The New Hope Cafe

by Dawn Atkins

  That made Beth Ann’s stomach jump, and it started the black blob in her brain that surged whenever she thought about The Terrible Thing.

  She pushed it away and focused on Louis, who walked right up to the bowl without even looking at her. He trusted her.

  His pink tongue made a cute lapping sound. Her heart pinched with love. She couldn’t wait to pet him. She longed to lift him onto her lap, brush the dust from his fur and make it shiny.

  Beth Ann rocked side to side on her butt cheeks, inching forward. The pine needles crackled.

  Louis froze and stared at her. After a few seconds, he went back to the cream, his tongue slow at first, then quick, quick, quick. She moved more. This time only his ear twitched.

  Two more moves and Beth Ann was close enough to touch him, but she decided to be a bit more patient just in case.

  She could do it. She had self-control now.

  She hadn’t had self-control when she was six. If she had, she wouldn’t have been so greedy for ice cream that she’d let her dad in the house for Family Night and caused The Terrible Thing.

  She pushed away that thought and stared at Louis. Before long, he’d cleaned the bowl. He looked straight at her, thank you shining from his one golden eye. She smiled back.

  He licked his one front paw, then rubbed it over his face again and again, washing it. That was so cute her heart squeezed.

  She let her hand come out slowly. Louis leaned out and sniffed it, then licked her finger, his tongue like the scrub side of the kitchen sponge.

  Then he rubbed his cheek against her finger and her heart melted totally. She wanted to hold him, to promise to protect him and take care of him.

  Her mother was always trying that with Beth Ann, but Beth Ann couldn’t let her. It would be cheating.

  Sometimes, when the dreams got bad, Beth Ann had to fight hard to keep from throwing her arms around her mother’s neck and crying and crying. She had to be strict with herself. She had to take care of her own sadness. She didn’t deserve to be hugged and patted.

  But here was Louis and she could help him if he’d only let her. Beth Ann reached out, but Louis shot off, a black blur against the trees, almost like he didn’t think he deserved her hugs either.

  That made her want to talk to Serena again. Rosie’s throwaway phone had had fifty-five minutes of talk time. So far, Beth Ann had only used ten on two calls to Serena. “No llores,” Serena had said the first time. Don’t cry. But Serena had been crying, too. Talking to Serena had made Beth Ann feel stronger and calmer, so she wasn’t sorry she’d done it. Serena pinky-swore to keep the calls a secret and Beth Ann knew she would.

  Beth Ann picked up the bowl and started for Jonah’s shop. She’d already made one box. Today, he’d promised to show her how to make one with secret buttons to open it. She wanted to hide her phone in the box.

  “Hey, Jonah!” she called, stepping into the shop. She liked being here. She liked the wood smell, the flecks of wood floating in the sunlight through the windows, the quiet.

  “What’s up, Squirt?”

  She smiled. She liked that name better than Bunny.

  “Louis licked my hand and rubbed it with his cheek!”

  He turned to her on his stool. “I’ll be damned. We’ll have to call you the Cat Whisperer.”

  “I like Squirt better. I hate whispering.”

  “Squirt it is. But I put Bunny on your nameplate.”

  “My what?”

  He held out a low sign with her name in wood letters. “Put it on your worktable.”

  She did. It looked nice. She only wished it said Beth Ann instead of Bunny. “Thank you.” She noticed a stack of toothpick boxes and some glue.

  “I was thinking you might want to try some toothpick sculptures,” Jonah said. “I pulled up a website. Take a look.”

  She clicked the mouse and saw pictures of toothpick buildings and objects. “This is so cool.” She clicked through the pictures, then stopped at the perfect one. “I’m going to make a castle,” she announced. “With a drawbridge and everything.”

  “You need help, let me know.”

  “Thanks.” But she thought she could follow the picture just fine. She liked Jonah. He was patient and kind and he made her feel calm. In here with him, she forgot to feel sad about Serena or lonely or afraid that her dad would find them.

  Jonah’s shop was like a castle, too. She felt safe inside. She kind of wished she never had to leave.

  * * *

  ROSIE IGNORED THE nurse at the checkout desk and marched right out the clinic door.

  “Send the bill,” Cara said, then hurried after Rosie, who was already at the car, her hands shaking so much she dropped her keys.

  Cara picked them up. “I can drive,” she said.

  “Good for you.” Rosie grabbed the keys, unlocked the doors and got behind the wheel, starting off the instant Cara shut the door. Rosie’s eyes stared dead ahead, her mouth a grim line.

  “It’s just a mass, Rosie.” Tumor sounded so much worse. “They need to take it out to see if it’s benign.” Cara had sat with Rosie for the talk after the exam, so she’d heard the doctor describe the required outpatient surgery needed on Rosie’s stomach.

  Rosie rammed the accelerator and they lurched onto Main, cutting off a car that blasted its horn.

  “It’s a shock, but don’t assume the worst. The odds are in your favor.”

  Rosie slammed on the brakes yards before the intersection, earning more honks. “The odds? The odds are never in my favor. I’m not a lucky person. Never have been.” She roared through the red light.

  Cara decided to hold her tongue so they could make it through town without an accident. Once they were on open road, she said, “It’s a simple outpatient procedure. You could visit your friend in Tucson.”

  “If they cut me open, I’m a goner. A deal’s a deal. I got checked.”

  “You don’t know what’s wrong yet.”

  “Not part of the deal.”

  They pulled into the café lot and Cara beat Rosie to the door, blocking her way. “Even if it is cancer, it can be treated. Millions of people live long and happy lives afterward.”

  “Get out of my way.” Rosie’s eyes burned at Cara. Her grandmother had never been so ferocious, but Cara refused to quail.

  “How about this? I’ll stay until you get the procedure. A whole extra week with a waitress. You want that, right?”

  “Move or I’ll knock you flat.”

  She moved, letting Rosie lead the way upstairs. Logic, begging and bargaining weren’t working. She needed a new approach. There was always Jonah, but his blunt words might make things worse.

  In Rosie’s kitchen, Cara took a handful of jelly beans from the bowl, putting back all but her favorites—green. Green for good luck. What had Rosie said? I’m not a lucky person. Never have been.

  That gave her an idea. What if she made good-luck buns for Rosie? She’d make sure Rosie got a green bean for good luck. It might not change Rosie’s mind, but it would surely cheer her up, especially if Cara involved Beth Ann. Rosie had a soft spot for Beth Ann, and her daughter had wanted Cara to make the buns anyway.

  At least the pecan rolls had gotten her past the bitter memory of Barrett and the ruined muffins, the sting as each one struck her face or chest, accompanied by a hateful insult. At first, the smell and feel of the dough had made her stomach roil, but she’d gritted her teeth and pushed on, determined to do what she could t
o save Rosie’s café. By the time Cara pulled the first batch out of the oven, she was fine.

  She took the bowl of jelly beans to the café kitchen, pulled out a selection of ingredients, then headed out to Jonah’s shop to get her daughter.

  Reaching the door, she started inside, then heard Beth Ann’s voice and stopped to listen.

  “Do I really have to wait for the glue to dry before I stand the castle walls up?” she asked.

  Cara saw she was building with toothpicks. What a good idea. Cara should have suggested that. She’d been so preoccupied with the café and Rosie, she’d left her daughter to amuse herself. Not very responsible of her.

  Jonah looked up from the mahogany bench he was sanding—the one with hearts modeled after Cara’s lips. The thought made her face grow hot.

  “If the sticks slip, the foundation will be unstable,” he said. “Mistakes amplify. You know what that means? Amplify?”

  “Get louder?” Beth Ann answered.

  “Or bigger. Yeah.”

  Beth Ann sighed. “Then how do I make the drawbridge go up and down?”

  “What would you guess?”

  “A string? If I can poke it between the picks?”

  “Worth a try.”

  “Do toothpicks forgive?”

  Jonah chuckled. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  “Guess we will.” Beth Ann gave a contented sigh.

  Cara felt a stab of envy at how comfortable her daughter was with Jonah. She hadn’t been that easy with Cara in years.

  Was it bad that Beth Ann had trusted him so readily? Was her daughter too trusting? Jonah was a good person, Cara was certain, but people could hide their true natures. Barrett was proof of that.

  She didn’t want her daughter to fear men, but caution was vital. Cara’s own choices made her no role model. That made her stomach churn.

  But that was a worry for another day. Beth Ann was content at the moment and that was good.

  “Hey there,” Cara said softly.

  Jonah and Beth Ann seemed slow to turn away from their work, making her feel even more like an interloper than when she’d scared away the cat.

  “You’re building with toothpicks,” Cara said, moving close to Beth Ann’s stool. She saw a toothpick castle on the monitor. “A castle, huh?”

  “Jonah got me the stuff. He made this for me.” Beth Ann pointed at a nameplate with Bunny spelled out in wooden letters. “I can take it wherever I go.”

  “How nice.” But she felt a twinge. When would Beth Ann have a permanent place she could mark as her own? Not for a while. Like Cara’s garden, it was a distant dream.

  “Thank you, Jonah,” she said. “We know how busy you are.”

  “Bunny’s good company,” Jonah said.

  “See?” Beth Ann beamed.

  “I do. In fact, I’d like your company right now. Remember those good-luck buns I told you about? I thought we’d make some.”

  “Not today. Jonah’s going to start me on my puzzle box.”

  “It’s a surprise for Rosie. She’s feeling blue.”

  “If I have to…” Beth Ann sighed, but she got down from the stool. “You promise we can do the box tomorrow, Jonah?”

  “Swear to God.” Jonah held up a hand.

  Satisfied, Beth Ann started for the door.

  “I see how I rate,” she said to Jonah, joking, but a bit hurt by her daughter’s rejection.

  “Can I talk to you?” Jonah asked.

  “Sure.” She turned to her daughter. “Beth Ann, can you start sorting the jelly beans by color? They’re in the café kitchen.”

  Beth Ann scurried off and Cara went to Jonah.

  “Rosie’d rather swim in fryer oil than confide in me. You have any idea what’s got her down?”

  She cringed. She’d promised Rosie not to tell Jonah. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready, I’m sure.” She hoped that would be soon.

  “If anyone could drag it out of her it’s you.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. You’re good with people—customers, Ernesto, Rosie…even me. And I’ve heard that’s no picnic.” His smile was wry.

  “You’re good with my daughter,” she said, feeling a stab of guilt that Beth Ann felt more relaxed with Jonah than with her own mother.

  He shrugged that off. “She’s easy.”

  “Not with me, she’s not.”

  “That’s because you’re her mother. I’m a stranger she has to be polite to.”

  “It’s more than that. You make her feel safe. Relaxed. When I saw her in here the other day, she was humming.”

  “Yeah. She does that.”

  “Not for years.” Cara’s throat tightened.

  “You worry about her.” It wasn’t a question.

  “She won’t let me comfort her. She won’t talk about what’s troubling her. I don’t know how to help her.” She couldn’t even make her daughter feel safe.

  “You’re a good mother,” Jonah says. “She knows that. You’ll sort it out.”

  “That’s kind of you, but you don’t know our…situation.” He didn’t know Cara had stayed too long after she’d seen the cold steel that lay beneath Barrett’s loving mask. Beth Ann had suffered from Cara’s bad judgment.

  “I know what I see.” His eyes were so steady, so certain. If only he were right. With all her heart, she wanted him to be.

  “Thank you for that.” She felt a little better, whether it was justified or not.

  “Actually, I wanted to thank you. That day with the rocking chair.”

  “Really?” That surprised her. “I was sure I’d upset you.”

  “At first. But then it felt good to see you and Bunny enjoying it. I didn’t build that chair to gather dust.” He pressed a palm to his chest. “You showed me I’d gotten past this bad patch I’ve been going through.”

  He meant with his wife and the lost pregnancy, she was sure. Emotion tightened Cara’s throat. “I’m glad then.”

  “Me, too.” He held her gaze. The connection clicked between them, stronger than ever. Jonah didn’t know her story, but he knew her. And she knew him. It felt good…important…right.

  “I’m glad you’re still here,” Jonah said. Wham. Desire burned through her, hotter than ever and it lit those gold sparks in Jonah’s dark eyes.

  For a moment, she wanted more, to kiss and be kissed, to see what happened next, to—

  “Mom!” Beth Ann’s shout from the café door jerked her back to earth.

  “I have to go.” She nearly ran to the café. This longing was useless. Why couldn’t she let it go? In some ways, she was as stubborn as Rosie.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I WANT THE rolls to taste like all the jelly bean flavors at once,” Beth Ann said. “Like a rainbow.” Cara had told her what each color meant and they’d agreed to leave out the bad-luck black jelly beans altogether.

  “A rainbow it is,” Cara said. After some discussion, they decided to use cherries, blueberries, orange and lemon zest, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, peanuts and cashews. They took turns stirring and adding ingredients. Cara was relieved to notice that Beth Ann was totally enthralled.

  “One final taste before we bake,” Cara said, holding out a dab on the rubber spatula.

  Beth Ann licked it off and savored the morsel, eyebrows dipped in concentration. “It has all the flavors. I think it’s right.”

  “Good. Let’s ball up the rolls, put them in the muffin tin,
then you can add the fortunes.”

  As Beth Ann poked jelly beans into the center of each roll, she said, “I wish we could put in real charms like on my bracelet. A heart for love. A coin for money. A clover for good luck. But they could break your teeth. Would plastic ones work?”

  “No, but gummy candy would. Like the gummy worms I made for Halloween. I could make molds from your charms in an ice cube tray.”

  “Can we do that?”

  “Absolutely. Next time.” And there would be more baking now, Cara realized. The joy of it rose in her again like bread dough on a sunny counter. And it was such a pleasure to share it with her daughter.

  “This is fun. We invented a food.” Beth Ann looked so happy that Cara wanted to weep with joy. This was what she wanted for her daughter. Days full of fun and laughter, no pain, no fear, no sad shadows from the past. She would make it happen, no matter what.

  Cara opened the oven door so Beth Ann could slide the tray inside.

  “But what if they don’t taste as good when they’re baked?” Beth Ann asked.

  “Then we’ll try again. Practice makes perfect. That’s what my grandmother always said. It took me forever to get pie crust right. It came out tough or soggy or crumbly. But she never gave up on me.” Her grandmother had praised each tiny improvement, her love as thick in the air as the smell of pie in the oven afterward.

  “That’s what Jonah says,” Beth Ann said. “He says a craft means you make mistakes, but keep getting better.” She pondered that for a moment. “Wood doesn’t forgive mistakes. Does dough?”

  “Depends on the mistake,” Cara said. “A small one you can fix—say you forget the nuts. But add too much salt or bake it too long and you’re done for.”

  “Like with Daddy’s muffins,” Beth Ann said in a low voice.

  Ice froze Cara’s blood. Had Beth Ann heard the fight? “You remember that?” she said warily.

  “I saw them in the trash. My bowl, too. It got broke.”