by Lizzy Ford
His moodiness temporarily replaced by good humor and hunger, he wolfs down his burger and sits back to nibble on his fries. It’s slow between the lunch and dinner rushes, and I straighten up the dishes under the counter.
Another regular, an old man, enters and sits at the end of the breakfast bar. “Your usual, Henry?” I call.
“Yep.”
I put in his order then pour his decaf coffee.
“His leg bends and everything. He can even ride a motorcycle with it,” Todd adds between French fries.
“You’re obsessing over this guy’s leg, Todd. It’s kind of weird,” I chide him, uncertain what it is my brother finds fascinating about the one-legged war hero.
“Khavalov boy?” Henry asks, lifting his attention from the Sudoku book in front of him.
“Yeah,” Todd answers. “He came to our school today.”
“Good kid,” Henry says in approval. “Shame what happened to his twin.”
I listen as they chat about the visitor, more interested in the idea Todd is opening up to a stranger than anything else. My brother is more reticent about talking to others than I am. At least as a waitress, I have the opportunity for small talk, unlike Todd, who tends to be withdrawn and studious.
I take care of my duties and then return to the counter.
“No way!” Todd exclaims. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” Henry says.
“What’d I miss?” I ask curiously.
“Remember when we passed by the castle outside of town when we moved here?” Todd asks. “It’s their house. The Khavalovs.”
“Crazy.” Born and raised lower middle class, I can’t imagine the stone compound, with its foreboding façade, is somewhere people actually live. I mistook it for a hotel when we drove into Glory Glade.
“I didn’t think you all were from around here,” Henry says. “I never forget a face.” He taps his temple. “Where you from?”
Todd clamps up immediately, and I quickly sort through the list of places we’ve claimed to live to ensure my story is consistent with what I’ve told others here. “From out west,” I reply. “The Inland Empire, as they call it. It’s the farmland in the middle of California.” It’s not a complete lie; we lived near LA for five years when Todd and I were children. I know the area we’re claiming to be from well enough to answer general questions, and it’s far from where we spent most of our lives in the South.
“Can you believe I’ve never been farther west than Colorado?” Henry says. “California seems like a foreign country. Welcome to Glory Glade.”
“Thanks.” I smile.
Todd has sunk into another melancholic quiet, his focus on his French fries and excitement about the bionic billionaire vanished.
It makes me sad to see the sudden change. It’s more than teen angst that causes it, and the reminder that I’m the reason my brother hasn’t known stability or a real home in four and a half years hurts me.
I want so much more for him. I don’t know how to make that happen, though, not with the way things are now.
My phone vibrates and I freeze automatically.
Todd, close enough to hear it, looks up quickly. We stare at each other for a moment before I reach in to check the message.
“Did he find us?” he whispers.
I sigh, unaware of how tight my chest is until I try to take a deep breath. I show him the phone. “Reminder about your dentist appointment in two weeks.”
Todd isn’t as quick to relax as I am. He gazes at his plate, no longer reaching for the fries.
“We’re okay, kid,” I assure him and lean over the counter to whack him on the arm. The movement reveals the scars along my inner arm, a constant reminder of what we’re running from. “Promise.”
He nods. “I’m almost big enough to take care of you.”
“Almost. Until then, I’ll take care of you.” He hit a growth spurt this year and grew half a foot. He’s my height now. While he doesn’t yet tower over me, he definitely will by the end of the school year. “Go hide out in the corner and start your homework.”
This time, there’s no sigh or eye rolling or snarky response when he grabs his bag and stands. For once, I wish there was. I want him to be a normal teen whose biggest issues are homework and girls instead of a troubled kid who lives in a state of constant worry and fears trusting anyone.
A customer enters. I spot him in my peripheral.
“Take a seat anywhere you like,” I call automatically.
“Thanks.”
Male, great physical shape, walks with a slight limp. I don’t bother looking at him directly; I keep my senses honed to detect anything about those around me that’s suspicious, so I can spot danger before it finds me. I’ve become a spy novel enthusiast of sorts, and use what tips I pick up to remain always cognizant of my surroundings and anyone new.
Grabbing a menu, napkin with utensils rolled within it and a glass of water, I neatly skirt the counter and go to the booth. “Just you?” I ask and set down the contents of my hands.
“I’m expecting company.”
“One more?”
“Hopefully.”
At the wry amusement in his gravelly tone, I look up and meet striking blue eyes in a cleanly shaven face with chiseled cheekbones and a heavy jaw. His crooked nose shows signs of having been broken more than once, and there’s a scar down one cheek. The combination on another man might make him rough, but on this one, it renders him charmingly roguish. His look is direct, eyes sparkling with mischief, intelligence and … awareness. Like a cop or soldier. The town has plenty of both. He’s wearing a dark sweater and jeans, and his brown hair is in a high-and-tight. His woodsy scent is too faint to be cologne. Aftershave probably, high end.
I can’t recall the last time I noticed a man. It’s been at least four or five years, since the madness that is my life began.
It registers that I’m openly staring at him. “I’ll get you another menu,” I say finally.
His gaze drops to my nametag. “Thanks … Claudia.”
I hurry away. My heart is beating quickly, and it’s not because I’m scared for once. Knock it off, Claudia. There’s no way.
I’m struck by the power of my yearning for a chance to have a normal, boring life again. Gathering up another menu, silverware and water, I return to the table.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask the handsome stranger.
“Water’s fine, thanks.”
Before I wind up staring again, I walk away briskly and return to my safe spot behind the counter. Todd is in his usual booth in the corner with his iPad and notebook out.
Several minutes pass before a gorgeous brunette, dressed for a swanky club rather than a diner, steps in and heads towards the booth with the handsome stranger. My stomach sinks. She’s definitely the kind of woman I’d place him with: sophisticated, attractive, and decked out in designer clothing.
I give her a moment then cross to them to take their orders.
“I’ll have a house salad and bottled water,” she says with a quick though tight smile.
“Cheeseburger, fries,” the handsome man replies.
The woman raises an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think that was on your diet.”
“Make that double fries.” He winks at me.
I turn away before smiling. The air between them is charged, and not in the way of two people in love. If appearances are any indication, she’s not pleased to be there and his calmness is hiding a great deal of emotion.
Placing their order, my eyes are drawn to them once more. I tell myself it has nothing to do with the handsome stranger, that I’m simply envious at witnessing a normal couple probably talking about normal things in a diner, but I’m fantasizing about what it’d be to sit with him. What do people even talk about anymore? It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten.
Then again, judging by the body language of the two, I’d probably rather skip this conversation.
By the time their food is ready, the w
oman has left.
I feel kind of bad about it. Not sure what to do about her salad, I take it to the table.
“Um, will she be back?” I ask awkwardly.
“Nah. You can take the salad back,” he replies. He smiles, though I see sadness in the depths of his warm eyes that surprises me.
It’s not usual for me to connect with anyone, and certainly not a stranger, but I feel it with him. A kindred sense of shared sadness, disappointment and longing.
And I’m staring again. What is wrong with me today? “I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“I’m not.”
Setting down his plate, I pick up the salad, feeling as though I should say something else. “Enough fries?”
Now that was lame. Not that it matters what the attractive man thinks of me, but it bothers me to see others in pain.
“Perfect,” he replies. “What kind of pies do you have today?”
“Apple, peach, coconut cream and pecan.”
“I’ll take a slice of pecan.”
I whisk the offensive salad and any sign of his failed date away. It’s the one thing I can do to help.
“Claud, can you help me with the freezer?” the cook calls.
“Sure!” I join him in back. He injured his shoulder last weekend, so I’m doing the heavy lifting for now. Several frozen boxes of food later, I return to my post and am about to make my rounds to check on the customers when I see Todd seated in the booth across from the sad man with the pretty eyes.
They appear to be in deep conversation, and Todd’s features express his fascination about whatever the stranger is saying.
But Todd with a stranger … it disturbs me. I’m terrified of something happening to my little brother, and my ex has used all manner of schemes and tricks to try to get to me, including sending strangers to befriend me and lure me somewhere where my ex can get me.
I take the man’s pie to the table. “Todd, you’re not bothering him, are you?” I ask casually.
“This is my sister.” Todd rolls his eyes. “She’s the one who won’t let me take karate classes.”
“And who feeds and clothes you,” I point out.
“Whatever. Claud, this is the guy from school today.” Todd’s face lights up again. “He only has one leg!”
“Todd!” I snap, startled my brother is being so rude. “Please excuse my little brother for being an ass.” My face is hot as I look at the stranger.
“When she’s upset, she curses,” Todd informs the stranger matter-of-factly. “I’ve been trying to curb that habit.”
I slap him on the back of the head.
The stranger is grinning. “I live in constant fear of my sister, too.”
I don’t know why his broad smile and sparkling eyes make me feel flustered, but they do. “Go do your homework, Todd.”
“It’s done.”
I level a cool look on him.
“Fine.” He sighs loudly. “Nice talking to you Petr. One day you’ll have to show Claudia your leg.”
I have no idea how to respond in a way that won’t offend the man named Petr and instead, return to the counter.
Todd retreats to his booth, but I can tell he doesn’t want to be there. He keeps glancing at Petr.
I want Todd to be happy. I haven’t seen him this excited about someone as he is this guy. His face glows like the prematurely displayed Christmas lights displayed in the windows. But I also don’t want my brother around a stranger. At least, not until I’m certain this Petr wasn’t sent to find us by the man who’s tormenting us.
The stranger eats his pie, and I find myself looking between the two of them. It’s not fair that Todd can’t have friends or be happy or be normal. I don’t get any weird vibes from the man named Petr. If anything, my stomach flutters when he looks at me.
I want so much for this town to be the last stop on our wild ride. I’m trying to make that the case in what ways I can. Todd deserves so much more. I may never really recover from all that’s happened, but I’m desperate to ensure he does.
He’s gazing at the stranger as if he’s debating approaching him again.
Whatever it is about Petr, Todd likes him, and that puts me in an unexpected position.
Chapter Three: Petr
Todd’s sister returns to clear my table. I lean back and watch her. She’s unnaturally pretty with elfin features, hazel eyes and the same dirty blonde hair color that Todd has. Her long, straight hair is in a loose ponytail. She smells like French fries from working here, and her frame is toned and shapely.
After the mess with Brianna, I kinda feel like I need to talk to someone, even if I don’t directly discuss what happened. I’m extroverted by nature, and it’s still a difficult adjustment not being able to call my brother Mikael whenever I want to chat. If I tell my sister, Katya, that I saw Brianna …
I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll save that discussion for later.
Claudia isn’t the warm type. She operates with absent-minded detachment, not quite cold, but not overly friendly either. I can’t quite figure out if she does it on purpose or is naturally standoffish.
“Todd’s a good kid,” I say.
She glances at me, her expression softening. “Yeah. He is. Sorry if he’s bugging you.”
“Not at all. Kids ask what adults are afraid to about my leg,” I smile. “It doesn’t bother me. I think it’s cool to have a war wound.”
“You think your bionic leg is cool?” Her nose wrinkles, as if she isn’t certain what to think of that.
I laugh. I have to admit – I enjoy messing with people about my leg. It makes everyone uncomfortable, with the exception of my father, who shares my childlike fascination with the prosthetic limb.
Claudia is blushing. “You’ve got good … um, spirit about it, if nothing else.”
“Did you ask her?” Todd hisses. He’s creeping towards us.
Claudia’s gaze sharpens. “Ask me what?”
He eases back. “Nothing.”
“Todd.” Her cool look moves from him to me.
Sensing my danger, I manage not to smile. “I offered to take him to karate classes. I planned on asking you for your permission,” I tell her.
“You don’t ask a complete stranger to take you places,” she scolds her brother.
“I know, but –”
“Homework. Now.”
Todd slinks off.
I give him a sympathetic smile. Claudia is calmer than my fireball of a sister, but I still know what it means to be on the receiving end of an angry sister. “I’m not a complete stranger,” I try.
She glares at me and snatches the napkin from the table.
“Okay. I crossed a line.” I hold up my hands. “My apologies.”
Claudia strides back to the counter and deposits the dirty dishes in bins.
Todd appears crestfallen. I shrug at him. The kid has an issue, one he’s skirting despite talking to me about learning to fight, since I wouldn’t answer his earlier questions. I’m not seeing anything that leads me into the direction of what his issue might be, and his sister isn’t the kind to open up easily.
A glance at her reveals her troubled eyes are focused on her brother.
It shouldn’t matter, I guess. I tend to go a bit overboard trying to help others when I’m hurting, which I am right now. The talk with Brianna was a disaster. I don’t even want to think about it let alone acknowledge the barrier between us wasn’t as thick as I had thought it to be.
What if no other woman will want someone broken like me?
I hate these kinds of thoughts. I was blissfully confident my whole life. I had no idea such crippling emotions existed before the incident overseas, and I’m constantly fighting them off. It’s getting better – easier to dismiss them – the more time passes.
But my injury forced me to re-evaluate everything I took for granted in my life. I had never thought twice about the future I had assumed was mine. I assumed I’d eventually meet a woman I couldn’t live without, get marri
ed and continue going on missions until the day I either retired alongside Mikael or was killed alongside Mikael in battle.
Everything about my life is different. The clear path is gone. I’m left questioning everything from why Mikael is gone and I’m not, to what I really want to do with my life now that I can’t go into battle anymore, to why I shoot down my own impulse to ask out a woman as pretty as Claudia because I can’t get Brianna’s reaction to my leg out of my mind.
I have the urge to call Mikael and meet him at the running trail that winds through the forests on my family’s property or the paintball center. Whenever one of us had girl problems, it’s what we did. Everything seems better after some quality time working out with a best friend.
“Henry vouched for you.”
I look up as Claudia pauses beside my table once more. She motions to the old man seated at the counter. He waves a gnarly hand at me. I don’t know him, but I’m guessing he’s a long-time resident of Glory Glade. Everyone in town knows my family and most of the town turned out for Mikael’s wake.
“But I have questions.” Claudia slides into the booth across from me.
“Shoot,” I tell her, unconcerned.
“Who are you and why do you want to take my brother to Karate class?”
I chuckle. She’s dead serious, and I sense she’ll make her decision based on how satisfied she is with my response.
“I’m Petr Khavalov. I’m in the Army, currently assigned to the local recruitment division. I visit schools, show the kids my leg, tell them my story, and hope they make smart choices about their futures,” I begin. “I was a special operations soldier – Green Beret – up until an ambush took off my leg and killed my twin a little over a year and a half ago. When I’m not on duty, I do charity work and try not to let my mercurial sister find my stash of chocolate or my father’s Russian cook beat me with a wooden spoon when I sneak in and grab dinner early. My favorite color is green, and I tend to ignore my doctor’s advice about my leg.”
She’s listening. I can’t quite tell which way she’s leaning, though she appears to be trying not to smile.