by Cheryl Wyatt
The strong likelihood that Jack and Patrice were half siblings fueled his intent to protect her, even at the risk of making her angry. “Patrice. You’re smarter than this.”
She just looked away.
Jack hated that she’d been physically harmed, hated even worse that she’d been hurt emotionally. There was no fight left in her. None. Her eyes looked dead all the way to her soul.
“What’s he done to you, sis?”
Her head whipped up. “Don’t call me that until I have a chance to tell the crew, Jack.”
He and Patrice had suspected for years that there was a chance they were half siblings. But not until recently had Patrice’s dad and Jack’s mom admitted to the near certainty that Jack’s mom had, while estranged from Sully and toddler Jack, birthed Patrice. The baby had then been adopted and raised by her birth father and, graciously, his wife—her stepmother.
Jack suspected Sully knew, too, which is why he was so determined to watch over Patrice and provide for her, even though she wasn’t his biologically. He had a soft spot for her.
She fiddled with her order pad apron. “I need to get back to work.”
“What’s it going to take to open your eyes, Patrice? I’d really hate to have to come ID your body at the morgue.”
She gasped. “Don’t say that!”
He leaned in. “Educate yourself on abusers and abuse cycles. The sooner you get away, the better chance you have of surviving. As it stands now, you’ve already died inside in so many ways.” He felt a knot in his throat. “It breaks my heart. I fear for you. Don’t make me take things into my own hands.”
“Don’t do something stupid and end up in jail, Jack.”
“Then get help. And get out of the relationship. You know I can protect you.”
She scoffed. “How? You’ll be on another continent as soon as Sully recovers.”
For the first time it hit Jack that going back to the military may not be the best thing.
She was right. If he wasn’t here, he couldn’t protect her.
“If you press charges, the legal system will handle him.”
“No. I don’t have faith in the justice system. Not with the stories he’s told me as a defense attorney of how often criminals and domestic violence offenders get away with what they do and who pays who off in the process.” Her eyes watered and spilled over. “Jack, I’m scared. I want to leave him. I do. Believe me.”
“Did he threaten you?”
She nodded.
“Patrice, if you promise to get out and not go back, I’ll help you. Can you do that?”
Patrice brought her gaze back to Jack, then to the floor.
“I can’t promise you that today. I’d try, but I’m not strong enough yet.”
Jack had never felt so frustrated in his life.
“Why put it off today, when you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
“Jack, I will. I just need a plan first. Okay?”
He studied her, not completely happy but glad nonetheless that she seemed serious about coming up with an escape plan.
Her face softened. “I listened to you, Jack. Now I need you to listen to me for a second. I think you’re making a huge mistake in not trusting Olivia,” Patrice said as she stood. “Please reconsider.”
The abrupt change in subject threw Jack for a loop. He didn’t get the idea Patrice was just deflecting or changing the subject to get him off her back about getting away from her abusive boyfriend. Her face told him she was serious. Olivia must have mentioned their run-in with the register and him taking her keys. However, he felt justified in doing so.
Or had, until seeing her today. Even after he’d let her know he’d seen the pamphlet and that he was going to let her study in the diner, after all.
That moment of connection between them when they’d stared those few awestruck seconds into each other’s eyes...very unexpected and strange, indeed.
He knew exactly what to do with it though: nothing.
“We’ll see,” Jack said honestly. Something about the entire cash register exchange still bothered him. If Olivia couldn’t tell him the whole truth as to why she was in it, he couldn’t trust her.
Later that day, after the breakfast rush and before the lunch rush, when he wouldn’t be at risk of being needed, Jack scrubbed frustrated fists in his eyes and went to shut the office door.
He had some very tough calls to make—figuratively and literally.
After narrowing down job applicants, talking options with the bank and going over Dad’s personal finances, as well as the finances at the diner, he was mentally exhausted. Unless a miracle occurred, Jack couldn’t see any way to prevent the foreclosure. He’d had to switch directions and talk with other restaurant owners in town whom he knew would keep his situation under wraps, and see if they’d be interested in buying the diner. That would be the only way to save it at this point. He hated to take that route or to admit defeat, but he had to look at other options.
Right before lunch, Jack called a few people who’d put in applications and performed phone interviews. Out of the five or so, two stood out and he asked them to come in for a second, face-to-face interview, so he could go over the rules with them and gauge their dependability level. He really couldn’t afford to hire anyone right now, but the current crew was already stretched too thin and it wouldn’t be fair to them not to hire someone.
He was also going to revamp the duties, so that the new dishwasher he hired also bussed tables, to free up Naem, Patrice and Olivia as well as the servers on evening crew. And he was going to hire an actual host or hostess, who’d also be a cashier, so the servers’ loads would be lightened.
Just after the lunch rush, a knock sounded on Jack’s office door. He was glad for the intrusion. The books were giving him a royal headache.
Jack went to open the door, which he rarely closed. But he didn’t want the staff to get wind yet that, as a last resort cushion, he was talking to other business owners about purchasing Sully’s. At least that would give it a chance to stay open for the community. Dad would be crushed. But at this point, Sully still wasn’t out of the woods yet from his stroke, had not even fully regained consciousness. The doctors were keeping him medically sedated so the swelling in his brain would have a chance to come down to a safe level.
When he opened the door, Darin, Naem, Patrice and Olivia stepped in with papers in their hands. He didn’t think they were all pulling a mass resignation, because they all had goofy grins on their faces. His headache eased at the look of childlike anticipation on their faces.
“What’s up, guys?”
They walked over and each set the papers on Jack’s desk. He opened one, read something about the current accumulated vacation pay being forfeited to the diner. Confusion accosted him.
He looked up. “What’s this? I don’t understand.”
The crew eyed one another, then Jack. “These are legal, notarized forms that we’re forfeiting our vacation pay to help with the diner debt.”
Jack stood. “What? You can’t be serious.” This was a bombshell, to say the least. While the gesture was amazing, Jack couldn’t take their vacation time. “Sorry guys. I can’t let you do this.”
Olivia was first to stare Jack down. “We insist.”
“We want to make this donation, Jack,” Darin stepped forward. “It’s no use arguing.”
Jack studied their faces. “You’re serious.”
“Dead,” Naem said. Then grinned. “Come on, man, take a breath.”
Jack did take a breath, then studied the papers and the sacrificial givers in front of him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll accept it, or it’ll hurt our feelings,” Patrice said. Then she elbowed Olivia. “It was Olivia’s idea, by the way, but we all jumped at t
he chance. Your dad has done a ton for us.”
“As have you,” Darin reminded him. “So just say thanks and get our boots back to work.”
Jack laughed at that. Get your boots back to work was a phrase he used often. They were beginning to know him so well. He actually had to swallow past a pretty significant lump in his throat as he met each worker’s gaze. “Thanks, sincerely. This means a lot.” It would mean the world to Sully. Jack’s heart broke that their sacrifice may not be enough.
That they were so willing to give made Jack want to pray that God would make a way for their sacrifice to be enough, somehow.
But he had trouble praying and believing in God’s goodness after all he’d seen overseas.
“This means more than you’ll ever know,” Jack said. And he determined all the more to do whatever it took to save the diner, and to at least keep their jobs intact if the diner had to change owners in order to survive the debt eating it alive and causing the bank to threaten foreclosure.
“Thanks for accepting the gifts,” Olivia said and motioned the crew back to work.
Jack sat stone still for the next several moments, as the weight of their kindness set in.
I know I haven’t talked to You regularly in a real long time, Lord. But, I know You see what they’ve done and I know You know what a true sacrifice that forfeiting these hours and this pay is. Bless them.
It almost made Jack want to go to church again. Almost.
Images of a different church, smoldering after a blast, hit Jack. The sounds rumbled through his bones. The screech of a missile that reached the walls before his warning. The impact. Being knocked to the ground only to look up and see the building obliterated. Shoes of the devout shredded from impact, scattered around him. No survivors. The parishioners who’d once protected his unit during ambush—gone.
“Jack? Everything all right, buddy?”
Jack jerked at the sound of Darin’s voice. He swabbed sweat off his brow. “Yeah.”
“Flashback?”
“Think so.”
“Take a second.” Darin nodded to the back door. “Fresh air will do you good.”
Jack nodded, knowing Darin was right but also knowing he couldn’t afford to lose it now.
At the end of the day shift, around crew change, Jack made a few more phone calls and sought out Olivia in order to remind her he was giving her a lift to EPTC, but he couldn’t find her.
He approached Darin. “Have you seen Olivia?”
“Not in about ten minutes,” Darin said, wrapping up his cleaning of the grills. “Naem, you seen Olivia? Jack’s looking for her.”
“I’m supposed to take her to school. Well, to her EMT clinical at EPTC,” Jack said to Naem.
“Oh, really? She left with Patrice,” Naem said while Darin stepped around them to roll the trash can to the back. “I’m pretty sure Patrice was going to run Olivia by to see about her car real quick.”
“Hmm. Maybe she forgot I said I’d give her a ride.” Although, Jack didn’t think so. The more likely scenario was that she’d rather set herself on fire than have to ride with him...in his Ford.
Jack smiled, thinking about the funny FORD=Found On Road Dead note she’d left, then the prank boomeranging back onto her when her car ended up being the one broken down.
He’d actually come to look forward to their car-make sparring. It reminded him of his dad, who was as much a fan of Chevy as Jack was of Ford.
Naem joined them and peered close, with a huge grin of his own. “It’s about time.”
Jack stiffened. “What?”
Naem smirked. “Thoughts of a woman made you smile.”
Jack frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”
Naem’s grin widened “Pretty sure I know who the woman behind your smile is, too.”
“Get your boots back to work.”
“Dude, I’m off. See? Proof whoever she is has you flustered. Deny it. I dare you.”
Jack shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Naem only laughed louder and smacked Jack hard on the shoulder. “Nice try. But you’re not fooling me.” The happy-go-lucky Naem walked away whistling and cast a knowing look over his shoulder, along with that maddeningly perpetual grin.
Jack let out a growl and turned to vacate the premises.
And almost plowed into Olivia.
“Oomph!”
Jack grasped her shoulders to keep her from falling. “You all right?”
She let a breath out slowly. “Yeah. Are you in a hurry?”
“No, just...” Getting away from Naem and his lame suggestion that you make me smile.
Jack stared at Olivia with the explosive revelation that it was true.
Naem was right.
She did make him smile. In fact, he fought it now as he took in her disheveled, slightly irritated-but-not-really look. He was pretty sure that look was a front she forced to hide her shyness.
And maybe even...attraction? Her pupils always dilated and her breath quickened whenever he inadvertently got close.
This close.
Jack realized he’d drifted closer, drawn in by the overpowering depth of her eyes. He wanted to see if he could have that same effect on her again. Delight coursed through him when he realized he could. It met a need he hadn’t realized he had until this moment.
He cleared his throat and drifted back slowly, hoping she didn’t notice that his sanity had just clocked out and walked off the job.
Her cheeks flushed and she swallowed uncomfortably, proving she had noticed.
Jack scrambled for something to say, to break the awkward, but somehow awesome moment. “Do you still need a ride? Darin said Patrice was taking you to the garage.”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to have to take you up on that offer but it looks as though I’m going to have to. Patrice has an appointment and my car won’t be ready until next week.”
Jack wanted to laugh at the look of sheer mock defeat on her face. Yet a nervousness ran in barely detectible currents just beneath that.
Nervousness or anticipation?
He’d be stupid to wish for the latter, but something in him cheered nonetheless.
Darin and Naem waved to the evening-shift crew and passed Jack and Olivia. Darin held out the lapels of the jacket and flannel shirt Jack had given him. “Thanks again for these duds, man. It’s great being warm and having something nice to wear for a change.”
Olivia peered peculiarly at Darin, his outfit, then at Jack. The admiration in her eyes and smile admittedly bolstered his mood.
“Just talked to Patrice. She is going to the doctor to document her bruises,” Olivia said.
“Good. I hope so. That’s a step in the right direction.”
“Yeah.” She grabbed her coat from the employee break room hooks.
“Ready, then?” he asked her, indicating the back door.
Chapter Eight
No. She was far from ready.
“Give me five minutes. I need to go get my dinner for tonight’s EMT shift.”
“Sure.”
“Would you like to come up and wait?”
“Nah. Take your time.” Jack’s keys jangled as he pulled them out of his pocket. “I’ll warm up the Ford.”
She didn’t miss his teasing smirk and emphasis on Ford.
Patrice, standing outside with Darin, giggled and caught up with her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting with you.”
Jack, Darin and Naem hadn’t been letting Patrice out of their sight. At least not while she was at the diner. Olivia was grateful for their protective nature.
“That’s preposterous. He just likes to torment me about cars.”
“Uh, if I recall correctly, you s
tarted that particular war.” Patrice wiggled her eyebrows.
“How did you know that?”
“He told me. So, why do you seem so nervous to ride with him? You have nothing to be scared about. He’s the perfect gentleman, I assure you.”
“Yeah, I know. Except he’s serious about his Fords.” Olivia laughed. “I could care less what kind of car I drive just as long as it gets me where I want to go. They all make decent cars. But I must admit it’s fun taking Sully’s Chevy-over-Ford baton and outrunning Jack with it.”
Patrice shook her head. “You and Jack are competitive enough as it is.”
The pair climbed the stairs to their apartment above.
After quickly making green smoothies for her and Olivia, Patrice grabbed her makeup pouch and Olivia went to the fridge and got out the sandwich she’d made that morning to save time this evening. Good old ham and cheese, with carrot sticks and chocolate pudding.
“Sully told me Jack trains snipers and heads armies. Add to that the fact that he probably has more guns than a redneck pawnshop, more ammo than Rambo, and when he’s not driving Fords he’s commanding military maneuvers. It’s a little intimidating to say the least.”
Dinner and medical bag in hand, Olivia followed Patrice out onto the landing, sipping her smoothie and trying not to cringe that there was probably kale in it. Patrice made the weirdest health shakes sometimes. They were tasty, just as long as Olivia didn’t know all the contents.
Patrice turned and gave her a funny look. “But that’s not why you’re nervous.”
Olivia dipped her face, then decided that if she opened up maybe Patrice would, too, about her abuse. She met Patrice’s gaze squarely. “Okay, I admit a little intrigue. But it could never work. So it’s a dumb daydream. He’s just larger than life, handsome and I’m pretty sure he might carry a torch for you, anyway.”
Patrice’s eyes widened, then she placed her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. “No. He doesn’t. Not even a match. Come here.” Patrice ushered Olivia back into their apartment. “You have two minutes while Jack warms up his truck. Spill it girl.”