by Rachel Hauck
“Yes, and she’s asked me to take the girls.” Tanner went to the window and gazed down on the hustle and bustle, wishing for a moment he could disconnect from his emotional turbulence and get lost in the conversations and activity below.
“Well, isn’t this a divine twist in things?”
“Divine? I don’t know but a twist I’ll grant you. I told her I’d take the girls but added my own conditions. Which she’s considering.”
“Does your mother know?”
Tanner shook his head. “I’ve not told her. Wait until we get it all sorted out. Trude may turn down my deal just to spite me.”
“I’ll add this to my prayers.”
“That would be appreciated.” Tanner and God had brokered no deal about others praying on his behalf.
“Tanner, I want you to know . . .” Dad cleared his throat. “I’m proud of you.”
The confession stirred Tanner’s stale, stored tears. He bent to pick lint from the carpet, his eyes hot and burning. “Is there anything else?”
“No, I guess not.” The air in the room hung heavy between them, as if exhausted by their short exchange. “Ring when you know more.”
“Will do.” As Dad reached for the knob, emotional tremors shook Tanner to the center of his being. If he didn’t say it now, he’d never say it. Or it would be ten times harder when he did. “Th-thank you, Dad. Thank you.”
Dad’s eyes glistened. “Anytime.”
Battling back a rare wash of tears, Tanner cleared his head and heart with deep breaths. He was just gathering himself when his phone pinged. A text from Trude.
This is how U plan 2 take care of my daughters? In the headlines?
Tanner sat down hard, read her text again, and heaven help him, he started laughing.
As the dawn’s sunrise crested over the sleepy, north Florida skyline, Regina urged her little old Datsun around Capital Circle, heading for the shop.
Al and the boys would be there by now, and she buzzed with anticipation. Surprise! I’m home.
First thing in the morning, Al always sat down with his chocolate milk and box-o-donuts. “Stuff like this will make you never want to leave home.”
Know what? He was right. What in the world ever made her want to leave home? To be a princess. Pffbbt. What was her life anyway? A movie? A soap opera?
Gram was right. Being a princess wasn’t a job, or a title. It was a way of life. One she could live right here in Tallahassee.
Wasn’t that what Gram did? Lived the life of a princess by her actions, not her title?
Gripping the wheel, Reggie slowed for a light, excitement buzzing in her middle. She was home. Where she belonged. This was her kingdom. The light switched to green and she was off, heading for the shop, turning down the driveway a few minutes later.
The Datsun’s door creaked as she stepped out, and it took both hands to reset the hinges and close it. Reggie ran across the grass and gravel parking lot toward the dark, quiet shop, calling for Al, Rafe, or Wally, stopping short when she spied the sad empty space that once housed the Corvette.
“Al?” She stepped back outside. His truck wasn’t here. In fact, her car was the only car on the grounds. “Al? Rafe? Wally?”
Back in the shop, Reggie peeked around the short kitchenette wall, expecting to be assaulted by the aroma of coffee. But the space was also dark and quiet.
She ducked into the office, slipping her keys in her pocket. The desk was a mess of invoices and bills scattered over the opened checkbook. Al had been writing checks.
The sound of a door slam drew Reggie out of the office. Finally. A face she knew and loved. Al headed her way with his milk and donuts.
“Hey, what gives?” Reggie greeted him smiling, hands on her hips. “I go out of town for a few days and everyone slacks off?”
“Reg! You said you were on your way but I didn’t think you could get here so fast.” Al swung his big arm around her shoulders, careful not to bop her with the milk carton. “Ha, ha, girl. It’s good to see you. What’d you do, hop on the next plane as soon as we hung up?”
“Almost, yes. Look, Al, I know it’s Saturday, but why is everything so dark?” She followed him back into the office.
“What’d you do with my invoices, Reg? I had them all arranged.”
“Arranged? They were strewn all over the desk.” She sat in the rickety old office chair, a dark sadness tainting her previous excitement. Everything was changing. Everything.
“You organize in file folders; I organize by strewing.” He set down his milk and donuts.
“Why are you doing the invoices? The books are my job.” Maybe if she acted as if nothing had changed, things could get back to normal.
“You aren’t the only one who can pay a bill and balance the books. I ran a side business the entire time I was in the Marines.” He pulled down two glasses, setting one in front of Reggie. “Have a glass of chocolate with me, Your Majesty?”
“Stop . . . and it’d be my honor.”
Al poured and set out the donuts before taking a seat. All the while, Reggie sat under the stark fluorescent light, realizing more and more she’d not returned home to save the shop but to close it.
Al capped the milk carton and raised his glass. “To you and all the good Lord has called you to do.”
She took a small sip. “So, it’s true. You’re closing the shop.”
“Reg, look around. It’s a leaning old red barn. We’ve got no jobs.”
“We had a job until you gave back the Corvette.”
“It’s time. We had a good six months. Had a fun run with the Challenger. But life is moving on, Reg. You’re a princess, for pity sakes.” Al motioned toward the shop. “Wally and Rafe cleared out their tools already.”
“Cleared out their tools?” Reggie set down her milk glass and peered into the shop. Sure enough, the walls and workbenches were all but empty.
“Rafe’s got a job interview with a shop over in Pensacola. It’s been around for thirty years. Good pay, good business. Wally told me last week, if it was all the same to me, he was finally ready to retire.”
“Hmm . . . well,”—she shoved up the sleeves of her shirt—“we were bound to lose Wally sooner or later. But Rafe? Why can’t he stay here and run things?” She couldn’t give up without some kind of fight.
“Reg, I turned Rafe onto the job. He’s young, probably going to get married soon if things keep going like they are with Carrie. Rafe needs more than we—I—can give him right now.”
“But we’re going to build the business.” Reggie turned back to the office. “Grow this up so we can pay talent like Rafe.”
“Reginator,” Al said, low and sweet, “you’re not coming back.”
“But I am.” She hammered her fist against her palm, proclaiming words her heart did not believe. “Sure, I won’t be here all the time, but I’ll be here enough. Think of what great publicity we can get by me being a princess. We can make it our brand, you know. Get your classic car refurbed by Princess Regina and Marine Master Sergeant Al Love.”
“Reg, girl, I love you. You’re about the most generous person I know. But I reckon I should be honest with you. I never wanted a big business. Never wanted much more than we had. I loved the idea of working on a Duesy, but at night I about sweated through my pajamas thinking about working on such a rare, expensive car. We’re good, but we didn’t have the wherewithal to take on that project.”
“We did, we do—”
“See that right there?” Al pointed at her. “That determination and belief in yourself is not for a girl restoring cars but for a princess. For a girl fighting for her people, for the downtrodden, and the ones without a voice. You’re in a position to do something extraordinary.”
His words echoed Susanna Truitt’s.
Al took a donut out of the box. “I only opened this shop ’cause I knew you were miserable at Backlund & Backlund. But deep down, I suspected greater things were coming for you, Reg.”
“No, you opened
the shop because we love what we do.” Protesting came easy when the truth cut deep.
Al rocked back and bit into his donut. “Know what I did Tuesday? Hit the golf course with Urban. Had myself a blast.”
“You can still golf. Sure, take a day now and then.” She just couldn’t let go. She needed this old shop if for no other reason than to ground her when the world went crazy around her.
“Reg, come on. Seriously? You can’t give up being a princess to rat around in this place. I won’t let you. When you got on the plane to Hessenberg, I knew you were heading for something great.”
“What about the warehouse?”
“Mark found a renter for it. He called me, asking if it was okay to back out of our deal. I think he felt what we all knew. You’re not coming home to work on cars anymore.”
Tears filled her eyes, Reggie strolled out of the office toward the wide barn doors. A brilliant morning light filled the yard with golden orbs dripping through the fall magnolia leaves.
She fell against the door frame and kicked at the dirt, breathing in the scents of the Tallahassee day, of an old barn turned auto shop. Of the sweet dew on the morning grass.
“Reg, girl.” Al’s voice slipped over her shoulder. “Seems to me this is the most classic, most important restoration job of your life. Restoring a nation. Restoring your family’s name and inheritance. Are you going to cling to who you thought you were and miss this incredible opportunity?” Her friend and mentor aligned his toes with the edge of the barn floor. “Got to tell you, I’ll be disappointed if you choose this old barn over a palace. There’s not a thing holding you here except your fears. Maybe your own stubbornness. You can keep the shop open if you want, but I’m retiring.”
Reggie lost the battle with her tears. “You bet I’m scared. Everything is changing so fast, Al.” She brushed her hand over her cheeks, wiping away the first emotional streams.
From her pocket, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and read the screen. “It’s Clarence, wanting to know where I am.”
“Who’s Clarence?”
Reggie grinned. “My security detail.”
“Well now, lookey here.” Al folded his arms, angling away from Reggie. “Our girl comes with a bodyguard.”
“Tanner wouldn’t let me come otherwise.”
“Don’t say as I blame him,” Al said, facing the barnyard. “How is the old chap?”
“Fine.” Her skin flushed hot, and she knew her feelings displayed on her cheeks.
“Very fine, I see.” Al popped his hands together, laughing. “Oh, Reginator, can’t you see for looking? The Lord is blessing you. Do you know the best way to embrace change? Dive in and hold on. When I went off to the Marines, a Southern black boy just a few years outside of Jim Crow law, I was terrified. But I went. Best decision I ever made. Fear is a blinder, Reg. A cruel taskmaster. Don’t let it rule you. You’ve graduated to your real calling.” Al gripped her shoulders. “Embrace it.”
TWENTY-SIX
Tanner arrived home Sunday night, tired and irritated. A couple of his mates rang up, invited him to dinner, and he thought, why not? He’d not spent an evening with friends in a good while.
Besides, it would distract him from thinking about Regina.
But the boy-talk was coarse and ribald about the women the lads were bedding or wanting to bed. The longer Tanner sat there, the more slimed he felt. When Fin began sharing details about an encounter with a lass he’d met in the south of France, Tanner took his leave.
Three months ago, he’d have gone along with the conversation, laughed, maybe even envied. But he’d encountered something beautiful and pure in Regina, and he didn’t want that image sullied.
Flipping on the light in his flat as he entered, he stared at his stark surroundings. Regina or no Regina, he must bring life to this place. If Bella and Britta were to walk in right now, they’d run screaming, accusing their mum of sentencing them to a prison cell. Well, perhaps it wasn’t a prison cell, but it had about as much warmth.
After a quick shower, he fixed a sandwich—his dinner portions were expensive and slight—and searched the telly for something entertaining and distracting.
He’d settled on a rerun of Doc Martin when his phone buzzed from the end table. Snatching it up, Tanner glanced at the screen, hoping to see Regina’s name.
Trude. He gathered his courage and answered.
“Tanner, I’m sorry to call so late on a Sunday, but I remembered you never went anywhere—”
“Trude, what can I do for you?” He didn’t need a rehash from her about his desperate existence.
“Evan and I just had a horrible row with the girls.” Her voice quavered with emotion. “I told them the whole truth. About you, me, and Reese—”
“The whole truth?”
“Minus some intimate details, of course. Anyway, we told them tonight about the wedding and moving to America.”
“Fired the whole cannon on them, did you?” He walked around the kitchen island, setting his sandwich plate on the bare countertop.
“I hadn’t intended to, but one thing led to another”—been there, done that—“and I found myself spilling it all. I wouldn’t wish such a thing on my worst enemy. Thank heaven for Evan. He remained calm and levelheaded.”
“So why are you calling me, Trude?”
“The girls want to see you.”
The bursting beat of his heart shot fire brands across his chest. “Now?” He glanced round the flat. Dull. Boring. Flat.
“Tomorrow, after school. They want to see your place.”
“They want to come here?” Tanner walked back to the living room. “Tomorrow?” Did he have time to book a decorator by then?
“How about four thirty? Tanner?”
“Four thirty?”
“Are you agreeing or merely repeating everything I say?” she both snapped and sobbed. “What a mess I’ve made of everything. They hate me, and I don’t blame them.”
“They don’t hate you.”
“Then they should. I deserve it.”
“Stop. That’s my line. Four thirty is fine. Ring me at three thirty to make sure nothing urgent has come up.”
“Thank you, Tanner. Thank you.”
After she confirmed his address, Trude asked, “Is it true? We really have a princess again?”
“It’s true.”
“What’s she like, Tanner? The girls would love to meet her.”
“She’s a good sport.”
“A good sport?” Trude laughed. “She’s not a chap at the rugby club, Tanner. Or is she?”
“She is a good sport. Took the news of being our long-lost princess like a champ. She’ll do splendidly.” If she returned to Hessenberg. “Is there anything else? Besides tomorrow at four thirty?”
“No. Right-o. See you then.” And Trude rang off.
For a moment, Tanner felt stunned. His girls were coming to his flat. Then he smiled, a giddy sense of satisfaction cleansing away the slime of spending an evening with his mates.
His girls wanted to see him.
Now that he’d made contact with them, now that he had a chance to be their dad, he couldn’t go back to being all-business, no-fun, stoical Tanner Burkhardt.
Looks like Regina isn’t the only one stepping into a new destiny.
He stared at his phone, thinking he might ring her and share his news. But he reconsidered. Give her space. This is her time with family and friends.
Returning to the kitchen, Tanner stood at the counter and finished his sandwich, thinking he should inspect the guest bedroom.
It was a large space with a stellar view of the city, but used mostly for storage.
Back in the room, Tanner flipped on the light, surveying the storage bins and the heavy boxing bag swinging from the corner.
Then he broke his cardinal rule. “Lord, thank you for giving me a second chance. It’s unmerited and undeserved.”
He left his prayer without an amen, without pausing for a holy response, a
nd dug into the room’s mess, sorting through the bins.
He was halfway through the second boxes, finding most of it rubbish, when his phone rang.
Regina. His heart palpitated.
“Hey,” she said. “It’s me.”
“And what do you know? It is also me.” She laughed and he felt completely renewed. “How are you?” Tanner perched on the nearest solid-looking bin.
“I’m good.”
Silence.
“Say,”—he ran his fingers through his hair, shoving the curls from his forehead—“the girls are coming by tomorrow after school. They want to see me . . . see the flat.”
“Yea, Tanner! That’s amazing.” Her Southern lilt made him smile and yearn for her. “So Trude is letting them move in?”
“It seems this is our trial run. See how we get on. But my place looks a bit like a grumpy bachelor hovel. The décor is black, white, and boring.”
“Go to Target, or whatever we have over there that’s like a Target”—he liked her plural pronoun we—“and get some colorful beanbag chairs and throw pillows, maybe a corner floor lamp to warm up the lighting.”
Tanner scampered for a pen and paper. “Brilliant, brilliant.”
“Go on Pinterest and look for decorating ideas for preteen girls. Print out the stuff you like and tape it on the wall of their room. Tell them they can decorate any way they like. I’m sure there are even creative ideas for twins on there. Then have some fun snack for them like M&M’s or ice cream.”
“Mum can make her famous cinnamon cake. I loved that as a lad.” Oh, wait, then he’d have to tell Mum about the girls possibly moving in, though Dad may have already told her. No bother, desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Perfect. That should be enough to give them a taste of what life could be like with you.”
Tanner set down his pen, sobering. “What of you, Regina? Will you be coming home? To see what life with me might be like?”
“I wasn’t sure when I left,” she said in a hushed tone. “I knew I had to come back for the entail and all that government stuff.”