Here in My Heart: A Novella (Echoes of the Heart)

by DeStefano, Anna

  “Deal!” The girls took off.

  “You’re good for them.” Marsha smiled. She rested her head on Joe’s shoulder.

  “Sally idolizes you,” Charlotte agreed. “She says she wants to help Lisa and the other kids in town as much as you do. She’s been talking with Kristen Hemmings and Mallory Lombard at the elementary school about doing a student internship once she gets to high school. Maybe becoming a teacher or a school counselor or a social worker one day. She’s seen the difference community leaders like you ladies can make.”

  Marsha nodded in agreement, looking proud.

  “Your kids are the amazing ones,” Dru said.

  Sally was a gentle, encouraging spirit, despite the trauma she’d survived. Lisa was still fighting to make Chandlerville her home, no matter how many setbacks she’d faced. Dru gazed around at the warm, overcrowded restaurant.

  “This town is what’s amazing.”

  A shock of longing, of wishing she could bottle up tonight so she’d have this perfect moment with her always, sent her rushing toward the front counter before anyone noticed. She caught Travis watching her scoot through the hip-high swinging door that led behind the counter to the registers.

  Rubbing her forehead just outside the kitchen, thinking of her and Brad and Vivian and everything that suddenly felt as if it were slipping away, not looking where she was going, she pushed through the kitchen doors and plowed into whoever was standing on the other side of them. A tray clattered to the floor as they went down. Dishes broke in a deafening crash. A strong body absorbed the impact of their fall. And just for a second, she let her head rest against the shoulder she’d been protectively pressed to.

  Dazed, her thoughts clamored to the image of Marsha doing the same thing outside with Joe.

  “Are you okay?” Brad asked. He held Dru closer, just the way she’d longed for him to for weeks. “I’ve got you.”

  Dru was letting Brad hold her, in front of the kitchen staff and anyone in the dining room who caught sight of them through the swinging doors. Their employees hurried in and out and around them, cleaning up the mess they’d made on the floor, while the precious bundle in Brad’s arms hugged him back like she had in his dreams each night since he’d been home.

  He hadn’t touched her since their kiss at the house, when they’d shaken hands and agreed to Vivian’s exit strategy. He’d promised himself to give Dru space for as long as she needed—forever, if that’s what it took. She’d lived with him since then, worked with him, bickered with him, and managed the business with him, side by side. She’d put a friendly spin on everything to give Vivian what she’d asked for.

  But Dru hadn’t let him this close again, until tonight.

  He framed her face with his hands. His lips hovered above hers, her head tilting back and Dru looking up, her eyes questioning, needing something, but he had no idea what.

  “Dru?”

  He wanted her confusion to mean that she’d wanted him, too, every endless day of the last few weeks. He wanted to hear her say that, even more than he wanted another kiss. But he couldn’t afford to take another misstep.

  They’d been building toward tonight’s PR push, united in their growing excitement to show off the Dream Whip anew. Vivian could have no doubt after tonight that the future of her business was in good hands, even if a few sparks had to fly between Brad and Dru to get the job done. They were at the finish line, close to being out of each other’s hair.

  And now she lay in his arms—while he was covered in kitchen castoffs and the peanut oil he’d switched the fry vats to.

  Dru, on the other hand, looked incredible, considering that by now she’d likely bused the dining room fifty times over. She must be as exhausted as he felt. But she smelled like . . . hot chocolate, whipped cream, cinnamon, and . . . strawberries. And her smile was so sad, it was breaking his heart.

  “Is something wrong?” He couldn’t make himself let her go.

  He’d resigned himself to the fact that sweet, easy moments like this just weren’t in the cards for them, no matter how many sleepless nights he’d stared at the ceiling down the hall from her, dreaming about her.

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “More than fine. It’s amazing out there. The whole town’s here. You were right . . . about all of it. Vivian’s going to be thrilled. The Whip’s never been this crowded, even on game nights. It’s . . .”

  “Amazing?” he teased, remembering it being her favorite word when they’d been kids.

  Her gaze zeroed in on his smile. He shifted his focus to her eyes, away from the lips he wanted to devour until her toes curled.

  “Then why,” he asked, “do you look like you’re trying not to cry?”

  “Dude, just kiss her already,” Willie Banks, their head burger chef, complained. “The two of you are throwin’ off enough sparks to set the joint on fire. My pick in the pool isn’t until midnight tonight, when the two of you are closin’ up alone and countin’ your profits and figurin’ that no one’s lookin’ no more.”

  “Pool?” Dru froze. She struggled to her feet, still in Brad’s arms.

  “But what the hell,” Willie agreeably added. “Do the damn thing, and stop distractin’ everyone. It’s worth five dollars to tell your grandmamma I saw it with my own two eyes.”

  “Five bucks?” Brad sent Willie a death glare.

  Dru shoved herself away.

  “Sure.” Willie laughed, pressing and flipping half-cooked burgers, transferring the done ones to expertly dressed buns. He nodded at the rest of the staff, all of them grinning like idiots. “We all got money on how long it would take.”

  “How long what would take?” Dru waved Willie off before he could answer, switching gears, zeroing in on Brad. “Did you know about this?”

  “That the people whose salary we pay,” he said, “are being paid entirely too much if they can throw it away making book on which you’ll do first: kiss me, or take me out with a kitchen knife?”

  And naturally, Dru thought Brad was behind the adolescent prank. Which spoke volumes about just how little credibility his hard work had banked with her.

  He closed his eyes.

  I’m concerned about both of you, and what will happen with everything I’ve worked so hard to hold together, Vivian had said that first night in her parlor.

  What had his grandmother gotten him into now?

  He’d done everything he could to rebuild Dru’s trust—including extending his leave of absence from the Savannah PD beyond the accumulated vacation and sick leave he’d be paid for, stretching his savings to the max. He was doing it to help her as much as Vivian. He’d even begun to let himself wonder, if they worked together long enough, if a good ending didn’t have to be the only thing they got out of their partnership.

  That possibility felt shot to shit now.

  He turned on Willie. His clenched smile sent the rest of the kitchen scattering back to their jobs. Willie held up his hands in surrender, one of them holding his beloved spatula. Rumor around town was that he slept with the ancient thing he’d inherited when the previous Whip burger chef retired.

  “No offense, man.” The cook finally sounded more nervous than smug.

  Willie and Brad had gone to high school together and gotten into their share of trouble, drinking together, brawling a few times, the two of them against each other, or together against some other pack of no-good boys looking for a fight. Willie had seen Brad at his worst. And like Travis had the last few weeks, he’d been after Brad to figure out this thing with Dru before she slipped away from him.

  “No harm, no foul, right?” Willie turned another row of meat.

  “You started a pool,” Brad said, “betting on Dru and me hooking up?”

  “Hell, no, man. Just kissin’. And it wasn’t me. You got your grandmamma to thank for that. She called me up at home one night and laid down the first line. I’m her banker is all. Seems that lawyer friend of hers wouldn’t ha
ve nothin’ to do with it.”

  “Your grandmother?” Dru sputtered. “Vivian . . .”

  She glared from one employee to another, promising retribution.

  At least for the moment, she seemed to have accepted that Brad wasn’t behind Vivian’s latest mischief. Thank God, or he’d have had to beat Dru back to the house to hide sharp objects. She turned and retraced her steps to the dining room.

  “That went well,” Brad murmured once she was gone.

  “Vivian didn’t mean no harm,” Willie said.

  “She never does, Billy Joe.”

  Laughter erupted in the kitchen.

  Willie looked satisfyingly enraged.

  “Man, I told you never to call me that.”

  “Yeah. And I told you to lay off about me and Dru.” The staff kept enjoying themselves, at Willie’s expense this time. “Guess I’m not the only one in for a long night.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Want some marshmallows with that?” Lisa asked Simon Fisher’s parents, trying not to stare at Simon like she wanted him to stare back or anything.

  But she did.

  She had ever since radKIDS graduation.

  She was still getting into trouble sometimes at school, and the other kids were still making fun of her because of it. But not Simon, at least not as much. Maybe because she’d tried to remember not to talk too much around him, or try to make him laugh, or act like she cared what he thought about her. Just like she hadn’t mentioned Cade to Sally in weeks, and Sally hadn’t been mad with her again, not once.

  And the Dixons . . .

  Her foster parents had been so nice, for months now. They were starting to feel more like real parents, Lisa’s parents, the longer they kept helping her, instead of getting mad about the rules she still broke sometimes at home and at school.

  “There’s whipped cream and cinnamon,” she said to Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. “And I think there are sprinkles left. It’s great with all of it. Sally Beaumont’s mom says I make the best hot chocolate she’s ever had.”

  “Is that what that stupid pin means?” Simon asked. He was laughing at her the way he hadn’t at school in weeks. He was with a bunch of meaner boys from their class. He’d been hanging with them at the game. “Does it mean you’re some kind of hot-chocolate ninja or something?”

  “No . . .” Lisa covered her new very favorite thing. She’d seen Dru smile when she’d noticed Lisa wearing it. It was a secret, just between them, that they both loved the TV shows and the movies, and they didn’t care if that made them weird to other people. “It’s . . .”

  “None of your business.” Sally elbowed Lisa to stop talking. “You’re just jealous ’cause you want to work here, too, like she does. I know, because your mom asked my mom to ask Dru if she’d let you. And my mom said your mom would have to ask Dru herself. But tell her not to bother. Dru only wants one kid Lisa’s age hanging around. The job’s taken.”

  “Yeah,” Simon said, quieter now so his parents wouldn’t hear while they talked with some other people Lisa didn’t know. “That’s it. I’m jealous of some sci-fi nerd who only gets to hang out with you because she’s Dru Hampton’s little sister. Sort of.” He sneered at Lisa, who shrank back, hiding a little behind Sally. “I mean, you’re no one’s little sister really, are you, Lisa Burns?”

  The way he’d said her last name, it was like he thought it was a joke, having a name no one else in town had. Like Lisa was nothing, no matter how nice Dru and the Dixons and Sally were. Lisa’s legs and arms started to shake. So did the hot chocolate she’d been stirring for Mrs. Fisher. She dropped the foam cup, spilling the hot, sticky stuff all over.

  “Oh, no!”

  She grabbed napkins and dropped to the floor, wanting to sink through it. Sally helped her wipe up her mess. The boys kept laughing.

  “That’s enough!” Mrs. Fisher said.

  She got down and started helping clean.

  “I’m sorry,” Lisa said, tired of messing up everything.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” Mrs. Fisher said. “I’m sorry Simon upset you. He really has been wanting to work here. All the kids do, it sounds like. And if it makes you feel any better, he still has all of his Star Trek action figures in his room at home. He asked for a pin just like yours from Santa.”

  So his parents had heard at least part of what Simon had said.

  “Mom!” Simon complained.

  “Santa?” the other boys joked, all of them at the same time.

  “I don’t believe in Santa,” Simon said, “and I didn’t ask for some stupid Star Trek pin.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Fisher put her coat back on, even though they’d just gotten there. “Because you’re not going to get one. Apologize to Lisa. We’re leaving.”

  “Mom!”

  “Now, young man,” his dad said.

  Mr. and Mrs. Dixon walked over. Lisa wished Simon’s parents would just go before more people heard.

  “Everything okay?” Mrs. Dixon asked.

  “Just fine.” Mrs. Fisher smiled down at Lisa. “Or at least it will be. Simon?”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  He left, his friends following, still laughing at him. His parents left, too. Didn’t Mrs. Fisher get it? Making Simon say “sorry” wouldn’t help. When school started back after the holidays, Lisa would be the one everyone made fun of, not him.

  “What was that all about?” Mr. Dixon asked.

  “Lisa not letting anyone bully her anymore,” Sally answered when Lisa didn’t, “like she learned at radKIDS.”

  “No,” Lisa said. She ripped her pin off her shirt, wadding it and the hot chocolate-covered napkins in her hand. She was going to die. She just wanted to just die. “It’s about me being the class joke still. And now I’m even more of a joke than ever!”

  Matthew, her online friend from Atlanta, had said this would happen, no matter how hard she tried not to mess up again, or how nice people like Sally and the Dixons and even Dru acted. It always happened to loser kids like her and Matthew—kids with ADHD or some other thing no one knew how to fix. Even nice people like the Dixons didn’t keep trying to understand forever. Kids would always make fun of her. Adults would always feel sorry for her. And Lisa would never feel like she belonged with any of them—not the way she belonged with Matthew when they talked online.

  Something made everyone look to the front of the restaurant, to the registers where people ordered food and got the flags that told servers where to drop meals off once they were ready.

  “Oh, no,” Mrs. Dixon said.

  Dru and Officer Douglas were arguing like before, quiet but still mad, this time in front of everybody. Dru took another order while she looked almost like she was going to cry or scream or something else Lisa had never seen her do before.

  “It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Travis, one of the Dixon’s grown-up foster kids, said.

  “Not like this.” Mrs. Dixon sounded worried, like she’d sounded a couple of times when Lisa had messed up big-time at school. “Not in public.”

  “Maybe this is what our girl needed,” Mr. Dixon said, “to convince Dru that this thing with Brad isn’t all about Vivian.”

  “She has to figure things out her own way.” Mrs. Dixon swatted Mr. Dixon’s shoulder. “You know that. She’s come this far, doing it at her own pace. Look how great that’s turned out.”

  Mr. Dixon looked around the Dream Whip, and then at all the people looking at Dru, while Dru kept taking orders and Officer Douglas kept arguing with her about something, and she looked like she wasn’t listening to anything he said.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Dixon said. “Great.”

  “Dru?” Brad asked.

  Again.

  Dru ignored him again.

  She was working the registers, needing the distraction. He’d positioned himself beside her, expediting the orders being readied for the runners who took food out to tables and booths. Usin
g expediters on busy nights was another of Brad’s genius ideas. The change had cut order wait time in half during dinner rush. They would have been sunk tonight without the extra hands.

  Brad was a natural at instinctively knowing what would help. The business would be even more successful going forward, even with him supervising things from Savannah. And Dru was pleased, for Vivian. She really was.

  If only she could say the same for herself. Having him be part of her life again, wanting more every day for him to be an even bigger part of it, was too confusing. Too . . . dangerous.

  “Please look at me,” he said, loud enough this time to be heard over the din of voices rolling around them. “Stop running from this. Stop running from me.”

  Dru handed over Walter Davis’s change. Walter ran the family-owned bowling center on the other side of town. He had the decency that others around them didn’t to at least look as if he weren’t listening to everything Brad said.

  “Congrats on the great turnout,” Walter said, which was just like him.

  Technically, the Whip was his direct competition. But he was too nice a guy to let that get in the way of supporting Dru and Brad and Vivian. When Walter and his wife, Julia, made business decisions, they put helping the community before profit. He’d even hung flyers in the Pockets snack bar, advertising tonight’s promotion.

  “Vi was right,” he said. “You two are incredible together.”

  He winked at Dru. His grin to Brad was as good as a high five. He left for the booth Julia and one of his grown sons had snagged when the Lombard family—Pete and Mallory and Polly and baby Ben—headed out.

  Okay.

  So Walter wasn’t that nice a guy after all.

  Dru rolled her eyes and jabbed an elbow into Brad’s ribs.

  “Ouch!”

  He grabbed for her arm when she turned back toward the kitchen. He missed. But she didn’t give him the slip fast enough. He caught her by her shoulders.