As Good as the First Time

by K. M. Jackson

  Clayton stared at Liv, mesmerizing her with his deep, soulful eyes. “Yes, she does.” Just then two other customers walked in and Clayton cleared his throat. “Listen, I’ll take two dozen for the guys at the firehouse. I have a feeling you’re going to sell out today and I don’t want to miss out on a good thing.”

  Liv raised a brow. “No,” she said. “You definitely wouldn’t want to do that.” She turned away from him. “Let me just get those boxed up for you. Wait here. It won’t be but a minute.”

  By the time she came back with the boxed biscuits, Clayton had already paid and was chatting it up with Drea. She resisted the urge to reach out and pull her sister back by the apron tie when she hightailed it to the other end of the counter as soon as Liv appeared with Clayton’s bag.

  “Here you go. I hope everyone enjoys them,” Liv said. There, service with a smile.

  Clayton lifted his hand slowly. He went to take the shopping bag from her, letting his index fingers graze over her own, sending the most intense zing up her arm. Liv pulled her hand away quickly and clapped her hands together in front of her.

  “I’m sure they’ll be a big hit,” Clayton said.

  “Thanks. Well, we’ll be seeing you, I’m sure,” Liv said, but ridiculously enough Clayton wasn’t moving from his spot and heading for the door like a normal patron would be doing. Instead he stood rooted in his spot and continued to look at her.

  Liv gave him an expectant look. “And is there something else I can help you with?” She hoped her tone let him know that there was nothing else she really wanted to help him with.

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” he said.

  Of course there is. Why wouldn’t there be?

  “I was hoping you’d join me for lunch today. I’d still like to give you that apology and that explanation that I talked about. It’s kind of weighing on me.”

  The fact that he said it was weighing on him sent sparks of anger that Liv told herself shouldn’t be there quickly igniting once again. “It shouldn’t be weighing on you at all, Clayton, not now. You’ve had plenty of years to apologize and alleviate anything that had been weighing on you. So now that seeing me has brought up old feelings, well, I can’t help that. I’m sorry but, no, I won’t be meeting you for lunch today. Whatever it is you have to deal with, you just have to deal with it on your own.”

  She saw him about to speak again, in haste possibly, but then he seemed to think better of it. And he looked at her. In his eyes, she thought she saw possible pleading, but he never was one to be the pleading type; he was always too proud for that, so no, maybe it wasn’t pleading in his eyes, but still there was a question there.

  “Listen, all I’m asking is for you to please just think about it. I have a lot to answer for and a lot to explain. I’ll be at Doreen’s Diner between two and three o’clock, if you can get away. Just waiting, no pressure on your part. All I’m asking is for you to consider it.” He gave her a broad grin, his countenance somehow shifting, and once again he looked every bit the easygoing fire chief she glimpsed when she first rolled into town. “Thanks again for the biscuits. I’m sure everyone will love them.” He held up the bag again and made his voice a little louder this time so that Aunt Joyce and Drea could hear over the few customers that were now in the store. “Thanks again, ladies, I’ll see you all around.”

  “Thanks, Clayton. Give my best to the crew and your mama too,” Aunt Joyce said while Drea gave a wave as she sauntered back toward Liv, giving her a nudge with her hip.

  “Not a word,” Liv said before her sister could open her mouth. “I don’t want to hear one word on the subject of Clayton Morris, not now and not ever. You got me?”

  “If you say so, big sis, but I have a feeling it won’t be me bringing up the name first.” She exaggeratedly looked at her watch. “I mean, two o’clock comes around mighty fast.”

  Chapter 13

  “What?” Liv asked when she looked up and found her aunt staring at her once again. “Why are you staring at me?”

  Not moving, Aunt Joyce continued with her perusal, her eyes going from the old clock on the kitchen wall and back to Liv again. “I was just wondering why you keep glancing at the clock so much. I know you’re trying to get this pie in the oven, but it’s not a race. Now, if you got someplace else you need to be right now, maybe you should get to getting.”

  Liv frowned, then shook her head. She would not be put off her game. Nope. She knew her aunt was trying to get under her skin with that way-too-knowing stare of hers, but she wasn’t letting her. She would stay focused on the task at hand, she thought as she shifted her gaze back to her trusty recipe book, frowning deeper when she caught the smatter of flour that had covered the plastic-covered pages. With a frustrated huff she reached for a paper towel to clear the mess, but only ended up smearing it. With a sigh she quickly turned the page and looked down to read the next needed ingredient in her not-quite-famous berry swirl pie.

  “There,” she said, “one teaspoon of cinnamon, three-quarter stick of butter, one cup each of strawberries, blueberries and raspberries.” Liv looked back up at Aunt Joyce, purposefully ignoring her comment about the clock, preferring to keep the subject purely on the pie she was baking. “I’d love to try this with a bit of blackberries. I can never get sweet-enough ones in the city. Maybe if I checked the farmers’ market here over the weekend I’d have better luck.”

  Aunt Joyce’s expression changed to one of annoyance and exasperation. “Girl, don’t think I don’t know that you avoided my question about checking that clock.”

  Liv felt her lips tighten as her mind skipped around, looking for the correct word. Of course she couldn’t tell Aunt Joyce that she was looking at the clock and once again checking the ridiculously slow-moving time. It was currently 2:04 p.m. Four minutes past the time she was supposed to—well, not really supposed to, but asked to—go over to the diner and meet Clayton for his apology-slash-explanation-slash-confession hour. And though she knew as soon as he gave the invitation that she was definitely not going to join him, she still could admit to herself that part of her had a desire to hear out what sort of excuse he’d planned on giving her to make up for breaking her heart.

  But what could he possibly say to make up for all the years and the time lost? Not to mention the promises broken. She knew it was a waste, and she knew that this meeting was really nothing more than something else to cover up for his own guilt. So why give him the satisfaction? She wouldn’t do it. She’d much rather stay here in the relative calm of the kitchen baking her pie instead of listening to whatever excuse Clayton Morris had cooked up.

  Still, something in Liv’s stomach turned. The thought of him sitting, waiting for her, even though it was just for an hour and not for a full summer as she had done back when she was eighteen, she was ashamed to say the thought gave her a perverted sense of . . . she didn’t know, glee or satisfaction from getting a little bit of revenge? Yeah, all of that, while at the same time it just didn’t sit right with her spirit.

  Liv swallowed down hard before looking over at her aunt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aunt Joyce. I’m focused on what we’re doing right now. Actually, trying hard to focus as much as I can. I want to do well for you by showing you one of my best recipes.” She poked her finger carefully down at her book, and to her utter shock Aunt Joyce snatched her recipe book right from underneath her flour-covered finger and slammed it tightly shut.

  “That’s the problem right there. You are and you’ve always wanted to do everything so right and so perfectly that you always followed things by the book. Why, I’d wager that you know every recipe in this book already inside out. You know the measurements and every ingredient by heart.” Aunt Joyce laid the book aside, put her right hand on her chest, and gave herself a pat. “But do you know the recipes in your heart? That’s the question I want to know the answer to. I reckon you don’t need this book at all. Like I said to your sister earlier, when you’re baking you need to do it wi
th love. When you do it with love, it shows, and that’s when you truly bring magic to your food.”

  And then to Liv’s distinct shock and horror, Aunt Joyce took her precious recipe book and, without any sort of fanfare, picked it up and dropped it right into the trash can.

  Liv gasped and went diving after her recipe book, fishing it back out quickly and brushing it off. She placed it gently on the edge of the worktable before looking back at her aunt with wide eyes. “How could you do such a thing? I’ve been working on this book for years. Don’t you have a care about other people’s work and what they do?” Liv said, raising her voice, for the moment forgetting that she was talking to her aunt.

  But Aunt Joyce just waved a hand in front of her face and laughed. “Oh, girly, I knew you were going to go after that book and probably nab it before it hit the bottom of the can. There was no way you would let that thing go. Besides, if I really wanted to get rid of it, I would have snatched it without your knowledge. Don’t worry, your precious book is safe. I just wanted to illustrate the fact that I don’t think you need it. You’ve got all you need already up there in that brain of yours, and I suspect you really do have it in your heart. Now, if you want to show me something for real, you just keep that thing closed and get to baking. I’ve seen what you can do so far, and I always knew you had talent. Now, prove me right and make me something sweet that will knock off these horrid orthopedic socks I’m wearing.” With that short but effective speech Aunt Joyce turned away from Liv and went over to where the rest of the fruits were stored, pulling out a few more berries for Liv to add to her pie. Thankfully the rest of the hour went by quicker and less tense than the first few minutes, and Liv got through it by focusing less on her stress and anxiety over not joining Clayton at the diner and more on making the best berry swirl pie she’d ever made.

  * * *

  Clayton sat in a booth at Doreen’s Diner and took another sip of his now cold coffee. “You sure you don’t want to go on ahead and just order something now, Clayton? It’s been over forty minutes; I don’t think your friend is gonna make it.”

  He looked up at Doreen, who was smiling down at him, coffeepot in hand to once again warm up the cup of coffee he was nursing for all it was worth. Doreen, the patron and owner of the diner, looked at Clayton with her soft green eyes, and Clayton could tell that, though Doreen was all sweetness and light, she wanted more than anything to know whom he was currently waiting for. Petite and still somehow quite statuesque with an open smile and an easy laugh, Doreen came on as everybody’s favorite confidant, but one had to be careful when it came to sweet ol’ Doreen. Like a vampire who lived on blood, Doreen was fueled by the town’s gossip. Some thought it’s what made her still so vibrant at her undeterminable age. The woman didn’t look a day over fifty, though some of the older town residents had her pegged at seventy, if she was a day, and she’d buried three husbands already, each eighty and above.

  That he’d asked Livia to meet him over at Doreen’s, Clayton now knew, was probably not the best idea. But then again, where else could they meet for coffee? The town was only so big, and the new chain coffee shop didn’t seem quite like the place to have the type of talk they needed to have. Maybe he should have asked her to dinner. Something and someplace fancier, like the country club. She was a city girl and probably used to finer things. But really, who was he fooling? Finer things or not, she still would have turned him down. She didn’t even want to sit with him at a casual backyard barbecue.

  Clayton rapped his knuckles on the table. It was a moot point now. He needed to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t showing up, not now and probably not ever. He gave Doreen a look of resignation and a nod. “I’ll have a cheeseburger deluxe, Doreen. Thanks a lot.”

  Doreen stood for half a second more than she needed, probably hoping he’d give her more talk, more explanation, than just his cheeseburger order, but he wasn’t in the mood, not today. Just his food please and he’d be on his way. Food and his own thoughts, that’s all that he needed right now.

  But apparently asking for just sustenance and his own company in that moment was too much, because just as Doreen walked away, Clayton looked out the window and locked eyes with his brother coming down the street. Caleb gave him a quick nod and then shocked him by turning and heading toward the diner’s entrance. Crap. Would he really not be able to sit by himself and stew in his misery?

  And what was Caleb doing out in the middle of the afternoon, in polite society, anyway? First, he decided to make an appearance at Mom’s, obviously taking what he said at the bar to heart, and then he topped it off by staying for the Goodes’ barbecue. It was all disarmingly out of character.

  Clayton was in a mood with Livia not showing, so he had a hard time keeping his cool when Caleb, without as much as a “how do you do,” took the seat opposite him at his booth.

  Quick as a whip, Doreen came scampering over with her chipper attitude and a big smile. “Hey there, better late than never,” she said to Caleb before turning to Clayton. “Isn’t this great. And there I thought you’d be dining alone.” Though Clayton very much wanted to stand up and clamp his hand over Doreen’s mouth, the last thing he wanted was for his brother to know he had been sitting for forty minutes waiting for a no-show from somebody, but of course he couldn’t keep Doreen quiet. All he could do was sit and watch while she talked and the wheels turned in Caleb’s head as he caught on to the fact that Clayton had indeed been stood up for his lunch. “Yep, I’m glad to see you made it. Your brother was sitting here looking a might fit to be tied waiting on you, and it takes a lot to get him to lose his sunny disposition.” She smiled even more broadly, having done all the damage she needed to, Clayton guessed. “Well, what can I get you? He’s already ordered a cheeseburger so won’t be long before it’s up. Can I do the same for you?”

  Caleb gave him a half-sly grin that said he had indeed put two and two together, but then he quickly looked back up at Doreen and gave her a smile. “A cheeseburger would be great, Doreen, medium for me with pepper jack cheese please and extra fried onions. Oh, and I’ll have a chocolate shake to go with it, thanks.”

  “No problem,” Doreen said, and hurried off to put in Caleb’s order.

  With that, Caleb turned back to Clayton and placed an elbow on the table, tilting his chin in his hand. With his non-prosthetic hand, he drummed his fingers expectantly on the table.

  “What is that look all about?” Clayton said. “And what’s with the finger drumming? And what’s with you out in the light of day anyway? You showing up here in the daylight might ruin the whole ‘man of mystery’ thing that you got going.”

  Caleb gave his head a shake when Doreen brought over his milkshake. “Very funny, lil bro. Stop being so suspicious. I come out in the daytime plenty. People just don’t happen to see me because I’m stealth. Also I happened to have business in town that needed to take place before five o’clock. For some reason, they still like to close banks before five in this godforsaken town. But hey, check this out, you get to be the beneficiary of it and enjoy my company at lunch.”

  Clayton let out a snort. “Yeah, lucky me.”

  “Don’t look so thrilled about it. I could tell from Doreen’s speech and your reaction that I definitely wasn’t your intended lunch date today.”

  Clayton wasn’t taking the bait. It was none of Caleb’s business who he was meeting for lunch. “So what business did you have to take care of before five o’clock at the bank? Is everything okay? Anything I need to worry about with you and finances?”

  Caleb raised a brow and shook his head. “You don’t have anything to worry about with me. Not now, not anymore. I’m working, doing a decent job at the bar, being a semiproductive part of society.” He raised his prosthetic limb slightly and gave it a little twist. “As you can see, me and my little friend here are doing just fine. Sure, I could use a bit more mobility, but this is about as state of the art as my insurance is going to get me, so I’m grateful for it. Things
could be worse.”

  Clayton looked at his brother seriously, for the moment thoughts of Livia pushed to the back of his mind. “Or they could be better.”

  He saw briefly a hint of impatience spark in Caleb’s eyes, and it looked as if he was getting a flash of something. A spark, maybe of a memory. “Like I said. They could be worse.”

  Clayton thought it best to drop the subject. At least his brother was out. He was right, they could be worse. He’d been such a recluse since moving back home, and for a while there, Clayton and his mother were really worried about him. By moving out to the other side of the lake and not connecting with any of his old friends or doing any of the things that he used to do, it was as if he’d left a good hunk of his personality back on the battlefield in Afghanistan with his lost limb. Clayton knew his brother was changed the moment he’d seen him at the army hospital, but he didn’t know how much until he’d been discharged and had come back home to presumably start his old life again.

  But there was no restarting his old life, not for Caleb, and as Clayton would soon learn, not for him either. There was no going back. His brother taught him that. Maybe that was the lesson he needed to get into his head now with Livia back in town.

  Doreen came back to the table with their burgers, and the two brothers proceeded to eat silently. The silence wasn’t wholly uncomfortable or unwelcome, but Caleb broke it by speaking up once again. “So, you going to admit to me that it was Olivia Gale who had you sitting here looking sad and lonely with no lunch date this afternoon?”

  Clayton stopped chewing mid-fry and gave his brother a harsh glare. “Why should I admit to any such thing?”

  “Yeah, why would you? That might mean you admitting defeat, and we know that’s something you never do.” Caleb took a lazy bite of his burger, which made Clayton want to rush through his that much faster. Besides, he’d been away from work long enough and needed to get back to the station house. Thankfully there hadn’t been any real emergencies today, but he had plenty of paperwork he could get done in his office, and if not paperwork, getting home early enough to help Hope with her homework tonight wouldn’t be the worst idea.