Patrick's Promise (Cloverleaf #3) (5 page)

Thoughts of Beth pushed any of Amber aside. He remembered how much everyone loved his wife. She was kind and outgoing, and calling her pretty had been an understatement, with her classic girl-next-door looks. She was the center of attention, studious, outrageously popular, and head-over-heels in love with Patrick. In high school he only had eyes for her. Though many of the girls did anything they could to get his attention, he only wanted Beth. They were voted the cutest couple multiple times, and everyone knew that they were meant to be together.

They both graduated and went to the same college in the lower, eastern part of Washington, where their relationship continued to flourish. They both knew what kind of life they wanted, and that it would be back in Birch Valley. Patrick understood that it was his job to take over the family business eventually, even Beth helped at the shop, where she used her accounting skills. They both wanted what their parents each had—a loving and strong marriage. They wanted children and a simple life. Beth and Patrick just wanted to be happy and be together. He didn’t feel that they had asked for much.

After returning to Birch Valley, they married and immediately set out to make their dreams of starting a family a reality. Months turned into years, which then turned into visits to the doctor, then to a specialist, all of which were met with frustration and tears. The strain of not having children put their marriage to the test. They’d had to answer questions about why they didn’t have kids yet, which only made matters worse. Beth blamed herself, and finally, one day, it happened. It was as though all their prayers that had gone ignored for so long had finally been answered. When they found out about their pregnancy, they were back on track to have the life that they were planned for, the life they were meant for. But fate decided to step in again and rearrange and alter their plans. There would be no getting back on track; their plans were permanently derailed.

Patrick downed the last of the contents in his bottle, the feelings of relaxation gone. He took this as a sign of punishment for even thinking about Amber. He didn’t even know her. What kind of person was she? He knew nothing about the dark-haired woman, other than she was sexy as hell, and had sprouted feelings of desire and need in him that had long been dormant. He knew the moment she had said she was moving to Birch Valley he was in trouble, big trouble, and he wasn’t sure he minded it all that much. Maybe it was the beer or sheer exhaustion that clouded his reasoning, but he wondered. What would it be like to be with someone else? He hadn’t asked himself that question before.

Chapter Five

Amber

Putting the apron on and standing in front of the grill, Amber was overcome with various emotions. She never thought she would be cooking at Herrick’s diner again, but this was important. After only having arrived a little more than two days ago, she had learned just how needed she really was here. She couldn’t help the stinging tears that threatened to spill as her thoughts traveled back to the first day she arrived. She had been told that her father wasn’t feeling well, but the details had been left out, and now she knew why. Her father had cancer.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Amber was thankful for the distraction of cooking, even if her heart wasn’t in it. She had always loved cooking; food brought so much comfort and joy to people. That’s why, when her husband died and the joy was drained from her, she had no desire to cook anything, at least from scratch. Everything was either take-out, in a cardboard box, or frozen. Dylan had quit asking her to make his favorite dishes, as her answer had always been the same. Amber would make an excuse, find some sort of reason for not being able to provide whatever desired dish he’d asked for. The truth was she could barely manage to survive menial tasks. Getting through the day was hard enough. She was thankful that she was able to work from home; she had been a blogger and did freelance writing. Amber was able to crawl out of her grief and work through her muddy mixture of emotions through journaling. Writing was what had saved her.

But now there she stood, in front of a grill, its stainless steel exterior shiny and hot. She almost didn’t know where to begin.

“Looks like an order for breakfast, hon,” her mother called out as she pasted a bright yellow paper ticket on the spinning, metal carousel that held orders. Amber snatched a glance at the order: pancakes and scrambled eggs. Simple enough. It was now or never. Her body went into auto-pilot as she poured the batter onto the griddle. The bubbling mixture let out a sweet fragrance. The yellow, gooey blend of eggs sizzled as she scraped it on the hot steel. She could do this.

More orders poured in, and her mother gave her encouraging smiles throughout the day. Amber realized how much she had missed cooking, dominating a kitchen, and creating food that people enjoyed. She found herself smiling a couple of times. She would remember all the times she had spent in that very kitchen, in tight corners with her father, where they used to talk about everything under the sun as they worked together to quickly cook up orders. She had a lot of good memories at the diner and now was questioning her reasons for leaving. But if she had stayed, she never would have met Peter Mills, the man she missed every single day for almost two years.

As she scrubbed the steel surface of the grill, using her anger to clean the burnt remnants of food from the day of cooking, she tried to expel the thick feelings of frustration with each motion she made. Her mind lost in thought, she recalled the day she had learned her husband had been killed.

She had been washing dishes, Dylan engrossed in his homework, sitting at the dining room table in their small home in Portland, when the doorbell rang. When she had opened the door and saw two policemen standing there in the light drizzle, sympathetic looks hanging on their faces, she knew the truth before they even had to utter a word. Peter was gone. He had been on the Portland P.D. before he had even met her. He came from a family of men that were all in law enforcement, and it’d only seemed natural that he would follow in their footsteps. Amber had met Peter at a local bar, when she had been there with a small group of friends she had made from work. Their eyes connected, and he had approached her. After laughing for hours and finding they had nothing in common, they never spent another day apart, until that moment when his buddies stood in her doorway. Their lives had been robbed.

“You almost ready to head home, dear?” her mother, Lynn, called from a distance, bringing Amber back to reality.

“Yeah, Mom.”

They locked up the diner, got inside Lynn’s pick-up truck, and headed home, which was only a couple of blocks away. Amber planned on riding her bike to work. She needed to, as it had been part of her routine back in Portland, and it was one of the ways she tried to exercise. It was actually the only form of exercise that she didn’t mind. Sit-ups, no thanks; jogging, not likely. But riding offered more than toned legs; it gave her a sense of freedom and peace.

“Dylan seemed happy when he came into the diner today.”

To Amber, he seemed anything but happy. He had started his first day at the junior high in Birch Valley, and he’d walked to the diner after school, where his grandmother spoiled him with an enormous strawberry shake. Amber chatted with him during a brief lull but had to get back to work, and only learned from Dylan that he wasn’t thrilled about his new school or not having any friends. She hoped to learn more about how his day went, and she wanted to reassure him that school would only be in session for two more weeks. He could survive this.

“So, Mom, do you know of any homes for rent?” Amber asked as they turned onto their street.

“Why? Are you in rush to be in your own place?”

“Well, I just think it might help Dylan adjust better, and now that we are going to be here…”

“I think you guys should stay with us for a little while. You just got here,” her mother said firmly.

“I know we did, but I just want to get settled,” Amber responded. She looked out her window and saw their home coming up. The small Craftsman-style home was similar to all the others on the tree-lined street. It was painted a dark slate color and had black shutters. There was a decent-sized porch, and a beautiful deck in the small backyard that her father had built. But the home was far from large, and living here too long would make Dylan and Amber feel cramped and that they were in the way.

“Amber, I hate asking you to stay. Your father and I are so grateful you have come home to help us out.” Lynn’s voice grew wobbly. “I don’t know what to expect with your father, and it’s just nice for us all to be together right now.”

She had a point. Amber couldn’t argue that her parents would be relying on her now more than ever and that spending any time that they could with her father was important. Her husband had lost his father to cancer, and Amber remembered how difficult that had been for the family. She sort of knew what to expect and hoped that the outcome would be different for her father. Imagining him going through the treatments, the pain, and suffering was more than Amber’s heart could bear.

“Well, there’s no rush finding a place, Mom.” Amber could see relief wash over her mother’s face.

Once inside, Amber found Dylan on the couch. A laptop reflected a blue light on his face, and headphones covered his ears as he zoned out.

“Hey, Dylan, what are you up to?” she asked as she plopped down next to him.

He lifted one side of the headphones and gave her a half-smile. “Nothing much. Just playing a game on here.”

Amber nestled up closer to him as she rested her head on his shoulder. “So, how was school? I know we talked a little at the diner.”

“It was fine.”

“Come on, Dylan. I know it’s hard, honey.”

Dylan sighed and trained his eyes on the glowing screen of the laptop. He was trying his hardest to tune her out.

“Dylan…” Amber nudged him softly.

“Mom, it was fine.” There was no point in forcing him to talk to her; he would open up when he was ready to.

“Okay, okay. Just remember, I’m here if you ever want to talk about it,” she said, before kissing his cheek. Her little boy was quickly becoming a young man—a complicated, awkward young man. She wished Peter were here. Amber had thought more about him than she had in awhile, not that he didn’t enter her mind daily, but she tried not to dwell on his death.

Amber rose off the couch slowly. She needed to shower and wash away the sweat and smell of food that clung to her. She planned on writing in her journal. It was how she got through her grief, and it helped her organize the jumbled emotions in her mind. Before Peter died, Amber had written for fun. She had started blogging when it had become all the rage, and she’d found she was quite good at it and could actually make a little money doing at it. Then, when her world had grown dark, she found solace in writing. Amber found her voice when she wrote—the words she was too afraid to actually say, the feelings she didn’t want to really confront. Now she had gotten into a routine of writing before bed; it helped her cope with the highs and lows of the day.

“Are you hungry?” Amber asked as she started for the kitchen.

Dylan shook his head. “Grandpa and I had some soup. I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to go check on Grandpa and go shower. You going to go to bed soon?”

Dylan nodded again. “Hey, Mom…”

Amber turned back around and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Is Grandpa going to die?” His young face was creased with worry.

Amber sat next to Dylan and hugged him from the side. “I don’t know, sweetie. But it’s a good thing we are here.”

“It’s just terrible, I mean, to move back because someone is dying.”

Amber understood what he meant. It was awful to think she could have moved back to Birch Valley after Peter died and spent more time with her parents. But she had been crippled with grief, and she hadn’t wanted to uproot Dylan, as he had been struggling with his own sadness.

“I know, but we’re here now, and let’s just make the most of whatever time we have.”

Dylan looked down. “Mom, I miss Dad.”

Amber squeezed him tightly. “I do too, sweetie.” She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill.

“Mom…”

“Yes?” Amber waited for Dylan to speak as she continued to hold him. She relished this moment, sad as it was, because as Dylan got older, he wanted less to do with her, where she only to spend more time with him. He was her only child, and all that she had left of Peter.

Dylan moved away from her, and he looked at her sheepishly. “Do you think we might ever see that Mr. O’Brien guy again?”

There it was. She had sort of been curious if her son was going to ask about Patrick. Amber had thought of him more than a couple of times and knew it was only a matter of time before they would run into each other again. She would jump that bridge when she crossed it.

But her mind was filled with a lot of other worries. For starters, they’d barely arrived and were trying to get somewhat settled, all while learning that her father wasn’t just a little sick, but had cancer. Amber was still trying to process the fact that her father might die. She was a little more than upset that her parents hadn’t shared his diagnosis with her until after she arrived. Things were a little strained in the house because of it, and that was partially why she brought up moving into a rental. Besides, she and Dylan couldn’t live in her parents’ house forever.

“You know he lives here in town. I’m sure we are bound to run into him again.”

“He seemed really cool.”

Amber agreed that he did, but he was also a large slice of gorgeous too. She couldn’t help but notice that he had only gotten more handsome since she had left. How was that even possible? When he had climbed out of his SUV, she had forgotten how tall he was, and that threw her a little off guard. If she hadn’t been so panicked about the trailer tire, she could have enjoyed the view a little more. There would probably be more time for that in the future, but for now she needed to figure things out on the home front.

“Well, I’m going to hop in the shower. You better get ready for bed soon,” Amber ordered softly, giving Dylan a peck on top of his shaggy brown hair as she got up from the couch.

On her way to the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of her parents in their bedroom, which neighbored hers. She could hear the soft whispers and could make out the outline of her father in their bed. Amber paused briefly and tried to listen, but their tones were hushed and too muted for her to make out anything. She continued to the bathroom and readied herself for a quick shower. Her mind was already spinning with everything she planned to journal about.

***

Patrick

The week drifted by, fairly easy and uneventful. Patrick was out in his yard Friday evening mowing the thick carpet of overgrown grass. He enjoyed the task quite a bit, as his riding lawnmower hummed and the scent of freshly shorn grass pervaded the air. He also just loved being outside. Patrick actually liked being outdoors far more than anyone realized. They just assumed that he was all books and numbers, but he liked getting his hands dirty. He looked forward to going out on job sites with Daniel, and appreciated seeing a project become complete. Patrick drove the mower another lap. The grass looked immaculate. The small bit of property was beautifully landscaped and was, in a way, a reflection of how Patrick maintained his business.

After showering, Patrick started to make dinner. He placed a frozen pizza into the oven, which wasn’t the smartest idea considering how terribly warm it was in the house. He didn’t feel cooking, and the boys loved pizza, which was well worth the sacrifice.