by Leanne Davis
Every type of person in the community visited the café and Tara soon interacted and served all of them. Old and young, families and couples; many even knew her name. They eagerly talked to her, telling her tidbits about their lives, and asking about hers. She soon mastered the skill of talking about nothing. She filed all the little anecdotes that happened throughout her day or those that she witnessed and hastily recited them when asked how her life was going. She rarely gave out any real information but she also never lied. She soon recognized those to whom she could say more from those who simply needed to be placated. She laughed, frowned and even rolled her eyes at some of them. Sometimes, she got angry, but she still remained polite despite how picky, rude or obnoxious the customers might be. There were plenty of those too.
The café attracted one long slice of humanity, reflecting all types of society. Working there was almost like taking a class in anthropology. Oddly, to Tara, who was a lifelong observer, watcher, and antisocial person in general, she loved it. She became almost a part of it, and was definitely a contributor to the congenial atmosphere. But she never felt like it was expected from her.
Five days a week, Wyatt Kincaid came in. His smile and boyish enthusiasm always gave Tara a wonderful sense of joy. He talked and laughed, telling little riddles that he made up, which weren’t funny, but still cracked him up, so everyone else laughed too. For most of her lunch shifts or thereabouts, the fish cop, Ryder Kincaid, showed up to eat. Then he returned later to pick up Wyatt. She got used to seeing him. She dutifully served his meal and even shared in idle chitchat. The topics never went beyond the weather, the dessert selection and occasionally remarks about Wyatt. But nothing further. Nothing more intimate than that. No discreet glances. No flirting. Nothing. Tara continued to get a crazy, intense awareness of him whenever he walked into the café. Every. Single. Time. No matter what Tara was doing or supposed to be doing, her entire body seemed to sense his. She felt him with all of her senses, she didn’t just see him. Every single time he was around her, it felt like her nerve endings were receiving a special code even before her brain became aware of him.
Maybe it was because of the gun. He was the only regular customer who came in there twice a day with a gun strapped to his hip.
She began to see him in other dimensions, however, which almost made her forget the gun. At least one evening every week, he ate there with his in-laws, Wyatt’s Nana and Papa. The only reason she knew that was because Wyatt excitedly introduced her to them. She walked up to the table with menus for everyone, including Ryder. It was the first menu she handed to Ryder since the day she began working there. For dinner, gasp! the man decided to change it up. Unlike his daily lunches, he didn’t order his usual hamburger and fries with a side salad. Tara was mystified by how he ate that for lunch each day and managed to remain as thin and strong as he appeared. Surely, in time, it would accumulate and create some kind of spare tire. But eating dinner with his in-laws had Ryder ordering all sorts of things from the menu. Tara found it easier to deal with him in that context too. They all talked raucously and joked. Kylar Carrington, Wyatt’s Papa, considered himself quite the jokester and was full of personality, some of which Tara recognized in Wyatt.
Chloe often sat with them too, laughing and talking. The first time they came in, Tara innocently asked, “When will your sister come in and join them?”
Chloe was startled at first by Tara’s question, and she frowned. Then a soft smile appeared on her lips. “Oh, that’s right, Tara, you wouldn’t know. Sorry, we’re just so used to everyone knowing around here.”
Her heart dipped. “Knowing?”
“Ebony, that’s my sister’s name. She’s also my twin. Identical. Something else you didn’t know either. Anyway, she is my twin and I love her very much. She and Ryder stayed together for… years. They got married, had Wyatt, and then she…” Chloe’s voice suddenly sounded strange. Ragged. Her emotions altered her tone. “She got post-partum depression, really bad. It wasn’t her fault… but…” Chloe shook her head. “Unfortunately, she didn’t get any help or counseling, you know? She ultimately took off. She just couldn’t handle it… If only we could have gotten her the help she needed…”
“Oh,” Tara muttered, embarrassed and truly shocked. She certainly never pictured that to be the story. “Oh, God, Chloe, I’m… so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Chloe wiped her eyes and a soft smile curled up her generous lips. “No, you couldn’t have. Ryder… it was tough on him. But he’s such a good father; he’s done a lot to improve it. My parents…”
“And you?” Tara supplied quietly.
Chloe nodded. “And me too. I love that little boy almost as much as if he were my own. I just wish his mother could see him… and that his memory of her wasn’t so tarnished. And I miss her. So much.”
“And… and Ryder too? Does he still miss her?” Tara nearly bit her own tongue off by pressing so hard on it with her teeth after she spoke. She kept her gaze off to the side, totally ashamed she asked it. About Ryder. A man. A cop. Why would she inquire about something so personal? As if she needed to send off any signals like that. It seemed like she might be displaying… interest. And to the man’s sister-in-law. Who was also the twin of his wife, who left him. Besides, when was the last time she cared about anyone’s story? However, theirs was pretty compelling and she had asked.
“At first. Yeah, he got over it… although it about destroyed him. But he’s much better now.” Tara could feel Chloe’s gaze on her face and she turned and rushed off to the kitchen. No. Nope. She definitely wasn’t interested in hearing anymore and she refused to stand there and pretend she was.
What she learned made her look at Ryder differently. He accepted the responsibility of rearing his young son all alone after his wife ran off. Not only that, but how well he got along with his wife’s family also said a lot. They seemed to adore him and were so obviously all extremely close to Wyatt. That spoke volumes to her about Ryder.
Eventually, Tara deduced that Ryder had a boatload of brothers who nearly all looked exactly like him. None of them, however, wore a cop uniform. They all had careers in various trades and were also very physical men. They came in occasionally with Ryder for meals too. Most didn’t live in the immediate vicinity, so they often grabbed a fast meal at the café with Ryder.
Finally, for once in her adulthood, Tara was living a real life. One that included having conversations with other people, working, laughing, and just living. She walked to the grocery store and tried to learn some cooking skills. She enjoyed walking around town running her various errands. She felt pretty nice the longer it lasted, like she was totally living in the moment and a contributing member of society.
Every day felt more glorious than the day before. She loved the town, her job, Chloe, and her little tiny room. It was private, warm, clean, and hers. All hers.
Finishing work one evening, she sighed as she glanced out towards the gloomy March weather. Gun-metal gray clouds hung heavily over the mountains and showers of rain drizzled down, threatening to only get worse. The relentless darkness of winter had finally started to loosen its grip on the days. Darkness didn’t fall until six o’clock now. Tara stepped out of the café and tried to hurry home before the clouds completely opened up their underbellies full of rain.
After just a few minutes from the café, a torrential downpour caught her. So much water fell, she compared it to being under a showerhead. Her eyelashes blinked as the rivulets of water streamed over her face. Wearing only a sweatshirt over her uniform, the early spring weather appeared fairly clear this morning and she wasn’t expecting the storm. She started to step off the curb when a vehicle pulled over. Startled by it, she glanced up, instantly recognizing the emblems on the side of the truck. Ryder.
With his window rolling down, he yelled over the deluge, “Get in. Before you drown.”
Tara didn’t hesitate for a second. Her hair was already a heavy mass and felt cold against her back. She ducked inside a
nd slammed the door as her body dripped rainwater all over his seats. “Thank you,” she said quickly. The sounds of pinging rain were loud on the cab, which only intensified the stereo effect. It came down so hard, she could barely see out the windshield. Water droplets rolled off her and landed all over the truck’s interior. She winced. “Sorry about the water getting all over everything.”
His gaze slid over her. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry, it’ll dry.”
Her head tipped up. “And so will I. But I’m seriously glad to be out of it.” She glanced in the back. “Wyatt isn’t with you?” Obviously not, but she said it anyway.
“He’s with my brother and sister-in-law for the day. I just got off work.”
“Oh.” She shifted forward, using her wet hand to push back her drenched hair, trying to keep the drops from falling everywhere. She leaned forward and let the car heater warm her hands. “Keeping all the fish safe?”
He tugged the gearshift down as he pulled away from the curb, and slid a glance her way. “Yes, still keeping fish safe. But actually, I just got off work and spotted a very large, drowning rat before she scurried down the sidewalk.”
Tara winced. “Thanks for the pathetic visual.”
He laughed and leaned forward, his hand rooting around the seat behind him before it popped up with a towel and coat. “Here, dry off a little, and put this on.”
She took the bundle. After wiping the towel over her as best as she could, she quickly took the rain-soaked sweatshirt off and rubbed her bare arms with her uniform blouse, which was sticky against her skin. She slipped the coat on, finding it too large. Ryder had wide, thick shoulders and arms and a barrel chest. Not surprisingly, the XL-sized coat nearly engulfed her. It was made of a thick, coarse, canvas-like material, making it very durable and had the same insignia as his truck. Despite the essence of cop all over it, she nestled into it and it quickly soothed the chill on her skin. It smelled like him. She turned her head as if she were staring outside but it was so her nose could pick up the scent on the coat. Man scent. She wasn’t sure what else to call it. It definitely wasn’t cologne, or anything one could bottle, and it certainly wasn’t BO or bad-smelling; it was something however.
“Where do you live?”
“Just down this road. Turn at the first right, then take the second left. It’s the split-level building, third down from the right.”
“Pretty close then.”
“Yes.”
He nodded towards the weather. “Spring here rains like this often. We get these sudden squalls that seem to come out of nowhere and dump down gallons like this. Keep a raincoat or an umbrella with you for a while. You walk to work, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, I walk everywhere.”
“I’ve seen you around sometimes,” he said simply. She shifted, wondering, How often is sometimes? Where was she going? She could only hope she wasn’t doing anything embarrassing. She never realized anyone would want to track her or her movements in this new, small-town life of hers. In Seattle, she had never been noticed, much less tracked. Almost invisible, she had been ignored and forgotten. It had been so long since she mattered to anyone, not even in a casual sense. It was nice; actually, it felt very nice to be noticed.
“You have a few minutes?”
Startled, she glanced up. “Yes. I mean… why?”
“I’ll show you something. That is, if you don’t have to be anywhere.”
“Nowhere.” Ever. Just at work. She was thankful for that now.
Ryder flipped the truck around and started driving towards the main highway that hugged the Columbia River, curving alongside of it. He went down the highway just a couple of miles before exiting onto a side road with no lines drawn on the pavement. It soon turned to gravel until it opened up to a parking lot. The view encompassed the river, and from there, the water trailed beyond until it vanished into the horizon. It seemed like the steep mountains on both sides eventually dammed the river off.
“What a view.”
“Yeah, it is. Thought you might like it. The ocean is almost a hundred and fifty miles downriver. So the stormy weather comes off it and enters the canyon. Often, when you’re out fishing, you can stare downriver and watch it steadily creeping towards you, and then, see the bright spot? Not too long and we’ll be basking in warm sunshine.”
Tara looked to where he pointed. She saw a huge black mass of clouds overhead as the torrent of loud patters of rain still fell over them. The truck’s windshield wipers worked furiously to wipe the raindrops off, but it couldn’t compete with the wavering streams of water. She saw the line of shining, white light behind it in the distance.
“That’s crazy how fast the weather changes.”
“Yeah.”
“What are all those boats doing then?” Tara indicated with her hand to where a dozen boats or so were anchored along the Washington side of the river.
“Springers.”
“What?”
He laughed and his teeth flashed. “Sorry, springers are Chinook salmon. The season opened March first, and it’s just getting hot. That’s one of the most popular fisheries around here.”
“You… police this area then?” she queried, waving her arm towards the river and boats.
“Yeah. I also partake in it. The tidal action is still visible here. So when the tides go in or out, it can drastically affect the fishing.”
“Tidal action, you mean from the ocean?”
“Yeah. They’re the only tides I know of.” He laughed and she rolled her eyes at his smirk. “Downriver, it lifts the waterline up and down, sometimes more than ten feet from high water to low. Totally affects the fishing the closer to the mouth you get.”
“Fishing… I can’t imagine. Or fish. What kinds of fish are there?”
“You have a few more minutes?”
Startled at his question, she shrugged, and a faint smile appeared on her face. “I certainly don’t have any plans. You know most of what I do anyway; I work.”
He backed the truck out of the spot as he glanced at her. “No family living in the area then?”
She started to heat up. She hated lying. But what good could come of it? How could she begin explaining her family? Their dysfunction? Her runaway status? Sure, she had family but they might as well be dead. “I have no family.”
“None? None at all? Not even a wayward cousin or aunt or…”
She shook her head and her hair felt heavy on her back. She pushed away a few wet strands that were starting to dry and frizz a little. “None.”
“I’m sorry. That’s sad. Is that why you came here? To… grieve or something?”
“No. And it’s not new. I just got tired of my life in the city and decided anything had to be better. I grew up in a small town. Not nearly as small as this.” She swept her hand out. She believed there was less than a thousand people in Silver Springs. “But I prefer smaller.”
“How long have you been living on your own then?”
“Since… well, since I was out of high school. I—I really don’t enjoy talking about it. Do you mind?” Her voice was filled with pauses. He made her nervous and she abhorred lying to him. She rubbed her hands together, ostensibly to ward off the chill, but the guilt of being dishonest to someone who did nothing to deserve it still bothered her.
“Sure. Of course. I’m sorry.” He pulled off the highway again and this time, he stopped before a little booth from where a cop came out.
“The dam?” Looming before her was the large, concrete Bonneville Dam. Its spillways sprayed out the white, churning water and the water below looked like a dangerous, frothy soup of clashing currents and ripping waves.
Ryder couldn’t answer her right away. He had his window down and he and the cop were exchanging updates about the goings on. They obviously knew each other quite well.
He pulled into the general parking lot.
“What…?” she asked.
“Fish ladders. I’m going to show you some fish. I’m assumi
ng you haven’t explored any of this, judging by all your questions about it.”
She shook her head. No. Never. Taking tours and things like that were never, not at all, her MO. She clutched his coat around her and jumped out, running after his tall form. They stopped once under the eve of the large concrete and glass building. He pointed at her side, saying, “That’s the outside view of the ladders. You don’t have to look.” The rain still pelted down. She held the coat over her head and crossed, cautiously peeking down over the thick, fat wall of concrete. It was more than a foot thick and she had to get on her tiptoes to see over it and down below it. Water churned in the small contained area, a narrow passageway that was maybe ten feet wide.
All at once, Tara realized that the churning was coming from the backs of all the fish. They bobbed up and down, seeming to undulate as one organism. Fins and backs flashed everywhere. “Oh! Those are fish!”
She seemed startled when he appeared next to her. Glancing down, he said with a quick and obviously amused smile, “The fish ladder miraculously, and luckily, has fish in it. I guess someone’s been doing their job right. Come on.”
He nodded and she followed him back towards the covered walkway. They walked downwards until they came to a door where they entered a more silent building. Before her was a gallery with benches and huge partitions of glass. Standing tall and wide, they allowed her to view the underbelly of the canals they had just been looking at. She quickened her pace to get closer. Her interest in what she was viewing instantly piqued. The water was brownish and murky, but there was no missing all the fish she saw. They bobbed, swam, and seemed to slide past. At other times, something flashed and darted through without the slightest pause. All sizes of fish appeared, from short to long.