Chapter 13 #2
“I wandered around and ended up in front of this cathedral.”
She just stares at me, a certain yearning in her eyes, as if my story can bring back something we both lost.
“And she was there.”
Mrs. Kinkaid’s brows draw in and she asks, “She? The firefighter?”
“Yeah.”
“The night before you deployed? In Munich?”
“Yeah. She was lost. Couldn’t find her hostel. We ended up walking around and then I helped her find her way. She met Zach right before we hopped the train.”
“She met Zach.”
I nod.
“And now she’s here.” Her voice is soft, almost reverent.
“Yeah. I knew her the moment she walked through the station.”
I stare out the window, jaw tight. When I glance back at Mrs. Kinkaid, she has a soft smile on her face. I shift in my seat and take another bite of my sandwich, chewing deliberately.
“Does she remember you?”
I swallow. “So far? No.”
“And you haven’t told her?”
“What’s the use?” I grip my glass of tea, swiping at the condensation with my thumb. My eyes sting. I blink and take a sip.
Mrs. Kinkaid stares at me, shaking her head.
“Maybe she’ll remember you.”
“Maybe. But we’ve both lived a lot of life since then. She has a daughter. She’s a single mom.”
“I heard that from someone last week.”
“You heard, huh?”
“Can’t stop people from sharing. We’re curious. New woman in town. She’s a firefighter. People talk.”
“I know.”
“So you’re just going to sit on this memory and not share it with her?”
I shrug, taking another bite of my sandwich. “We’ll see.”
“You need to let people in, Grey.”
“I let people in.”
Her head rears back softly and her brows raise. “Do you, though?”
“I let you in.”
“I blew through the gates years ago. I don’t count.”
“You count to me.”
She smiles softly. “You count to me, too. On this hand.” She raises a hand and runs her pointer finger along the tips of her outstretched fingers.
“You’re one of these people. The ones I count on and hold close.
” She gets a little misty-eyed and then she says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Greyson. ”
“Plenty of men in town know how to fix a sink.”
“Sink schmink. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
I think of the application. FEMA. DC. She’ll be fine. She might not agree with me if she knew about my plans. But I know Waterford. This town takes care of its own.
I glance around the kitchen, memories of Zach fill every corner.
We’d come running in from baseball practice and Mrs. Kinkaid would shout, “Shoes off, boys!” Then we’d raid the fridge making what we called “Scooby sandwiches,” stacking bread and meat and cheese as high as we could.
His presence is here like a mirage, faint and then fading as soon as I try to hold on to it.
“I worry about you. You know?” Mrs. Kinkaid takes a bite of her sandwich, but holds my gaze.
“Why? I’m fine. No need to worry.”
“You live alone on that big property. It’s not good for a man to be alone like that.”
“I’m smothered at the station every other day. My home is my haven.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She smiles. “I know you like your solitude. But I don’t know if it’s actually the best for you.”
“I’m not like you,” I remind her. “Or Zach.”
He and I were such opposites. I only ever needed one or two close friends. He had so many people always wanting to spend time with him and he loved them all. He always told me I was his very best friend. I never quite knew why, but I didn’t take the fact for granted, either.
“I never was one to need a bunch of people in my life,” I say.
“No man is an island, Greyson. We all need people.”
“Well, I have you, then.”
She smiles. “I’m glad we have each other.”
We finish our lunches in relative silence. It’s nice. She doesn’t push me to talk when I need time to think. I’m glad I told her about Hallie. There’s something about letting the spinning thoughts in my head out that gives perspective.
We rinse our dishes and I get ready to leave.
“Thanks for showing up,” Mrs. Kinkaid says, pulling me into a hug at the front door. “You could have told me to call a plumber.”
“No. No, I couldn’t,” I say, giving her a squeeze and pulling back.
“Come by again soon,” she says when I step onto the porch.
“I will.”
“And think about what I said.”
I nod.
She laughs softly. “You always were stubborn.”
“Nice to be able to count on consistency, isn’t it?”
She shakes her head, and I descend the porch steps.
I glance up before I pull away from the curb, and she’s still standing there, arms folded across her chest, watching me.
I run my errands, alone, the way I like it. Then I make a last stop at the grocery.
I weave my way up and down the aisles, grabbing a few fruits and vegetables, a half-gallon of milk, some eggs and bread.
I’m standing at the meat cases when I hear my name being shouted by a girl.
“Coach G! Coach G!”
Mia comes running at me, skidding to a stop with athletic precision.
“Hey, Mia.”
“You’re at the grocery the same time as we’re at the grocery!” she says with enthusiasm, bouncing on her toes and staring up at me like I’m her hero.
“Looks like it,” I say, glancing over to see Hallie and Mia’s nana.
“Whatcha got in there?” Mia asks, peering into my basket and making a face. “Nothing fun.”
“Nope,” I agree, scanning my practical and nutritious choices through her eyes.
Hallie and her mom approach us. My pulse picks up.
“Greyson,” Hallie’s mom says.
“Mrs. Caldwell,” I say. “Good to see you.” I glance at Hallie. “Hallie.”
“Greyson,” she says, smiling softly and then looking away and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
Is she embarrassed? Nervous? Or just caught off guard like I am?
It’s always slightly unsettling to unexpectedly bump into people outside of their usual context—at least, for me it is.
Mrs. Caldwell eyes the contents of my buggy with an almost identical skepticism as her granddaughter.
“I was about to get meat,” I say, in defense of my groceries.
“Us too,” Mrs. Caldwell says. “Hallie here’s fixin’ ribs.”
“You should taste my mom’s ribs!” Mia exclaims. “They’re the best.”
Hallie’s cheeks pink slightly. She starts to say, “Well …” when Mia interrupts and says, “Do you want to come to dinner?”
I look at Hallie. She closes her eyes and opens them again.
She says, “Sorry,” while her mom says, “Oh, yes. You should join us, Coach. Do you have plans?”
“Pleeeeease,” Mia looks between me and her mom. “Mommy, can he? Can Coach come to dinner?”
“I don’t …” I start to backpedal and excuse myself, but then Hallie says, “If he’s available.”
She glances at me and then her mom.
I’m not sure if she’s being polite or if she actually wants me to come.
“Join us, Greyson,” Mrs. Caldwell says.
Maybe it’s the lingering need to prove I’m not a hopeless loner after my earlier talk with Mrs. Kinkaid, or it could simply be the way Hallie and Mia are staring at me with twin expressions of anticipation.
I open my mouth and the words that come out seem to equally surprise all four of us.
“I’d be glad to join you. What can I bring?”