The Café between Pumpkin and Pie

by Marina Adair

  In due course Jake took to the back roads. A winding landscape of barren trees and browning foliage. Winter would soon push autumn aside. Nature would go dormant in the whites and grays of the long winter season ahead. There would be snow. Lots and lots of snow.

  He debated his future. Relocation crossed his mind. Where he might want to live and who might accompany him. That who could easily be Hannah. There was a lot to consider. So much that he lost track of time. Riding his Ducati twice as far as he’d planned before turning around and heading back toward town. He refused to race above the speed limit. He didn’t need a ticket. He arrived in Moonbright twenty minutes late.

  He locked up his bike at Morrison’s Garage. Jogged to the café. He rounded the corner at Pie Street and Pumpkin Lane and immediately spotted Hannah. It wasn’t cold out, but she stood huddled against the brick building, her head lowered, her hands deep in the pockets of her sweatshirt. She shuffled her feet.

  “Hannah,” he called out to catch her attention.

  She looked up, her expression blank. She blinked several times, as if she saw him but didn’t really see him.

  “You okay?” he asked when he reached her.

  “You’re here.” Her voice was weak, faint.

  He gently touched her arm to reassure her that he was. “We agreed to take a walk in the park once you got off work. I took my motorcycle out to clear my head and got caught up in my thoughts. I’m sorry. I’m here now.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Lauren saw you ride by earlier,” she explained. “She announced you’d grown bored with Moonbright and were likely leaving town. Here today, gone tomorrow. No good-byes.”

  His chest tightened. “You believed her?”

  “You once left Lauren.”

  “You’re not Lauren.”

  “Still, my sister was convincing,” she confessed. “I don’t know you well enough not to have considered the possibility.”

  “Trust me, babe. I have no immediate plans to leave town. I want to spend more time with my granddad and Moody. I’ve taken a part-time job at Morrison’s Garage until Mac hires a new mechanic. I’d planned to share that with you during our walk.”

  He tipped up her chin with one finger. Her blond hair fell away from her face and over her shoulders. The shadows in her eyes vanished when he said, “I’m seriously hot for a woman in a navy sweatshirt. I plan to stick around and see how we shake out.”

  “I’m into a man wearing a black leather jacket,” she said. “Who accidentally ate a doily.” She covered her mouth and swallowed her laughter.

  “The doily, again?” he muttered. “I tell you my secret and you still find it funny.”

  “Funny forever,” she admitted. “Whenever I think of you.”

  “Think of me often then. Your laughter does it for me.”

  He took her by the hand. Small, soft, and finger laced with his own. Holding hands in public meant something in Moonbright. The gesture wasn’t taken lightly. It went beyond a casual friendship and labeled them a couple. Hannah didn’t resist, so he took that as a good sign. Passersby cast inquiring looks and a few nodded support. Several others narrowed their eyes, unconvinced of his sincerity. Gossip would debate their future together. Let people talk. He knew how he felt about Hannah. He was genuinely fond of her. That’s all that mattered.

  They crossed the street and entered the city park. The cement path was wide, for both walkers and bicycle riders. It was well maintained, Jake noticed. And fairly quiet. The bike racks stood empty. The gazebo looked lonely. A very pregnant woman sat on a bench while her two young daughters bounced on the horse spring rides and slid down the short sliding board. All giggles and wiggles as tag came into play. The lady waved to Hannah and she waved back.

  “That’s Mary Jane Dennison—she’s expecting twin boys any day now,” Hannah told him. “Her husband runs Keepsake Antiques. The girls are Rebecca, age six, and the itsy-bitsy is Betsy, age three.”

  “Cute girls,” Jake said as he and Hannah settled on a bench nearby, their shoulders, hips, and thighs aligned. He liked the feel of her against him. Soft and feminine.

  She lifted her face to the sun, sighed. “The park is so peaceful. Fresh air raises the spirits.”

  He squinted against the sunshine. “So do good company, bonding, and relaxation.” He debated putting on his sunglasses, decided against them. They seemed to upset Hannah. She’d refused to look him in the eye at breakfast. So he left them off. For the time being.

  “The park is an active part of the community,” she told him. “The Events Coordinator at the courthouse, Lara Shaw, plans amazing seasonal events. The entire town gathers for the Halloween Pumpkin Carving. In December, it’s Build the Snowmen. There’s an Easter Egg Hunt in the spring and a huge picnic with games and sparklers on the Fourth of July.”

  Jake had always been more loner than joiner. Still, he admired the unity and kinship of Moonbright. People came together, formed tight-knit relationships. Lifelong friendships.

  He nudged her with his elbow. “Let’s talk,” he requested. “It’s quiet, apart from the girly giggles. I need to know why you split last night. I thought we were getting along well. What suddenly upset you?”

  She shifted on the bench and was slow to answer. He sensed her hesitancy. “It has to do with the Halloween legend, which some call foolish and others hold great store by.”

  He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “My granddad mentioned the legend.”

  “The major’s witnessed it at work firsthand.”

  “So he said. Moody too.” Still seemed farfetched to Jake. “Do you believe in the myth? Did you chant?”

  She blushed. “Yes to both. Gram insisted.”

  He’d been with her much of the day on Halloween. “When, exactly, did you recite it?” He thought back.

  She scuffed her feet. Dust flecked the toes of her tennis shoes. “During trick-or-treating.”

  He guessed, “On the sidewalk when you bumped into me?”

  “I closed my eyes,” she admitted, “and didn’t realize you’d stopped. I grabbed you for support.”

  “Here I thought you were trying to get into my jeans.”

  Her color deepened. “Total accident.”

  “The end result?” He was curious but dubious. “Did you catch a man’s reflection in a looking glass?” He made the legend sound like a fairy tale.

  She withdrew her hand from his, putting a tangible distance between them. This was a bigger deal to her than he’d imagined. She was a believer in tradition. Reluctance lowered her voice. “I saw a man, but it wasn’t through a looking glass.”

  He gentled his tone. “Where, then?”

  “It happened upstairs right after you kissed me,” she whispered. “When I looked into your mirrored aviators.”

  He knew what was coming and it hit him hard. Frustrated him. “You saw another man in my reflective lenses?”

  “A hazy silhouette. Unrecognizable.”

  “The legend failed you?”

  “I was initially disheartened. I’d hoped for a clear reflection. Gram believes in happy endings. There hasn’t been a Moonbright woman disappointed by the outcome of the legend. Right place, right time, right man. But my vision was just plain confusing. I’ll await transparency.”

  He let her words soak in. “A mystical secret.” He hated secrets. He liked things candid and decisive. No gray area.

  He ran one hand down his face, rubbed the back of his neck. He found the muscles tight. His stomach hollow. He’d faced challenges and competitions throughout his life but had never gone up against small-town folklore. Dubious to him, yet familiar and credible to the locals.

  He had questions for her. Important ones. He kept his calm. Spoke slowly, “I care for you, Hannah. What happens next? Can we still date? What if we become involved? How much power does the legend have over you?” Would she dump him for another guy?

  She clasped
her hands, looked out across the playground. Sunshine captured her expression; concentration furrowed her brow. She worried her bottom lip, seemingly lost within herself. For a considerable time.

  His own hands flexed and his fingers itched. Vulnerability was not his friend. Such an emotion was new to him. Love was a progression. He wanted to move forward with Hannah. He needed to touch her, to pull her into him, to have her accept him as a friend, her man, and a possible lover—should midnight take them to his bed.

  Instead he sucked it up, backed off. Gave her space. Hannah was smart, capable, and he trusted her judgment. One way or the other. Minutes had never moved so slowly. He sat stiffly. His back ached. He waited and waited and waited some more for her decision.

  Significance scored her words when she finally said, “I’m curious about the man profiled in your sunglasses. I’m also my own person. I like being with you, Jake. We move forward. Get to know each other better.”

  She was open-minded. He had a chance with her, despite the pressures of the legend. Jake exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief settled bone deep. “Good plan.” They’d made progress.

  He had more to say, hoping to schedule time together. Dinner dates. Movies. A ride on his Ducati. Regrettably, they were interrupted by the littlest Dennison, toddling toward them. A chubby sweetheart in a purple sweater, matching leggings, and a gauzy red tutu sparkling with sequins. She held up her arms, entreated, “Help, Han-Han.”

  Hannah was up in a heartbeat. She lifted the girl against her chest, dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “What do you need, Betsy?”

  Betsy pointed between the low wooden balance beam and the monkey bars. “Whirly,” she squealed.

  Jake stood up too. The whirl was an older child’s ride. It featured a wide, round metal platform with multiple handgrips to provide support whether users sat or stood. One person would push the whirl, possibly break into a run, while the others spun wildly. It was a dangerous ride for such a tiny girl.

  He came up beside Hannah. “You and Betsy climb aboard.” They did so. He gave Hannah a boost from the back, his palm cupping her butt. She had a nice ass. “Sit near the middle,” he instructed, “cross-legged, and secure Betsy on your lap. Hang on; here we go.”

  Betsy bounced on Hanna’s thighs. “Fast.” She giggled.

  He waited until Hannah had a solid hold on the girl as well as a handgrip before he set the whirl in motion. There was fast and there was cautious. He started out slow, a mere shuffling of his feet, his boots kicking up dirt, before he widened his stride and took several giant steps.

  Betsy shrieked at the increased speed. He slowed again. Then sped up. He circled countless times, watching the girl go from wide-eyed and breathless to silly giggles.

  “Do me next,” Rebecca called from the swing set. “Push me high.”

  Jake stopped the whirl and helped Hannah, holding Betsy, back on firm ground. His fingers curved over Hannah’s upper arm at the same time his knuckles pressed the side of her breast. High and firm. He was slow to let her go. She cast him a look over her shoulder. He winked. She blushed. They all crossed to the swings.

  Rebecca slid onto a canvas belt swing and began pumping her legs. Hannah settled Betsy in a bucket swing and fastened the seat belt, for safety’s sake. Hannah and he circled behind the two and gently pushed them to a moderate height. Nothing too high. Although Rebecca called for “higher.”

  Jake glanced over at Hannah. She liked kids. For a split second he imagined her as a mother. She was patient and kind and was having as much fun as the girls. She threw back her head and laughed when Betsy let go of the metal chains and clapped excitedly, all the while snug in the high-back bucket.

  The girls eventually tired of their swinging. They weren’t allowed to walk on the low beam or climb the geometric dome. They wanted Jake to do both. He showed off for them. He pretended the low beam was a high wire. He tipped from side to side, his arms stretched out for balance. Applause resounded when he finished. He hadn’t scaled a dome since he was twelve. He shot to the top like a mountain climber. The girls oohed and ahhed.

  Their mother struggled off the bench and joined them near the monkey bars. She glanced at her watch. “Time to go,” she told her daughters. Who moaned and groaned. “There’s pizza for supper,” which had the two jumping like pogo sticks.

  She smiled at Jake and Hannah. “I appreciate your entertaining my girls. I’m not much fun at the moment. Every movement’s labored. I get winded easily.”

  The girls grabbed their mother’s hands. “Car!” They led Mary Jane off, dancing alongside her.

  The sun was shuttered behind a bank of clouds and a cool breeze swept the park. “What are your dinner plans?” Jake asked Hannah.

  She looked down, seemingly reluctant to tell him. She spotted a heart-shaped rock, picked it up, and slipped it in her jean pocket. Her gaze lifted and she said, “Gregory called right before I met up with you. He invited me to Sunday supper. I’ll be joining him and his parents for clam chowder and game night.”

  “Sounds nice,” he managed, thinking it actually sucked. He should’ve asked her out sooner. Not last-minute. He hadn’t known how the day would resolve itself. Their conversation had gone well. He would miss taking a meal with her. “What kind of games?” he asked with forced interest.

  “Scrabble, Monopoly, charades.”

  “Good times.”

  She poked him in the chest to make her point, deliberate in her intent. “I’ve known his family all my life. They’re kind and supportive. Gregory’s father was hurt falling off a ladder, cleaning the gutters. He could use some cheering up.”

  “You’re cheerful, all right.”

  She pulled a face. “Sarcasm, Jake?”

  A bit cynical, perhaps. She was comfortable with Greg, with his family’s homey atmosphere. Jake relented, “Let’s get you back to your apartment so you can dress for dinner.”

  “I’m wearing what I’ve got on.”

  Casual then. He was mildly relieved she wouldn’t be wearing her Sunday best. He took her hand and they returned down the path from which they’d come. The café had served breakfast and lunch but was now closed for supper. They took the outside staircase to the second floor. There they stood silent, facing each other. Neither one was ready to part company.

  “See you later, Hannah,” he finally said.

  She released his hand. A slow slide of palm against palm. “It won’t be a late night.”

  It would be, however, a night spent with Greg and not with him.

  “What will you do while I’m gone?” she asked.

  “Hang out with Moody and Gramps.”

  “They’re good company.”

  They weren’t Hannah.

  Chapter 5

  It was ten o’clock by the time Hannah returned to her apartment. Dinner and game night had proved enjoyable but had dragged on. Her mind had wandered to Jake, so much so that Gregory had eyed her strangely when it was her turn at Scrabble and she sat staring at the tiles. Unable to form the simplest words.

  The two had partnered in charades. Gregory had acted out her favorite movie, The Princess Bride, and she’d missed his clues. She’d guessed badly. He wasn’t a good loser, even to his parents. His frown only deepened throughout the evening.

  He’d borrowed his dad’s Subaru to drive her home. He’d attempted a good-night kiss, but she’d turned her head. The kiss landed off-center, more chin than lips. A red flag from their childhood. He’d looked surprised but not discouraged. He’d gone in a second time, which she also evaded. She’d then quickly unfastened her seat belt, opened the SUV door, and hopped out. Finger-waved her good-bye.

  She’d climbed the stairs, contemplative, and came to a decision. She couldn’t kiss Gregory with a clear conscience. She liked him a lot, but only as a friend. Jake Kaylor presently held her interest. She nearly collided with him on the landing as he was leaving his grandpa’s apartment.

  At the very sight of Jak
e, her heart quickened. Crazy wild.

  He stood in a casual stance and grinned down at her, sans sunglasses. His stare was fixed on the rapid pulse at her neck. “Turned on by Greg or hot for me?” he asked her.

  Her entire body blushed. She shut her eyes for several heartbeats. Her lashes lifted and she found he’d closed in on her. Silently. So near they almost touched.

  His gaze was steady on her. “Did Greg kiss you good night?”

  “M-mm, sort of.”

  “He did or he didn’t?”

  “Does the chin count?”

  “He missed his mark.”

  She’d avoided his kiss. “More or less.”

  “So no lips.”

  “No lips.”

  “Not very memorable. Your call or his?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’m making you my business.”

  Her stomach softened.

  He grinned, got cocky. “I’m guessing good old Greg wanted to fool around. Instead you came home to me.”

  “I live here.”

  “So do I.”

  “For the time being.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Hannah. I told you that this afternoon.”

  She feigned a yawn. “I’m tired. I’ve got an early-morning shift, and I open the café. Time to turn in.”

  He recalled, “You once said my kisses made you sleepy. Should we test your theory again tonight? One good-night kiss and you’d be out like a light.”

  Or she could just as easily lie awake, thinking of him. Silence, heavy and thick as foreplay, settled between them. She wet her lips, nervous yet expectant. She didn’t resist when he eased her fully against him. She let the moment play out. There was a big difference between knowing someone casually and knowing someone intimately. Their embrace was private, personal, appealing.