Chapter 8
”May the God who gives endurance and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another. May you welcome those around you just as Christ has welcomed you. And may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen,” Pastor Walter closed the church service with a benediction before we filed into the courtyard.
”Great service,” Gram said, patting mine and Brooks” arms.
”It was. Is it time to eat yet?” The low grumble of Brock’s stomach punctuated his question. ”What? I”m hungry,” he shrugged his shoulders.
”You are always hungry, boy,” Gram laughed. She wasn’t wrong. My brothers and I could always eat, but Brock would out eat the rest of us nine times out of ten. ”I have my Sunday roast cooking if you want to head to my house.”
Mom and Dad took that moment to wander up to us. ”Did I hear someone say Sunday roast?” Dad pulled each of us boys in for a back-slapping hug before leaning down and placing a kiss on Gram”s cheek.
Our family had been attending church together for as long as I could remember. My brothers and I got baptized, went to youth group, and tried to attend every Sunday gathering here. I may not want a family of my own, but these people right here were more than enough. They were the only people I knew would always be there for me and didn”t need anyone or anything else.
”Of course. But if you want some, you”ll have to rake the leaves from my front yard first,” Gram gently patted my dad”s cheek with her hand.
”Wait, you mean just dad, right?” Brock asked hopefully. Although I had no idea why he was asking. We all knew that Gram relied on us men to help maintain her yard and house. Even when Brock whined, we would all happily serve her without question. We’d do anything for that lady.
”How long have you been around, Mister?” Gram threw a mock glare at Brock, but before he could answer, she kept going. ”Twenty-three years, so don”t you tell me you”ve forgotten how we do things around here. You will all get out in the yard and clean up those leaves if you want something to eat.”
Brooks and I held back our snickers at the scolding Brock had just taken. He may have been a pain in the butt most days and always wanted to make a joke out of everything, but he was a Landon. And we loved him anyway.
”Way to go, Brock. Pissing Gram off before noon on a Sunday,” Brooks smirked while he shoved Brock in the shoulder, making him trip.
”Let”s go, you two. I”m driving. The quicker we get this done, the quicker we get food,” I pulled the keys from my pocket and we strode toward my truck.
“You boys be careful! We’ll see you there,” Momcalled after us.
As we drove to Gram”s house, my mind wandered to the one person I couldn”t seem to get out of my head. It was like all the interactions I”d had with her over the last month were living rent-free up there, and I was not a fan. It had been almost a month since I walked into her store and watched her dance with reckless abandon, squealing like a little girl. It was oddly adorable. She was the epitome of joy and all things good.
That was precisely why we would never work. I was jaded and broken, and I wouldn”t be the one to dim her light. I couldn”t be the guy who took away her shine, the guy who expected her goodness to fix his brokenness.
Yet, for some reason unknown to me, I had a vested interest in the bakery and how it was going to turn out. I chose not to dig into that thought for more than one reason. I couldn”t allow my mind to go there.
My brothers must not have talked to me the whole drive, or I was so lost in my thoughts that I missed anything they said. I turned my truck onto the dirt drive and pulled to a stop on the side of Gram”s cozy cottage-style home, its warm facade greeted us like an old friend.
The house may be smaller, but it held countless memories within its walls. It was a place where our family gathered every Sunday for dinner, a tradition that we all cherished. As we stepped out of the truck, the familiar scent of the surrounding woods mixed with the comforting aroma of Gram”s cooking wafting from the open windows.
”Look at all these leaves, man. We”re gonna be here all day raking before Gram even lets us through the door,” Brock grumbled, eyeing the colorful carpet of leaves that covered the front yard. ”Why do we have to live in a place where leaves fall. Couldn”t we live somewhere like Arizona? They don”t have to rake leaves there.”
Brooks chuckled, patting Brock on the back. ”Well, it”s a small price to pay for Gram”s cooking. You know she won”t let us in until this place looks spotless.”
I nodded in agreement, grabbing a rake from the side of the house. I laughed, realizing Gram had this planned well before we got to church this morning. She already had all the tools laid out for us. We’ve done this every fall since we were kids. It was like a rite of passage before we got to enjoy Gram”s legendary pot roast.
Mom and Dad pulled in, parked next to my truck before Mom got out, and headed inside to help Gram with food prep. Dad grabbed another rake and met us in the middle of the yard.
As we worked together, the rustling of leaves provided the background to our banter. Brock continued to grumble about how starving he was while Brooks shared a funny story from school. Dad and I just listened while we shoveled piles of leaves into trash bags. Gram”s cottage silently witnessed countless stories and laughter, a place where family and tradition intertwined seamlessly.
With the last of the leaves bagged, we put away our rakes and shovels, heading for the front door. As we entered Gram”s house, the warmth of a crackling fireplace and the savory aroma of pot roast welcomed us. The sounds and smells brought an onslaught of memories with them. Memories of my brothers and I wrestling in the living room before dinner, watching football games on the small, flatscreen TV Gram refused to upgrade, and challenging conversations had over the dinner table. Gram”s house would always be a refuge in my mind, a place I knew was always available if I ever need it.
”You boys finish up?” Gram”s sweet voice carried through the open living room from the kitchen.
”All done!” Dad hollered back as we all made our way toward the kitchen.
After washing our hands and helping set the table, we gathered around the dining room and said grace. We spent the next hour sharing stories from work, talking about the sermon from church that morning, and making fun of Brock. Somehow, he always managed to find himself as the center of attention.
With the plates cleared and food put away, we huddled around the couches in the living room to watch the Tennessee Titans play. Football was a big deal in the South, and we took our game-watching seriously. I honestly don”t know how Gram puts up with our rowdy banter every week.
As the game unfolded, emotions ran high, and the room echoed with a blend of cheers, groans, and the occasional disagreement over a referee”s call. The buzz of my cell phone in the front pocket of my jeans pulled my attention away from the game. I stood quickly, digging it out to see a random number flash across the screen.
”Brant,” I answered, taking a few steps down the hall to block out the background noise. Answering unknown numbers became standard practice when I took over as the Sheriff. I never knew when someone would call for help.
”Uh…Hi, Brant, it”s Karis. I”m sorry to be calling on a Sunday afternoon, but is there any way you could meet me down at the bakery?” Karis” voice sounded shaky, which immediately put me on high alert. I was moving before I could fully understand what was going on.
”What happened?” My voice came out rough. I snatched my keys from the kitchen counter, ignoring the questioning looks from my brothers. I could vaguely hear Mom and Gram calling my name, but at this moment, none of that mattered. I stomped down the steps and rounded the porch for my truck.
The breath Karis sucked in was audible. ”Umm... Someone broke in,” the tremble in her voice did something to me.
”I”m on my way,” I jumped into my truck and peeled down the dirt drive without a second thought. The drive from Gram”s house to the bakery took half the time it would typically take, but that still felt like too long. Karis stood out front with her arms banded around her stomach, looking dejected. I shoved my truck into park and hopped out, making a beeline straight for her.
”Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The questions were zipping through my brain at lightning speed. It took everything in me to keep my composure. I didn”t know why, but the thought that she was hurt had me seeing red.
Karis” deep, green eyes snapped to meet mine. She stood there in black leggings and an oversized UMKC sweater. Her blonde hair piled on top of her head in some sort of messy bun that made her impossibly more attractive. Focus, Landon.
She took a deep breath before blowing it out and nodding. ”I”m okay. I wasn”t here when it happened. I wasn”t planning to come in today since it”s Sunday, but Liam said they finished the flooring and countertops. I was too excited to wait until tomorrow,” she looked toward the store, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. ”After church, I had lunch with my parents and Eden before heading here. I called you as soon as I noticed the back door.”
My eyes roamed her body on their own accord as if taking inventory, making sure I didn”t miss any injuries. It didn’t matter that she just told me she wasn”t here when it happened. The thought of something happening to Karis sent a chill down my spine. I was choosing to ignore all the possible reasons for that feeling and focus on the situation at hand.
Once my brain was thoroughly convinced there was nothing wrong with her, my gaze trailed to the store. The front door seemed untouched, and none of the windows appeared broken. There hadn”t been a break-in for a few weeks. I was beginning to think the perps had moved on or found a new hobby. The constant flow of workers lured me into believing Karis” store would be fine. I’d let my guard down and gotten lazy, and now she was paying the price.
”They broke in through the back door. I decided to stand out front while waiting for you to arrive,” Karis” small, nervous voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. I nodded woodenly, trying to reel myself in.
”Smart.” I absentmindedly walked down the narrow alley between the bakery and the next building that housed the town”s post office. When I rounded the corner, my eyes caught on the back door, sitting ajar. The metal door had scrape marks along the side by the door handle. I pulled my phone out of my front pocket and snapped a few pictures before using my t-shirt to gently pull the door open further.
It looked like the suspect used some tool to pry at the lock. The back door led directly into the kitchen, which looked much better than the last time I saw it. Other than the graffiti now covering the giant wall. Karis pulled in a sharp breath as we stopped in the middle of the kitchen. The once-blank wall above a long countertop was now covered in a colorful array of random symbols.
”I”m assuming this isn”t your new logo?” I tried to ease the tension, thrumming through her with a joke. I couldn”t help the strong desire to bring some semblance of peace to her at that moment.
Karis huffed out what sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sigh. ”That would be a no. I’ve finally decided on a name but haven”t nailed down our logo yet. Whoever did this had the same idea as me though,” she laughed, but it didn”t sound genuine. ”I wanted our name and logo displayed on that same wall.”
The wall was a perfect place to put the bakery name and logo. I couldn”t help the curiosity that overtook me. ”What”d you decide on?”
I turned to meet Karis” gaze, but I hadn”t realized how close she was, so I ended up bumping into her. I shot my hands out, grabbing her shoulders to steady her. From this close-up, I could make out flecks of gold in her deep green eyes that I hadn”t noticed before. Her beauty stole the breath from my lungs. Shaking my head in an effort to clear it, I steadied her and took a giant step back.
The pink hue that tinted Karis’ cheeks told me she got caught up in that moment, as well. She cleared her throat before answering, ”Whisk Me Away.”