Uncharted Fate

by Racette, Cynthia

  "All right. All right. A ten will be more than enough. It's simply a belt. I'll bring you the change, if there is any." As she took the ten out of her wallet and handed it to him, he added, "I could come over on Saturday to put it in. Or do you have to work?"

  "No, Saturday's okay. Hey, in all the excitement, I forgot to tell you. I got a new job today. I'll be working at le Bistro, two blocks from Betty's. I'll be making a lot more money and the work will be easier, too."

  "Great. See? I told you you'd do fine after a while. I'll have to stop in and see you. I'll miss you at the diner, though." Jeff checked his watch. "We'd better get going. I'm sure Cam has homework to do."

  "Okay. See you Saturday morning. And Jeff." She gazed into his eyes and brushed a quick kiss across his lips. "Thank you for finding Brian this afternoon. I'm glad you were there. I was almost out of my mind for a while. Once bitten, you know."

  "I know. I was glad I could be here to help, too. Brian's a nice boy, and I'm growing quite fond of him. I left him downstairs, sanding something." He hesitated, unrolling his shirt sleeves. "Uh, Anna? He asked me if I could help him finish the CD cabinet his father was in the middle of making for Mallory. I could do it on Saturday but I told him I'd have to ask you. I'll be glad to do it, if it's all right with you."

  Anna tensed. "I'm not sure what to tell you. What do you think?"

  "I think it would be good for him to become involved in the woodworking again. It's something he enjoyed with his father. It might help him over some rough times. I could come over about ten o'clock, put the belt in, and spend an hour or two with Brian."

  "Okay, I guess it'd be good for him," Anna mumbled, turning away. There was a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach and she didn't know how to interpret it. Part of it was a lingering reluctance to let this man she still hardly knew use Mike's tools on Mike's workbench to finish a project Mike had started.

  Part of it, too, was relief knowing Brian would have a man to spend time with, even though she herself was reluctant to get too dependent on anyone again. Then there was the mixture of panic and anticipation at seeing Jeff again this soon. It all combined to form an amorphous, unsettled feeling.

  Jeff was not dense and had noted her reluctance, but decided it would be in both their best interests to ignore it. He wanted to know her better and spend more time with her too much to let her fears push him away. Their first date had been lovely. Tonight, though—helping her find Brian, sitting around the kitchen table munching pizza and talking like a family, going downstairs to fix the dryer knowing she was up there waiting for him—it felt good.

  Too damn good.

  He hadn't felt that whole, that much a part of a good thing, in years. Long before Jen left. Anna felt some of the goodness of the evening too, in spite of herself. He could tell. For her, seeing him was still an experience wrought with doubts and pain because the memory of losing her husband was too fresh. The attraction was there for her, however, and he knew it. He would build on what he had.

  Anna seemed like everything he'd thought Jen was in the beginning. Only more. She was gentle, sweet, compassionate, but also strong; stronger than she knew. And there was something about her, some inexplicable essence that reached into the core of him. She seemed to have the ability to peel off all the hurt edges of him and stroke his soul.

  He'd felt it at first when she'd sat in his office at the station, looking up at him in mute appeal. The feeling had grown when he'd taken her to dinner, and then cemented in the few hours he'd been here tonight.

  After he'd pried Cam out of Mallory's room and driven home, leaving his son to finish his homework, Jeff grabbed a beer, sat in his favorite recliner, and thought about Anna and her children. He knew what he wanted in life. At thirty-six, he had seen a lot in his years on the force. He was mature enough to know what he liked and didn't like. Anna felt right and he was very fond of her. Maybe too fond this soon. At any rate, he wanted to see her again.

  It might take her some time to figure out how she felt about him, but he already knew how he felt about her.

  Chapter 12

  Anna soon discovered that although her new job was less hectic and more profitable, it was by no means easy. Betty had been right. The kitchen was a long way from the cluster of tables. The exotic sandwiches and entrees covered with Hollandaise or Béarnaise sauce—and how did you even tell one from the other?—were on the expensive side. However, since they were also unique and delicious, they attracted a steady flow of businesspeople, leaving the place mobbed from twelve to three.

  Henri had something good going and he was aware of it, so he never slacked off in the slightest. He worked right alongside the cook to prepare the spectrum of unusual dishes for which the place was well-known. During the morning, the waitresses set up tables with white linen tablecloths, navy blue linen napkins, heavy old silver, and heavier crystal goblets. It was Anna's job every morning to fold the surplus of napkins into the intricate folds he required. During busy times they could then be fetched and set out quickly.

  Henri was a demanding employer. He held such high standards for his restaurant, there was always something to make the place special that needed doing. He was generous with the employees’ free time when the place was almost empty, to make up for the bustle when it was full. So, it worked out that the hours between three and five were quite easy.

  At the end of her second week, Anna decided to visit Mark and Stephanie after work on Friday. It'd been three weeks since she said she would stop by, and she hadn't gotten a chance yet. Rose agreed to keep Brian for a while longer than usual, so she didn't have to rush home. Thursday night, she baked a huge chocolate layer cake to bring with her, and resisted the temptation to take some groceries. She knew Mark had his pride and she didn’t want to embarrass him.

  Anna had been concerned over how he and the family felt about the groceries she'd sent earlier, and she didn't want to press her luck. He'd come in to thank her for them but seemed quieter than usual. It was hard for her to tell what he really felt.

  With the cake in its cake keeper on the front seat beside her, Anna checked the address Mark had written down of her, and parked her car on the street in front of his building. It was a huge old house past its prime, in need of paint, and divided into apartments. The small yard in front was filled with several scampering, ragged children and not much grass. An assortment of rusty, elderly cars were parked in the driveway and next to the house. One, by a dilapidated garage in the back, sat up on cinder blocks with jeans-clad legs protruding from beneath it.

  Anna fetched her cake and carried it past the interested children. On the front porch, an older child gave her directions to apartment twelve. It was on the third floor in the back and she finally found an unpainted door with a ‘twelve’ written on it in magic marker, and knocked.

  Mark answered the door, looking surprised, then pleased. "Come in, Anna. I'm surprised you actually turned up. I didn't think you would."

  "I would have called first to warn you, but I couldn't find a number for you."

  "No. A phone is a luxury. Come in and make yourself at home." He ushered her into what apparently served as a living room/dining area. She could see a small kitchen through the door on the left and a bedroom the other way. An ancient, wine-colored threadbare carpet that looked as if it had come from someone's great grandmother's house covered the center of the floor. A shabby olive-colored couch, two chairs, and a kitchen table, obviously Salvation Army finds, were set against the four walls. A few toys were scattered on the floor. Maybe I can send over some of the toys Brian’s outgrown.

  There were remnants of a meal on the table—it looked like scrambled eggs. A little girl—this would be Stacey—dressed in faded overalls with beautiful blond curls framing her face stuffed a last piece of toast in her mouth and jumped off her chair. "Hi," she giggled.

  "Hi," Anna repeate
d, smiling at her.

  Mark led Anna to the table to introduce his wife, a thin, pretty girl with curly brown hair who was without question the source of Stacey's curls. She held a baby about eight months old. Dressed in a pink pajama sleeper with the feet cut off and a little short on her legs and arms, she sucked on a strip of mushy toast.

  Stephanie murmured a shy greeting and added apologetically, "We only finished dinner, and I'm afraid I can't offer you anything."

  "Perfect, because I brought some dessert." Anna set the cake plate on the table and took off the top. Stacey's eyes lit up.

  "You really shouldn't have done it," Mark said. Stephanie looked at him as if afraid he would refuse it.

  "I always bring cake or something when I go visiting," Anna replied cheerfully. "Don't make me break with tradition. I'll have my dessert now with you and my supper later with my kids after I get home." He hesitated, so Anna offered Stephanie a smile. "May I hold the baby while you slice it? It's been way too long since I got to hold a baby. My youngest is nine."

  Stephanie's face broke into a grin. "Sure. She shouldn't cry. She seldom cries at strangers. Her name is Megan." Mark handed her off and Anna sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, cooing at the small child.

  Stephanie put thick slices of cake on several unmatched saucers and made some tea. After she handed Anna hers, she sat Megan on the floor with a teething ring and some blocks. Stacey knelt on her chair and attacked her cake, leaving a smear of chocolate two inches wide on either side of her mouth.

  "Anna, that was delicious." Stephanie patted her flat belly. "I haven't been able to make a cake in six months, and I never made one as delicious as yours."

  "Yes, thank you,” Mark added. “You've done so much for us. We're completely grateful, but . . ." His mouth trembled and it was clear he didn't know how to finish his sentence.

  Anna thought of the toys she had packed in boxes in the basement, wasting away, and decided she'd better bring up the subject now and avoid giving him more embarrassing surprises later. "As a matter of fact, I have some toys I was thinking of bringing over for the girls. They're things my kids have outgrown." She finished quickly when she saw a stubborn look steal over his face.

  "I can't accept them."

  "Mark, they're sitting in a box in my basement, of no use to anyone. I’d give the toys to a sister or brother if I had one, but I don't. I want to give them to your kids. It's better than letting them collect dust."

  Mark sat, fingering the chipped coffee mug, half-full of lukewarm tea, his expression torn as if he tried to decide what to do. She could tell it hurt his pride to let her give them something else, and his face mirrored his indecision.

  "Mark, please," Stephanie said, her hand over her husband's. "Anna said they were just sitting around, unused. The girls don't have many toys."

  "I think there are a couple of dolls, left over from Mallory. They're almost brand new. Stacey would like them. It won't cost me a cent to send them over, and it'll clear out my basement. Actually, you’re doing me a favor since I'm moving soon, and I'd hate to have to move the box again for nothing. Seriously, it'd be as much of a favor to me as it would be to you," Anna stressed.

  "All right, thanks. Please don't think I don't appreciate your generosity, Anna. I do. It means more to me than you can imagine because you're willing to do this much." He dropped his head in his hands. "I only wish I could get them the things they need, that's all."

  Stephanie tried to put her hand on his shoulder, but he leapt to his feet and shook it off. He charged across the room and grabbed a tattered, stuffed rabbit from the sofa cushion. "Shit!" he cried, flinging it against the wall with a wide, vicious swing of his arm. Stuffing flew everywhere as it hit, and he stood staring at the toy for an instant, then stomped out the door, helpless tears coursing down his cheeks.

  "Buffy, Buffy." Stacey ran toward her toy and retrieved the remnants of the rabbit from the floor.

  Anna glanced at Stephanie's sad face, and then back at the door, which seemed almost to reverberate with Mark’s distress. She stood up. "I think maybe I’d better go. I don't seem to be able to do anything except upset him when I try to help."

  "Oh no, it isn't you." Stephanie stood, too, shaking her head. "He meant what he said. We appreciate your kindness. He has trouble accepting kindness from anyone when he feels this wretched." She looked toward the door. "This sort of thing has been happening more and more. I don't know what he'll do if he doesn't find something soon. It's driving him crazy."

  "Still, I'd better go. I have to fix dinner for my kids. I'll bring the toys around tomorrow. Oh, and tell Mark I'm not working at Betty's anymore. I got a new job down the street at Le Bistro.”

  "Oh, how wonderful for you. It's a nice place. I've never been inside, but I hear they have fantastic food. I do apologize for the scene Mark made. Again, please don't think it has anything to do with you. You've been so very generous." Stephanie smiled a lovely, angelic smile at Anna that she couldn’t help but return.

  "I've enjoyed it. I'll stop by again sometime. Bye, now. Bye-bye Stacey," she said to the toddler, sitting on the floor sucking on her rabbit's ear.

  She didn't see Mark anywhere outside.

  The next morning, after Anna returned from taking the box of toys to Stephanie, Jeff arrived with the new belt for the dryer and went downstairs to install it, an eager Brian holding his flashlight and fetching his tools. After half an hour, he came back up to announce the dryer was working again, and went back down to tackle the CD cabinet. There wasn't much left to do on it except for the final fine sanding, the staining, and the polyurethane.

  Unable to stay away, she went partway down the stairs and sat on a step, watching the two of them work. They were too wrapped up in their project to notice her. Jeff was good with Brian. He showed him how to do everything, and let him practice on the parts where his work didn't show as much.

  Anna hadn't told Mallory Jeff was finishing the cabinet her father started for her. She wasn't sure how to, or whether to, broach the subject. Jeff and Brian might be happy puttering around downstairs working on it, but whether Mallory would have anything to do with the cabinet when it was finished was anybody's guess. Finishing it was for Brian, more than Mallory. Fortunately, Mallory was going to be at Adrienne's all day, and wouldn't have to be told yet. Anna dreaded it.

  By the time the two finished working, it was one o'clock and Anna fixed lunch for them. They sat down eagerly and dug into their sandwiches.

  "Whew. Sanding's always hard work," Jeff said, drinking his milk. "Got a beer?"

  Anna stood, stunned, in the middle of the floor as Jeff's words sank in. How often had she heard those words, or some like them, from Mike? Why did everything still remind her of him? Why did everything keep hurting this much?

  She did her best to shake it off. "I don't know. I'll check." She peered into the inner recesses of the refrigerator, and on the bottom shelf, behind a jar of mustard and a bowl of tuna fish was a single bottle of Budweiser—nearly a year old. There was dried soup on top and down one side where something spilled on it and she washed it off.

  "Here." She handed it to him. Her teeth chewed the inside of her cheek as she fetched Mike's beer mug from the cupboard.

  Jeff watched all this in dismay, and cursed himself for speaking without thinking. He'd hurt her. It was just that the house felt so comfortable, he'd forgotten there were still painful memories for her here, tucked away in unsuspecting corners. Trying to act nonchalant, he poured the beer into the mug. It tasted bitter to him and he had to force himself to drink it. Anna didn't say much the rest of the meal, and he kept up a falsely cheerful conversation with Brian.

  After they ate, Jeff leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Very delicious, Anna. Thanks for the lunch."

  "It was the least I could do after all the wor
k you did. Thanks for fixing the dryer."

  "No problem. I enjoyed it. We have a small apartment right now but no washer and dryer, and the super fixes everything. I've missed futzing with stuff in the cellar." And he had. "The stain on the cabinet should be dry in twenty-four hours. Want me to stop by tomorrow to do the last fine sanding and the poly?"

  "I don't know." He could tell Anna felt confused by her conflicting emotions as she twisted her fingers together.

  Jeff easily read her feelings and backed off. "Maybe one day next week? Say, Wednesday night?"

  He stood, waiting for her response, hoping she'd say yes. He knew she was a little reluctant, having him come over again so soon, but he willed her to give in. Her hair was wispy and curled against her face and he longed to tuck it behind her ear and then pull her close. He didn't dare, though.

  "I guess it'd be okay," She finally acquiesced.

  He let out a relieved breath.

  Chapter 13

  Tuesday evening after supper, Anna’s car died when she turned the ignition key. It started to turn over, then click! and it was dead. No matter how many times she turned the key, nothing happened. "Oh no," she moaned aloud. So much for going to the drugstore.

  She and Mike had gotten a newer car, hoping it wouldn't need repairs. She didn't have the faintest idea what to do to fix it. Whenever there'd been trouble with one of the cars in the past, Mike repaired it, or took it to the shop. Once, they’d needed to have it towed, but now she was alone and there was no way to do that.

  A tow truck would cost her at least thirty dollars, probably more, in addition to whatever the repair bill turned out to be. Astronomical, more like.