Chapter 16 MJ #2
His fixes his hopeful brown eyes on me, and all I can see is Lindsey. My first daughter, the second love of my life. I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. Her happiness means the world to me, and this precious man in front of me just wants to make her smile.
Guilt washes over me. Maybe I’ve been selfish in not agreeing to go.
This festival brings back painful memories as so many things do.
My entire life has become a never-ending reminder of what I had.
What we had. But how can I expect Lindsey to think about her own future if I’m not willing to take even the tiniest step forward?
I’ve always prided myself on leading by example.
I need to do this and take one for the team.
“Okay,” I finally say. “I’ll go.”
His eyes brighten. He stands and reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, MJ. Seriously, we’re gonna have a great time.”
The box I’ve kept locked deep inside rattles, the Ghost of Christmas Past clamoring to be let out.
I swallow hard. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He heads to the counter. Once I know he can’t see me, I drop my head into my hands.
What am I doing? In the span of mere hours, I’ve agreed to go to dinner with a man who isn’t my husband and go back to where my dream life became a nightmare.
My phone buzzes, vibrating the table, and it’s a text from Lindsey.
Having a movie night with Kayla. Be home around ten.
At least I’ll get to keep one of my questionable choices to myself tonight.
“Mr. Ron,” a young hostess greets us from behind the podium at the front of Lovebird Brews. “It’s good to see you. I was wondering where you’d been.”
“I was visiting my son in Cincinnati,” he says. “I had a minor medical issue a couple weeks back, and he insisted I stay with him until I got back on my feet.”
Her blonde ponytail bobs as she leans across over the stand, gripping the edge. “Are you okay?”
“Fit as a fiddle.” Ron smiles and places a hand on my arm. Even through my coat and my turtleneck, my skin prickles. “MJ, this is Kerry.”
Kerry reaches for my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Kerry.”
“I come here for dinner once a week,” Ron explains. “Kerry here is studying to be a nurse, and she’s gonna be a damn good one.”
Ron beams at her like a proud father or grandfather, and something about the gesture makes my heart turn soft, like a marshmallow.
“We all love Mr. Ron,” Kerry says as a nearby server looks up from his table and waves in our direction.
“Hey, Ron,” he shouts. “What’s good, my man?”
Ron raises a hand to him. “Nice to see you, Owen.”
“You want your usual table?” Kerry asks, grabbing a couple of menus and handing them to us.
“Sure,” he answers. “If it’s available.”
“Head on back.” Kerry gestures with a nod to the right. “Owen will be with y’all in just a minute.”
“Thank you, dear.” Ron places one hand on the small of my back and guides me through the cozy, dimly-lit pub.
He pulls a chair out for me at a high top by a window that looks out on Main Street.
It’s a breathtaking view. I forgot how magical our little town becomes at Christmas, decked out like a holiday postcard.
“I’ve been coming here once a week for the last two years,” he says. “After I retired, I quickly discovered how much I missed being around people. I found myself coming in for dinner once a week just for the conversation. Not that the food isn’t spectacular too, because it is.”
“What did you do?” I ask, folding my hands on the table.
“I was a high school music instructor out in Franklin. But Loving’s been home for most of my life.”
“So, retirement, huh?” I say. “What’s that been like?”
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I started teaching private piano lessons six weeks after my last day of work, if that tells you anything. I was bored out of my mind. What about you? Are you still working?”
“I have my own interior design business, MJ Designs. Aside from my kids and my grandkids, it’s my whole life.
Honestly, the idea of retiring makes me feel panicky.
I know it’s the thing people do when they get to be our age, but God, what am I supposed to do all day? I can hardly sit still as it is.”
“There’s only so much daytime television one can take. And naps. God knows, I took enough naps to last me a lifetime. I got caught up on fifty years’ worth of lost sleep.”
“Look what the cat dragged in.” The man I recognize as Owen appears beside our table and gives Ron’s shoulder a squeeze. “We missed you these last couple weeks. You go on vacation or something?”
“Nothing quite that glamorous,” Ron says. “My appendix ruptured, and I had to have surgery to get the thing taken out.”
“Oh no.” Owen folds his arms over his broad chest. “Are you okay now?”
“I feel great,” Ron replies. “Truly.”
“You should, with this lovely lady sitting across from you,” Owen says, directing his attention to me.
Ron smiles. “Owen, this is my new friend MJ. She and her kids helped me with June Bug while I was recovering. MJ’s daughter is the veterinarian in town.”
Owen’s eyes light up. “Dr. Haggerty?”
“That’s my girl,” I say.
“My dog loves her, and he’s a crotchety old fart, so that’s saying a lot.” Owen chuckles. “And her sister, the groomer.”
“That would be Lucy.” I love when I meet clients or chat with a new acquaintance, and they find out who my kids are. The information is always met with a compliment or anecdote that fill me with pride.
“That’s right.” Owen nods. “Well, my friends, we need to celebrate. We have the famous Dr. Haggerty’s mom in the house and Ron is back in action. What do you say we start with some drinks?”
“That sounds great,” Ron says. “I’ll have my usual.”
“One Bowie IPA coming right up.” Owen turns toward me. “And for you, MJ?”
“What would you recommend for someone who’s more of a cider girl?” I ask.
“How do you feel about wassail?” Owen counters with a grin.
“I love it. I haven’t had that in ages.”
“Then I’m bringing you a Hallelujah! Holy Shit cocktail,” Owen says. “It’s my family’s own wassail recipe mixed with bourbon and frozen cranberries. Tastes like Christmas.”
“Sold,” I say.
“Coming right up.” Owen rubs his palms together and heads toward the back.
Ron folds his hands on the table. “So, what does MJ stand for, anyway?”
“Myra Jean,” I answer. “It’s painfully southern.”
“Myra Jean.” He repeats my name like he’s contemplating something impressive. “I think it’s lovely.”
“Thank you. My older sister Rose is the only person who calls me that. Do you have any siblings?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, and I only have one child. I always wanted a big family, but it wasn’t in the cards for me. My ex, Mary Ann, didn’t have a very big family, either. I still keep up with her brother from time to time, though. And I usually see Mary Ann at least a couple times a year.”
“That’s nice. Does that mean things ended on good terms?”
“We’re great friends now,” Ron says. “Our situation is unique, I guess. There was no big falling out. One day, after our son, Hudson, went to college, Mary Ann sat me down and confessed that she loved me, but she wasn’t attracted to me, or any man, for that matter.
She was distraught, and well, I was too. My whole world fell apart.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “That must have been devastating.”
He nods. “It was. It took me the better part of a year to get to a point where I could even begin to look at what happened rationally. The split felt personal, but in reality, it had nothing to do with me.” He drops his gaze for a moment.
“I completely shut her out during those first few months, and I have a lot of regrets about that. But she gave me time to process how I felt.”
“I imagine that was hard for both of you.”
“She was worried I’d hate her, but once I finally got it, I just remember thinking how much courage it must have taken her to tell me.”
I pressed my hand to my heart, thinking of Lucy. I knew early on that she liked girls because she felt safe to share that part of herself with her family and friends, but I’ve lived long enough to know that safety isn’t something guaranteed for everyone.
“To be honest, I always knew ours wasn’t some epic love story,” he says. “We were best friends, and I’m thankful for the life we had, but I’m equally grateful she finally found the love of her life. She and Sadie got married and retired to Hawaii.”
“Have you ever wanted to find someone else? Remarry?” I’m not sure what surprises me more—the fact that I asked the question out loud or how badly I want to know the answer.
“I’d love to, if the right person comes along. I figure I’m young,” he says with a small wink. “There’s still time.”
Before I can react, Owen returns with our drinks and places them in front of us. Mine is in a copper mule mug, and it’s beautiful. The frozen cranberries are mingling with a cinnamon stick and a sprig of rosemary, and it does, indeed, smell like Christmas.
“Thanks, Owen,” Ron says, taking a swig of his beer.
“This looks delicious.” I bring the cup to my lips. The first sip is a contented sigh of crisp cider, orange peel, and nutmeg. “Oh my. This is heavenly.”
Owen dips his head and holds out his hand. “And that’s the hallelujah.”
I scrunch my brows. “Wait, what’s the holy shit part?”
“Ask me again after you finish a couple of those.” Owen flashes me a mischievous grin. “I’m going to let you two look over your menus and I’ll be right back.”
Ron holds his beer out toward me. “Cheers.”
“Okay,” I say, touching my mug to his glass. “What are we toasting?”
“To dinners with new friends. Thank you for joining me tonight, Myra Jean.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I manage before taking a gulp of my drink. “Cheers.”
“You know what? Screw my cholesterol,” I say, plopping the remaining quarter of my burger back on the plate. “If loving something this good is wrong, I never want to be right. I want to eat this every day for the rest of my life.”