Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
HAWK
Yesterday Taryn texted me.
Taryn: Tired tonight. Need some rest.
I've read a lot of signs in my life. Animal trails, the color of the sky in the morning, and the way birds go quiet before weather.
I lay awake half the night reading those words and wondering what they mean.
I'm at Marvin's before dawn with my shoulders up around my ears, taking it out on pie dough.
Grandma used to say you can taste a man's mood in his crust. Today's batch is going to taste like a rockslide.
I'm pulling the first pie out of the oven when the back of my neck prickles. Years of stand hunting and military service will do that to a man. Somebody's watching.
I look up through the window over the sink, and there she is.
Taryn's standing at the edge of the back lot, just past where the kitchen light reaches, in her coat with her hood down. Her suitcase is in her hand.
My heart drops into my boots. She's out there in the cold looking in, and from the suitcase, she didn't expect the light to be on.
I make myself breathe and try to calm down. It’s hard, because every part of me wants to go through that door at a run and gather her into my arms. She’s spooked.
So I wipe my hands on my apron, walk over, and open the back door. She's twenty feet away with an envelope in one hand, clutching that damn suitcase.
“Kitchen's warm,” I say.
Then I leave the door standing open and go back to my pies.
It takes her a long time. Long enough that I get the second batch in and my heart finishes relocating to my chest. Then her footsteps cross the gravel, and the door clicks shut behind her.
When I turn around she's standing inside with her suitcase at her feet, crying without making any noise at all.
“I forgot it was Wednesday. I forgot you'd be... I'm just so tired.”
“Sit down, honey.”
“Don't be kind to me yet.” But she gulps, then sits and takes a deep breath. I give her my handkerchief.
“Grandma’s discharge has conditions. She needs a ground floor room… people there during the day… therapy. I can't make Grandma’s recovery part of the deal. And I sat up all night trying to write you a letter and every single version came out wrong…”
She runs out of words for the first time since I've known her.
She hands me an envelope with one word on the front. Caleb.
I read it twice. Then I fold it, put it in my shirt pocket, button the pocket, and look at her sitting there braced for the weather.
“I couldn't hate you with a manual and lessons,” I say.
“Hawk…”
“You’ll let me finish, because you know words cost me double.” I pull the stool around so we're knee to knee, and I take her cold hands in mine. “Saying it out loud now so there's no confusion. I love you, Taryn. Every road I take ends with me looking for you.”
She makes a sound, half hiccup, half sob.
“Honey, you've got the problem upside down. You think you have to give your grandma what she needs on your own. You're not choosing between June and us. There's no between. Bring her home. We’ll look after her.”
“Bring her…” She stares at me. “Hawk, I can't just…”
“You can and you will. We’ll pick her up together in my truck.”
“She will absolutely complain about your driving.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“But the room, the plan, they need it in writing, where would she even…”
The back door bangs open. Viv storms in, wearing silk pajamas and studded driving gloves, and brandishing a note in one fist.
“One croissant owing?” Her voice could strip paint.
“ONE CROISSANT, chérie? C'est pas vrai! I read this at my coffee pot and lost a year of my life.” Then she has Taryn wrapped up in silk and fury, rocking her side to side, and over Taryn's shoulder she looks at me.
I nod, and the woman who's been this town's heart for thirty years nods back.
“The garden room,” she announces. “No stairs. Roses out the window. Me there all day being nosy in two languages. Your grandmother will be spoiled to ruin, and there's an end to it. Write that on your plan.”
Lila arrives for her shift with her daughter, looks at us, and then starts making coffee. Marvin shuffles in just before the diner opens, taking in the scene.
“Well, shoot,” he says. “I was saving this for Friday, but. Gus phoned. The minute he's healed, he's taking the Grand Canyon trip, isn’t sure if he wants to work again full-time. I need a head cook, permanent, full freight.” He points a trembling finger at Taryn.
Taryn’s eyes are filled with tears. “What about Rotmere?”
“Nobody's buying this block.” I say it quietly.
Marvin nods. “You can say that again.”
The door bangs open one more time. Savage, in lightning-bolt pajama pants and one boot, is carrying a baseball bat with murder in his eyes.
“Viv texted the group chat. Emergency at Marvin's.” The bat lowers. “...Did someone die?”
“Nobody died, you lunatic,” Lila says. “Sit down, there's coffee.”
So that's how it goes, the worst morning of my life turning into one of the best inside of an hour. Taryn calls Mrs. Oakley as soon as the office opens. I stand behind her with my hands on her shoulders the whole call, and when she hangs up she tips her head back against me and just breathes.
Taryn cooks breakfast for everybody. Eggs and hash, all of us crowded around the counter, Savage on his third helping, Viv teaching Lila's daughter the French word for cherry.
She looks up from the stove, finding my eyes, and smiles, and I know it plain as day for the first time.
I'm going to marry this woman.