“It is a small world, especially here in Mapleton. Have you lived here your whole life?” he asks, sipping his coffee.
“Born and raised.” I tuck a hair behind my ear, but my hand pauses on top of my head where my hair feels a tad greasier than I’d prefer. In the bustle of the day, I didn’t have time to wash it, and I threw it back in a ponytail.
Oh, big regret now.
Why didn’t I shower?
Bill’s gazing at me as if expecting me to expand on my thought, so I rush out, “I left for a bit after I graduated high school. I had this dream to see the world, but that didn’t last long.”
He tilts his head. “Oh really? How come?”
I shrug, drifting my focus back to the wall. I understand why the regulars love these photos so much. It makes for an easy place to gaze. “Oh, you know. Life was leading back. I had gotten married and pregnant, which were good things. Then unexpectantly I ended up being a single mom. I tried, but I couldn’t do it alone. I didn’t have an education and was barely making any money and had to pay for daycare. My mom offered me a chance to come back and help her run this place. Since she was grandma, she sure didn’t mind when I brought Noah with me to work nights. Many times on her nights off, she watched him for me. It saved me a lot of money on childcare. Plus, weenjoyed working together. What about you? Are you originally from here?”
His brow lifts. “Yeah, I grew up on the other side of the tracks. Right near that old railroad bridge.”
“Are you talking about the one off Main Street they’re getting ready to tear down this spring?”
“That’s the one.” He chuckles until the lines by his eyes crease. “I always thought that old bridge would crumble any day. I guess the city finally got sick of waiting for it to self-destruct. It’s been through a lot. We used to jump off it as kids. Shoot, as fearless as I was back then, I didn’t tell anyone I actually peed my pants a little the first time I jumped.”
I laugh from my belly because I know the exact sensations, but I also wasn’t expecting Bill to open up about something like that. “We did that too. I only jumped once though. That was enough for me. Always a collector of things, I preferred to catch the fireflies. Did you ever see how thick they were at night?”
His smile softens. “Actually, I didn’t get over there much at night. My parents never let me run after dark, but the few times I accidentally stayed late, I noticed that. It was sort of magical the way they appeared, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was.” For a second, we sit with the memory. Then I add, “It’s crazy we never saw each other. What year did you graduate?”
“Oh, I’m old. I graduated last century,” he teases. “In the 1900s”
“So old.” I chuckle, enjoying his humor. “I was there too. Boy, does that feel like another lifetime ago.”
He leans back, gaze still on me. “Sometimes it does, but sometimes it seems like yesterday.”
“I haven’t thought about that bridge in years. Isn’t that funny? All the memories that stay with you, but you don’t think about them much.”
“Yeah.” His lashes lower, hooding the spark in his eyes for a moment. “Even when everything else changes. All the neighborhoods have grown, but that bridge is the same.”
“Order’s up!” Margie calls as she slides his plate through the window. I turn, grabbing it and his ticket. “As promised, the best pancakes on this side of Vermont.” I slide the plate across the counter. With my free hand, I fold his ticket in half and tuck it in my apron pocket.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He gives me a teasing smile while unfolding a napkin and leaning forward, fork in hand.”
I stand back, watching as he cuts a piece of the pancake with the side of his fork, stabs it, and drops it into his mouth. He maintains a straight expression as he chews. Something tells me he does that to tease me because there’s no way he doesn’t love it. “Well?” I ask after his chewing has gone on for an insane amount of time.
“Don’t know yet. I don’t judge off first bites.” He returns his fork to his pancake for another bite. “I have to eat the whole thing to make sure the taste is consistent.”
“That’s fair.”
He drops another piece into his mouth. After he swallows it, he looks over at me and says, “About the tryouts, you know, we already had our list of guys we wanted to make the next round before Noah showed up.”
My heart catches, squeezing tight. I hadn’t expected him to bring that up. I could apologize again, but I already did that. Sorry only goes so far. I honestly struggle to say anything. When I don’t, he goes on, “Technically, he missed the tryout. So, Coach Carlson dismissed him when he was done working with him.”
“Right,” I say, voice coming out small. “I, uh—”
He waves my defense off, speaking over me, “I didn’t know what to do with him, but if he can be back next Saturday, we’llrun some drills. I’d like to see him on the ice with the other guys. It wasn’t really a fair assessment by himself.”
I stare at him, stunned as hot tears prick the backs of my eyes.
I didn’t expect this.
I’m certainly not going to say no. Noah’s one step closer to his dreams coming true, and I want that so much for him. Thank you doesn’t sound like it’s enough, so instead I say, “This means everything.”
