Preston's Honor

by Mia Sheridan

He sighed. “That position has been filled. Sorry again.” His jaw set and I knew from the experience of working with him that he wouldn’t change his mind.

  I sighed too, nodding. “Okay. Well thanks anyway.” I almost offered my cell number in case a position became available, but I highly suspected he was lying to me, and that would have only further embarrassed us both.

  I turned and headed for the door and as I did, I heard the hostess whisper, “Is it true she abandoned her own baby?”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “You can’t always understand some cultures.”

  The words slammed into me, the sound of the door closing providing the additional sound effect of rejection. You can’t always understand some cultures? Had he assumed I’d left Hudson because my Mexican heritage left some moral void inside me? I tried to muster some indignation but it only flared for a second before it fizzled out like a fire being lit in the rain.

  I walked to my car and got in, sitting in the parking lot with the window rolled down for a second. Movement outside my car surprised me, and I sucked in a startled breath as I turned my head.

  “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to scare you.” He was an older Mexican man with a weathered, though handsome face and an easy smile. He removed the hat that had been on his head and smoothed his black hair away from his face.

  “That’s, uh, that’s all right.” I felt at a disadvantage sitting in my car while he stood outside my window, but he stepped back and put some distance between himself and my vehicle as if he’d read my mind. I instantly felt safer.

  “I couldn’t help overhear you were asking for a job, and see, my family owns a restaurant just down the road and we sure could use an extra waitress.”

  “Oh . . . I . . . really?”

  His smile widened. “Seemed kinda like fate the way I was just passing by and happened to hear the exchange.”

  “Yes, I . . . thank you.” I tilted my head, considering the restaurants I knew were nearby. “Abuelo’s?” Grandfather’s. I’d seen the restaurant from the outside, but I’d never been there. Hope soared inside me at the sudden change in circumstance.

  “Sí. You go today and ask for Rosa. Tell her Alejandro sent you for the waitressing position.” He smiled and tipped his hat before replacing it on his head and walking away.

  I leaned out the window and called, “Thank you.”

  He shot a wide smile over his shoulder and then got in an old truck parked a few spaces away and drove out of the lot.

  I hesitated for just a moment, attempting to regain my equilibrium. I’d just gone from hopeful, to disappointed, to angry and humiliated, to hopeful again in the space of fifteen minutes, and that was a lot of internal bouncing around, even for me.

  I drove the short distance to Abuelo’s and parked in the lot, telling myself not to get my hopes up too high from the word of a stranger I’d just met.

  When I opened the front door, the delicious smell of grilling meat and the soft sounds of mariachi music playing on overhead speakers greeted me.

  The space was open and airy with tall, beamed ceilings and lots of windows, but the décor was quaint and decidedly Mexican inspired with vibrant colors, large, wooden chandeliers that appeared rustic and handcrafted, and a mural that took up one entire wall. I tried to take in the details of the art, but I was too far away.

  “Hello. One?” A smiling young girl approached me, holding a menu. Though she spoke English, her Spanish accent was pronounced.

  “Oh. No, actually. I’m here to see Rosa?”

  “Ah. Sí. Un minuto.” She walked away, turning toward a set of double doors and disappearing inside. I stood waiting, my nerves building. After a couple of minutes, the doors opened again and an older woman appeared, walking toward me.

  “Hello. I’m Rosa.” Rosa was a lovely Mexican woman who looked to be in her forties, with her black hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck, wide inquisitive eyes, and a lilting Spanish accent.

  I smiled and held out my hand. I hoped she couldn’t feel that it was shaking slightly. I’d never been very good at putting myself out there—and I’d done it once this morning to terrible results. Rosa’s hand was warm and soft and her smile was the same.

  “Alejandro said I should ask for you about a waitressing position that may be open.”

  For a second she appeared confused, but then she smiled again. “Ah, Alejandro.” Her gaze became more scrutinizing, and I held myself still so as not to fidget under her assessment. “Yes, we do have a position open. Do you have experience?”

  “Yes. I worked at IHOP for three years. I could provide a reference.” Not from Ron.

  Rosa smiled again. “A reference from Alejandro is more than enough. He’s my husband. I trust him.”

  I wasn’t above a white lie now and again, especially when it came to acquiring a job I really needed, but something about this woman’s kind eyes and gentle manner made me hesitant to be anything except completely honest with her. “Well, see, I . . . don’t actually know Alejandro. I just met him about ten minutes ago.”

  Rosa laughed, a pretty, sweet sound that made me smile, though with some confusion. She put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s enough, too. What size shirt do you wear?”

  I blinked. “Size?”

  “For a uniform.”

  My heart soared. “Oh, um. Small.”

  “I think we have several of those already in the back. Good. No need to order one. We’ll just get you a nametag. What’s your name, dear?”

  “Annalia. Thank you so much.”

  “No, thank you. How soon can you start?”

  “Right away. As soon as possible.”

  “Ah! Even better. Okay. Come with me, and I’ll put you with María today so she can train you.”

  I felt one hundred pounds lighter than I had when I’d left IHOP. I had a job, and I could begin getting my life back on track. I was near Hudson, and I hoped and prayed Preston would work out a schedule with me so I could see him regularly.

  I didn’t know what was possible as far as our relationship, and I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping for in that regard. We’d gone so far past what I assumed was the point at which we might have been able to salvage something—even friendship.

  I couldn’t help the hurt and bitterness that still clung to me like a second skin, and I knew Preston felt the same. I knew he had been lost to his grief—understandably so—but I never understood why he had seemed to hate me. One night he’d claimed he’d always wanted me, and then . . . then . . . nothing. I never understood why he had barely been able to look at me without wincing. We’d once been friends. And then, though briefly, lovers. I’d once dreamed for much more.

  But . . . this was a step in the right direction as far as my own life was concerned, and that’s what I had to focus on right now if I was going to be any kind of mother to my son.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Preston

  The screen creaked with familiarity as I pulled it open, using my forearm to wipe the sweat from my brow. The day was mild but the kitchen felt stuffy, and I told myself for the thousandth time I needed to get this old house wired for central air. Money was still tight though. It’d probably be another few years before I could afford to do something like that.

  “I thought it was supposed to rain today,” Tracie said, coming into the kitchen and shooting me a smile. Hudson was in her arms, having just woken from his nap. He was clutching his favorite blanket, his thumb in his mouth.

  I gave Tracie a small smile in return before I went to the sink to wash my hands. “That’s what they said, but I don’t see any sign of it.” Then again, I hadn’t seen any sign of it that night either and still, the rain had come.

  I leaned forward and used my hand to put a little bit of the cold water on the back of my sweaty neck. Grabbing a paper towel, I dried my hands and then turned around, enjoying the feel of the water droplets that were still sliding down into the collar of my shirt. The material would catch the excess.

&nbs
p; I held out my arms for Hudson and Tracie handed him to me, her eyes lingering on my throat. I felt a single bead of water move over the skin there and Tracie swallowed, moving her eyes away and turning abruptly.

  I stilled, Hudson in my arms. Was my mom right? Was Tracie attracted to me? I’d never noticed it before . . . but would I have? Probably not. I’d been in my own world for what felt like a long time now.

  I suddenly felt awkward as if the mood in the room had changed, and we both knew it. “Hey, buddy,” I said softly, kissing Hudson’s sweet-smelling hair and focusing on the baby in hopes of moving past the strange tension I suddenly felt. “Did you sleep good? You thirsty? It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” I set him in his high chair and strapped him in before putting the tray in place and then filled his sippy cup with a quarter apple juice and three-fourths water. I handed it to him, and he took it with a toothy smile, sticking it in his mouth and tipping it back. “Good boy,” I murmured.

  Tracie had moved to the counter and was heating up a bowl of pasta. I moved out of the way when she approached Hudson’s high chair, taking a seat and putting the bowl on his tray. He set his sippy cup down and she spooned some soft noodles into his mouth. “That good?” she crooned, smiling at him affectionately.

  She was good with him and obviously cared for him very much. I was lucky to have found her after Lia left. At the thought of Lia, my stomach squeezed as it usually did. Christ Almighty, would I ever find peace when it came to even the very thought of her?

  I sighed, taking a seat in a chair on the other side of the table and leaning on my forearms as I watched Tracie spoon-feed my son.

  I hadn’t called Lia yet like I’d told her I would. I was still getting used to the idea that she was back in town. I felt like I needed a couple of days to get my bearings, to regain some calm, and try to let go of some of the resentment that had built up for six long months. It wouldn’t do Hudson any good for us to be at each other’s throats. She was his mother. We’d have to work something out. It was just that the idea of her being back in my life regularly made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. As much as I’d tried desperately to find her, as much as I was grateful she was okay for Hudson’s sake, I didn’t know how to sort all my own feelings out. We’d veered too far off track to make anything work between the two of us, so how was I going to handle seeing her on a regular basis as . . . what? Sort of friends eventually? Co-parents who tolerated each other?

  “I ordered the cake for tomorrow,” Tracie said, glancing over at me and snapping me from the turmoil going on in my head. When I looked at her blankly, she tipped her head, giving me a wry smile. “You didn’t forget about Hudson’s party, did you?”

  Oh God, Hudson’s first birthday party was tomorrow and I had forgotten. Jesus. “No, I didn’t forget. Thank you for taking care of so much of it, though. It’s not really in your job description. I appreciate it.”

  She grinned at me. “I’m happy to do anything to celebrate this sweet kiddo. Plus, it kept me busy during his naps.” She turned back to Hudson and spooned some more food into his mouth as he babbled happily. I took a second to really look at her. She was fresh and pretty with her wavy blonde hair and direct, blue eyes. A classic farm girl. There was something so straightforward and simple about her. She didn’t have eyes that clouded over with private dreams or lips that curved with secret thoughts—expressions that tormented a man with the need to know what was behind them. No, she’d be frank and honest, sweet and forthcoming. Not like Lia who said nothing was wrong as she turned away with an injured expression and tear-filled eyes. Not like Lia who ran away rather than making a stand. Each time I’d run after her because I couldn’t fucking help myself. Look where it’d gotten me. Look where it’d gotten her.

  Or maybe it was me who had been the coward. Maybe it was me who needed to make a stand. Goddamn it! I raked my fingers through my hair, trying desperately to shut out the torment. I wished I drank. If I did, I could have spent the whole last year shitfaced. I could be three sheets to the wind right this second.

  “Are you okay, Preston?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry, just wool gathering.”

  She nodded and without looking at me said, “Camille told me Hudson’s mother is back in town.” She shot me a quick glance, looking slightly uncomfortable as if it might not be a topic she should bring up. She took care of Hudson, though. She had a right to know about things that pertained to him.

  “Yeah. She is.”

  “Is that, um, good or bad?”

  I sighed. “I’m not entirely sure yet. We haven’t really talked.”

  “Are you going to invite her to Hudson’s birthday party?”

  God, I hadn’t thought about it, but I guessed I’d have to. It would be cruel not to. There was no way she wouldn’t know her son’s own birthday, so it would be awful to leave her out. I had a hell of a lot of negative emotions regarding Lia, but I wasn’t going to be purposely vindictive. I certainly wouldn’t be giving her much notice. That wasn’t on purpose, though. If Tracie hadn’t reminded me, I might not have shown up. Nice. I’d text her later tonight.

  Tracie nodded, focusing back on Hudson and biting her lip.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  She glanced at me again quickly and her cheeks had colored slightly. A soft shade of pink that made her eyes an even more striking blue. “Are you and she going to try to work things out?”

  How could we? There was no way back from where we’d been. Too much bitterness, too much animosity, far too much baggage and mistrust.

  “No.”

  She glanced away and then back at me shyly, nodding her head. “That’s . . . I mean . . .” Her cheeks colored even more. She was . . . pleased. I hated that my own words had brought me distress and a hopeless sock to my gut, but I didn’t know what to do about that. Never knew what to do about that.

  “Tracie, do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?”

  Her eyes widened slightly but she smiled. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah . . . I . . .” I ran my hand through my still sweat-damp hair. “Just a meal.” Simple. Straightforward. Maybe exactly what I needed. Maybe it would help me find some answers.

  “I’d love to.” And there was her smile. It wasn’t a smile I’d known since I was a boy. It wasn’t a smile I’d loved desperately with every beat of my heart. It wasn’t a smile that completely shattered my defenses. But it was a sweet smile. Tracie’s smile.

  **********

  The Mexican restaurant was busy on a Friday night and I wondered if I should have made a reservation. But when I told the hostess there were two of us for dinner, she smiled and told us to follow her to a table by the window.

  I pulled Tracie’s chair out for her and sat down, glancing around. I’d never been here before, though I’d driven by it often enough, and was glad Tracie had mentioned it. It had a charming old-world feel that appealed to me and the lighting was bright enough to see the cleanliness of the surroundings while not being so bright that it didn’t also provide a calming ambiance.

  The wall in front of our booth was covered in a colorful mural, depicting an outdoor scene in Mexico. The clothing the people wore and the presence of horses told me it was a depiction from the early nineteen hundreds. My eye was caught by a couple, the woman sitting on a low wall with her legs crossed demurely at her ankles, holding a flower to her nose while a man was on one knee before her, gazing upward with such naked adoration it snagged my heart for a second. The artist was good—I felt that look because I knew the emotions behind it, the gut-churning, soul-crushing need for a woman who was just it for you. I’d felt that way. For a moment, I felt true pity for the poor guy in the painting.

  Tracie picked up her menu and gave me a shy smile and I managed a smile back, feeling slightly off balance at being so swiftly pulled back to the moment. Not only that, but the truth was, even though I’d enjoyed female companionship in college, I really never found anyone I’d been i
nterested in dating. This was a somewhat new experience for me.

  “Are you as nervous as I am?” Tracie asked.

  I looked up from my menu, and she was looking at me shyly from beneath her lashes. “The truth is, I haven’t really dated much,” I said, voicing what I’d been thinking a moment before.

  She tilted her head. “What about Hudson’s mother?”

  I felt the heat rise in my face and hoped Tracie couldn’t see it under the tan I had from working outside all day. What did I say? We didn’t really date? The extent of our romance was twenty earth-shattering minutes on top of my farmhouse table? But that wasn’t true either. I’d loved Lia fiercely since we were children. “It’s complicated,” I murmured.

  She stared at me for a moment before looking down at her menu.

  “What about you?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “Do you go out a lot?”

  She shrugged. “With friends sometimes. But you may have noticed that Linmoor isn’t exactly hopping as far as a social scene goes.”

  I laughed, feeling the mood lighten. “That’s for sure.”

  Tracie smiled and looked at her menu again. “Gosh, everything looks good. What are you going to get?”

  I looked at my own menu for a second and when I looked up, I noticed a waitress at the table across from us delivering their food. I paused, frowning. I knew that slim figure, that straight back and curved—

  Oh, Christ Almighty.

  It was Lia.

  She turned, her eyes tangling with mine as the color washed from her face. For a moment the world stopped, and we were the only two in it. It felt just like it had felt a few days before when she’d stepped into the diner and spotted me in the back. Only then, I’d had the span of an entire room to prepare for her to arrive in front of me, to rein in my emotions and attempt to calm my racing heartbeat. Now, now, she was three steps away.

  She looked behind her quickly, appearing to either be looking for an escape route or checking to see if there was anyone else who could take over for her.