Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  He looks at his watch, “Actually, yes.”

  He kisses me on the cheek and thanks my mum for her hospitality like she’s running a bed and breakfast. I notice he’s catching the train back into the city, and he leaves my car outside the house. I turn to look at my mum; she’s got her hands on her hips and tapping one foot.

  “What was that about?”

  “Kip likes organic, and he’s a vegetarian. So I don’t eat meat in front of him.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s his lifestyle, Mum. Can you keep the pancakes? I want to go for a run before I eat.”

  “Since when do you run?”

  I wish everyone would just stop treating me like I’ve come from some foreign planet.

  “Since I live near the Thames and it’s relaxing to run.”

  Mum shrugs, and drops the subject, something I’ve always been grateful for, and puts my plate in the microwave.

  “I love you, Mum.” I jump up, stretching and put my earphones in, “I won't be long.”

  I set off along the harbour, past the quay where a few fishermen are unloading their morning catch, and down onto the beach. It’s a quiet and warm Saturday morning; high season hasn’t hit yet, and very few locals get up early on Saturdays. It’s just me, and the beach. And Deacon Reid. Oh god, he runs too? Oh, god. He’s shirtless, and running in my direction. I try my best to pretend not to see him, and I think he’s attempting to do the same, but the beach thins out and there’s no way we can run past each other without feeling awkward.

  “Hey.” I wave as we both stop and walk until we’re standing in front of each other.

  I can't help but look at him. I try, really try to keep my eyes on his, but it’s impossible. He’s so big. He used to be tall and lean, like a gazelle or something. Now he’s big, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles that ripple under his skin as he catches his breath, and sweat trickles down his chest, covered by a sports vest. He’s definitely more of a lion now; even has a head of dark blond surfer curls to call his mane. He’s such a man. Big hands, muscular arms and legs, and stubble on his jaw. But his eyes are still the enchanting shade of blue they have always been piercing through anything he looks at. His Swedish Grandfather would be proud of the fine Scandinavian ancestry displayed on Deacon Reid.

  “You alright, Jenna?”

  “What are you, a lumberjack?”

  I regret what I said instantly. Now he’ll know I was looking. My chest is heaving, and not from running.

  “I had to find something to do when you left, Jen.”

  He stretches his arms behind his head, pulling the vest tight across his abdomen. It takes everything in me not to combust right there and then. Why is this happening? I need to go back to London, before I’m left on the floor picking up the pieces of my heart and self-respect again. But I know that look he’s giving me, I’ve seen it before, and I have to stay clear of it. What Kip and I have is stable and I can't rock the boat. It’s not the most exciting relationship, but stability is what I need.

  “I didn’t know you took over your dad’s business. Remember when we used to play there as kids?”

  A trip down memory lane isn’t going to help, but I can't think straight. We start walking, in the direction I was running.

  “Mum wanted to sell it. I couldn't let her do that, but Brad didn’t want it. I couldn't let everything Dad built be sold off. I learned enough in my lectures, and just kind of winged it. Never looked back.”

  I bite my bottom lip. I want to congratulate him, but that will be patronising. I want to say nothing, but that would be rude. I open my mouth to patronise, but he speaks over me.

  “Did you open your gift?”

  I nod. I did. Once Kip was asleep and I had my emotions in check. It had taken me the rest of uni to get it together after that night at the beach, and I have to stay in control. I move my hair away from my chest, where it is tied in pigtails, and pull my vest down, to show him the shell settled comfortably between my breasts. I know he made the necklace himself, and I’m glad he hadn’t gone and bought me something I would never use or ask for. But he still thought about me, enough to think to make it in the first place.

  “Thank you.”

  When he doesn’t say anything I notice him ogling my chest, and I put my pigtails back in place. His eyes look up to meet mine.

  “I should go. I wanna get this run in before I plan my trip back.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’ll run with you.”

  I roll my eyes and take a deep breath, before putting my earphones back in and setting off further along the park. The music is loud in my ears but I can feel Deacon running with me and I can see his shadow on the sand. Even his shadow is huge; I cannot believe how buff he’s got – big and strong, and powerful. My body protests and I stop, leaning over and putting my hands on my knees. I’m new at running, and can't do the long distance yet. Who am I kidding? I stopped because the way I was thinking about his body was guaranteed to have me fall face first on the sand.

  “You alright?” He asks, smirking. He’s laughing at me the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s done.

  I pretend to try and catch my breath as I try desperately to compose myself and get rid of the images in my head. This man was once my best friend, my favourite person in the world. And he broke my heart. It doesn’t matter than he’s grown and moulded himself into a successful business man. To me, he’s still that twenty one-year old who ruined me on this beach.

  “I need to go home.” And by home, I mean London.

  Everywhere I look there’s a memory, some reminder of our friendship, and I can't take it.

  “Okay. I've gotta get my car from your parents’ house. I’ll walk you.”

  I turn my iPod off and we walk back up the length of the beach and along the harbour in silence.

  “Why did you change your hair?” Deacon asks as we reach my parent’s road.

  I changed everything about myself after that Christmas. I couldn't look in the mirror at my long dark waves without feeling the tips of Deacon’s fingers running through them.

  “What’s with the meaningless questions? People change, Deacon.”

  “Red.” He mumbles, barely audible.

  But he’s not my Red anymore. He’s Deacon Reid, and that’s it.

  “Thanks for walking me back.” I say as we reach the end of my path. He shrugs.

  “Had to get my truck.”

  I look behind him, and see the shiny black pick-up truck. It looks like a Ford, and it looks expensive.

  “Nice.” I look back to his piercing ice-blue eyes, “See you around.”

  “Pop in to the site before you go.”

  I nod, knowing that I’m not going to pop in anywhere. I’m going to spend the day with my parents and drive home tomorrow morning.

  “Do you want your breakfast warmed up?” Mum asks as I walk through the door.

  I shake my head and climb the stairs to shower. I watch out of my bedroom window as Deacon gets into his truck and makes a phone call. I watch as he talks with his hands. He looks frustrated, raking his hands through his wild hair over and over and gripping the back of his neck. Something’s got him riled up. And then I feel sorry for him. He wouldn’t have known how to run a business when he dropped out of university; and there was no one around to help him. I wonder if he’s got the hang of it now, as I watch him turn on the ignition and drive away.

  I sit down on the edge of my bed and run my hands over the bedding; the same patchwork set I had begged Mum to buy when my parents bought me my double bed at sixteen. I remember the times we all used to squeeze in and watch films. All four walls in this room are full of memories; photos of us all as kids, on the beach with a picnic, in Mr. Reid’s fishing boat, bowling in town. Everything I treasured from my childhood growing up by the sea is documented in this bedroom. I feel nostalgic as I look around, and I wish I could go back to those times – times w
hen life was easy and I wasn’t pretending to be one person on the outside, while living as a twenty year old student in my head. Lying back on my bed and look up at the ceiling. I close my eyes and dream.

  “Jenna?” I hear mum calling from downstairs, “Lunch is ready. Wash up and meet us in the garden.”

  I manage to have a quick shower to wake myself up, and pull open my wardrobe to look for some clothes. All the clothes I had when I was here last are in the wardrobe. I left so quickly on Boxing Day that I left them here and just started from scratch when I got back to London. I pull out my old favourite black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt tied in a knot at the side. I tie my hair up in a messy ponytail and look in the mirror. This definitely looks better with dark hair.

  Mum, Dad and Jonas are already eating when I get downstairs; I join them at the table and they all stop and look at me.

  “Oh mi, Jenna.” Dad says. I know what he’s talking about; I don’t dress like this anymore.

  “It’s just some old clothes,” I shrug and sit down at the table, “No big deal.”

  I ignore the looks and tuck into the lunch of sandwiches with homemade coleslaw, and a big bowl of strawberries and cream.

  “You look comfortable,” Mum whispers, “shall we have a walk around the shops after lunch? Have a glass of wine at The Duck?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Mum and I are sitting outside The Duck, on a picnic bench in the recently refurbished pub garden. Mum bought us a bottle of wine, and we sit and ponder into our glasses.

  “Are you happy Jen?” Mum asks, and I can't look at her. I can't lie to her while looking into her eyes.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Things seem a little forced between you and that Kip. I don’t like the way he put you down last night. Two cake shops is incredible, sweetie.”

  “I know that, I’m not worried about opening more, Kip just wants to support me. But he gets me. Things are easy, he gives me my space when I need it, and looks after me when I need him.”

  “Baby, it’s easy to dodge our responsibilities, but we cannot dodge the consequences of dodging our responsibilities.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It might be easy now, but what’s going to happen years down the line when you regret not discovering what you really want?”

  I look past Mum, and she looks behind her instantly. Deacon comes into the beer garden with a slim brunette, carrying a bottle of beer and her glass of wine. He sits down, facing me but not noticing me.

  “I know what I want.” I watch as Deacon leans in and nuzzles into the girl’s neck, “I want to walk round the shops.”

  I stand up and wait for Mum to stand up with me. We finish the wine at the bottom of our glasses, leaving the half full bottle on the table and I follow her out of the beer garden. She places her hand on Deacon’s shoulder as we walk past; while I ignore him, and pretend not to see the shocked expression on his face.

  “Jen.” I hear him call, but I have no urge to be introduced to his girlfriend.

  “Try it on,” Mum says, handing me a short black summer dress, “The weather will start heating up here soon.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  My phone rings, and I notice it’s Abbie, the assistant manager of my shop in Camden. I hand the dress back to my mum and step outside the shop, “Hi, Abs. What’s up?”

  “Just a quick call. I need some help.”

  “Sure. Fire away.” I walk along the road to sit on the bench outside the bakery.

  “Well, an Italian couple ordered a coffee tiramisu cake for their wedding. I was just looking through the order to trial the cake with them on Monday but I’m not sure how much coffee to put in. Strong or weak? It’s unprofessional to call them and ask right?”

  “It’s a trial tasting?” I ask her, shaking my head and smiling.

  “Yeah.”

  “Right, so use our usual recipe, with the tablespoon of instant coffee. If it’s for a wedding you won't want it too strong. So if they’re unsure about the strength maybe suggest some coffee-dipped sponge fingers around the outside as the decoration. That way people can take them off if the coffee is too much. Coffee cake for a wedding.” I scoff.

  “I know, right? That’s a good idea. I can use a buttermilk icing to make it look like a proper tiramisu. Perfect, you’re a star, boss. When are you back in the office?”

  I look around to make sure I’m on my own and I notice the bakery is shut. Weird.

  “Uh, I’m not sure. There are a few family things to sort out and I haven’t seen my niece in forever. I’m going to check in with Carl, and if you're both alright holding the fort, I might stay for a while.” I look into the bakery window and notice it’s completely empty, except for the glass display counter and three tables lining one wall with the chairs turned up on them.

  “Yeah we’re all good. Check in at Covent Garden. Just let me know when you’re coming back.”

  “Sure thing.” I answer, distracted. We say our goodbyes and hang up.

  My mum appears at the window next to me and hands me a bag with the dress in. I smile half a smile as I look through the window. I used to buy all my cakes from here when I was younger, and this is the only place I’d stolen anything. Deacon made me feel so bad for pinching a cookie off the counter that I took it back and apologised. Mrs. Hale was so happy that I apologised and went back that she let me keep the cookie. I gave it to Deacon.

  “What happened?” I ask mum and step away from the shop.

  “People die. Jane passed away last year, and she had no one to take over the shop. The supermarket orders in the bread and pastries now.”

  “There’s nowhere to buy fresh cakes and bread anymore?”

  My mum shakes her head and continues to walk along the high street. I quickly jot down the number in the window before catching up with her.

  “I think I might make some magdalenas when we get back.”

  “That will impress your dad. Your grandma used to make the best magdalenas.”

  I thank Mum for the dress again and link my arm with hers and we walk through town.

  ~

  I’m full from dinner and relaxed after having a bath. Jonas went into town for a night out with his girlfriend, Grace, so I had the bathroom all to myself without worrying about someone needing to come in. I pull on a pair of my old shorts and a vest and climb into bed, looking at my phone and the number I saved in it earlier. Could I do it? Should I do it? I can always hire someone to take over if things go wrong, and go back. I hit ‘call’ and hold the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?” Answers a low voice on the other side of the line.

  “Hi. I took your number from the window in the bakers in Folquay.” I pause, making sure I’m ready to do this, “I want to buy it.”

  Chapter 3

  Deacon

  I’m spending another day hiding in the office. I can't believe what happened on Saturday. It was fine for Jenna to introduce me as a nobody in front of her boyfriend, but when I tried to introduce her to the girl I’m trying to replace her with, she pretends I don’t exist. It made me feel like shit, and then I had to put up with all the questions from April about who she was.

  I signed for the supplies delivery today, and I’ve sorted out who I need on what jobs for tomorrow, as well as calling in a couple of extras to get Mike’s job finished today. Mr. Crane has finally sent over the complete project brief as well as information on the percentage that the council will pay towards the job. It’s going to take a few weeks to get it done, so everyone has to clear up their jobs over the next couple of weeks so I can get a big team on the job. I pencil our lunch into my diary, shut down my computer and leave the office.

  When I step outside it’s quiet. It’s nearly lunchtime and normally the boys end up back here for their breaks if they’re working nearby. I stick a note on the front door that I’ll be back later, and head to my car. I pull my phone out of my pocket and notice I have four mi
ssed calls from April since I spoke to her this morning. She wants me to go to her parents’ house for dinner, but that’s not gonna happen. I just haven’t worked out how to let her down gently yet. There’s still the matter of Kate and Lizzie to worry about, and I’m running out of energy keeping them all on the go and away from each other. I send April a text; I don’t care how much of dick it makes me.

  ‘Busy at work. Won’t make it to dinner. I think it’s a good idea if we cool things down a bit.’

  I wait a couple of minutes, but she doesn’t reply. Hopefully she’s got the message.

  The truck roars to life and I head back to town. The nice weather has brought a few tourists in and the high street is buzzing with energy; there are people on the beach, and sitting outside the coffee shops and pubs. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Folquay is a tourist town. I walk past the old bakers on the way to get some lunch and notice it’s all boarded up. Finally someone’s going to do something with the empty space. I get to the deli and pick up a sandwich.

  “Kip?” I ask, shocked that he’s back and standing in front of me in the queue.

  “Oh, hey.” He says, clearly not remembering my name.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Jenna’s staying here for a while. I haven’t got work so I thought I’d come stay. See Esteban and Mindy for a few days. Isn’t Phillipa adorable?”

  “Mm hmm.” I answer, stepping out of the queue and back to the fridge. Anything to get away from him. I laugh to myself, how he felt the need to reveal he knows her family names. He’s not part of her family, I remember the looks from Esteban and Mindy and I smile at the fact he’s clearly threatened by me.

  “See you around.” He says, with a smug look on his face as he walks out of the shop.

  I step up to the counter and hand over my sandwich.

  “Dennis, you seen Jenna about?” I ask as he adds up my order, and makes my coffee without me having to ask.