44: Book Six (11 page)

“You’re not calling anyone, bitch,” he muttered.

And then I saw the blade. Shiny, silver, and quick.

Across her throat.

CHAPTER 31

It was a bad day.

I was still shaken from the vision the night before when I walked into Back Street at 6:45. I had barely gotten any sleep. And seeing the mystery girl murdered in front of me, watching the knife slash her throat had left me jittery.

I had told Kate about it as we got ready for work. She tried to talk me into taking a day off. But I couldn’t. It was the busy season at Back Street, and I couldn’t let Mike down. Plus, I could use the money for Christmas.

But as I found out, I really should have called in sick. I was completely off my game.

I was in the middle of making a round of ginger spice coffees for a group of old ladies who looked like they had been out shopping all day when one of our regulars came up to me, an angry look on his face.

“What do you call this?” he asked, shoving his drink across the counter at me.

I stared at him for a moment, confused.

“That was supposed to be a soy milk cappuccino. But just taste it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, hesitantly. “What’s wrong with it?”

“That’s not soy milk in there.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my head. “I must have spaced. I’ll make you another one. On the house.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll have the other girl make it. You’ve already done enough damage to my day.”

“But I—”

“Let me,” Mo said, frustration in her voice. “Just take care of those gingerbread ladies.”

She took over and the customer drummed noisily on the counter while I finished up the other drinks.

I tried not to let it get to me, but it did.

Sometimes when I had days like this, I wondered how I would cut it in the culinary world, if indeed I ever got there. Except for soccer, I hadn’t ever been too good under pressure. What if I ended up leaving out key ingredients? Or using the wrong ones?

I wasn’t like David. I couldn’t memorize lines, let alone recipes. Since the accident, my memory hadn’t been the same.

Maybe my career as a chef would be over before it had even started.

I tried to focus on steaming the milk and not take it all on at once.

“I’m going for my break,” Mo said, taking her apron off after the angry customer had left. “You think you can handle it out here?”

“Sure,” I said.

She stomped off into the back. 

I tried not to take it personally. In the last few weeks, Mo was even moodier than usual. I couldn’t remember the last time I had even made eye contact with her. She barely said anything to anyone. I knew she had her own life with her own troubles. I knew her band was close to breaking up, despite their relative success.

We all had our problems.

I kept flashing back on my vision.

The look on her face.

The knife.

***

The order was a simple one. I had made dozens that day already.

A pumpkin spice latte.

“So how’s it going?” he asked.

The college professor was one of our best customers. He came in often, usually wearing a wool blazer and always ordered the seasonal drinks. He liked to chat. Anytime when he came in, Ellen, if she was working, would get all flustered and frantic. She’d never say anything, but I had the impression she had a major crush on him. 

“Oh, my day’s been okay,” I said. “How about yours?”

“Great,” he said. “You can’t beat teaching when it comes to vacation time. Winter break’s the best. Well, if you don’t count summer.”

He smiled and leaned across the counter. 

“I’m jealous,” I said. “I wish I got as much time off.”

I finished frothing the milk and poured it into the cup. I slid it across the bar to him.

“Order up,” I said.

“Thanks, Abby,” he said, taking it and setting it down at a table not far from the counter.

“Enjoy,” I said.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last I saw of him.

He came back up a couple of minutes later, still smiling, but I knew something was wrong.

“Sorry, but I think my pumpkin spice latte might be missing something,” he said.

Mo was back and she grabbed it from him, opened the lid and took a sip, spitting it back out.

“Jesus H. Macy, Craig. You forgot the pumpkin and the spice. Oh, yeah. And the coffee. It’s just milk. Look.”

I felt my cheeks grow red as I looked at it.

“You’re acting like a real spaz today, Craig,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said to the professor.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I’m Elliot by the way. Elliot Beverly.”

“Abby,” I said, feeling like a deflated punching bag and realizing he already knew my name.

But he didn’t seem the least bit upset, his light eyes sparkling, catching the rays of the sun streaming through the windows. Mo made him a fresh one and handed him a coupon for a freebie. He told me again not to worry about it and left. I watched his BMW pull out of the lot, feeling beyond stupid.

Suddenly I froze as my eyes fell on one of the cars parked outside.

Ty’s pickup was sitting there.

I looked over at the long line and found him standing just inside the door, looking down at the ground.

His energy was gray.

CHAPTER 32

I walked slowly in his direction. I wasn’t sure what he was doing here. More than enough time had gone by since he had come back to town and I hadn’t seen or heard from him. Maybe he was just here to make it official. That would be all right by me.

But as I got closer, I began losing my resolve. It took all my willpower to hold back and not run up to him and throw myself in his arms. I felt weak, the pounding in my chest and head growing stronger. But I held my ground.

“Hi, Abby,” he said, giving me a hug. “Long time no see.”

I kept my arms down at my sides.

“Hey,” I said when he let go.

I looked over and saw Lyle watching us between orders.

“So you think you’ll have time to talk?” he said.

“I don’t have a break for another half hour,” I said. “If even then. As you can probably see, we’re pretty swamped and I’m on the machines. Thanks for stop—”

“I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ll just be at the table in the back. Come over when you can.”

“Sure,” I said. “But like I said, it might be a while.”

I struggled letting go of his eyes but reminded myself about my decision. Reminded myself where I had put the vases that he had made. Reminded myself that it was actually me that had made a decision, that
I
was the one who needed to talk to him.

When I made my way back behind the counter, Mo almost blew a fuse.

“Not cool, Craig,” she said. “Not cool. We have 12 orders on deck. Get your sorry ass in gear.”

***

When things finally quieted down I walked over to him.

“Hey,” he said as I sat down.

I saw it now. The sadness in his eyes.

He reached over and touched my arm.

His touch felt electric, like fireworks on a summer night pulsating through my body. It made me flinch, the power too strong. I pulled my hand away. He looked down.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“Me too,” my voice breaking a little. “So what’s up?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I… I just wanted to, I just had to see you. I needed to know how you were doing, you know, face to face. It’s been too long.”

I nodded. It had been more than a month since we walked along the river and I told him how much I loved him and he had left my words hanging in the cool autumn air like old forgotten clothes drying on a laundry line.

“I’m fine,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “You?”

He smiled, but then lost it and looked back out the window.

“Not so good,” he said.

“Sorry to hear that,” I said without any real feeling.

But I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to hold him, run my fingers through his hair like I used to. Like I did that night up in the mountains. But seeing him now, I could feel it. Things had changed between us. They had really changed. As I stared at him, a staggering sadness rushed through me like a winter wind, leaving me cold and empty.

And alone.

I held back the tears that were trying to break free from my eyes and looked away.

I didn’t need to tell him it was over. I didn’t have the heart. Or the strength.

“Well, if there’s nothing else,” I said. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I know this is weird,” he said. “But can we just talk for a few minutes, please?”

“Sure,” I said. “About what?”

“Well, tell me how your Thanksgiving was,” he said.

He was just making small talk now, because there was nothing else.

“I can barely remember,” I said.

How could it have gotten like this? How could there be this giant wall between us? Just a few short months ago, we were together. Hearts, souls, bodies. We were one. Now it felt like shattered glass in my heart when I looked at him.

This didn’t feel like love anymore. Something else, with a little love mixed in maybe. But something else.

He looked back over at me.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to make sense of it,” he said. “Still.”

“Time’s up,” I said. “I’ve got to get back.”

He took my hands in his and leaned over the table.

“But I still love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

It wasn’t enough. It didn’t change anything. He hadn’t accepted who I was. We both knew that.

“Can’t we meet up later?” he said, almost begging. “Can you come over tonight?”

I looked at him. His eyes desperate and sad, his energy gray and troubled.

I ached for him too. Our bodies calling out to each other, breaking through the walls, finding the path of least resistance and screaming out for the other.

But it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be right if he couldn’t handle the other parts of our relationship.

“I can’t,” I said, brushing a tear from my eye.

I got up and went in the back and cried for a long time.

CHAPTER 33

I had gotten into the rhythm of working at the Community Center. I didn’t feel as self-conscious or guilty and focused on doing the work. It wasn’t like I was really volunteering because Mike was still paying me, but at least I wasn’t selling cars. Or
Le Creuset
cookware. At the end of the day I was still helping people. And that felt good.

I was even getting to know some of the regulars. I got a few waves. A couple of kids came up and gave me hugs. And an old man started telling me about his cat.

Sutter let me in. He was the one who had stared at me strangely that first night. Maybe my first impression of him had been wrong. He didn’t seem that bad.

“Hi, Sutter,” I said.

“Ms. Craig,” he said, smiling and giving me a nod.

I walked through the doors and saw Ellen, another Back Street employee, already inside. She waved at me as I walked over to her.

“Hello, stranger,” she said. I had worked with her in the afternoon for the last hour of my shift. “Did you get to take a nap?”

I had told her about my bad day at work and Ty showing up. I seemed to be spilling my guts to everybody lately. But then I thought about what David had said about Ellen. He was right. There was something really comforting about her. Sometimes he called her “Mom Number Two.” And it wasn’t in the sarcastic way he referred to me as “mommy” sometimes. He meant it.

When I finished telling her everything, she told me to go home and take a nap. I think it actually helped. I was feeling a little better. But honestly I couldn’t see how it was possible to feel any worse.

“Yeah,” I said. “You were right.”

“Usually am when it’s the easy stuff,” she said, rubbing my shoulder.

Angie walked up, dressed in a Christmas sweatshirt and a Santa hat. As was her habit, she handed us those aprons, hair nets, and gloves.

“Abby, how about you help with serving?” she said. “And, Ellen, you’re on kitchen duty tonight.”

“Sure,” I said.

“You got it, Ange,” Ellen said.

I set the trays out and plugged them in, stirring the contents. It looked like some sort of beef stew with mashed potatoes and rolls and green beans. Dessert was a large cake that one of the local bakeries had donated.

I was working with Sutter. Angie had pulled me aside and told me that she thought he was on some sort of medication.

“He suffers from mood swings,” she said. “He seems fine tonight, but I just wanted to let you know in case he starts acting up. Let me know right away if anything comes up.”

I nodded and wondered why they would have someone like that working here. And then, of course, it came to me. People weren’t exactly knocking down the doors to volunteer. Most people didn’t give places like these a second thought. I knew. I was one of them.

I kept an eye on Sutter, but didn’t see any crazy moods.

People kept coming in. At one point Angie asked me if I could stay an extra hour. I told her that it was fine.

Just after seven, she let the last of the people in from out in the cold. I glanced up and looked around the large room and at the line, trying to gauge when I would get home.

That’s when I saw her.

Standing with a tray in her hands, looking at the food on the table.

It was her.

The dead woman in the alley.The one with the bright red blood gushing out of her neck. The one that I had seen being murdered just last night.

Standing in line, eyeing the mashed potatoes.

Still alive.

CHAPTER 34

Goose bumps engulfed my arms as she walked past me.

It was her. Her neck was still intact but it was her. The same thin body. The same hair. The same nose. The same full lips. It was her. I was sure of it.

And I didn’t have a clue what to do.

She reached over for the salad, keeping her eyes down.

“That’s right,” the man standing next to her said. “I’m glad to see you easing up on those carbs. You’re getting fat.”