Chapter 6
Chapter Six
LOUISA
I ’m so late.
My first date back home with Brad the accountant and I’m fifteen minutes late. I check my wristwatch again and wander to the front window. The parking by the curb outside the restaurant, which is bustling with patrons, is occupied. He’s probably already here.
I grab a light sweater just in case, and I walk out the apartment door and lock up. Padding down the stairs, the delectable fragrances of all things Italian cuisine float up the greet me. It’s absolutely heavenly.
Picking my way around the full tables, I find Mama Mancini waitin’ on a table, her hands full with an oversized pepper grinder. Her small frame looks ridiculous holding up the gigantic wooden utensil.
“Let me,” I offer, filing in beside her.
“Oh, Louisa, your date is still not here?” Her worried eyes glance from me to the street outside.
“Most likely outside.” I hold the grinder up and smile at the couple seated at the table. “Pepper?”
They both nod. Pretty sure these folks run the craft store down by the convenience store. I crack pepper over each plate until I get the that’ll do hand signal from each.
“Where else do you need me, Mama?” I ask, turning to face the old Italian lady who’s already done so much for me in such a small amount of time. Letting me stay in her apartment at such short notice. The recipes she slides under my door when I mention loving a particular flavor or dish.
If ever there was a godsend, this woman is it.
A horn honks outside. A red car slides into a parking spot that freed up.
Okay, so I’m not the only one late.
Mama Mancini’s brows drop at the same time mine do, when we watch Brad sit in his car, not moving.
He’s not even coming inside?
Okay, then. I wave to Mama and push through the restaurant’s front door.
“Hi, sorry I’m late.” His voice wobbles when he leans over and calls through the open passenger window, and his eyes flick from my face to straight ahead looking through the windshield. Annoyance lances my veins but dies out quickly as I see his hands white-knuckling the wheel.
“Um, hi.”
He nods stiffly.
He’s nervous. A small smile wants out over my face, and I school it back.
“You look nice, Louisa.”
Well, that’s something, at least.
“Thank you,” I say softly as I drop into the low, plush bucket seat of his car. By the smell of it, it’s pretty new. It’s nice. He leans back into his seat and starts the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to recover from the last minute.
“Movies.”
One word. Great. Not the best start to a date. But I’ve had worse. California isn’t exactly known for its chivalrous men. This one might take a while to thaw. This rates about a three on the shitty date scale. And I’ve been on least four “ones” before. I can salvage this. I think...
The last time I was at the Lewistown drive-in was with Harry. So many great films failed to hold our attention there, the moments always stolen by the both of us not being able to keep our hands off each other.
Nonetheless, we got our dose of movie culture there, and some must have sucked us in. I still remember the one-liners. Those nights were some of my favorites with Harry.
“Did you eat before you came?” I ask.
“No, you hungry?”
Starving.
After smelling Mama’s cooking while getting ready and then being immersed in it before he came, my stomach is tight with hunger.
“Yep, but whatever you want to do is fine.”
No way am I going to be known as the whining date. Lewistown is small. People talk. My reputation here is stellar. I intend on keeping it that way. My mind drifts back to the cooking I did with Mrs. Rawlins—Rosie. I wonder if she’s tried any of the other combinations we talked about.
She was so happy there in her kitchen, stirring, chopping, talking, laughing. I know she doesn’t have the best life. Harry always tried his best to take care of her, with his father being out of action and all.
“...seen it before?”
I snap my head to Brad. His eyebrow is raised. That was a question? He must have asked me something.
“Seen what before, sorry?”
“ Empire Strikes Back ? It’s the movie we’re seein’.”
Oh brilliant, nothing like a sci-fi movie to put a girl to sleep. “No, I haven’t. Is that what’s showing?”
“Yup, for the whole month. Awesome, hey?”
“Sure.” I stare out the window. So now, I’ll be bored and starving. I have half a mind to ditch and walk back home. But I need to move on, start making a life for myself. And dating is a part of that.
We pull into the drive-in, and Brad parks by the small box to connect his red rocket to the movie system. Moving about like a rabbit in the fox’s den, he constantly glances back to where I sit, as if I will poof out of existence like one of the characters in those films. The huge white screen above the fence oscillates with hazy static. They must be starting soon.
The speakers of his car crackle with the connection and I wind my seat back. If I can’t eat or enjoy the movie, I can at least have a nap. It’s sweet Brad is making an effort. He chats to some guys as they walk past with snacks, then disappears.
Okay...
Ten minutes later, he returns. His arms are loaded with snacks, hands gripping two drinks with straws.
Brilliant work, Brad.
My stomach grumbles.
I lean over and relieve him of the drinks as he sinks into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks, Louisa.”
He doesn’t look at me, handing me two packets out of the four he’s carrying. So, I watch the screen burst to life with the opening scene, some sort of probe coming from a spaceship.
Anything would be better than a sci-fi movie. Documentary. Thriller. Adventure. For a date, if Brad was smart—which apparently, he is not—a romance would put him in good standing to progress this here occasion.
“Have you seen this one before?” I ask.
“Yes, please don’t talk during the showing.”
His eyes don’t leave the screen.
I roll my lips. Guess who never left high school.
I open the snacks and eat as quietly as I can. With a full stomach, I relax and try to take in some of the movie. But honestly, I’m lost as to who is who and what is happening. So, writing this night off already, I wrap my arms around my chest and pretend to watch the film.
But it’s not the spaceship on the screen I see, or the character with his laser pointed at the enemy already. The only face I see is one that’s held my mind captive for the last ten years. Those deep, dark blues that see right through me.
See right into the guilt I’ve housed since that night.
Running off on Harry... For so long I have wanted to tell him how sorry I am. I mean, I was the minute I made the street curb. But I was more scared than anything else.
Scared I’d stay in this small town and not even have the chance to follow my dreams. I’ve seen what small towns do to big dreams. And it ain’t pretty.
No, it’s more like what I’m living now. But at least I had the chance. I gave it my best shot. That, I will never regret. I let memories of Harry drag me under as the movie plays on. The days we spent in the sun in his fields. Walking along Little Casino Creek in the summer, barefoot. That one night in the back of his truck, under the stars and a full moon, when we almost lost it all to the overwhelming pull between us.
Something shakes my shoulder. Hard.
I jolt up off the seat. “What?”
“Movie’s over, Louisa.”
“Oh.” I run a hand through my hair. “I fell asleep.”
“Yup.” He forces a smile and starts the engine. The large screen above is white again and cars are pouring out of the drive-in. “I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks.”
We drive in silence all the way back to the restaurant. The lights are on inside. Mama and Pa Mancini sit at one of the center tables. I’m guessing they’re tallying the night’s income. I gather my things.
“Did you wanna come up?” I ask with a small smile.
“Sorry, I’m wiped.”
I huff an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, okay. I have an early shift, anyway.”
“Want to go out next week?” His eyes turn soft as he leans in. Are those puppy eyes, Brad? Urgh.
“Maybe. I have a lot going on. Let me get back to you.”
“Sure. Night.”
I lean in for a kiss. He freezes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I peck a kiss to his cheek, muttering, “Thanks for a nice night.”
Well, that was painful.
Why does he have to be so cute? Maybe he’s not boyfriend material. But I won’t write him off yet. Because unlike the dead-in-the-water date, he may be able to fulfill another need I have.
One with less strings.
What guy isn’t up for that?
* * *
The familiar dark head of hair sits in the last booth on the end in my section. I snatch the coffee pot from the machine and take my time getting to Harry Rawlins. The man who occupies my head when he absolutely shouldn’t. Not after what I did to him.
Guilt drives me forward, and I’m by his side a heartbeat later. “Coffee?”
He looks up. And unlike this scenario the first time, I have a firm grip on the coffee pot, even with those blues staring up at me. That jaw. The way his hair falls around his face. A girl could get hot and bothered by that there alone. His hands grip the plastic menu, and I’ve never wanted to be an inanimate object more.
“Yep, and the eggs and bacon. Late breakfast.”
“How’s your ma?” I ask, filling his mug with coffee.
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Yes, Louisa. Fine.”
I roll my eyes at him and make my way back toward the kitchen to put in his order. By the time I make the counter, the butterflies that took flight when his eyes met mine have graduated to fire-breathing dragons.
Damn you, Harry Rawlins.
What does a girl have to do to get this man out of her system?
Possibly Brad...
But the thought makes my stomach flip. The dragons are replaced with heavy iron knots, and I shake the thought from my head. How about abstinence, Lou? Sounds much better than awkward Brad.
I sigh and work another few tables before Harry’s order comes up. The small bell on the pass dings, and I grab his plate. Maybe we should have this out. Hauling this guilt around is doing nothing for my conscience.
I place the food in front of him and plop onto the bench seat on the opposite side of the table. He picks up his fork and stares at me.
He raises a brow. “You needin’ something?”
Yes, you out of my head.
“I want to apologize...”
His head hangs, hands still gripping his cutlery. A long, heavy sigh rolls through his lips. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Louisa.”
“Well, I do.”
His head snaps up.
“Jesus, woman, let it be. Diggin’ up the past ain’t going to do either of us any good. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll be eatin’ alone.”
I frown, studying his stern face for a moment before rising with the scraps of my dignity. “We will be having this conversation, Harry. You can’t stay angry with me for the rest of our lives. We both liv?—”
“You done?”
My mouth gapes.
Screw you. “See you ’round, Rawlins.”
He grunts and shovels food into his mouth. The temporary moment we shared in his ma’s kitchen is obviously long forgotten. Out the back, I hunt down Lisa and beg her to swap out our sections. I need this job, but I do not need his moody bullshit.
“Sorry hon, tips are too good. I ain’t swapping, got three kids to feed. Maybe you could convince Cynthia?” Lisa’s face is all empathy.
I can’t ask her to swap when she needs the money more than I do. It’s not right.
I wander to the front of the diner. Cynthia is pouring more coffee for a couple of her regulars. “Hey Cynthia, would it be possible to swap areas, even for a week or two?”
She turns back, pot in hand. “Why you wanna go and do that?”
“It’s just that?—”
Her gaze snags on the last booth and the dark head of hair visible over the bench seat. “Ah, I see the problem. You know what? My daddy always said you should face your problems head-on. Now, what kind of a friend would I be if I let you run from yours?” She smiles at me.
Ugh. “I tried. Said problem refuses to engage.”
She laughs. “Hon, you two will work it out.”
“No, we won’t. We can’t when he refuses to talk to me. Let alone look at me half the time.”
“You ever wonder why that’s still happenin’?” She walks back behind the counter with her pot, leaving me staring at the back of that dark head of hair. And the knots from earlier sink, bursting to life as a flutter of butterflies break free of their chrysalises.
Shit.
So much for movin’ on.