by Jillian Hart
“They sure do. I’ll get to work on that right away.” She stirred Mr. Corey’s eggs, then drew a chair over from the corner. “Come stand here and coach me, okay?”
A single nod was Sally’s only answer. She still clutched her stuffed rabbit and didn’t let go as she climbed up to stand on the chair.
Rachel remembered standing in the same spot, at her dad’s elbow while he cooked and whistled show tunes. It was a dear tug she felt on her heart as she plated Mr. Corey’s meal and got a good look at what had to be Jake and Sally’s order ticket on the wheel, although she couldn’t see Jake seated at any of the booths along the front window. Thank goodness.
He was probably in back at one of the tables, she figured, safely out of sight. Which was a real good thing, since he had a certain effect on her, and her embarrassment over last night—and her teeth—remained. She sure knew how to make a great impression on this man—not!
“Do you want a smiley sunshine pancake too?” Rachel snatched the tongs and added a half dozen sausage links onto the grill. As they sizzled, she gestured toward the jumbo-sized cookie cutter. “Go ahead and grab that for me.”
“’Kay.” Timidly, Sally freed the cutter from the nearby hook and held it by one of its rays. “I used to help my mommy all the time.”
“Then you’re a seasoned cook’s helper. Just what I need.” Rachel grabbed the pitcher of fresh buttermilk batter. “Go ahead and put a couple of ’em down. How many pancakes do you want?”
Sally bit her lip as she debated. “Three.”
“Then can you get two more cutters?”
Rachel kept an eye on Sally to make sure she didn’t slip and scorch a fingertip while she poured out rounds of pancakes to fill Jake’s Plentiful Pancake Combo and Sally’s perfectly aligned sunshine smiles. “Can you tell me when those start to bubble?”
A tentative nod.
Well, at least she was doing better. Her rabbit had been sat on the edge of the counter, as if to keep a watch on the grill, too. The bell over the door jingled cheerily to announce more customers. The oven timer binged. After reminding Sally not to touch the grill, Rachel donned an oven mitt, stopped to turn the sausages and rescued the muffins, golden-topped and glazed with sugar. She popped the two dozen muffins onto the cooling rack.
“Um, bubbles.”
Rachel grabbed the spatula. Perfect timing. “Let’s get those turned, okay? Want to hold the plate for me?”
Another nod. Sally held steady the white plate Rachel handed her and in a moment she’d flipped the pancakes, let them sizzle and slid an egg onto the hot grill. While the whites bubbled, she stacked the pancakes for Jake and spread them across the plate for Sally.
It was pleasant being here like this with a little girl. Maybe one day she’d have her children here, the way she and her brother and sisters had stayed here in the mornings before school started. Wistful, Rachel tried not to pin so much on a future that hadn’t happened yet, but it was hard.
“Hop down and come over here with me.” There were the ghosts of memories again, good and dear ones, following her along the counter where it took only a few seconds to add juicy blue huckleberries for eyes and a sweep of strawberry jam for a wide smile on each sunshine. “Do you like strawberries?”
“Yep.”
“Good, then we’ll put them here, so each ray from the sun is a strawberry slice.”
“My mommy used the white stuff.”
“Whipped cream?”
“In the spray can.”
“Well, I’ve got some right here.”
There’s a beautiful sight. Jake froze in the doorway, staring at the woman and child who were side by side. With their heads bent together, they didn’t hear the swinging door sweep open, nor did Rachel notice that he was there. He didn’t move a muscle as everything within him stilled.
Sunlight filtered through the open slat blinds and graced them with a soft golden haze that seemed like a sign from heaven. He’d have to be blind not to see the way Sally leaned close to Rachel, her little shoulders almost relaxed. Her grief seemed several shades less as she watched Rachel spray whipped cream on a bunch of pancakes.
“How about a nice big mustache on this one?”
“A big curly one,” the girl encouraged, leaning in closer and planting her hands on the counter. As Rachel swirled the spray can, Sally watched, enchanted.
Jake was enchanted, too, but for entirely different reasons. That strange calm seeped through him, deeper than his heart and into his soul. She’s the one, he thought, seeing God’s plan for his life as clearly as the sunshine through the window. Rachel’s voice reassured him like a soft summer wind moving over him. A feeling he’d never known before.
“Let’s make this one a girl. We’ll give her curls. Okay?”
Sally nodded, more animated than he’d seen her since her mom’s death. There was hope. He could feel it taking root within him. He’d asked God for a solution, for things to work out for Sally’s sake, and He had led them here, to Rachel, who had a loving heart and a kind enough nature to nurture a hurting child back to life. To Rachel, who’d experienced the same loss herself as a kid.
I know what I need to do. Goose bumps shivered down Jake’s spine as he knew with certainty what he was to do. Sally needed this woman, and marriage was the answer.
The bell above the door chimed, drawing Rachel’s attention. “Oh! Goodness. I’ve got to get back to the grill. Hold on, just a sec, Sally.” Rachel set down the whipped cream can and leaped to save the food sizzling to a crisp. She was still so wrapped up she didn’t see him.
Was she humming? He couldn’t quite get the tune, but her smile was dazzling as she called out a greeting to whoever had entered, one of the regulars, as she deftly filled his order.
“I’ll get your usual right on, Jim!” she called as she hit the bell. “Jodi, I’ll take Sally back to her ta—”
She’d spotted him, and he felt the effects of her beautiful smile. “—table. Hi, Jake. I’ll get his order, Jodi.”
“No, I’ll get it,” he insisted and held out his hand. “C’mon, Sal. Let’s let Rachel get back to work because we don’t want the cook mad at us. Especially one so lovely.”
She blushed prettily. “It’s always good to compliment the cook. Now, go, out of my kitchen before I burn Jim’s sausages.” She reached for a mixing bowl and started stirring.
He took the image of her standing there, haloed in light, with him.
So far so good, Rachel thought as she plated the morning’s special and added a side of hashed browns. Her hand kept shaking as she shoved the plate next to the other ready orders on the window ledge. Jake’s words still affected her. He thought she was lovely?
The back door blew open and Paige charged in, briefcase slung over her shoulder, her arms full of ledgers. “I’m sorry I’m so late. It’s been one disaster after another.”
“That’s not fair. It’s only seven in the morning.”
“Exactly. I fear what the rest of the day is gonna bring.” Paige marched through and disappeared down the short hallway. There was a thud as all the books she carried landed on the desk.
Knowing Paige hadn’t had a chance to eat yet, Rachel plated her last order, a number seven for the town deputy, Frank, and carried it out to him. He was sitting near the door, the sports section of the morning paper on the table in front of him. As she slid his plate on the table, she glanced down the aisle, but no sign of Jake and Sally. They had to be seated around the corner. “How are you this morning, Frank?”
“No real complaints. As long as I can get another refill.”
“You’ve got it.” She bounded to the beverage station, where a fresh pot of coffee had just finished brewing. She grabbed the carafe and topped off Frank’s cup. Taking advantage of the lull, she went in search of Paige in the office by going the long way around. Sure enough, she spied Jake and Sally in the back, next to the last window that looked out over the patio.
“Heard you’re the next one in
your family that’s lookin’ to marry.” Mr. Winkler called out down the aisle. “Is that true?”
Did he have to say it so loudly? She felt bad the instant she thought that. Mr. Winkler wore hearing aids, so it wasn’t his fault. But still. All the customers turned with interest. She felt Jake’s piercing stare above all the others. Did she really want Mr. Amazing to know about her going-nowhere romantic life?
No way. She spun on her heel and backtracked to Mr. Winkler’s table. “You should know better than to listen to rumors.”
The kindly man brushed back his silver hair, as if to straighten himself up a bit. “Rumors? Why, missy, we’ve got a pool goin’ as to how long it’ll be before you got a second date with that fella.”
Was it her imagination or could she feel everyone straining to hear her answer? She glanced around and Frank gave her a thumbs-up—apparently he was interested in her answer. Her cousin Kendra, across the aisle with her husband Cameron, didn’t even bother to pretend she wasn’t listening, and, worst of all, Jake was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup.
Her chest tightened as if an enormous boa constrictor had wrapped around her when she wasn’t looking and was crushing her ribs. “No comment.”
Embarrassed again, she thought as she took a fortifying deep breath and headed up to his table. Best to pretend nothing had happened, she thought. It was the only way she could face Jake.
He was smirking when she approached and set down his cup for her to refill it. “How’s it going?”
“The usual torture and embarrassment, nothing new.” She concentrated on pouring the coffee without disaster. “How were the pancakes, Sally?”
Sally looked up from a coloring book she must have brought down from the upstairs apartment. “I liked the blue eyes.”
“Those were huckleberries. A local wild blueberry,” she explained when Jake quirked his brow. “And that was our homemade strawberry jelly, by the way. Can I get you two anything else? Paige just came from the bakery. We’ve got fresh cinnamon rolls.”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I want one of those.”
“Coming right up. How did you two sleep last night?”
“It’s a nice set-up you have up there.” Jake tried to swallow the panic bubbling up from his guts. He’d faced ambushes, doomed rescue missions and prisoner-of-war camps and never had he felt this sudden urge to run. He was a man who faced live fire regularly and he would not flee from this. “Sally and I owe you dinner for a change. How about tonight?”
“Sorry, I’m working the dinner shift.”
“Then we’ll figure something out.” He watched her walk away, an average woman in jeans and a blue T-shirt, with a ruffled apron tied at her waist, but somehow there wasn’t anything average about Rachel McKaslin. Her rich chestnut hair was tied back at her nape, and her leggy gait was easy and relaxed. As she pushed through the swinging door, he heard the low notes of a song. She was humming.
A second date, huh? Well, maybe he’d give her one to remember. He checked his watch. After he helped Ben move their stuff out of their apartment.
Marriage. It wasn’t something Jake had given a lot of thought to before this. Now it was all he could think about.
The image of Sally and Rachel side by side in the diner’s kitchen, cradled in gentle sunlight, remained in his mind’s eye like a sign from above that would not fade. As did the desperate look on Sally’s sweet face when he’d left her with Ben’s sister Amy and the feel of undisguised need as she’d clung to his hand as if to a life preserver. Yeah, he was giving the idea of marriage some serious thought.
“What’s with you?” Ben asked from the downside of a huge bedroom-cabinet thingy. “Staring off in space, that’s not normal. What are you doing, thinking of some pretty woman?”
How did a tough, fearless soldier admit to that? “Just wondering how you did it, man.”
“Did what?”
“Tie the knot.”
“That was the easiest part. Okay, I’m ready. Let’s lift on three.” Ben counted off and they heaved the heavy armoire around the corner of the bedroom door. “Hold it. We’re gonna take out the wallboard.”
Jake froze, holding his share of the load. “This isn’t as heavy as that log we had to pack around during Indoc.”
“What did that thing weigh, a thousand pounds? That doesn’t mean it isn’t still heavy, though. Okay, let’s shimmy a little to the left.”
“You got it.” Jake gritted his teeth, maneuvering around the tight corner and into the relatively open area of the living room. “How’s that injured leg holding up? Want me to take the lead?”
“My leg’s sore, but a few more weeks and I’ll be back in fighting shape.” Ben blew out a breath as they lurched through the threshold, slowing down to clear the door frame, and then they were in the clear. The moving truck, with the lift down, was waiting.
“Being a married man must agree with you since that bullet wound’s healed up just fine.”
“I’m determined to get back to the front with you and the rest of our squad.” There was a clatter as Ben backed onto the metal floor. The lift groaned beneath them.
“Ready?” Jake asked. His back complained, his knees smarted, but they let the enormous cabinet down without any smashed fingers or toes. “What does your new wife think about your heading right back overseas?”
“She understands that I’m TDY most of the time. It’s just the job.”
Jake knew some women started out feeling that way. They liked the idea of being supportive of their Special Forces husbands, but the reality was often different than they imagined. It was one thing to take care of all the demands of a home and family, another to deal with car problems and military paperwork that inevitably came up, not to mention the long stretches of lonely evenings and weekends. “She’ll be all right handling everything on her own?”
“Are you kidding? Cadence won Olympic gold. If she can’t handle it, then it can’t be done. Not that I want to leave her for so long, but I know she’ll be fine.”
“You have a lot of belief in her.”
“I married her, didn’t I?” With a grin, Ben blushed, turning away to hop off the lift.
Love. It seemed like a risky state of being, more dangerous than tiptoeing through land-mined territory or fast-roping from a helicopter under fire. Those things he’d done and still did without pause. But love and feelings and opening his heart—well, it was a lot to consider.
Jake waited until the lift was done beeping and in place before he gave the armoire a shove. “I got this. You want to make sure there isn’t anything else Cadence wants to fit inside this truck?”
“That would be an impossible mission, bud.” Ben laughed. “I’ll go check with my wife.”
There was no mistaking the dip of emotion on that final word, wife, and Jake figured that was a fine thing. He put some shoulder into the cabinet and shoved.
“Hey,” Ben called from the sidewalk. “Why are you on the subject all of the sudden? Have you met someone?”
“You could say that.” Jake gave a final Herculean push and the armoire skidded into place. Keeping his back turned, so his buddy wouldn’t guess, he reached for a cord to tie down the furniture.
“Someone you met in the desert? Or back on base? In L.A?”
“Nope.” He tightened the cord and gave it a good yank. Yep, it would hold firm.
“You haven’t been in one place long enough to meet anyone else. Hold on—” He paused, as if either gearing up his anger or his disbelief. “It isn’t anyone here, is it?”
And how did he answer that one? Rachel was his best friend’s sister, and that was treading on dangerous ground, too. “Let’s just say no other woman has affected me the way Rachel has.” It was the truth, at least.
“Not Rachel.”
“Rachel.” The tying-down was done, so he turned and jammed his fists on his hips. “You got a problem with that?”
“As long as you’re good to her, not a bit
.”
“Then there’s no problem.” He might not be a domesticated, settled-down type of man, but he believed in treating women right. How could anyone not be good to Rachel? She was so kind, sweet and endearingly funny. She was like coming home. It wouldn’t be hard at all to be married to her.
“Hey, handsome.” Ben’s wife appeared with a medium-sized box in her arms. “This is the very last of it. Except for the cleaning stuff and the vacuum.”
Jake watched, a little envious and a little awed, as Ben took the box handily and stopped to kiss his wife. There was no missing the bond between them; it was like an unalterable light shining from her eyes and into his. What they had was obviously real. It humbled even a man as cynical as him.
Happiness. Maybe it did exist. Maybe he could have something like that. He was grateful to the Lord for nudging him down this new path.
Chapter Nine
Rachel ignored the burning ache in her feet and the dull bite of pain in the small of her back. Another twelve-hour day so far and it wasn’t over yet. She’d gone from cook to bookkeeper to waitress to hostess and back again and, unless her teenaged twin cousins held up their end of the duties, she’d be handling more of the hostessing.
“Here’s your chicken fried steak, Nora.” Rachel handed down the first plate, positioning it just so. “I had Dave add extra butter to the whipped potatoes, I know how you like that, and here’s an extra basket of dinner rolls.”
“You’re a dear. The best rolls in town.”
“Thank you, since I made them. And for you, Harold, our blue cheese New York steak with baked potato and homemade slow-cooked beans.” She gave the plate a little twist as she set it down. “And extra glaze. I know you like it. Now, do you two need anything else?”
“You’ve thought of everything.” Nora’s face curved into a smile. “Is your brother’s send-off party tomorrow morning?”
“Yep, bright and early. Enjoy your meal. I’ll be back to check on you.” Rachel checked the aisle—she’d have to make a pass with a few soda pitchers.
A movement outside the windows caught her attention. More customers, she figured, since the SUV was parked right near the door. The long rays of the setting sun sliced across the man, simply dressed in a navy sweatshirt and jeans, silhouetting him as he opened the passenger’s-side door.