic engine that just kept on chugging.
If someone could’ve warned me maybe I was hypomanic—which I now understood thanks to my therapist and psychiatrist—I might’ve listened. My mother stayed in touch with my aunt, but she’d moved out to California years ago so she didn’t see her too often.
My parents had reached out to her about what happened with me, and she’d been kind enough to call. My shame around everything that happened made it hard, just plain hard, to be around my family. I’d let them down so thoroughly. Or, so I believed. That was something my therapist was trying her best to talk me out of.
I was also still smarting from my last stupid relationship. Eric had been brilliant and kind of boring in bed, to be honest. He’d also been “lightly abusive”, as I said to my therapist. My parents had been horrified to overhear him shouting belittling comments at me when they happened to stop by for a visit once. I was still grateful he’d ghosted me completely after the mess I made. He was in law school with me and wanted nothing to do with me after that. Thank God. Bad judgment was a fun side effect that came along with my mania.
My efforts to try to repair my image with my parents kept falling short, even though they kept telling me there was nothing to repair and that they loved me exactly how I was. That was hard to square with how they’d always been so proud of my honors status and getting scholarships. All of it had felt awesome, until it wasn’t. My life had blown up in my face, and I was still scrambling to find my footing again.
The shining spot was when I was trying to get my shit together and living at home again with them, I figured I might as well get a job as a cook because I loved to cook. Lucking into that chef position at a sweet place in Burlington had given me confidence that I could actually do something other than be a lawyer. It was definitely more fun.
A line cook spun a plate toward me, calling my name as he did and effectively snapping me out of my meandering train of thought. One of the waitresses, Melanie, paused by the end of the stainless-steel counter where I was working. “Your parents are ordering dessert, and they’re really taking their time. I think they’re hoping you’ll come out for a little while.”
She smiled when I looked over. I knew she meant well. I managed a brave smile in return. “I’ll finish up and join them for dessert.”
“They’ll love that.” She hurried off.
I finished up and finally headed out of the kitchen. I stopped in the staff room to shrug out of my chef’s jacket and remove my totally unsexy hairnet. I even went to the restroom to splash water on my face and brush my hair out. After I dabbed my face dry with a stiff paper towel, I paused and stared at my reflection in the mirror.
My cheeks were a little pink from the cold water, making my freckles stand out more than usual. My brown eyes looked right back at me. I wished I knew how to reconcile this girl, the one who didn’t feel so confident anymore, with the girl I used to be. I supposed that girl was still somewhere in me. I could still be funny. It’s just I felt a little itchy in my skin sometimes, and I hated the uncertainty that dogged me ever since my life had skidded off the tracks.
I idly noticed that my purple streaks were fading a bit, so I would do them this weekend. It would be fun. I snorted to myself. I didn’t have the most eventful social life these days. My mind bounced to Ty, like a car bouncing off a railing too fast on the highway and zooming away. I wasn’t quite ready to think too hard about Ty and just how deliciously good it felt to be with him.
I could’ve chalked it up to the hot sexy times, which were definitely incredible, but there was something else to it. Something more.
My thoughts around him were even more tangled after learning about his sister’s accident and that someone who’d stolen a car caused it. What were the freaking chances of that? My guilt felt like a riptide pulling me under sometimes.
I thought about stuff all the time now. I used to be too busy to think, just zipping from one thing to the other, both in action and thought.
“Get over it,” I murmured to myself.
Restless and impatient with myself, I spun away and raced out of the bathroom, promptly colliding with someone. Someone solid and tall and with a great chest. I knew this because my palm landed smack over one of those pecs. I knew before I even looked up it was Ty. Because I could smell him. I didn’t know what soap he used, but I liked it. It had a whiff of citrus that mingled with the subtle woodsy scent he carried.
I found his intent gray eyes waiting for me when I lifted my head. “Sorry,” I said, so breathlessly I was embarrassed.
Meanwhile, my hormones let out their usual cheer for Ty. They were kind of noisy about the whole thing actually, and I felt a little crazy, as if my hormones were somehow independent of me. Nobody ever said hormones were smart.
“No worries,” Ty said with one of his quick, easy grins. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and my belly did a little twist and spin.
I hurried past him, feeling foolish. I needed to be casual. It was just sex. Hookups had been easy for me before, no big thing. Even if Ty held a memorable place because of how high the flames flickered with him, I’d been able to manage it.
A moment later, I slipped into the empty chair at my parents’ table. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”
My mother leaned over and kissed me on the cheek quickly, and my father squeezed my shoulder and dipped his head with a warm smile.
My mother had big brown eyes like me, and rather than purple streaks in her hair, she had natural silver. Tonight, she had twisted her hair up into a bun with two chopsticks stabbed through it. She was dressed in her usual style, what I referred to as hippie-elegant. She wore a bright blue skirt, with a flowing cream-colored blouse. My father’s hair was all silver, and he had blue eyes and a kind smile. It kind of amused me that they were both lawyers.
What I thought I had always wanted to be. I ignored that little pinch of confusion and smiled between them. “How was dinner?”
“Absolutely delicious. We’ve heard nothing but rave reviews about this place. People are even talking about it in Burlington.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
My father nodded. “Of course. With Giltmaker Brewery associated with it, word travels. They do make the most popular beer in Vermont. Plus, you know how the restaurants are in New England. People love hearing about those out of the way places in smaller towns. They’re special.”
“And we’re so proud of your work here,” my mother chimed in.
See, now this drove me slightly insane. They were worried about me feeling like I’d let them down, because I made the mistake of telling them I worried about that. So now, they were constantly trying to tell me how proud they were of my cooking.
“I know you are, Mom. How are things at home?” My voice was bright, a little too bright.
“Busy as usual. The fall semester’s picking up, and your father’s practice is always busy.”
“Well, that’s good. Neither one of you likes to have time on your hands. I know this because I inherited that tendency.”
My father chuckled, and my mother smiled, and we actually managed to get through that tense part of our conversation. Matters were helped by Lily. She chatted when she stopped at the table as she passed by in between slinging drinks at the bar. “Did you try the Honey Bear Bourbon?” she asked my mother. “It’s delicious.”
There was a reason Lily had a reputation for getting the most tips behind the bar. She was just one of those people who was easy to be around. No conversation ever felt forced with her, and she could even make bad weather sound charming.
When my mother glanced to me, I nodded encouragingly. “You should try it. Not only is it good, but it’s from an all-female brewery.”
I walked my parents out to the parking lot afterwa
rds. “Where is your car?” my mother asked, her eyes arcing about the parking lot.
“Mom, I told you, I live right down the street. I walk to work. It’s good for me, and I love walking.”
“Well, now when winter—”
My father cut in. “Belle’s been driving on winter roads since she learned how to drive, Marsha.”
My mother pursed her lips, casting a sheepish smile at me. “Sorry. You know I worry.”
“You can worry, but I’m doing great. I promise.”
We’d gotten past my mother’s urge to ask if I was taking my medication. I had a full year of living with them after my little stint in the hospital. I had to remind myself time and again it had only been one night. But that night lived large in my memory, and that of my parents.
“’Night, Mom.” I gave them quick hugs and watched as they drove away.
I was stuffing my hands in my pockets when I heard a voice call over, “Good job with the ’rents, Belle.”
Spinning around, I saw May Shipley sitting on the bench by the employee entrance. I kicked a pebble with the toe of my boot as I walked over to her. “Ya think?” I teased as I sat down beside her.
May smiled over at me. “If there’s one thing I understand, it’s families who worry about you. Mine lives here,” she said dryly.
I laughed softly. “Right, so you’ve said. You seem like you’ve got your shit together these days. Hell, at least you graduated from law school.”
May gave me a stern look. “You know you can go back to school and finish if you want. I didn’t think that’s what you wanted.”
I took a deep breath, letting it out and feeling the tension ease slightly in my chest as I did. “I don’t think I do. It’s just I was such a good girl. I did everything right, until I did everything really wrong.”
May scooted closer to me and curled her arm around my shoulders, giving me a little squeeze before shifting back again. “We all have to screw up. At least, that’s what they tell me when I go to my AA meetings. Trust me, if you want to hear some stories that’ll make you feel a little better, come with me to a meeting. I feel like an underachiever when I’m there sometimes. Then, I feel guilty about that because I don’t mean that in a judgy way.”