The Way to Her Heart

by Amy Reece

  Although he was nearly fifteen minutes late, Kayleigh wasn’t ready. He sighed and sat on the couch to wait for her.

  “Do you want anything to drink, Josh? Water? A Coke?” her father offered.

  “No thanks, sir.”

  “It’s nice to see you again.” Her dad sat on the love seat across from Josh. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He had no idea what else to say and clasped and unclasped his hands nervously.

  “Ah, here she is.” He sounded as relieved as Josh felt to see Kayleigh coming down the stairs. She looked gorgeous in a clingy, red sweater that reached midthigh and showed off all her curves. She was wearing those legging things girls were sporting lately; it made it hard to concentrate on schoolwork when they wore those.

  “Wow, you look great, Kayleigh.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek—her dad was watching, after all—and handed her the flowers he had stopped to pick up.

  “Oh, Josh! They’re beautiful. Thanks. I’ll just go put them in some water.”

  “I’ll take care of it, sweetheart,” her dad offered. “You go ahead with Josh.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” She reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  “Not too late, Josh,” he warned. “And make sure you drive carefully. You’ve got precious cargo, you know.”

  “Oh, Daddy, stop!” Kayleigh laughed.

  “Of course, sir. I’ll be very careful.”

  “Come on, Josh.” Kayleigh took his hand sweetly in hers and led him out the door. “Sorry about my dad,” she said as he helped her into his truck.

  “It’s okay. He has every right to say that stuff. And he’s right. You are precious cargo.” He tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her softly. He wiped the sticky lip gloss off his lips as he walked around the truck.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked as she applied more lip gloss.

  “I thought we’d have dinner at the restaurant and then maybe catch a movie, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course. It sounds wonderful. I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

  “Me too. I mean, I’m happy to spend time with you.” He rolled his eyes at his dumb comment. What was wrong with him? He seemed incapable of having an intelligent conversation with her. He gladly let her carry the conversational ball as he concentrated on driving to the restaurant. Tonight he pulled up to the front and let the valet park his truck.

  “Wow, this is beautiful, Josh! It’s so cool your family owns it. What does Trouvaille mean? It’s French, right?”

  He waved to Tracy, the hostess, as he showed Kayleigh to their booth. “Yeah. It means sort of like when you stumble across something really awesome.” His dad had heard the term when he studied briefly at a culinary institute in France and decided it was the perfect name for his restaurant. He didn’t tell Kayleigh this for fear he would choke up and get their date off on the wrong foot.

  “So, it’s all French food?”

  “No. It’s eclectic cuisine, which leaves us free to serve pretty much whatever we want.”

  They were seated and perusing the menu when Maurice appeared at their table. “What can I get you this evening?”

  “You’re waiting tables now? Are we that shorthanded?” Josh said with a laugh.

  “No, no. I heard you were out here with a pretty girl, and I thought I’d better make sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh, ha-ha. Thanks a lot, Maurice.” He actually didn’t find it too funny at all since it hit pretty close to home. “This is my girlfriend, Kayleigh.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kayleigh. I’m just kidding, Josh. Hey, we’ve got a special to die for—beef tenderloin with a balsamic glaze. The cows practically stood in line to be chosen.” Maurice winked at Kayleigh, flirting outrageously.

  “Sounds good, Maurice. How about you, Kayleigh?”

  “Oh, no thank you. I’m a vegetarian.”

  “A vegetarian!” both Josh and Maurice exclaimed in horror. Josh recovered first and suggested the pasta primavera. Maurice shook his head sadly and took their order to the kitchen.

  “So, how long have you been a vegetarian?” Josh passed the bread basket to Kayleigh. He wondered how he could have dated her for an entire year and not known she didn’t eat meat.

  “About a year now. It’s not a problem, is it?” So she hadn’t missed their reaction.

  “No, of course not. That’s totally a personal choice.” He didn’t get it, but whatever. He smiled at her and buttered a piece of bread.

  She smiled back and took a sip of her drink.

  He was relieved when their salads arrived. He was more relieved when Kayleigh started talking, finally seeming to realize the conversational burden was still hers. She kept up a constant stream of innocuous chatter throughout the rest of the meal, which only required him to nod and smile at the appropriate time. She talked about what all the other people in their social circle were up to and whom they were dating. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, something Josh had always admired about her, but he was bored spitless by her conversation.

  He was glad he’d suggested a movie, and he let her choose, mostly because he felt guilty about not talking much during dinner. She chose a rom-com, and Josh fell asleep halfway through.

  “God, Kayleigh, I’m so sorry.” He ran his hands through his hair as they stood on her porch. “This date sucked, I know.”

  “No, it didn’t! Hey,” she said as she hugged him. “It’s okay, Josh. Stop worrying so much. I’m just glad you wanted to go out. I’m so happy to see you doing better.”

  “Thanks. I, uh, guess I need more practice.” He winced. Smooth, Josh. Really. “Are you busy next Saturday night?”

  “Yeah, I am.” She reached up and kissed him. “I’m going on a date with you.”

  ***

  Josh flipped the steaks he was marinating and turned back to the cutting board as the doorbell rang. Bernie. He tried vainly to wipe the grin off his face as he answered the door. “Come on back.” He took her coat and led the way to the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up with some dinner prep. Help yourself to something to drink.”

  “Thanks.” She fetched a glass and poured herself some tea. “Can I help?”

  He turned to glance at her, taking in her t-shirt and jeans. Didn’t she own a long-sleeved shirt? A cold front had blown in overnight, and it was freezing outside. Her coat wasn’t much more than a jacket, either. “Sure. You can slice that onion, if you don’t mind.” He watched as she washed her hands at the sink, then picked up the chef’s knife and began mutilating the onion he’d left on a cutting board. He smiled and stepped behind her. “Let me show you.” He wrapped his arms around her, realizing it was not entirely necessary but choosing to do it anyway. Her hair smelled like strawberries, and her skin was incredibly smooth. He placed his hands atop hers. “Hold the knife like this. Feel how it balances?” The top of her head came nearly to the level of his nose, and he could see how thick and black her eyelashes were. He showed her how to slice the onion, angling the sharp knife properly and moving it into the onion. “See, this way it doesn’t even make you cry. It’s when you crush it that it makes you cry.” He was reluctant to back away, enjoying the feel of her in his arms entirely too much. He finally did and turned back to the potatoes he was scrubbing. “I hope you like steak.”

  “You don’t have to feed me every time I come over, Josh.”

  “It’s what I do, Bernie. Can you stay? Do your parents expect you for dinner?”

  “No.”

  He looked at her, surprised by the harsh tone. She was so difficult to understand sometimes.

  “I mean, yes, I can stay for dinner. Thanks.” She finished slicing the onion. “What else can I do?”

  “You can relax while I finish. Did you work this afternoon?”

  “Yeah.”

  He rolled his eyes at her brief, taciturn answers. Getting to know her was proving quite a challenge. “So, where do you wo
rk?”

  “In a used clothing store down by the university.”

  Well, that was slightly more than one word. He put the potatoes in the oven and retrieved the bruschetta, which had been baking. “Here. This should tide us over until dinner.”

  “Thank you.” She took one and bit into it. “It’s really good. What is it?”

  “Bruschetta. Glad you like it.”

  “Have you…never mind.”

  “What? Go ahead and ask.” He smiled, hoping to encourage her.

  “I was just wondering how long you’ve been cooking. It’s kind of unusual for a guy your age.”

  “Hmm. I guess. My dad was a chef, though, so it’s not so unusual for me. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, here and at the restaurant with him.”

  “Didn’t you used to be a football player? I thought you were, like, the quarterback or something.” She helped herself to another piece of the bruschetta.

  So she had noticed him. He filed that bit of information away for later. “Yeah, I was. When my dad and brother died I…well, football just didn’t seem very important anymore.”

  She said nothing for several minutes. “I guess I can understand that. So, what’s the onion for?”

  He smiled at her again. “I’m going to sauté it with some mushrooms to top the steaks. You ready to get started on our budget? It’s due tomorrow, and we still have to buy a new dishwasher.” Their first twist in the project was a broken dishwasher. He stepped into his bedroom and returned with his laptop, iPad, and a hoodie. “Here.” He handed her the iPad and hoodie. “You can look up dishwasher prices while I work on the budget. And you looked a little cold.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled the hoodie over her head. It was huge on her, but he liked the way she looked wearing his clothes. “Um, how do you…?” She gestured to the iPad.

  “Oh.” He should have realized she wouldn’t know how to work an iPad. He showed her the basics and, to her credit, she caught on quickly.

  “Okay, I found a couple under $300.”

  He stood to look over her shoulder at the screen. “Hmm. Well, if we don’t care about our dishes actually getting clean, we could go with one of those. That one looks better.”

  “That one is $1300! We can’t afford that much!”

  “Yes, we can. I just did our budget.”

  “We don’t need to waste money on the world’s most expensive dishwasher! We should put it into savings!”

  “I’m not going to spend my hard-earned money on a cheap-ass dishwasher!”

  “I make more than you! I should have more say on what kind of dishwasher we buy!” Bernie was nearly shouting now.

  “But I’m the one who’s going to be using that dishwasher while you’re pulling sixteen hour days at the law firm!” Josh yelled back.

  “You’re a dishwasher snob!”

  “A dishwasher snob?” He couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of their argument.

  She stared at him through dangerously narrowed eyes, hands on hips, chest heaving. Then she seemed to catch the humor as well and burst into laughter. Josh watched her, mesmerized, as she laughed, her face flushed and her eyes shining. Then she snorted. God, she’s so freaking adorable!

  “What’s so funny?” Claire entered the kitchen from the garage. “Brr! It’s freezing out there!”

  Josh turned away from his mother’s too-perceptive eyes, back to the cutting board to slice the mushrooms for the sauté. “Bernie called me a dishwasher snob.”

  “In my defense, he wants to buy a $1300 machine to wash our dishes.”

  “Oh, the new KitchenAid 6-cycle? When ours poops out, that’s what I want,” Claire said, then saw the look of disbelief on Bernie’s face. “But maybe you could compromise on the $800 model?”

  “Traitor,” Josh said as he kissed her cheek. “You want some tea or wine?”

  Claire laughed and hugged him. “Tea now and wine with dinner, please. You have to learn to compromise if you want your marriage to work. And Josh is a terrible snob when it comes to anything in the kitchen. He learned that from his father. He probably won’t care what you do with the living room, but everything in the kitchen has to be top-of-the-line.”

  “Duly noted,” Bernie muttered.

  “If you two are finished throwing me under the bus, you could make yourselves useful by setting the table.”

  “Oh, Josh! Don’t be cranky. I’m just teasing,” Claire said as she retrieved silverware and napkins.

  He saw the supposedly surreptitious smile the two women exchanged but wasn’t really bothered; it had been too long since his mom teased him about anything. “How do you two jokesters prefer your steaks tonight?”

  Claire snickered. “Medium well, please.”

  “Bernie?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Whatever you like.” She shrugged.

  “Oh, no, sweetie. Josh likes his steaks still mooing,” Claire said as she shuddered.

  “Better that than cooked to death and tough as shoe leather,” he retorted. “How about medium for you, Bernie?”

  “Sure.”

  Josh was pleased with how the dinner turned out; he was even more pleased with how Bernie seemed to enjoy it. For reasons he preferred not to examine too closely, he was reluctant to call an end to the evening, so he invited her to stay and watch a movie. He was surprised when she acquiesced, but covered it well and made popcorn and hot chocolate. They sat on opposite ends of the couch with Freddie between them.

  “Here, sit by his head. He drools, but it’s less lethal than what comes out of this end with disgusting regularity. And don’t give him any popcorn, no matter how hard he begs. It’ll just make it worse.” He made sure her hot chocolate was within reach and let her choose the movie. She chose an action thriller and he fell a little harder.

  Chapter Four

  “Where’s your mom?”

  Gabby shrugged. “I don’t know. She left.”

  “Is your daddy sad?” Bernie reached for the evening gown so she could dress her naked Barbie.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think she’ll come back?”

  Gabby shrugged again. “I don’t think so. She was really mad at my dad. She yelled a lot. She yelled at me too.”

  “I’m glad my mom and dad don’t yell at each other. You can come to my house whenever you want.”

  “Thanks, Bernie. You’re my best friend.”

  “You’re mine too. We’ll always be best friends.”

  Bernie

  Bernie was freezing. The cold front that blew in that afternoon plunged the nighttime temperature close to freezing, and Bernie was not prepared. She would need to spend some of her carefully guarded savings on a heavier jacket and maybe a knit hat to keep her ears warm. And a quilt. In the meantime, she was forced to climb in the front seat every hour or so and start the car long enough to get it warm. Then she’d fall back asleep until she woke up shivering again. She had driven by her trailer earlier, on her way home from Josh’s house, to see if, by some miracle, her mom was there by herself. Nope. Bernie kept driving.

  She pulled the hood of the sweatshirt Josh had loaned her tighter under her chin, thankful he had insisted she keep it, saying her jacket was too thin. He was right, and she’d actually put the jacket on under the huge hoodie. It smelled like him, and she wished she didn’t like that scent quite so much.

  The evening had confused Bernie. She simply couldn’t understand Josh and his mom. They had been through such a horrible, life-altering event, yet it hadn’t destroyed them. They were sad—that much was obvious—but they were still functioning. And they clearly loved each other deeply. Josh’s laughter tonight had seemed rusty, as if he hadn’t done it in a long time. She smiled as she remembered their silly argument. She hadn’t known how it would turn out and was surprised when he started laughing. She’d been angry, thinking he was making fun of her, but had quickly seen the humor in it. He had slight dimples when he laughed; she couldn’t help smiling as she remembered them. He
was too cute for his own good and her peace of mind.

  The night was endless and included precious little sleep. Bernie was thankful when her alarm rang and she could hurry to school and defrost under a lukewarm shower. She wanted to wear Josh’s sweatshirt but figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to flaunt it in front of Kayleigh. She’d been nice and Bernie didn’t want to give her any reasons to act jealous. She reluctantly left it in her car and tried to keep warm with her thin jacket. Hopefully this cold front would blow over soon and it would return to more normal Albuquerque temperatures for late fall.

  Second period English was as annoying as it had been the day before, and the rowdy boys seemed determined to do whatever they could to piss off Mr. Collins and sidetrack the lesson. She watched Diego flick spit wads at the girl in front of him. What did Gabby ever see in this loser? But he was the last person who saw her. Bernie was still determined to find out what really happened to Gabby, so she needed to talk to Diego, no matter how repulsive he might be. She gathered her notebook and other belongings while Mr. Collins kept Diego and his friends behind for a well-deserved scolding.

  She waited outside the classroom door for him. “Hey, Diego.”

  He stopped in his tracks, looked her up and down, his eyes settling on her chest. “Hey, Bernie. What’s up?” He jerked his chin at his group of friends, giving them the signal to get lost.

  “Um, I just haven’t had a chance to, you know, talk to you in a while.”

  He grinned and stepped closer. Much closer. She tried not to gag on the fumes from his aftershave.

  “That’s cool, Bernie. We should go out and talk. What you doin’ Saturday night?”

  God, this guy was like a walking advertisement for thug life. From his little black mustache to his diamond stud earrings to his baggy pants and sideways baseball cap, he was what Bernie referred to as a wangster—a wannabe gangster.

  “I have to work. Sorry. Listen, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Gabby.”

  “Gabby? Man, I don’t wanna talk about her. I’d rather talk about you and me. Go out with me Friday.”