by Angel Smits
Tara crossed her arms and tried to judge his mood. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you at home with Tammie and Tyler?” Was there trouble in their new marriage?
DJ looked at his plate and slowly dragged a fry through the ketchup. “Tyler’s at a fair at the school with his buddy. And uh, well, Tammie’s, uh, having a difficult time right now.”
“And you left her alone? DJ—”
“Now hold on.” He lifted a hand. He actually looked angry.
She remembered the dark, withdrawn man he’d been when he’d first come home from Afghanistan. It hurt to see that man return.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then you’d better start explaining.”
DJ took his time eating the rest of his food. She tried to wait patiently, cleaning the counters around him.
Finally, he pushed his empty plate away and wiped the grease from his lips with the napkin. Tossing it on top of the plate, he met her gaze.
What she saw in his eyes wasn’t anger or sorrow or pain, but fear and happiness all mixed up. What the heck?
“Tammie sent me here because she knows I’m dying for a good burger.” He tucked his hands under his arms, leaning back in the chair. “But whenever I eat one around her now, she gets nauseous.”
That didn’t make sense. Tammie loved burgers. She came in sometimes specifically for one of Tara’s special ones. “I don’t—” She stared at the shit-eating grin on her brother’s face.
Nausea. No. “Is she? Are we going to have—” Another little Hawkins to spoil? “Really?”
DJ laughed and nodded. “She’s pregnant.” The wonder in his voice nearly overshadowed the tinge of worry in his eyes. “But she’s having a rough time.” Now the happiness faded.
“Oh, dear. Is everything okay? No problems?” The idea of anyone suffering bothered her, especially someone she cared about, like her sister-in-law.
“She says she went through this when she was carrying Tyler.” Guilt washed over his face. “I hate thinking of her going through all this alone,” he said softly.
Was that what was bothering him? “You can’t change the past.” He’d struggled with Tammie not telling him about Tyler’s existence years ago, but they’d gotten past that and had a great life. “You can’t let it mess up what you’ve got now.”
“Oh, I’m not.” He seemed to give himself a mental shake. “But, dear Lord, having a baby scares the crap out of me.”
This soldier—who’d deployed to Afghanistan, who’d been injured there and spent months in the hospital fighting to learn to walk again—was afraid of a little, tiny baby?
Tara stared at her big brother and did what any good, red-blooded little sister would do. She laughed. “Really?”
At his glare, she sobered—incredulous. “You’re serious. Oh, DJ.” She walked around the counter and plopped down next to him. “I’m sorry.” She still felt that ornery little-sister urge to tease him but squashed it into oblivion as his hand clenched into a frustrated fist. “I guess...I’m surprised. You’re such a great dad to Tyler.”
The anguish in his eyes hurt her. “I didn’t even know he existed until he was eight.”
“I guess...” It was hard to remember that. The boy had become such a big part of their lives. “It’s hard to even remember what it was like without him around.”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I love being his dad. But I don’t know what to do with a baby. And what if it’s a...a girl?”
This time her laughter was warm. “You can handle it. You helped with me, remember? I’m sure Tammie was just as scared when she had Ty. She’ll show you. You can do this.”
“Glad you think so.”
“I do.” Tara went back to work. “You didn’t screw me up too badly.” She laughed again and this time he joined her.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Okay, all bets are off now.” She swatted him with a towel.
“Does that mean I don’t get any pie?” He looked hopeful now, more like the man she was used to.
She rolled her eyes. “Sucker,” she mumbled to herself and grabbed a plate. “Berry or apple?”
“One of each? I’m eating for two now.”
“Oh, stop it!”
“Make the apple to go. I’ll see if Tammie can keep that down.”
Tara smiled, pleased for her brother. And herself. She loved being an aunt to Mandy’s little Lucas and DJ’s Tyler. A girl, all sweet and soft, might be nice to have around. The idea of how a baby girl would wrap DJ around her little finger made Tara smile.
“If it’s a girl, you are so in trouble,” she teased, handing him the plate. “What does Tyler think?”
DJ’s full-throated laughter sounded good. “We haven’t told him yet. We’re going to tonight. I don’t think he’ll want a little sister.” DJ winked at her and focused on his pie.
Another little girl’s face floated through Tara’s mind. The one who’d been in the diner the other night. Sadness for the girl took the edge off her happiness.
She’d said she didn’t know where her dad was. Did she have an aunt or uncles who would want her if her parents didn’t? What about grandparents?
“What’s the matter?” DJ stood, gathering the dirty dishes and putting them in the bus tub. Addie would be proud.
“Nothing.” Tara didn’t look up at him, focusing instead on the collection of recipe cards on the counter. They were the ones Addie had given her at Mom’s house.
“Missing Mom?” he whispered.
“A little. These help, actually.”
“Looking for something specific?” He looked over her shoulder. “Oh, you should make this one.” He tapped a stained card. “Mom’s fruit salad was the best.”
“It was good. Maybe.” She faced him. “Do you ever remember Mom making those cookies Addie makes?”
“Nope.” He stared at her. “That’s bugging you, isn’t it?” He looked almost ready to smile, then forced his lips not to. “Why is it so hard to believe she made it up?”
“Just...’cause.” She gathered the cards, leaving the fruit salad on top. Might be a good suggestion to add to the menu.
“Why do you even care? You want to add it to the menu or something?”
“I’ve thought about it.” The idea of cookies reminded Tara of the little girl again. Was she getting food? Attention? Her hair combed?
“You’re worrying about something more than cookies.”
“Not really. Here.” She grabbed the take-out container. “Take your wife her pie.”
“That’s not going to get you off the hook.” He took the container. “And if you’re that interested in having the cookies here, ask Addie. I’ll bet she’d share.”
“Maybe.” Tara wasn’t nearly as convinced Addie would share. Their older sister—the control freak of all control freaks—would have to think it was her idea. And Tara hadn’t been able to pull that off with Addie in...well, ever.
* * *
CALMER NOW, MORGAN settled at his desk, determined to get his work done. He would succeed at this, even if it killed him.
Jack was silent for most of the afternoon, typing away at his computer as if Morgan wasn’t even there. He barely bothered to look over.
“Okay, I’m sorry I blew my stack with Dewey.”
“Yeah, that was pretty stupid.” Jack still didn’t look away from his computer, typing for some time. Finally, the clock hit 5:00 p.m. and Jack started clearing off his desk and shutting his computer down.
“You got plans tonight?” Morgan asked. Jack seldom didn’t have plans.
“Nothing tonight. Want to grab dinner? Catch up?”
“Sure.” Morgan wasn’t cleaning his desk. He didn’t have to. He knew exactly where everything was. “What do you have in mi
nd?” He didn’t know of any diners nearby with amazing food and a pretty owner.
“Mexican sounds good.” Jack grabbed his jacket. “I’ll drive.”
“What’s with you?” Jack never volunteered to drive.
He didn’t respond until they’d reached his SUV and Jack had climbed behind the wheel. He hit the brakes at the stop sign on the edge of the lot. “So.” Jack looked both ways and slowly edged out into traffic. “You going to fight again?”
Morgan didn’t look over. “Not if I can help it.”
“Damn it, Morgan. You heard Dewey say that guy who hurt you so badly nearly killed someone else.”
“He’s in jail.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t someone else out there just as bad, or worse.”
They sat at the next red light in silence. Jack broke the quiet first. “I remember what you came home like. I—” His voice faded. “Don’t do this.”
There weren’t many things Jack had asked Morgan for. Ever. As kids there hadn’t been enough of anything, except whiskey for Dad. It wasn’t much different now that they were adults. Torn, he looked for a response. “Do you think I want to?”
“No.” Jack sighed. “There have to be other options.”
“Like what?” Morgan’s anger returned. “We’ve done what for a year, Jack? Chased shadows, that’s what.” His frustration at not finding Sylvie or Brooke nearly overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes, wishing his brother had turned on the music.
They drove another couple blocks, the only sound the hum of the engine. “I met someone,” Morgan admitted.
Jack didn’t say anything, but the look he threw Morgan was full of surprise.
“It’s time to end this. If the only price I have to pay to get my life back is a few bruises—I’m in.” Morgan watched the city pass by, and Dewey’s words came to him. Realization dawned. Dewey had been in Haskins Corners last week. He’d said he could get Morgan a spot this weekend.
Morgan knew where the fight was going to be. “Turn around. Now!”
“Why? I’m hungry.”
Dinner was going to wait. “Here’s the deal. What are the odds you get two loads to a small place like Haskins Corners?”
Jack frowned. “Slim. Possible, but slim. I’d bundle them.”
“Yeah. So did Dewey have a load last week there, same time as me?”
He shook his head.
“We need to get back to the yard. I need to talk to Dewey.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “He’s already gone. Loaded up an hour ago.”
“Where’s he headed?”
“I’d have to look on the manifest. I did fifteen loads today. I can’t remember who got which one.”
“That’s at the office?”
“Yeah. We could call him.”
“He ain’t going to talk on the phone. He only told me what he did to taunt me.”
“Yeah.” Jack grinned. “He did get to you.” At Morgan’s glare, the grin disappeared from Jack’s face. Instead of saying anything more, Jack pulled a smooth U-turn. “You owe me a pizza. A big one. Thick crust. The Works from Giovanni’s.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
The buildings whizzed by as Jack drove the way they’d come. “Who is she?” Jack asked softly.
“Tara?”
“That her name?”
“Yeah.” Morgan pictured her in his mind, missing her more than he’d ever missed Sylvie. “I met her in Haskins Corners. I’m not going into details now, but—” He wasn’t sure how to begin to explain. “But I’m not stupid. I can’t get involved with her, or anyone, until I get Brooke back. Sylvie is screwing up enough for the both of us.”
“How does this Tara feel about your situation?”
“She doesn’t know.” He speared Jack with a glare. “She’s a good woman. Runs her own business. She’s an amazing chef. She doesn’t need any of my garbage messin’ up her world.”
Jack rolled his eyes but he didn’t say anything. For once, Morgan didn’t push him. They didn’t have time.
The yard was dark except for the security lights that spilled pools of white light around the lot. Only two trucks were parked inside the chain-link-and-razor-wire fence. Jack’s seldom-used white hauler and Morgan’s blue baby. The rest of the team was on the road. Earning the money.
The gates pulled open once Jack hit the remote. He parked, then hustled up the steps into the office. “Where is it?” Morgan asked as he flipped the light switch.
“Let me get it. You’ll make a mess of my filing system.”
“Thought it would be on the computer.”
“It is. But I keep a paper backup.”
“And you say I’m the old-fashioned one?”
“Funny.” Jack pulled open the second drawer of the file cabinet and lifted out a binder. He set it on the desk and flipped pages. “Here it is.” He read silently, Morgan trying to read over his shoulder.
“Where’s he at?”
“Right now, between here and Austin. He’s heading to Rose Creek.”
“That’s just past Haskins Corners. Is he going through there?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
They looked at each other. “I’m going. Now.”
Jack filed the book again, pausing before he faced Morgan. “Why? Are you going after Sylvie or to see this Tara?”
Morgan wanted to answer his brother honestly. They’d always been that way with each other, a bargain they’d made when they were kids in reaction to their father’s endless lies. “I don’t know.” Morgan stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Both?”
“You taking the rig?”
“Yeah. Sylvie would know the pickup.”
“Fair enough.” Jack nodded. “I don’t have a load, but if you can get Brooke, it’s worth it.”
“Thanks, bro.” Morgan headed to the door. “If you get me one on the way back, I’ll gladly take it.” Morgan stepped out into the night, heading toward his truck.
“Hey, order my pizza,” Jack called.
“Get whatever you want. On my account.” Morgan jogged toward his truck.
“You have an account at the pizza joint?”
“Yeah. How do you think I keep my girlish figure?”
Jack’s laughter faded as Morgan pulled open the door to his rig and climbed in.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MORGAN DROVE THROUGH the night. The truck’s headlights cut through the dark, casting golden columns over the smooth blacktop. Raindrops fell like sparkling confetti. To the left, yellow lines flashed by, bisecting the road.
Every few miles, the circle of a white yard light announced the location of a ranch house. Some had a kitchen or living room light on, but mostly their inhabitants were already in bed.
He hadn’t met another truck or car in nearly an hour. Had the world vanished? God, he’d never felt this alone.
The empty road had been his home since he was eighteen. Tonight—not for the first time—he didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to keep searching. Didn’t want to continue this damned quest. He wanted it done—wanted to have Brooke back and get on with his life.
It was worse, especially on nights like this, when the wind howled down the highway and his only company was late-night radio and a few stars. He could put in a CD or kick on the iPod, but music wasn’t what he wanted. Not this time. He needed voices. Human voices, even if they were saying inane things.
Who was he kidding? Tara’s face flashed in his mind. He wanted to hear her. Jack’s question rattled around in the darkness. Was he going back for Sylvie or Tara? For the past or his future? The only response to his questions was the hum of the tires on the pavement.
Leaning back in the driver’s seat, Morgan stared out the windshield, seeing
where he was going through each swipe of the wipers. Muscle memory steered the truck as his mind leaped ahead to the diner. What was Tara doing right now?
Pushing through the kitchen’s swinging doors, carrying tantalizing dishes to hungry patrons? Joining in the camaraderie that wrapped around the staff as they teased each other?
She’d smile at everyone, even him, he hoped. How would she react when she saw him again after their last...meeting?
Morgan glanced at the dash clock. Ten fifteen. Dinner rush was long over. Maybe she was taking a break, climbing up on one of the counter stools. The one where he normally sat? On the end. The one with the view of the entire place.
His mind imagined her there. He wanted her to be there. And he wanted to be there with her. Wanted—
Damn. He’d outgrown adolescent crushes years ago. So, why couldn’t he get Tara Hawkins out of his head?
Rubbing his burning eyes, Morgan knew he needed to stop. Driving this rig into the ditch was not a good idea. But he was so close. He recognized the next exit. He’d park behind the diner just for tonight and maybe catch some z’s. Another glance at the clock told him Tara wasn’t on that counter stool. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full, good night’s sleep.
Morgan knew that parking his truck in the diner’s lot was a bad idea. A really bad idea. Only problem was, there wasn’t anyplace else. Eighteen-wheelers weren’t the easiest things to park. Most public places with lots that were big enough didn’t allow it. Few streets did, either.
The Someday Café really was his best, and only, choice. Maybe some of Tara’s apple pie first, though, and a cup of warm coffee. That sounded so good right about now. It was a safe bet she was home, getting ready for tomorrow’s early shift. Living her life.
Steering his mind back to the road, Morgan headed down the ramp and onto the two-lane highway.
Finally, the lights of town loomed, curving around the horizon against the hills. None of the buildings were more than a couple stories, so everything was low to the ground. A sign welcomed him to town and told him how many people lived there.
Main Street was quiet and dark, with only the gas station and the diner giving off any light.