by T. I. Lowe
“I better make it four, then. Those boys know how to eat. I’ll get it going.” Jasper turned his head in the direction Josie thought she was hiding. “Jo-Jo, get on out here and serve August a cup of coffee.”
Josie nearly jumped out of her skin at the mention of her own name, making the door bang against the side of her forehead.
“She all right?” Josie heard August ask as she worked on rubbing the sting away.
“Who knows with that girl? Probably just hormonal or something.” Jasper waved off August’s concern and shuffled into the kitchen.
“Kill me dead now,” she mumbled to herself, mortified.
“You ain’t got time to be dead.” Jasper gave his daughter a stern look, leaving no room for argument as he pointed to the door. “Get out there. Now.”
Embarrassed and flustered as she was, Josie somehow managed to make her way out of the kitchen and over to the coffeepot. She poured a cup and placed it on the distressed-wood countertop in front of August without spilling a drop.
“Thanks.” August lifted the cup in her direction before taking a sip.
“Thank you,” she replied, feeling foolish. Thank you? She followed it up by blurting out more idiocy. “I’m welcome.” After all these years, how could August Bradford still make her so tongue-tied and rattled? She was a grown woman, for crying out loud.
August was decent enough not to call her out on her jumbled response. The only reaction he offered to her word folly and twitchy behavior was a wry smile, which he covered graciously with the coffee cup.
His free hand smoothed over one of the planks. “I’ve always loved these countertops.”
He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, but her eyes were fastened on the planks with her mouth pressed in a tight line. Some of the boards were naturally grayed, while others had light washes of white or teal. It was one of the last projects she had completed with her mom. Of course, her dad had grumbled at first but relented when they hauled in all of the reclaimed wood and set out to renovate the entire counter space, lengthening it enough to accommodate ten mismatched wooden barstools Opal helped them find.
Josie’s eyes unlatched from the counter and flickered around the dining hall, where a collection of rustic pieces of art—mostly fashioned from driftwood, seashells, and anything else that had washed up on shore—hung on the weathered shiplap walls. Several weathered signs hung precariously about as well. One of Josie’s favorites stated, Time near the coast doesn’t move by the hour; it moves by the currents, plans by the tides, and follows the sun.
The diner was a relaxed space, inviting people to come on in whether they had shoes or not, but it no longer held that comfort for Josie. Not one new piece of art had been added since that awful life storm turned her and her dad’s life upside down.
Blinking the memory away as best she could before it blinded her, she managed a somber nod before moving to the other end of the counter to refill another patron’s cup of coffee.
She kept busy with taking orders, ringing customers up, and checking on Dalma. At one point, from the corner of her eye, she caught August swiping a postcard from the stand beside the register. On the front of the card, intended for tourists, was a picture of the diner with blue skies and ocean waves in the background. After grabbing a stray pen from the counter, he began doodling something. As curious as Josie was, she willed herself not to look over and inspect it.
Thankfully, August’s take-out order came up shortly. Before she could key it in the register, her dad interrupted.
“It’s on the house.”
August shook his head and fished out the wallet from the side pocket of his blue board shorts. “No, no. Let me pay.”
“Nonsense. This is my welcome-home gift.” Jasper made a show of pushing the bag containing the foam carryout containers into August’s reluctant hands. “Don’t you dare be rude like that, boy.”
Admitting defeat, August put away his wallet and accepted the bag. “Yes, sir. I appreciate it.”
“You hitting the surf today?” Jasper asked, wiping his hand along the grease-stained apron.
“That was the plan, but the water is like glass.” August stood up from the stool. “You gotta go surfing with me sometime.”
Jasper cackled at the idea and slapped the pronounced O of his belly. “It’s been too many years and way too many shrimp burgers for that.”
“Nah, man. It’s never too anything to pursue what you love.” August fixed Josie with a meaningful look. “It was good seeing y’all.”
“You too.” Jasper easily sent the polite remark back while Josie stood beside him in her mute state. She had not uttered an intelligible word directly to him the entire time. “And tell your folks I said hey.”
“Will do.” August spoke to Jasper, but his eyes remained on Josie, like he was waiting for something. When she remained silent, he appeared to give up whatever he’d hoped for and turned to leave. The Knitting Club began calling out to him, but he was smart enough to only give them a gentlemanly nod and brief wave. Before he made it completely out the door, Opal blocked his path. The shimmering halo of blonde-tipped auburn curls floated every which way as she did her little clap-and-hop dance at the sight of August.
Josie tried not to stare as August and Opal exchanged what looked like pleasantries. The friendly pair laughed at one point with Opal patting his arm.
Opal was an artist in her own right, who took what most people considered junk and restored it into newer, more unique pieces that she sold from her downtown store, Bless This Mess. Back in their youth, Josie and Opal had taken art classes with August at school as well as a few at the community center. Opal was social enough to befriend him, and Josie had been too awkward to do anything but admire him from afar.
Evidently time hadn’t changed some things.
“I’ll be by sometime this week,” August’s deep voice rang out as he headed outside, much to Josie’s relief.
Opal nodded and waved before skipping over to the counter with a sweet smile on her fairylike face. Dressed in a peasant blouse, long skirt, and thick Birkenstocks, she was the epitome of cool and calm in the middle of the stuffy restaurant.
Even with several ceiling fans rotating overhead, sweat dewed along Josie’s brow. She brushed away a damp lock of blonde hair that was beginning to stick there and mumbled, “Hey.”
“Isn’t it wonderful August has finally made his way home?” Opal’s green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
“Umm . . .” Josie busied herself with wiping down the already-clean counter until Opal snickered. “What?”
“You still don’t know how to come to terms with your crush on that man, do you?” Opal snickered again.
“I’m too old to have a crush on anyone. And who says I ever had one on him?” Josie’s cheeks lit with knowing she’d just told two fibs. By the smirk on her friend’s face, she could tell Opal knew it too.
“You’re twenty-five years old. . . . Keep telling yourself that,” Opal said as she scooted behind the counter and helped herself to a glass of sweet tea as she had been doing for as long as Josie could remember. She then moved over and settled on the stool in front of the cash register. Her first sip almost sputtered all over the clean counter as she picked up the postcard and turned it for Josie to see. “Seems you’re not the only one!”
Eyes wide in shock, Josie took in the simple yet astonishingly accurate sketch of her silhouette. She was amazed that a plain ink pen was used to create such a rendering and that a fifty-cent postcard served as the canvas.
“Oh, my goodness . . .” The wild beating of her heart started up again, and the oxygen to her lungs was so sparse she grew pure dizzy.
“Are you also too old for love letters?” Opal pointed to the scribbling underneath the drawing. Untie your tongue and give me a call sometime. Along with the simple one-line note, August included his number.
“Humph . . .” Josie paced behind the counter while Opal sat on the stool in all her coolness.
> Suddenly the Sand Queens’ upcoming get-together felt foreboding. Opal and Sophia would have quite a fun time at her expense. They were like sisters, which meant they were loyal but loved to rib one another.
Exasperated, Josie left her friend at the counter, marched straight outside, and plunged herself into the ocean. No, not really, but she sure did consider it.
An hour slipped by after August’s grand reappearing and departure, followed by the Knitting Club and Opal departing as well. With them gone and the morning rush winding down, Josie could finally take a breath.
“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Josie spoke too soon as the screen door swung open to produce another thorn. “Could this day get any worse?”
As the newly arrived thorn made it to the counter, he produced a gun from the pocket of his baggy basketball shorts. A loose tank top and a black ski mask completed his outfit.
Josie held out a hand, palm side up, and wiggled her fingers. “Give me that thing right now!”
“You need me to call the cops?” a customer asked as others began gasping and muttering.
Josie snatched the gun out of the reluctant thief’s hand. “No thank you. This young man is just pulling our leg. No harm done.” Josie smiled, trying to apply a good serving of Southern charm, but by the befuddled look on the woman’s face, she wasn’t buying it.
“But he had a gun,” another customer pointed out, eyes wide.
Josie tsked. “It’s only a water gun. See?” She aimed the gun toward the ceiling and pulled the trigger, producing a stream of water.
The thief’s shoulders slumped. He released an exasperated huff and plopped down on a stool. “But I really need to rob you this time. I’m being for real.”
“I’m not in the mood for this today, Theo Williams,” Josie spoke quietly as she tossed the gun underneath the counter. It certainly looked like a real gun. Thinking better of it, she hid it underneath a stack of bags.
Jasper barreled out of the kitchen. “What in the sam hill is going on out here?”
“Theo’s here to rob us again,” Josie answered.
Jasper grumbled and shook his head. “Son, you need to stop causing a ruckus.”
“He’s your son?” a woman asked, edging closer to witness the little incident at the counter with several others following suit.
Josie exchanged a smirk with her father because Theo looked nothing like them, and not only because his skin tone was several shades darker than theirs. Josie was tall, and her father was built sturdy. Poor Theo was short and scrawny.
“No, ma’am, but we claim him. How ’bout y’all go back to your breakfast and I’ll have some sweet glazed biscuits brought out—on the house—for the disturbance.” Jasper motioned for them to return to their tables, and after a few more moments of rubbernecking, they left the scene of the crime behind the counter.
Josie moved her attention to Theo. His ski mask was rucked up, making his face look like it was melting. “Why don’t you take that thing off? You’ve got to be burning up in it.”
“Someone might be able to ID me if I take it off.”
“Really, Theo?” Josie leaned over the counter and snatched it off, revealing a sweaty mess of a young man. “What did I tell you last time about trying to rob us?”
Theo shrugged. “That you’d wring my neck next time.”
Josie dismissed the threat with a flick of her wrist. “After that.”
Theo sighed. “If I needed money, to ask nicely for it.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“It makes me look needy.”
Josie scoffed. “I think you just enjoy the theatrics of the robbery.” She knew it was more on the lines of pride, and it didn’t help matters that Theo was a little on the slow side.
A few years ago, she’d taken Theo to the doctor’s office after he fell off the deck outside and was unable to get in touch with his mother, Deandrea. Doc Nelson, the town’s longtime pediatrician—known for his overuse of unusual expressions—explained that basically Theo’s light bulb was on, but it wasn’t screwed all the way into the socket. After that, Josie began helping out Theo and Deandrea when she could. He was nineteen now and thought he was the man of the house, trying to help his mother make ends meet, but that usually ended up causing more of a problem than anything.
“How much is the electric bill?” Josie asked, knowing it was due.
“One hundred eight dollars and twelve cents. That’s all I was gonna take.” His big brown eyes began to water, and then his stomach rumbled loudly.
Josie patted his hand, resting on top of the counter. “I know, Theo. You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“I’ll grab you a plate of food. After you finish, I need the garbage taken out and they could use some help washing the dishes in the kitchen. Once you’re done with that, I’ll pay you one hundred and thirty dollars.” She fixed a glass of tea and placed it in front of him. “That sound like a deal?”
“But I only need one hundred eight dollars and twelve cents.” Theo looked a little confused but relieved.
Josie’s heart ached a little, knowing her thief was honest and sincere, even if he went about things in the wrong manner. She also knew he and his mother had fallen on hard times, so she would do what she could to make this difficult season a little easier for them. “You work hard until closing and you’ll earn a bonus.”
“I can do that,” Theo responded with a good measure of enthusiasm. He smiled wide enough to show off the endearing gap between his front teeth.
Josie couldn’t help but chuckle while heading into the kitchen to get Theo some food. “What a day,” she mumbled to herself and was actually a little thankful for the bogus robbery. At least it helped to get her mind off a certain other man who made her heart do other peculiar things besides ache.
2
“Hmm . . . Just as good as I remembered it.” August savored the velvety bite of biscuit coated in rich gravy as he sat in the dining room of his parents’ beach house. Being back home and sharing his favorite breakfast with his brothers, pure contentment easily settled over him.
“Good enough to make you stay this time?” Tucker asked. The teenage boy stuffed an entire rolled pancake into his mouth all at once, nearly losing a chunk of sautéed apple in the process.
Always having to copy the older ones, Zachary tried to pull off the same maneuver with his pancake.
“Whoa, little guy.” August placed his hand on the youngest boy’s arm.
“But I’m five. I ain’t little,” Zachary protested but controlled himself and only took a giant bite instead, losing a chunk of apple down the front of his shirt.
August leaned over with a napkin and made quick work of cleaning up the mess. He studied both his brothers, one tall and lanky with messy black hair like himself and the other fresh-faced with a headful of chocolate curls. He looked over at Tucker as the teenage kid started devouring the extra plate of food Jasper had included, and was even more baffled by the facial hair on the kid’s chin. He moved his attention to Zachary, regretting how much he’d missed already, and vowed to build a relationship with the little guy.
“Yeah, no. I’m not going anywhere else. You two punks are trying to get all grown on me. I can’t miss out on any more of this.” August reached over and pinched the whiskers on Tucker’s chin before giving them a playful yank. His brother batted his hand away while smirking at him.
Zachary stroked his smooth chin and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be getting that soon, too.”
The two older guys chuckled at their kid brother.
August thought about another person with whom his absence had caused him to miss out on a lot. Josie Slater had never been known to be articulate. Put the poor girl in front of a podium or just him, and she’d stammer herself into a hot mess. He found it endearing and she had so much spirit, he naturally gravitated toward her. And when she worked on her artwork way back when, he was drawn even more to the passion she poured into it. He knew he’d found
a confidante who not only understood his artistic world but resided in it as well.
He often daydreamed about them painting a life together, knowing it could be a vivid masterpiece if she’d let go of the apprehensions keeping her in knots. But he’d never pursued her. For one, they were too young. And two, he had goals he didn’t want to put off.
BAM! A swift kick to the underside of his dining chair had August nearly jolting out of it. He cut a glare at Tucker. “What?”
“Dude, I was just saying that we’ll help you set up the art exhibit, but you . . .” Tucker mirrored his glare but with a mocking smile as he rose from the table. “Who were you just all googly-eyed over?”
“Huh?” August mumbled.
“Don’t play dumb. You just left Driftwood Diner, so it’s an easy guess.” Tucker’s wry expression remained as he tossed the empty container and swiped one of Zachary’s rolled pancakes before returning to his chair.
August, not wanting to say any more than he had to, stuffed a pancake into his mouth, too. The warm apple filling sent him into a groan. The sweet and spicy treat would be well worth the bellyache he was working on.
Tucker swallowed and took a long gulp of orange juice. “Josie’s cool. You should see the craft projects she has the kids do in her Sunday school class.”
“Miss Josie is my teacher.” Zachary bobbed his head and picked a few chunks of shrimp out of the pale gravy. “Her learns me a lot of stuff.”
August’s smile grew wide, thinking someone needed to teach the kid proper English. “Yeah? That is cool.” He’d hoped she’d somehow figured out how to follow her dreams. She might not have gotten to see it through the way he did, but his hope was to present her with an opportunity to dream a little or a lot with him.
“You went all googly-eyed again.” Tucker rapped his knuckles on the teak table, causing the sound to echo around the spacious dining room. The Bradford beach house was more on the lines of a mansion—clean lines with a minimalistic coastal vibe—but the family’s love made it cozy.