24. Graham
TWENTY-FOUR
GRAHAM
I’d only been to Deer Creek a handful of times, and since most of the times I was there, I only went to The Grille, I hadn’t spent much time checking out the other areas.
The only two exceptions to that were a few days after Sophie’s death, and I went to the police station to get some answers to questions the family had since I was closest. The second time I’d been to Deer Creek it was to say goodbye to Sophie. That happened to be the night Tanner and I met Holly and Tracey for the first time. We’d stopped at a bar in town for a couple of drinks so I could calm down before heading back to school. It’d been a year later, then, and after living with grief and sadness for so long, the new year had given me a desire to move on.
Crazy that a few hours later I was running into a girl I was still hung up on all these years later.
But Sophie wasn’t Holly, never had been and never would have been, despite the lies Piper had once spewed.
As much as I wanted to see Holly again and prove to her I wasn’t going anywhere, I stayed away from the main area of downtown Deer Creek. My rental was a condo at the base of one of the ski slopes, giving me incredible views of the mountains in the distance. There was a small area that looked to be a local golf course, and I made a mental note to grab my clubs when I went back for my teaching gear.
Clothes, too, would be needed considering I’d only planned on being gone for a couple of days.
Just off the ski slope, there was a mini golf area, and around the corner was a small market that had local foods and wines and beers, along with tourist-type clothing with Deer Creek stamped across in bold letters. There was a small section remaining, or recently in, of winter and ski gear, including gloves and hats and hand warmer pouches.
“Mornin’.” Behind a long counter that was built like a log cabin, there was an older gentleman standing next to the cash register.
“Morning. How’s it goin’?”
“Well, I woke up, so I can’t complain. You visitin’?”
I chuckled at the lame joke he probably made every day. “Here for a few weeks. Any recommendations on things I need to see while I’m here?”
“You the hunting’ and fishin’ type?”
“I could be.” I shrugged. “Golf and hockey are more my thing.”
“Well, we got Lake Winona nearby. Not a bad place to do some shore fishin’, and they rent out boats for the day too if you wanna give that a shot. Golf courses all over the place if you don’t mind a fair bit of a drive. Best thing about town, though, is the food. We got some darn good homemade food in town.”
“I’ve been to The Grille. Definitely know that.”
“Ahh…Caroline. She’s a good egg. Runs a good ship, too. Her food is top tier, but if you want somethin’ else, check out Sorento’s Italian or Scalecki’s Pizza. He’s right around the corner. Best pizza pie you’ll ever taste. So good it’ll make you want to move.”
Again, I chuckled at his joke. The man was older, missing a tooth or two, and the ones he had were turning yellow. His gray hair was shining, right along with his beard, and the lines around his mouth and eyes said he’d lived a hard life, but maybe a happy one, too, given his mood.
“Thanks.” I grabbed the fishing and boat pamphlets. “I’ll check it all out.”
A day out on a boat wouldn’t be a bad thing by any means. Better if I could convince Holly and Jonah to join me. “What about breakfast? Outside of The Grille, any good place?”
“You’re darn right. Head back to Main, turn right on Ansel Road, and there’s a place right there. Britta’s Café. The sign just says The Café, though. Right next to Mellie’s Cakes if you got yourself a sweet tooth.”
“Thanks.” I reached forward with my hand extended. “I’m Graham. Renting a place at the ski slope, so I’m sure we’ll talk more.”
“Billy.” He shook my hand with his weathered and liver-spotted one and squeezed tight. “Enjoy your time. I’ve been around longer than most of the homes on these hills, so you need anything, don’t hesitate.”
“Thanks, Billy.”
I turned and left with a smile on my face. Small-town people. Man, they were friendly.
I climbed into my truck and headed to Britta’s. After, I’d head back home, take a couple of hours and pack, get some groceries, and I could still do all of it and be back before nightfall.
I’d give Holly the day to think, but then it was game on.
* * *
Britta’s Café was as easy to find as Billy said. Attached to other places like the bakery and an insurance office, the entire building had multiple dark wood peaks, making it seem perfectly at home in the mountain town.
There was nothing mountainy about the inside of the café, though. Done in all whites and hot pinks and lime greens, the small restaurant felt more like I’d walked into a bubble gum shop. It was bright and happy, and I caught a sight stapled to a beam in front of me just beyond the entrance that said Make yourself at home. Seat yourself.
I did just that and slipped into a two-seater table at the front window. There were five older gentlemen at a small semi-circle table, sitting on chair-height stools, just off where a waitress was standing, pouring coffee. In front of the men were opened Bibles.
“Be right there,” she called to me as we made eye contact.
She slipped the coffees to the men at the semi-circle table, and I reached for the menu stacked on its side behind the salt and pepper and sugar packets at the table. The menu was only one page, front side only, but boasted of buttermilk fried chicken and waffles, eggs Benedict, and all the common breakfast options. There was a small section of sandwiches and soups, or combos of both, for lunch.
I was sold on the chicken and waffles as soon as I read buttermilk, and I slipped my menu back to where it belonged.
“Mornin’.” The same server came to me holding a tray with a glass of water and a coffee mug and had a carafe in her hand. “Need some coffee?”
“Please. Thanks.”
“No problem, sugar. You know what you want?”
“Buttermilk chicken and waffles, please.”
“Anything else?” She finished pouring the coffee and hugged the tray to her chest. “Eggs? Bacon?”
I shook my head. “Think the chicken will be plenty.”
“Sounds good. Be right out with that.”
After she walked away, my gaze went to the outside. My family had never gone skiing on Crystal Mountain. My dad took us to the beach and to bigger cities like New York and Chicago. Before my mom’s death, we did family trips like the Grand Canyon and Disney World. Once we went skiing in Breckenridge. Sophie’s family hadn’t been that much different either, and it’d been a last-minute weekend getaway with all their kids home from college and visiting for Christmas that had led them to Deer Creek the night she died.
Was killed.
Run off the road.
Like always when I thought of Sophie, my chest ached, and the familiar gut punch of pain returned. It’d been eight years, but the pain of missing someone never truly went away. While shocked to learn that Holly’s dad had been responsible, what Holly needed was to give me the chance to tell her that I didn’t blame her. She had nothing to do with that night, and it was obviously clear before that night she hadn’t grown up in a stable home.
It’d hurt to hear. It’d taken me a few days to think it through, but what Holly didn’t know was after that night, I’d called my dad and talked to him. I told him everything.
He’d left the choice to pursue her up to me. Said we only had one life, and I was grown enough to make my own choices.
Would it have been awkward and hard for them to meet? Definitely.
Would it have smoothed out eventually? I had wanted to think so.
But now, I had no idea how to convince Holly that it truly didn’t matter. I had no idea how to scale that wall she’d resurrected and reinforced over the years.
“Ice cream!”
The words were shouted so loudly from outside, it grabbed my attention. I turned to find the source and then laughed as Jonah ran across the parking lot, arms flailing in the air like one of those marketing blow-up tube guys.
Holly followed behind him. Her smile was wide and carefree, something so rarely seen from our history I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her hair was down, shining from the bright sun. She was dressed so much like a mom in cutoff denim shorts that went halfway to her knees and a fitted, simple pink T-shirt with a small backpack strapped over her shoulders. I still couldn’t believe she was a mom. It still struck me how poorly her mother had treated her. Who dropped off a baby and ran like that, and never once reached out to ensure they were okay after?
A woman riddled with drug abuse—that was who.
I leaned back in the booth, crossed my arms over my chest, and enjoyed the gift of watching Holly with her son, with her walls down like they wouldn’t be resurrected the moment she saw me.
“Mommy!” Jonah shouted.
He’d stopped in the parking lot and then threw his arm out in my direction. “My coach is here! From camp! Can I say hi?”
As predicted, her smile fell. She followed where Jonah’s arm was gesturing to, and her shoulders slumped a fraction.
Dang. I didn’t want to cause her stress. I wanted her to know I was there to make her life easier. Not harder.
I lifted my hand as our gazes met and smirked. Come on, come sit with me. You know you want to. I silently pleaded with my eyes, daring her to take the risk.
She said something to Jonah, and his arm fell. Together, the two of them headed straight for the bakery, Mellie’s Cakes, next door.
Right before I lost them from sight, she looked back and smiled at me, shaking her head like I was ridiculous.
Now that look, I was used to. Typical Holly. She might have walls, and she might try to act tough, but deep down, she was as tenderhearted as they came.
I took it as a small win that she didn’t ignore me completely.
My food would come. If they hadn’t come out by the time I was done eating, I’d go after them. Scratch that. If they came out while I was still eating or waiting, I’d go say hi.
Wouldn’t want to disappoint Jonah, after all.