The waitress arrived with eating utensils wrapped in paper napkins, two glasses of ice water, and menus. As she placed everything on the table, Derek glanced up to say thanks. The word stuck in his throat when he saw Brooklyn in white shirt and black skirt, the uniform of the female wait staff at the Moonlight.
Hank didn’t have the same problem. “Thanks.”
That loosened Derek’s tongue. “You got the job.”
“I got the job.” She didn’t look at him as she positioned her pencil over her order pad. “Do you want something to drink while you decide?”
Her tone was cool. In fact, Derek thought icicles could form in the air.
“Water for me,” Hank answered.
“Water’s fine for me too.”
“Okay.” Still not looking at Derek, Brooklyn slid the pencil behind her ear. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide what you want to eat, and I’ll be back.”
After she walked away, Hank said, “I take it you know her.”
“Brooklyn Myers. Chad Hallston’s widow. And my new neighbor.”
“I see.”
Of course his friend understood. Derek had talked often to Hank about his plans for those ten extra acres. Hank also knew that Chad’s will had changed things. But Derek hadn’t shared the most recent events, including how he’d felt Brooklyn misled him.
“Did I perceive a bit of frost between you two?”
Derek released a short, humorless laugh. “Just a bit.” Quickly he caught his friend up on the details about Brooklyn’s plans for the land and the words they’d exchanged the previous Sunday and the way he’d felt about them since.
“But you still haven’t apologized.”
“No. We haven’t run into each other until now.”
“Maybe you need to take the initiative. You think?”
Derek hesitated before answering, “Yeah. I know you’re right.”
“Is your problem only about the land?”
He frowned as he mulled over the question. “Probably not. I didn’t like her when we were younger, and I expected to feel the same way about her when she came back. But I’ve realized that my feelings were because she came between Chad and me. Our friendship was never the same after he took up with her, and I blamed her for it.” He looked at Hank. “Truth is she isn’t at all what I expected. She’s never had it easy, from what I can tell. But she hasn’t let it knock her down and keep her there. She’s got what Gran would call gumption.”
The object of his comments returned to their booth. Pencil once again in hand, she asked, “Are you ready to order?” There was a little less frost in her voice this time.
Derek nodded. “I am.”
“Me too.”
Brooklyn’s gaze went to Hank first. “What can I get you?”
A short while later, orders taken, Brooklyn headed for the kitchen at the back of the diner. Derek watched her go. She moved easily, in a way that said she was comfortable in her job. When Derek looked back at Hank, he found his friend smiling, as if he’d discovered a secret. He felt his own eyes widen when he realized what the look meant. “Don’t even think it, Hank. You know I’ve sworn off women for the time being.”
His friend nodded, but amusement remained in his eyes.
Derek didn’t feel the same way. His last relationship had ended on a bad note, his former girlfriend accusing him of being more interested in his tomatoes and carrots than in her. Sadly, that was probably the truth. If he’d been serious about her, it wouldn’t have been that way. He was sure of that. And since he had no time to get serious, he had no intention of dating anybody. Especially not his new neighbor. That would be a big mistake, he was sure.
“All right,” Hank said. “Have it your way. But one day you’re going to meet the right girl, and everything will change.”
“Maybe. But it’s not going to be now.”
For a short while, as they waited for their dinners to arrive, Hank and Derek talked about recent changes within the Thunder Creek Sheriff’s Department. Nothing earth shattering, but there were some employees who resisted any kind of change, even in a department as small as theirs.
Derek’s stomach growled right as Brooklyn arrived, balancing a large round tray that held their dinners. Derek suspected the smile hovering at the corners of her mouth was because she’d heard the growl too. He also couldn’t help noticing that she looked dwarfed beneath the tray. She’d always been a slight thing—narrow shoulders, not an overabundance of curves—yet still undoubtedly feminine.
“Here you go, gentlemen.” Moments later, the plates were on the table. “Anything else I can get you?”
Both men shook their heads.
“Okay, then. Enjoy.”
With a quick smile, she turned and walked toward a nearby booth with a new customer. Before she got very far, however, she stopped in her tracks. Even though she faced away from him, Derek could tell something was wrong. Everything about her body posture screamed tension.
His gaze shifted to the customer, and alarm bells went off. It was Reggie Myers. How had he missed him coming in? As he watched, Brooklyn squared her shoulders and took the last few steps to her dad’s table.
Reggie looked up and scowled. “I’d like a different waitress.” His voice carried to the diners in nearby booths.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Brooklyn answered, her voice lower but still audible. “Lucca’s busy with her own tables. What can I get for you?”
“Send her anyway. Anybody can wait on me but you. I don’t want you.”
“That’s unfortunate, because I’m the waitress you’re stuck with.”
There was strength in her voice rather than anger or hurt, and Derek felt a spark of pride in her.
Then Reggie called her a foul name. The diner went dead silent.
In an instant Derek pushed up from the booth and strode to Brooklyn’s side. “Mr. Myers, maybe you should leave.”
“You can’t throw me out. I’ve as much right to be here as anybody.” Reggie sneered at Derek, challenging him. “Are you going to arrest me if I don’t go?”
“You do have a right to be here, sir, unless you cause a public disturbance. Swearing at your daughter loud enough for the entire dining room to hear qualifies as a disturbance, in my opinion.”
Reggie cursed.
Derek drew himself up to his full height. “Don’t make me tell you again, Mr. Myers.”
For a moment, Reggie stared up at him, and Derek could see the calculating going on behind his eyes. In the end, Reggie held his tongue. Instead, he shot an angry glare at Brooklyn, rose, and marched out, shoving the door hard enough to make it shudder against the frame.
Silence returned, uncomfortable, almost anxious. Then, one by one, the other customers turned their gazes upon their plates. A few tried to resume normal conversations. But it was all a pretense. The air was thick with embarrassment, curiosity, questions, and more. Not only that. Brooklyn had begun to tremble.
Derek took hold of her arm near the elbow. “Come with me,” he said softly. His gaze swept the room. Heads ducked again. They took a couple of steps, then Brooklyn seemed to crumple into herself. He caught her with an arm around her waist. “Easy does it.” He escorted her outside into the warm summer evening and away from staring eyes and listening ears. Thankfully, her father was already out of sight. Still, Derek turned her away from the parking lot and guided her toward a bench beneath a neighboring shop awning.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He sat beside her. “No problem.”
They were silent for a short while before Brooklyn said, “Your dinner’s getting cold. You should go back in.”
“Not yet. Not until I know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. It’s just . . . It’s just that I didn’t expect that to happen. Dad used to . . . He used to hide his anger better than that. He could be gruff, even rude, but he rarely made scenes in public.”
“But he was like that with you? In private.”
The s
ilence was longer this time. So long he didn’t think she would answer. But finally she whispered a reply. “Yes.”
He heard acceptance, resignation, perhaps even forgiveness in that one little word. And it tugged at his heart. “I’m sorry, Brooklyn.”
She shook her head, as if to tell him she didn’t want his pity.
“I’m sorry about the other day too. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. It wasn’t fair of me.”
She studied him, no doubt wondering if he meant what he said.
“Maybe we can start over.” He offered a hint of a smile. “Okay, neighbor?”
She inhaled and let the air out slowly. “Okay, neighbor.” Then she stood. “I need to get back to work. I don’t want to lose my job the very first week.”
“Zach won’t fire you over this. He knows Reggie. We all do.”
“Maybe he won’t fire me, but he would have the right to.” She took a couple of steps away, then looked back at him. “Thanks, Derek, for trying to help with my dad. I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing.”
A half smile curved her mouth, although sadness remained in her blue-gray eyes. “You’d have done the same for anybody, right?” she stated. “It’s your job as a deputy.”
He hesitated, then shrugged. Although he wouldn’t admit it to her, he wasn’t sure if what she’d said was true. Helping her had felt more . . . personal than that.
Brooklyn managed to finish her shift with a modicum of efficiency. But always she was aware of eyes watching her. Lucca, the other waitress. Peter, the cook. Zach, her boss. The customers. Even the ones who came in long after her dad had left, no doubt having heard the gossip from others.
It wasn’t that what he’d done or said in the diner had surprised her. Not really. The surprise had been how much his words had unexpectedly hurt. Shouldn’t that have changed by now? Shouldn’t her visit the day after she got back to town have somehow made it easier to deal with his rejection? It had been crystal clear then that the relationship was not going to get better.
She wasn’t afraid of her dad. Not like she’d once been. He wouldn’t physically hurt her anymore. But that ache in her heart for the loving dad she’d never had . . . That pain never seemed to go away. It lingered in the far corners of her heart. Maybe it was worse because her daughter had never had a loving dad either. Her own situation was beyond her control, but Alycia’s? That was Brooklyn’s fault. She hadn’t chosen wisely. Still a child herself, she’d rushed into marriage without any idea of how immature and selfish Chad was, without any clue that he would leave as soon as the novelty of an elopement wore off.
As she drove home after work, she remembered Derek’s arm around her back as he’d escorted her outside. There’d been a moment when she’d wanted to sink into his support. She had felt sudden and complete exhaustion, emotionally and physically, and it would have been nice to allow someone else to carry the burden, at least for a short while.
That she would have allowed that “someone” to be Derek Johnson either horrified or amazed her. She wasn’t sure which. Perhaps both. Still, it was nice that he’d apologized. She would much rather be on friendly terms with her next-door neighbor. And, to be fair, maybe her distrust of men had kept her from telling him the whole truth when he’d asked about the land. Maybe it had appeared to him as if she’d lied to his face, giving him the right to be a little angry.
The front porch light welcomed Brooklyn as she pulled into the driveway. She stopped the car at the side of the house and turned off the engine, then sat still, allowing the night air to settle around her.
“God,” she whispered. “Help me not to distrust without reason. Don’t allow my past with my dad and with Chad to color my future relationships with other men.” She drew a deep breath. “And help me forgive my father. Even if he never changes. Even if he can never love me or treat me kindly, don’t let me become like him. Don’t let bitterness take hold in my heart.”
Crickets chirped and frogs croaked. Leaves rustled softly in the nearby trees. Tears filled her eyes.
“Lord, You’re my heavenly Father, but I’m not sure I know how to experience You that way. I don’t always know how to respond to You as a beloved daughter. I struggle with it all the time, and I know that’s because of my earthly father.” A tear splattered onto the back of her hand. “Please don’t let it be that way for Alycia. Please, God, help her know how loved she is by You.”
She opened her eyes and reached for the car door, feeling a sudden need to hold her daughter in her arms.
Chapter 12
After a difficult night of lying awake—heart aching, thoughts roiling—Brooklyn was in the midst of a deep, dreamless sleep the following morning when her daughter burst into the bedroom and hopped onto the bed.
“Morning, Mom.”
Brooklyn groaned and tried to cover her face with a pillow.
Alycia stole it from her. “What’re we doin’ today?”
Alycia was one of those kids who was ready for full-on conversation the instant she opened her eyes in the morning. Brooklyn preferred a little more time—and at least one cup of coffee—before being expected to converse. However, mothers didn’t always get to choose how or when their days began. She’d learned that soon after the birth of her daughter.
“Mom?”
Opening her eyes, Brooklyn released a soft sigh. “How about we paint your bedroom?”
“Really? And can we do drawings on it too? You know. Like I showed you in that magazine at Mrs. Johnson’s.”
Brooklyn wondered how expensive stencils were. Would decals cost less, or would they be more? “We’ll see.”
“Please, Mom.”
“We’ll see what they cost at the hardware store. Okay?”
It was Alycia’s turn to sigh, but hers was louder and much more dramatic.
Fully awake now, Brooklyn laughed and drew her daughter into a tight embrace. “You know that won’t make a difference. Right?”
“Yeah.” Alycia giggled. “I know. But I gotta try.”
A twinge of sadness tightened Brooklyn’s heart, an unwelcome memory of her own childhood and how she’d never dared ask her dad for anything. Thankfulness immediately followed. She was thankful that Alycia had grown up fearless, despite everything. She was thankful that even though poverty had dogged them and made so many material things beyond their reach, her daughter had remained cheerful. When Alycia asked for something and was denied, she accepted the way it was, albeit sometimes with one of her dramatic sighs.
Brooklyn smiled as she whispered into Alycia’s ear, “How did I get lucky enough to have you for a daughter?”
“’Cause God loves you that much.”
Joy over the truth of that statement burst in her heart, driving out the momentary sadness, and she laughed along with Alycia all over again.
A few hours later, Brooklyn and Alycia stood in the paint aisle of Snake River Hardware. The air was heavy with a mixture of smells that were hard to identify but seemed fitting for such an establishment. A little paint. A touch of grease. A bit of mustiness. The tiled floor could have used a good scrubbing, as could the large plate-glass windows at the front of the store. And yet even those things seemed as they should be.
“What color for the walls?” Brooklyn asked her daughter as she reached toward the paint chips on display.
“Blue!”
No surprise there. Blue was Alycia’s favorite color. Sky-blue and turquoise in particular. Brooklyn moved her hand above the row of paint chips until she found an appropriate strip. Pulling it out, she handed it to her daughter.
“That one.” Alycia squinted at the name beneath the bottom color. “Waterside. That’s the one I want.”
Brooklyn grinned. “Don’t you need to think about it first?”
“Nope. That’s the one.”
“Okay, then. Now let’s see if they have any wall stencils you like. But remember: it can’t be expensive.”
“Horses.” Alycia clapped h
er hands together twice. “I want some horses. And a dog too. One that looks like Trouble. Do you suppose they’ve got one of those?”
“I don’t know, honey. We might not have that many choices.”
“Can I be of help?” a man’s voice asked from behind her.
Brooklyn glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, we—” She stopped abruptly. “Vic?”
“Well, I’ll be. Brooklyn Myers. I heard you were back.”
“You work here?”
Silly question. Victor Cottrell—a former classmate—wore a dark-green apron stamped with the name of the hardware store.
“Yeah. I’ve been working here since I was a teenager. Shoot. I got the job before you and Chad left Thunder Creek.” He paused a moment, then added, “I was sorry to hear about him, by the way. Hadn’t seen him since his folks died. He was way too young to go like that.”
Brooklyn gave a brief nod, not quite sure how to respond to expressed sympathies. She was Chad’s widow almost without having been his wife.
“This your daughter?” Vic looked down at Alycia.
“Yes. Alycia, this is Mr. Cottrell.”
“Hello,” she answered with a polite nod.
“Hey, there, young lady. You look a lot like your daddy, don’t you?”
Alycia shrugged.
“Yes, she does,” Brooklyn answered for her.
Vic looked up. “So what brought you into Snake River Hardware?”
“We need paint and some stencils for Alycia’s bedroom walls.”
“Horses!” Alycia chimed in quickly. “And blue paint.” She held out the paint chip, her index finger on the shade she wanted. “Waterside.”
“Knows what she likes. Makes my job easier.” Vic motioned with his head. “Stencils are at the end of aisle four. Let’s see what we can find.” He led the way, Alycia right behind.
Brooklyn stayed put, thoughts drifting back in time once again. She’d known Vic since the first day of kindergarten, but it wasn’t until she’d begun to develop a figure that he’d shown interest in her as a girl. She’d gone out with him a few times. Well, snuck out was a more accurate description. Her dad hadn’t allowed her to date yet, so she’d waited until he fell asleep before slipping out her bedroom window. By the standards of many, she hadn’t been a truly “bad” girl. But she’d made plenty of stupid choices. Choices she regretted now.
You'll Think of Me Page 10