21. She Saw His Friend
She Saw His Friend
Lola
The baking section was empty.
No flour.
Determination set my jaw. It couldn’t be another case of small-town supply issues. I must have been looking in the wrong aisle, my thoughts jumbled, constantly twisting in knots trying to understand Aiden.
What were his secrets? How could he act so heartless and then so kind?
My mind was occupied trying to unravel the riddle in red-checked flannel when I bumped into someone else in the middle of the aisle.
I slid my glasses up my nose. “Sorry—”
My hand clapped over my mouth to hide the shock of seeing Evan’s bruised face. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes, but not the violent purple lump blooming around the socket. His lip was split, and a sickening shade of green tinged the swelling along his jaw.
Was he… okay?
Evan’s head snapped left, then right. The shopping basket slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. This was a man who’d treated me despicably, but squashing the empathy—the doctor—inside me was impossible.
I reached out a tentative hand. “Mr. Barnes—”
Evan yelped and dodged to the side before I could lay a finger on him. “Sorry, uh… my fault.” His sneakers tangled together, and he tripped backwards. “Sorry, Miss—Dr. Lola.” He took another step back, and another, until he disappeared around the aisle.
Silence followed for a beat until the bell over the door jingled.
Evan had bolted.
Confused, I glanced down, searching for a clue about what had scared him off. My white sundress was cute. My new sandals and freshly painted pink toenails were even more adorable. I channelled a domestic goddess more than a terrifying troll capable of scattering the villagers.
But I knew a grumbling giant with a scowl capable of clearing a room—and it just so happened he had a score to settle with Evan.
Aiden McKinnon was a dead man.
He’d promised he’d only talk to Evan. No fists. No violence.
Promised.
And he’d lied. Big time.
How long after we’d talked had he waited before inflicting his vigilante justice? A day? Two?
My thoughts were still lost on Aiden on my walk home. I kicked at the loose pebbles littered over the path.
That man drove me crazy. Hot one minute.
Ice cold the next. Never anything in between.
He sure liked playing the knight in shining armour—when it suited him.
Frustration itched at me to march over to his workshop and give him a piece of my mind.
Not that I ever would. Or could. When Ryan and I had caught up for coffee, he’d ever-so-casually mentioned that Aiden was out of town for work. What convenient timing.
Shops faded to houses, the road grew quieter, the trees bushier, and finally, the hint of fresh rosebuds peeking over Yolanda’s fence welcomed me home.
I pushed my shopping bag to the crook of my arm to fish out my keys. After I followed the clinks to dig them out of the bottomless pit, I glanced back at my gate.
A woman wearing a floppy straw hat bent over my fence, fussing with the lavender. I’d bought it from the markets when it was barely clinging to life. Now, it thrived, lanky and out of control against the white picket slats. She plucked a small sprig for a sniff.
Alarm bells rang in the back of my mind. Not because she was a flower thief. I was just never at ease with memories lurking around every corner.
But I forced a smile into my voice and called, “Good morning!”
The woman froze, then wobbled slightly as she turned.
“Morning!” she said, a bright laugh bubbling out.
Most of her face stayed hidden beneath the brim of her enormous hat.
She stood tall, her yellow dress floating like sunshine, but something about her was unsteady.
A walking cane rested on the fence. That might be the reason.
She rolled one shoulder, shifting a woven bag back into place, and a delicate gold charm bracelet slipped down her wrist when she grabbed the cane.
“I dropped by to see Yolanda,” she said.
“She left an hour or two ago.” I knew this because Yolanda had stopped me on my way to the village store to chat about a certain cabinetmaker. “Yolanda helps out at the church cake stall on Saturday mornings.”
“Does she? I had no idea.” The nervous bite of her lip hinted to me that she knew Yolanda wouldn’t be home.
I quirked an eyebrow.
“Silly me. I must have my days mixed up,” she said. “By the way, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ruth.”
“Ruth?” The penny dropped. Of course . “Aiden’s friend.”
“Yes. Sometimes . ” She muttered under her breath, “When he’s not acting like a total butthead.”
I laughed. Maybe Ruth and I would get along after all.
“I’m sorry you missed Yolanda,” I said. “She won’t be back until the afternoon. You’re welcome to come in for a cup of tea while you wait… If you like?”
Ruth’s head popped up. She accepted my invitation with a sunny smile.
Ancient hinges squeaked when I pushed open my gate, and her floppy hat twisted and turned as she drank in every detail. The only sound was her cane as it clipped on the front path and then on the wooden floor when she followed me inside.
I set my grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and pointed to the empty chairs at the tiny dining table.
“Make yourself comfy,” I said.
Ruth tilted her shoulder, her bag slipping down her arm to hang over the back of the chair. She tilted her cane against the table, nudged out the chair to sit down, and off came her enormous hat.
My eyes widened, and my keys tumbled from my hand.
Ruth was beautiful in a way I couldn’t describe.
Ethereal was the closest word that popped into my mind.
Her dark hair was swept into a loose bun.
Beneath heavy lashes, her owlish eyes blinked slowly, absorbing every detail of the tiny kitchen.
Not even the jagged lines of the angry red scars bolted up her neck detracted from delicate features that only looked prettier when she beamed one of her endless smiles.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I brought some snacks!”
She fumbled in her bag to pull out a yellow container, her left hand resting daintily but motionless in her lap.
I carefully hid a worried frown and kept myself busy putting on the kettle.
Ruth never used her left hand. Aiden had said she was in an accident—he’d warned me it was serious—but a silent heaviness crushed my heart flat to imagine all she must have gone through ten years ago.
After a whirlwind of dashing about, mild panic, and a last-minute delivery of a pink teapot with matching cups to the table, I sagged into the chair.
Ruth shoved the yellow container under my nose. “Would you like to try one?” Her grin shook at the edges, her offering to me as serious as a sacrifice to the gods.
Curious, I peered inside. My heart sank.
The miniature cupcakes were adorable. Strawberry icing swirled around fluffy white cakes with marzipan butterflies dotted on top.
Next to them was a stack of honey jumbles with thick pink icing.
My eyes narrowed. They were homemade too—just the way I’d told Aiden I loved them the day he’d come for lunch.
This was nothing but another attempt by that infuriating man to earn my forgiveness.
Sighing, I rubbed my temple. “Aiden put you up to this.”
“No!” she insisted. “He’s actually going to kill me when he finds out I stopped by. He gave me one of his long, boring speeches about not sticking my nose in his business.” She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have to stick my nose in if he wasn’t acting so—you know—like him .”
I couldn’t help laughing. I knew. I nodded at the treats. “So, Aiden just sits around waxing lyrical about my favourite cakes and biscuits?” I lifted the teapot to fill our cups.
“And everything else. He never stops talking about you. He’s completely head over heels. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I stared at Ruth, my jaw on the floor, water gushing from the teapot even though it was dangerously close to spilling over the rim of the frilly pink teacup.
“Sorry!” Ruth waved her right hand at me, frantic, and I quickly pulled back the teapot just in time. “ Sorry. Aiden told me I definitely shouldn’t say something like that.” She clapped her hand to her forehead. “Am I making this worse?”
“I’m not sure it’s possible to make it worse.”
“He messed up that bad?”
My shoulders hunched a little more when I sank lower in the chair. Ruth seemed nice, but I barely knew her. How much had Aiden told her? How much sugarcoating had he done to paint himself less like the devil who’d rejected me in front of everyone crammed into the bar?
“That man.” Ruth shook her head. “He has no idea. He’s never been in a proper relationship before. Or—you know— any relationship.”
“What?” My eyebrows shot to the ceiling. Aiden was impossible to get to know, full of secrets, but he was gorgeous in all the right ways. Masculine. Strong. Talented. Sometimes, he’d spoiled me with moments of kindness so sweet it made my heart ache. “Never?”
Ruth shook her head. “In high school, sports kept him busy. Then, it was work. He was so dedicated to climbing the ranks he had no time for anything else. Not that women didn’t fall over themselves when he was around.
” She lifted her shoulder like the whole idea of it was unthinkable.
“I guess there’s something about a man in uniform. ” She grinned. “Even a big dumb one.”
My hand stilled, the teacup hovering close to my lips. “Uniform?”
Ruth let out an annoyed sigh. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Aiden has a pretty consistent habit of purposefully telling me as little as possible.”
Frustrated, Ruth plucked a honey jumble from the pile and stuffed a bite into her mouth.
“I hate that Aiden does this. He erases half his life like it never happened. All because…” She trailed off, her eyes locked on the hand frozen in her lap.
A beat passed. And another. “Aiden used to be a police officer. A sergeant, actually. He was awarded a bravery medal and everything.”
“That makes sense,” I told her simply.