CHAPTER 4
C HAPTER 4
H er first week as a server was quite the experience. Her feet ached, her back felt strained, and her cheeks hurt from smiling.
Pride kept her going, and by the sixth day, she was, as Herman put it, settling in. She found a rhythm to gathering orders and moving between the tables. She learned the shortcut terms for menu items so she had less to write down.
The pay was okay, and she did great in tips.
It was a giddy feeling, getting a generous tip from a customer. It was a monetary compliment, and she liked it.
The weekend crowd was, as Cort had predicted, very different but still manageable. It was as they were closing on Saturday night, long past her recent bedtime since moving to Bramble, that she saw the framed photo on the wall.
She recognized the handsome Marine right away. Cort.
It was a younger version of him, appearing so serious, so capable. Actually, he always looked like that, but he was more somber in the photo.
Herman came up behind her. “Our local hero.”
Marlow finished putting up the chair. “He said his mother worked here.”
“Nora was a treat.” He glanced around, saw they were alone, and propped a shoulder against the wall. “Cort was a lot younger when he brought her to us. Twenty-five or so. Nora had a bastard of a husband who’d treated her badly.”
Folding her arms around herself, Marlow took an uneasy breath and wondered if she should be hearing this. Despite her curiosity, she didn’t want to take part in gossip, not when she’d so hated being the subject of it. “If this is private stuff—”
“Cort doesn’t talk about it, but Nora did. Everyone around here knows. See, she was pretty battered when we met her.”
Her arms dropped. “Battered?”
Sad and disapproving, Herman nodded. “She’d married young, and he’d always been awful to her. When Cort was twelve, he started fighting back. Nora said he took a few beatings trying to protect her, and it nearly destroyed her. She knew she had to get out. Thing was, she didn’t have anywhere stable to go. No family or anything. She and Cort moved around a lot, she worked wherever she could, went hungry a few times I suspect, but they got by. Cort worked too, but as soon as he was seventeen, he enlisted.”
With a shattered heart, she whispered, “Seventeen?” That sounded incredibly young to her, but given what he’d been through, the ordeals he’d suffered, he must have been anxious for an escape. She tried to remember herself at that age, and she knew she couldn’t compare to Cort.
“Got his GED, convinced Nora it was what he wanted, and off he went. Sent every dime he could back to her, because even at seventeen, that’s the kind of man he was.”
Honest to God, Herman sounded like a proud father. She was starting to understand why the people around here cared so much for Cort.
And why she thought about him so often.
“Nora saved the money for him, and then after a few reenlistment bonuses, he got her a place here.”
What a remarkable man.
“Nora said he was always up for a challenge. If there was a B billet that needed to be filled, he was the first to volunteer.”
“B billet?”
“Every Marine has an MOS—Military Occupational Specialty. That’s the thing each one is specially trained for. They can take on special duty assignments, too. Those are B billets. Nora said Cort always volunteered. By the time he was thirty-five, he’d deployed six times.”
Eyes widening, she whispered, “To dangerous areas?”
“He doesn’t talk about it, so I don’t know the specifics. All I know is what Nora shared. She loved that boy so much. Was super proud of him, too. Hell, we all are.” Again, like a boastful father, Herman shared, “With recommendations from his commanding officers and a battlefield promotion, Cort was on his way to being the youngest Master Gunnery Sergeant in his battalion.”
Marlow looked at the photo again. She didn’t understand the ranking system in the military, but she imagined Cort could have done anything he put his mind to. “He said he’d still be serving if his mom hadn’t gotten ill.”
“Yeah, poor Nora. She found happiness here. We all loved her, because she loved us. You could do any little thing for her, and she was so damn grateful it’d break your heart.” Herman grew quiet.
She heard him swallow, saw him glance away a moment. “Bobbi made her cookies once, and Nora cried, it made her so happy. Cookies.”
“I think it must have been the gesture she appreciated, don’t you?”
“Must’ve been, because when I changed a flat on her car for her, she tried her damnedest to pay me.” He snorted. “Like I’d take money from her just for lending a hand.”
Marlow smiled. “She sounds wonderful.”
“Was. So is Cort. His mom found out about her lung cancer at the same time he was up for re-enlistment. We all knew how hard he’d worked to get where he was, but he opted to take an early retirement.” Herman gave her shoulder an awkward pat. “If there was one thing he loved more than the Corps, it was his mama. Anyone could see that.”
And yet he’d lost her. Marlow had to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“Whenever Cort was here, he was helpful to everyone. We loved how he cared for Nora, but he cared for all of us in one way or another.” This time, Herman didn’t hide his teary eyes from her. “He thinks he’s beholden to us or something for loving his ma, but that’s how we feel about him. He’s a good man, one of the best, and we’re lucky to have him.”
“I agree.”
Patting her shoulder again, Herman added quietly, “Like I said, he’s our local hero.”
* * *
Because of a few late nights, Marlow had missed a couple of sunrises, and she was determined it wouldn’t happen again. Bleary-eyed and with badly disheveled hair, she made her way down the hill to the lake. Cort was on the shoreline but a good distance away. As she walked, she kept an eye on him, hoping to send him a wave.
He didn’t look up.
Now that she knew more about him, she was even more drawn to him. He’d gone through a lot, yet he never showed any disappointment in his life. Maybe that was why she felt a kinship to him.
They’d each had their lives rearranged through no fault of their own.
Well, in her case that wasn’t entirely true. She should have been more aware of Dylan’s infidelity. If she’d paid as much attention to her marriage as she did to her career, everything might be different now.
Without thinking about it, she wrinkled her nose. It was a distasteful thought.
Being here, now, in this place and with her refreshed mindset, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. She was—and always would be—sorry that Dylan had died. He’d been too young, too vital, to lose his life. It bothered her that her in-laws were suffering.
But she couldn’t regret the divorce. If only she’d gotten it wrapped up sooner.
Cort still hadn’t noticed her, so she settled into the Adirondack chair and got comfortable.
Too late, she discovered that it was covered in dew.
Her backside was now damp. With a sigh, she sipped her coffee and thought, Oh, well . She didn’t care. The sun rose as a blazing neon yellow ball, surrounded by orange and red rays that spread out over the lake.
“Spectacular,” she whispered to herself, feeling content in a way she hadn’t known was possible.
By the time she finished her coffee some fifteen minutes later, the sun was high enough to warm her face and she was so relaxed she felt boneless. She set the empty mug on the dock beside her, closed her eyes, and thought wonderful things . . . until she dozed off.
* * *