Ryder tried to call Elizabeth all morning in between chores around the house, but her phone kept going to voicemail. Finally, he rang up Ella’s Diner. Not to bother her at work, but maybe Tina could give her a message. He was putting in Saturday hours on the fire tower and wondered if she’d be free to help.
“I shooed her out of here after the lunch rush,” Tina said. “She’s looking rather tired these days.” She spoke away from the phone. “D’Angelo, drop another basket of fries. It’s chili-cheese fry day, and we’re going through potatoes like crazy. I need to drop this special and throw business over to the Fry Hut.”
“Thanks, Tina, good luck with chili-cheese fry day.”
“Ryder, hey, don’t give up on her.” Tina’s advice came with the sounds from the diner’s back of house.
“She doesn’t make it easy.”
“Most good things don’t come easy.”
“Yeah, but she has her plans. And to be honest, I’m not sure about my future.”
“Are any of us?” Tina said. “You have to answer one question, Ryder. Do you want a future with Elizabeth Dorsey?”
Yes. The confession settled in his heart with a surprising ca-chunk, and it was too late to say never mind. His whole being knew the truth.
He was falling in love with her. Maybe he’d always loved her. But love never went well for him. Beginning with his parents.
“One more thing, Tina. What did you mean when you said she looked tired?”
“You know she has Epstein–Barr? Or had, I guess. Though the virus never goes away. Her granny and I are joining forces to make sure she doesn’t work too much, tire herself out, and reactivate the virus.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something about it. Thanks, Tina.”
Hanging up, he headed for the kitchen with Fred and Ginger following, looking up as if waiting for a summary.
He knew a little of the virus. A coworker in Colorado struggled with the same thing. “I can’t do it, Fred, Ginger. Can’t ask her to give up her dreams for me. Not when she overcame something like Epstein–Barr.”
The dogs twisted their heads in sympathy. Ryder tossed over a couple of treats from the bag on the kitchen counter, then loaded his truck with the lumber and tools needed for the fire tower. Today he wanted to work on the stairs.
When the tower came into view, so did Elizabeth’s vintage Beetle Bug. Ryder stepped out, calling her name, navigating the weathered and broken stairs, his banged-up knee buckling once.
Still in her Ella’s T-shirt, she sat on the far side, on a set of solid boards, back against the wall.
“Hey…” he said, picking his way across the twelve-by-fifteen cab, massaging his knee as he sat down next to her. “You shouldn’t be up here alone. Too dangerous.”
“Why? You come up here alone,” she said with a soft smile.
“Yes, but I’m a highly trained TWRA officer.” His laugh drew out hers. “I’d just hate for you to get hurt with no one to help. Hey, I called the diner looking for you.” Ryder sat back against the wall, the breeze dipping down from the trees, cooling July’s afternoon heat. “I wanted to see if you could help me with the repairs. Tina said you looked tired, so she sent you home.”
“Granny has her worried about me. But I’m fine. I’m getting plenty of sleep. I drink lots of water. I have a doctor and homeopathic specialist working to boost my immune system.”
“I had the flu my junior year of high school,” Ryder said, pulling up an old memory. “My parents were out of town, but Mom sent me a giant stuffed teddy bear because I loved the one I had as a kid. Man, that thing freaked me out. It had these wild, glowing green eyes. Don’t mind saying it, I turned him toward the wall.”
“My parents took turns coming home early to take care of me. Or they worked from home,” she said. “But hey, let’s share a happy memory. We’re always talking about the bad things. And please don’t say it’s the freaky big teddy with glowing eyes.”
“No, not the big teddy. A happy story, huh?” There were a few, but Elizabeth’s challenge made him dig deep. He’d buried most of his memories under the hurts and disappointments.
“Come on, Ryder. Spill. I can feel the boards rotting beneath us.”
“Okay, okay, how about…well…minibike.” He blurted the word as an image flashed through his mind’s eye. “Wow, I’d forgotten the minibike. So yeah, when I was ten, Dad surprised me one Christmas. It was snowing, but I rode that bike from dawn to dusk with Dad instructing and helping, then he got on his motorbike and we raced down the long driveway. Dad, my brother, and me. They let me win, and we had a blast. Mom brought us snacks and hot chocolate. I went to bed like I owned the world. Best Christmas ever.” He picked at a vine growing through the cracked boards. “I thought everything would be different.”
“But it wasn’t?”
“No, not really. We went skiing the next year. No presents. Fun, but didn’t feel like Christmas.”
“But you have that really great memory. There’s always one or two that stand out.”
