Sacred Hart

by A. M. Johnson

  “Just give me a few minutes. Have a seat.” He nodded and pushed back from the counter.

  Once he was through the kitchen door, I exhaled a harsh breath and sat down on the stool, laying my bag on the bar top. Maybe asking him on a date was a bad idea. He seemed pretty closed off and he hadn’t flirted back. Maybe my boldness wouldn’t be appreciated. I worried at my lower lip, but before panic could overtake me, the kitchen door swung open again. Ryan’s rich brown eyes were soft as they fell to mine. He placed the containers of ice cream in front of me. He wasn’t flirting, but for that brief moment, his guard had slipped and it settled my overactive nerves. “I’ll wrap up two of these apple fritters for you to take, too. I make them every Saturday.”

  “Thanks. They smell delicious,” I said, and watched in silence as he placed two pastries in a Styrofoam container.

  He handed me the box with another smile, but this time it reached his eyes. “It’s on the—”

  “House. Yeah, Tony’s rule. I remember.” I stood from the stool and grabbed the containers. My heart was beating, fluttering, and pounding behind my sternum as I tried to gather words.

  Just as I was about to speak, he did as well. The awkward moment of us both trying to speak at the same time made me giggle, and he smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was just going to ask if you needed help out?” His gaze fell to my bag on the counter and then back to my full hands.

  “Sure.” I handed him the containers and grabbed my purse. I didn’t get to say what I’d planned. In fact, we didn’t speak at all as we walked the short distance out of the diner and to my car.

  I opened my car door and flung my purse into the back seat. My previous self-confidence was bordering on non-existent. Ryan handed me the to-go boxes, and I brought my eyes up to his. Up close, in the quiet light of dusk, you could see the weariness heavy in his brow and a faint sparkle of fear in the dark pools of his irises. He was more than a stray… more than lost. His loneliness was almost palpable.

  “Drive safely.” He lifted his chin in a goodbye and my plans changed.

  I sat in my car and shut the door, watching as he walked back toward the diner. My heart started that sprint again. My mind spun. If I let him walk through that door, it felt as if he’d disappear. It was dramatic, but the truth of it rushed through my veins. Without thinking, I rolled down my window and called out his name. “Ryan.”

  He stopped and turned to look at me, his brow furrowed with concern.

  “What are your plans tomorrow?” I asked without a flirty smile, just a matter of fact question. Something told me the fear I’d seen in his eyes earlier was reserved for me. “I mean, the diner is closed, right?”

  He nodded. “I normally prep for the week.” He moved closer to my car. “Why?”

  “Did you want some help?” It wasn’t a date-like thing to do, but it gave me the opportunity to get to know him, feel him out, and to see if his wall was worth the climb.

  “Help?” He rubbed the back of his neck and narrowed his eyes.

  “Yeah, Beth and I get bored on Sundays. We’d love to help. I feel like I should repay Tony for all the freebies.” My lips turned up at the corners, and the crease between his brows deepened.

  “Tony doesn’t want—”

  “What time do you start?” I interrupted, fighting a smile.

  “Early.” He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled in defeat. “You guys can come by around eleven if you want, though. That’s when I start doing most of the baking.”

  “Beth loves baking… well, licking the spoon, really. But she’s an excellent mixer.” I gave him my best lopsided grin, and he cracked. His chuckle was low as he shook his head.

  “Eleven.” He let his eyes linger on my face, the intensity of it almost perceptible against my skin. “See you then, Maggie.”

  I nodded and rolled up my window without saying goodbye. Ryan watched me as I eased out of the parking spot. My hand shot up in a shy wave as he turned to walk back into the diner.

  I didn’t hear the whirring of my tires on the wet pavement, and I didn’t even hear the music that was playing on the radio. All I could hear was my name, in his deep, slightly southern tone, and it was glorious. Success was measured in many different ways, and even if tomorrow wasn’t a date — I’d most likely be covered in flour and grease by day’s end — I’d been given time with him, and I had a feeling his time was priceless.

  The two ovens stifled the small kitchen with heat. I cracked the window open, but the relief was limited. The window wouldn’t budge more than about three inches. Most likely jammed with grease and decades of paint stuck in the tracks. The mid-morning air spilled in, offering a bit of chilled humidity from the rain. I’d been cooking all morning and had about thirty minutes before Maggie had said she’d be here. I shook my head and exhaled an anxious breath.

  She scared me.

  I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve told her no. But, she made me think about things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Her lips were full, pink, and for a split second yesterday, I’d thought about how those lips would taste. How they’d feel against mine, and it made me feel guilty. It was just a physical reaction, but it seemed like forever since I’d had one, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Maggie’s nervous laughter and her attempts at flirting… I bet most men would’ve eaten that up. I bet they would’ve loved every second they got in her light. But me? All I thought about last night, every time I’d dozed off, was her eyes. Those clear blue eyes. They wanted… they wanted more than I could give, and her coming here today could give her false hope.

  Sunday was the only day I had truly to myself. Tony was at church, and then he’d have dinner with one of the local families or drive to the Conner’s in Aberdeen. Lou would sometimes stop by to check on me, bring me something she made for her family, but on most Sunday’s it was just me and the radio. I’d made a friend of my solitude. This kitchen was my church. The smell of sweet apples, butter, and the savory scents of sage and thyme were my comfort. It was one of the only times I could break down and really think about Belle. Think about my Birdie and Sarah and how it all used to be. It was easy to pretend that at any minute Belle would walk through the door and giggle. I imagined Sarah would wrap her arms around my waist and kiss my neck like she always had, the familiar feel of her breath on my ear telling me things only I should hear.

  It was better this way. Remembering my life in short reels, remembering the manufactured happiness instead of what had become the truth. Dwelling in my reality only served to cut me open, and I was tired of bleeding. Maggie and Beth coming into my sanctuary threatened what little peace I had, and I was terrified of the outcome.

  The timer rang loudly, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned the chicken and broth to a low simmer and added the vegetables I’d cut up earlier to the soup. Tony’s special recipe for chicken noodle soup was a town favorite. He reminded me, almost on a daily basis, how important it was for me to follow the recipe “word for word”. The thought made me chuckle.

  “What are you making?”

  The small girl’s voice squeezed at my chest. When I turned around, Beth was just behind Maggie and was holding the kitchen door. I still couldn’t believe how much Beth looked like my own little girl. Her voice haunted me, yet made me feel at home. She wasn’t a ghost, but a living breathing suggestion of what could have been. It hurt to look at her, but I welcomed the pain.

  “I don’t remember Bat Man wearing pink?” My lips pulled into a small smile. Beth was wearing a pink shirt with a Batman symbol on it, and her hair was twisted into a bun on the top of her head.

  “No?” She creased her brow in confusion.

  Maggie laughed. “They have girl superheroes, you know.” She ran her hand through her light blonde hair moving it off her face. She smiled at me and placed a few strands behind her ear. Maggie’s cheeks were full of color, and the rose hue deepened as the silence became thick. I swallowed and brought my eyes back to Beth.

&nbs
p; “Bat Girl,” Beth spoke with pride and pulled at the ends of her cotton T-shirt.

  “That explains the pink.” I smirked, and Beth giggled.

  “I have a pink Spider-Man shirt and a green Hulk shirt. He’s my favorite. Oh, and a purple shirt with Thor. You’re big like Thor.” Her brown eyes widened as if she just had a revelation. Her lips spread from ear to ear in a bright smile. “You have to come see my mom’s shower curtain.”

  I chuckled at the odd request.

  “We have superhero everything at our place, including my shower curtain.” Maggie rolled her eyes with a grin.

  “You like comics?” I asked.

  “No. I mean, sure, but my house only has one bathroom, so we share. I promise, my own space is very adult.” Maggie smiled, and my eyes fell to her mouth. I liked that she didn’t wear lipstick. “So… what are we making?” she asked.

  She bit her bottom lip and my pulse quickened. I averted my eyes to the stainless steel counter that I’d prepared for our work space. “Um…” I took a deep breath; she’d rattled me, and I couldn’t let myself feel that way about her. “Cookies.”

  Beth squealed, “I love cookies!”

  Maggie’s laugh filled the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I have to make four dozen.”

  “How many is that, Mom?”

  “A lot.” Maggie reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled something out that looked like a rubber band. She raised her arms and pulled her long hair into a high ponytail. The motion lifted the hem of her red sweater just above the waistband of her jeans, exposing a sliver of her stomach. My eyes lingered on the soft, pale skin, and I imagined how fucking perfect it would feel to touch her. She was igniting fires that should stay extinguished. “Ready.” The smile in her voice drew my eyes back to hers.

  “Grab an apron. There are a few over by the fridge,” I said calmly, even though I was shaking on the inside.

  I watched as she pulled on her apron and then folded the other apron in half and placed it around Beth’s waist. They both giggled at how the fabric drowned Beth’s small body.

  “Four dozen… chocolate chip, I hope,” Maggie inquired as she took Beth’s hand in hers and moved toward the workstation.

  “Yes.” I grabbed a five-gallon bucket of rice and moved it just in front of the counter. “If you stand on this, Beth, you should be able to reach.”

  I took the little girl’s hand in mine and helped her onto the bucket. The feel of her tiny fingers as they wrapped around my palm just about split me in two. My throat constricted, and my breathing increased as I fought the wave of emotion. I felt dizzy as my heart beat heavy within its confines. Once she was steady, I released my grip and held on to the counter to catch my own balance. The room was spinning, and I had to close my eyes to find my bearings.

  “Are you okay?” The heat of Maggie’s palm on the middle of my back grounded me.

  I opened my eyes and raised my gaze to hers and nodded. “I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a lie. Whether it was the burden of my loss or the weight of my self-imposed isolation, I couldn’t be sure, but each day the fatigue of it grew.

  “Then I’m glad we’re here to help.” She dropped her hand from my back and moved in between Beth and me. “So put us to work.”

  We worked in silence for a while. Beth hummed the theme to Spider-Man, and Maggie and I mixed and spooned the dough onto the cookie sheets in a comfortable silence. Occasionally, well after about fifteen minutes, Beth started asking questions.

  “How many chocolate chips are in the dough?”

  “A thousand,” I answered, and her eyes bulged.

  “What’s your favorite cookie?”

  “Peanut butter chocolate chip.”

  “That’s my mom’s favorite.” She giggled, and Maggie confirmed with a nod.

  “Who’s your favorite superhero?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it.”

  She rolled her eyes, unimpressed with my answer, and I laughed.

  “Bat Girl.” I smirked.

  “Hey,” she said the word in a slow drawn out syllable. Beth giggled and brought her flour covered hands to her mouth.

  “If you could have any superpower what would it be?” Maggie asked.

  “I’d fly like Superman!” Beth’s enthusiasm made me smile more than I was used to.

  Maggie laughed. “I already know your answer, Honey Bee. I was asking Ryan.”

  I knew my answer. It was something I wished for every day. If I had the power, I would change the past. “Time travel.”

  “Imagine all the wrongs we could right.” A flash of pain shadowed across Maggie’s eyes.

  The silence returned, and we distracted ourselves until we’d filled about four large trays with evenly dispersed balls of cookie dough. Beth was mixing some sort of concoction of her own on the surface of the counter while Maggie and I covered the finished trays with plastic wrap.

  “So these three trays just go into the deep freezer and then I’ll bake this tray today for Monday and Tuesday.” I placed the one tray not covered in plastic into the ready oven. “If you want lunch I can make you something before you head out?”

  “You’ve been cooking all day. Let me make something for you.” Maggie began to clear the counter, moving the bowls to the sink.

  “Can we have grilled cheese?” Beth asked with animation and jumped from the bucket with a twist in the air. She had more energy than humanly possible.

  “Do you like grilled cheese? It’s my specialty,” Maggie asked and raised her right brow.

  The expression made me laugh and I nodded my head. “I can make it, it’s no trouble—”

  Maggie waved her hands in the air. “Nope, no way. Let me do this for you.”

  The way she said “for you” made my stomach flip. I didn’t like charity. It made me feel weak. All I had was myself to rely on. I’d put my faith in others in the past and it backfired. I was just about to argue when Maggie’s smile fell. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it was important to keep her at a distance. She didn’t know me and she shouldn’t want to.

  “It’s just grilled cheese, Ryan. I can handle it.” Her lips turned up again at the corners and I conceded.

  “Are you from Washington?” Maggie asked around the last bite of her grilled cheese.

  I shook my head. “Florida.”

  Beth had had about two bites of her sandwich and was busy dancing to her recent choice on the jukebox.

  “Why did you come all the way up here?” Maggie wiped her hands with her napkin and gave me her full attention.

  I hated questions. There wasn’t a right way to explain my history. There was no easy answer to who I was, and I wasn’t a liar.

  “I needed a change.” My tone was flat, and I shifted my eyes from hers to my plate.

  A few seconds ticked by before she spoke again, “How long have you been here?”

  “Just over three months.” I let my gaze linger on her hands as she played with the straw wrapper. Her delicate fingers picked at the paper until it was a pile of tiny pieces.

  “You like it here?”

  “I do. Tony has been really good to me.” I lifted my eyes to hers and they were filled with sorrow.

  “I wish I remembered Tony better. It’s like flashes. I see some of the memories but not all of them. I like knowing about my parents. About their life and their friends. It’s hard. They’ve been gone for five years, and Beth was only one when they—” She stopped mid-sentence.

  “Tony told me. I’m sorry about your parents.” I wanted to put my hand on hers. But I didn’t.

  She wiped at her eyes. “Thanks. It’s been difficult, but I have Beth and I have to be strong for her. She was just a baby when they died, so I try to honor their memory not wallow in it. I don’t think they’d want that. I think the dead want us to live… live for them, you know?” Her lips turned up on one side in a small, nostalgic smile.

&nbs
p; I didn’t know. I’d spent too long dying for my own ghosts. But I nodded anyway.

  “Does your family still live in Florida?”

  The question made the acid in my stomach churn. “I don’t really speak to my family.” I’d cut my ties with the past after my conviction. I was nothing more than a disappointment. My parents had only one child… and he was a felon. The only family I had left was a whore of an ex-wife.

  “Oh. I’m sorry… I-I’m nosy,” she stuttered and shook her head. “I think it’s a nurse thing. We have to know all the details.” Her smile was warm.

  “It’s okay. It’s just dysfunctional shit anyway.”

  “You said a bad word.” Beth’s eyes were wide, and her mouth was in a stern line.

  Maggie laughed, and it lit her eyes. She tilted her head back slightly and her hair fell off her shoulders, exposing the curve of her neck. As much as I tried to ignore it, Maggie was more than beautiful. She was kind… she cared. It was her nature, and I could feel it. She was picking away at my surfaces, like she had with the straw wrapper. Each laugh, each smile, each minute of her gaze, a new piece was added to the pile.

  “I guess I did.” I ruffled the hair on the top of Beth’s head.

  “You shouldn’t say bad words.” Beth looked at me with her hands on her hips, and I had to press my lips together in order not to laugh.

  “You’re right.”

  “That’s enough scolding, Honey Bee.” Maggie stood from the stool. “I better get this one home. Thanks for letting us invade your space. It was fun.”

  “I’m grateful for the help.” I stood as well and looked down at Beth. “Thanks for all your help, too.”

  “Can we come next Sunday?”

  “Beth,” Maggie admonished.

  “I’d like that.” The statement fell from my mouth before I could stop myself.

  “Yeah?” Maggie’s full, pink lips parted into a smile.

  “Yeah.”

  Maggie scared the fuck out of me, but after all was said and done, today was the first good day I’d had in ten years.