The Way to Her Heart

by Amy Reece

  Living out of her car sucked, but it was working, for the most part. She was saving every penny she could scrape together in order to afford an apartment as soon as she turned eighteen in April. If she could just hold it together until then, she’d be fine. The only problem was the temperature: it was October and nights were getting colder. What would she do when it dropped below freezing at night? She finished the overly crunchy French toast sticks and pocketed the apple for later before heading to the library to spend the half hour before the bell rang for first period. With five minutes to spare before class, she braved the crowded hallways to get to her locker.

  “Hey, Bernie, we’re having a candlelight vigil for Gabby this Friday. You should come.” Natalia, one of Gabby’s new friends, leaned against the locker next to Bernie’s. “It’s the four-month anniversary of her disappearance. We’re going to hang more posters right before. I know how much Gabby loved you, so…”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll come as soon as I get off work,” Bernie said, hoping to bring this little tête-à-tête to a conclusion. Natalia rubbed her the wrong way, probably because Gabby had seemed to prefer her to Bernie for the last few years. Jealousy was not attractive and Bernie wasn’t especially proud of her feelings, but she didn’t like the other girl. Bernie missed Gabby with an ache that was physical at times, but Natalia’s grief seemed overdone and fake. She never turned down an opportunity to cry and bemoan the loss of her “best friend in the whole world.” She had organized these candlelight vigils every month and expected Bernie to attend.

  “Oh good. I know it would mean so much to Gabby. I really feel like we’re going to find her soon.” Natalia patted Bernie’s arm and handed her a flyer with the location of the vigil and a picture at the top. As she walked away, Bernie examined the picture more closely. Natalia was closest to the camera with her arm slung around the neck of Sofia, the third member of their little group, both of them making ridiculous duck faces. Gabby was standing to the rear of the other two girls, nearly pushed out of the frame. The look on her face made Bernie frown, her eyebrows scrunching together. Gabby’s eyes were angled toward the other two in an odd way. Bernie shoved the flyer in her locker, disgusted at yet another example of Natalia’s pathetic cry for attention. Shouldn’t a flyer about Gabby feature a decent picture of her?

  First period was calculus, one of Bernie’s favorite subjects. She was one of the few girls in the class, but that didn’t bother her. She kept to herself and concentrated on getting good grades so she could qualify for the lottery scholarship, her only chance to afford college. Her parents had barely graduated from high school, but she was determined to get herself a college education and a better life than a run-down single-wide trailer and food stamps.

  Second period was English, not her favorite subject. The books her teacher assigned were boring and not relevant to anything in Bernie’s life. The papers they were assigned to write were soul-crushing analyses of the boring books. And don’t even get her started on the poetry! The subdued laughter and scuffling from the next aisle drew her attention away from her doodling. She turned her head to see a couple boys screwing around, punching each other and grasping for a piece of paper. Sheesh, so immature. The teacher, Mr. Collins, took a long-overdue break from his mind-numbing lecture on symbolism to scold them. Bernie rolled her eyes and turned back to her doodling, wondering what Gabby had ever seen in Diego, one of the boys. They had been dating at the time of her disappearance, frequently grossing Bernie out with their public displays of affection/groping. She didn’t have anything against kissing, although her limited experience with it had not impressed her much, and groping seemed like something better kept for a more private venue, not the high school hallway. She had a sneaking suspicion kissing might be more fun than she had been led to believe, especially if the other party was more attractive than Jeremy Sandoval, with whom she had been shut in a closet during Seven Minutes in Heaven at Gabby’s thirteenth birthday party. His breath had made her gag before he actually had the chance to do much more than brush his lips against hers. There had been a few better kisses since then, but none had inspired or led to any sort of relationship. Bernie had never had a boyfriend, never had someone to take her out on Friday nights or hold her hand in the hallway. She thought that might be a nice thing, but none of the guys she knew seemed likely candidates. When she started wondering what it would be like to kiss Josh Harris or hold his hand, she mentally slapped herself and forced her attention back to the symbolism lecture.

  ***

  Bernie pulled to the curb in front of Josh’s house at four fifteen on Thursday afternoon. She would have been on time, but she had spent the last fifteen minutes driving around and contemplating how low her grade would drop if she blew off the project and drove away from this upscale neighborhood and him. But she couldn’t stand the thought of him getting a bad grade just because she was too chicken to work with a cute boy who made her nervous. She never cared what people thought about her, about how they might be judging her, but for some strange reason, she cared what he thought. Ugh! Enough already! Just get in there and get this over with.

  She rang the doorbell by the huge double front doors and wondered what it would be like to live in a house this big. He answered, wiping his hands on a towel before flinging it over his shoulder. He had done that last time too. He was probably cooking again.

  “Hi.” He smiled, flashing the dimples that made her stomach flip. “Come on in.” He led her back to the kitchen. Freddie trotted along by her side, nudging her hand with his nose. She took a seat on a stool at the kitchen bar while Josh poured her a Coke. “He likes you.” He gestured to the Great Dane, who had pushed his large brown head under her arm.

  She rubbed his silky ears as he closed his eyes in ecstasy. She loved dogs, although she’d never been up close and personal with such a large one. She’d had a Chihuahua when she was a little girl, but it had disappeared shortly after her dad had gone away to prison. Shortly after her life had begun to free-fall into disaster.

  “So, how was work yesterday?”

  “What?” She looked up from the dog’s head, surprised.

  “How was work yesterday?” he repeated as he retrieved something from the refrigerator.

  Small talk. He was making small talk. Okay, she could do this. “Um, it was fine. Uh, how was yours?” She remembered he had to work as well.

  “Good, actually. Maurice taught me how to deal with these bad boys. Catch.” He tossed something at her.

  She barely caught it before it bonked Freddie on the nose. “It’s an artichoke.”

  “Very good, Detective Abeyta. Come over here and help me.” He motioned with his head for her to join him at the counter.

  “Oh, I don’t cook. And I have no earthly idea what to do with this.” She held the vegetable at arm’s length.

  He laughed and took the artichoke from her. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you. I need to practice. Homework from Maurice. Then we can eat them. Go wash your hands,” he ordered, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

  She didn’t know what to say, so she meekly turned toward the bathroom she had used last time. Bernie washed with the delicately scented soap and dried her hands on the softest towel she had ever touched. The bathroom was bigger than her bedroom, not that it mattered anymore. She wandered down the hallway toward the kitchen, pausing to look at the framed photographs on the wall. There was Josh, from kindergarten to his senior picture. Sheesh, he had always been so cute. Who was the other kid? I guess he has a brother. There weren’t quite as many pictures of the brother, however. She stopped in front of a family picture—the mom, Claire; Josh; his younger brother; their dad. She wondered where the dad and brother had been the other night, then she remembered Claire had spoken of her husband in the past tense but hadn’t mentioned the brother. They all looked so happy, posing in front of some theme park. Bernie had never been to a theme park. They looked like the perfect family. She turned and made her way back to the kitchen.

/>   He was stirring what smelled like onions and garlic in a skillet on the stove. He adjusted the heat and gave the pan a couple of moves like she had seen chefs on TV do. He noticed her and turned the gas off under the pan. “Okay, this one’s yours.” He gestured to a cutting board, which held an artichoke and a large knife.

  She approached hesitantly. “Okay, now what?”

  He showed her how to hold the knife and slice the stem and top from the vegetable and pull off the tough outer leaves. He handed her another artichoke while he dealt with his and several more, then placed them all in a steamer basket over boiling water. “I’ll whip up the dipping sauce, and then we can make a grocery list while the artichokes steam.” She wiped her hands on the towel he provided and returned to her barstool. “Here.” He placed a small plate of cookies in front of her. “To tide us over until the rest is done.” He flashed those dimples again, wreaking disaster on her equanimity.

  She forced herself to look away and grabbed one of the cookies, biting into the crispy, buttery treat. It was delicious, of course, with lots of dark chocolate—her favorite—and pecans. “These are really good. Thanks.” It wouldn’t hurt to be polite since they’d be working together for the next six weeks. “Did you make them?”

  He nodded as he spooned the onions and garlic into a food processor. He added something white and creamy—yogurt? Sour cream?—then topped it off with chopped parsley and a small amount of red chile powder. He pulsed the processor several times.

  “You really like cooking, huh?” She thought it was unusual for a teenage boy to be into cooking, especially one so good-looking and popular.

  He didn’t answer while he poured the smooth mixture into a bowl. He set it in the refrigerator and sat down across from her. “Yeah, I like cooking,” he said quietly and bit into a cookie.

  “So, your dad’s a chef too? Did he teach you?”

  He seemed to have trouble swallowing and took a drink before answering her. “Yeah, my dad taught me.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, let’s get started on our grocery list, okay?”

  It was clear he didn’t want to talk about his dad, and Bernie realized he probably wasn’t around anymore. She knew how that felt, so she left it alone. It really wasn’t any of her business, anyway. “So, a week’s worth of groceries. Um, bread? Milk?”

  He typed her suggestions on the list he had started on his laptop. “Here, check this menu I put together. If you like it, I’ve already added the necessary ingredients to our list.”

  She looked over the proposed menu, her eyes nearly bugging out at the array of delicious food he had planned. “Can we afford all this?”

  “Sure. There’s still some money left in our weekly food budget, so pick some things you like. What do you like for breakfast? And lunch?”

  Anything that’s not from the school cafeteria. “I don’t know? Um, scrambled eggs?” What she wouldn’t give for a plate of fluffy eggs with ketchup slathered all over them. And cheese. Her mom used to make that for her when she was little.

  He smiled at her briefly before adding extra eggs to the list. They spent a half hour polishing their list before he stood to take the artichokes out of the steamer. He placed one on a platter with a small ramekin of dipping sauce and set it on the counter between them.

  She stared at the appetizer, unable to fathom how to eat it. She watched as he plucked a leaf and dipped it in the sauce, then scraped the tender meat off with his teeth. She hesitantly followed suit and was pleasantly surprised by the taste. The dip was slightly tangy with a hint of spicy heat from the chile and highlighted the mild flavor of the artichoke.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s good. I’ve never tasted an artichoke before. The dip is really good.”

  “Yeah? It’s my own recipe. Maurice liked it too. He made it part of the appetizer special at the restaurant.” He smiled and shrugged, seeming a bit embarrassed to be tooting his own horn.

  “Hey, that’s great. Congratulations.” She liked hearing about his success, especially since he seemed so pleased by it.

  “Thanks, Bernie. Hey, I meant to ask you about your name. It’s kind of unusual.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Uh, yeah, to say the least. It’s short for Bernice. I was named for my grandmother. It’s only about a century out of date. I tried to go by my middle name, but it didn’t stick, so Bernie is better than nothing, I guess.”

  “And your middle name is?”

  “Lynn. Not great, but better than Bernie.”

  “Nah. Bernie suits you somehow.” He smiled at her, flashing those lethal dimples again.

  “So, what’s your middle name?”

  “Dane. It’s a family name. It’s my grandfather’s middle name. And my dad’s.” He stared at the now-decimated artichoke for a moment. “My dad died,” he admitted quietly. “So did my little brother.”

  She had figured something like that. “God. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. I just figured you should know since you’re stuck with me. It kind of screwed me up. But I’m better now, sort of. I won’t mess this project up for you, I promise.”

  She could detect a hint of shine in his eyes, and her heart melted a little bit more. “I’m not worried. I’m pretty screwed up too. What happened? How did they die? I mean, if you don’t mind telling me…” She let her words fade as she realized he may not want to talk about it to a relative stranger.

  “A car wreck. A little over a year ago. They were coming home from Caleb’s soccer game. Mom was with me at my football game. They sometimes had to split up to be at our games.” He sniffed and stood to put away the dishes. “You ready? We’d better get started on our shopping.”

  He drove them to a grocery store she habitually passed on her way to Walmart. She tried not to display her utter amazement at the difference in prices as they wandered the aisles, snapping pictures on his cell phone of the items on their list. She couldn’t manage to keep up the blasé act, however, when she saw the sushi bar. There was a full-on sushi bar with a guy making all kinds of different rolls. Josh stopped to talk with the chef, asking him to demonstrate a cutting technique, which the chef seemed to enjoy. He presented them with sushi samples, which Josh wolfed down and Bernie stared at suspiciously. She’d never tasted sushi before but had heard it was raw fish. She had no intention of eating raw fish, now or ever.

  “It’s not raw.” Josh leaned in to whisper in her ear, his warm breath tickling her ear, making her shiver. Could he read her mind? “You don’t want to hurt Greg’s feelings, do you?”

  “His name is Greg?” she whispered back. The man was clearly Asian. She reached hesitantly toward the sushi slice. She was surprised to find she enjoyed the taste, for the most part. “Thanks,” she said to Greg, who nodded and smiled as he went back to creating more sushi rolls.

  Back in Josh’s truck, she scrolled through the photos on his phone of the grocery items they had just “bought.” She checked them against the list she had on her lap. She paused when she got to a photo of his girlfriend posing with her pom-poms. She’d seen them sitting together in the cafeteria and holding hands in the hall. She was gorgeous, the kind of girl who made Bernie feel frumpy and unattractive. She quickly scrolled back to the grocery items, not wanting Josh to catch her spying on him.

  “Let’s grab a bite to eat, okay? I’m starving. Do you mind?” He glanced at her quickly as he drove.

  She mentally sorted the cash in her wallet and hoped he didn’t plan to stop somewhere expensive, but feared he didn’t know how to eat cheap. “Um, sure. Yeah, that sounds good.” She would order the cheapest thing possible and claim she wasn’t hungry.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled the Ford F-150 into the parking lot of an obviously upscale restaurant in the Nob Hill neighborhood of Albuquerque, and Bernie’s heart sank. As he turned off the ignition, he reached over and touched her arm lightly. “Let me come around and open your door, okay? It’s important to me. My mom raised me to be a gentleman.”

/>   She stared at him with wide eyes and nodded dumbly. She’d had no idea he would be so charming.

  He opened her door and held out his hand to help her out of the big truck. His hand was warm and slightly rough and entirely too wonderful. She forced herself to remember the picture of his girlfriend and reminded herself she was not a poacher. She was surprised when he led her past the front door to a side entrance that led to the kitchen.

  “This is our restaurant.” He smiled at her questioning look. “Best food in town. Come on.”

  They were greeted cheerily by the kitchen staff, and Josh introduced her to Maurice, the head chef. He looked to be around forty and was handsome in his white chef’s jacket. It surprised her when he grabbed her shoulders and kissed both her cheeks.

  Josh laughed as he showed her to a table in the back of the kitchen. “Sorry about that. He’s very, um, friendly. He’s a great guy, though. You don’t mind eating here in the kitchen, do you?”

  “No, not at all. I’m not dressed for a place like this.”

  “You’d be surprised. People wear all sorts of stuff to eat here.” At her questioning look, he explained. “I usually cook, but when we’re short on waitstaff, I fill in. Maurice, what’s the special tonight?”

  “Fresh salmon in parchment paper with a champagne dill reduction. You better try it, Josh.”

  “How does that sound?” he asked her.

  It sounded pricey. “Oh, I don’t want, um, I’ll just have a salad. A small one.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, concern on his features. “Hey, you know you don’t have to pay, don’t you? We own this place. I probably eat more meals here than at home. Okay?”

  She nodded, completely embarrassed, but glad he seemed to understand her dilemma. “Okay, yeah. Salmon sounds great.” Another food she’d never tasted. Her mom’s culinary exertions were limited to things that came out of a box, and that was before her dad had gone away and her mother had become entrenched in drugs and alcohol. Now there were no culinary efforts.