Page 8 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Eight

Clarissa

“ O rder up!” Adam called from the kitchen window.

Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, bacon strips, Canadian bacon, and eggs. Placing the plates in front of Jeff and Eugene, Clarissa beamed at them. “Enjoy!”

“Well, aren’t you perky today,” Jeff commented.

“Rachel’s had a few good days in a row,” she said.

It wasn’t a flat-out lie, but she didn’t want to admit the real reason she was in such a good mood. Thomas said ‘next time’ yesterday after he walked her to her car. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. That and she’d had dreams about a redheaded lumberjack taking her on a picnic in the woods again. This time the dream ended with them sweaty and naked.

“That’s good,” Eugene said.

She turned to set up the coffee maker to brew another pot as the door jingled open.

“Did you ever call Elizabeth?” Eugene asked. “For her to set up home visits for Rachel?”

“Not yet,” Clarissa admitted. “I’m picking up extra shifts making the pie here. With that extra money, I should be able to pay off the last of my car repairs this week, then I’ll give her a call.”

“You’re still paying off the car?” Jeff asked incredulously.

“I thought you just had the brake pads replaced?” Eugene asked.

“No, there were some transmission issues too. I had to practically sign a contract in my own blood to get Andy’s to let me drive off without fully paying first.”

“You know,” Jeff said, “we do tune-ups and all the work on our bikes ourselves. Next time something happens, bring your car to our place first and we’ll take a look. Andy’s isn’t exactly known for being honest.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Flipping the on switch, she waited for the coffee maker to gurgle to life. When it stayed silent, she slapped the side of it.

“One of these days that thing is gonna slap you back,” Adam said through the window.

“If it does, I’ll consider it a good day because that will mean it’s fully functional again.” Slapping it a second time steam gushed from the top. The scent of the hot, nutty liquid wafted out as it dripped through the mechanism into the pot below.

“Claire,” Sylvia said, “you got someone in your station.”

Turning to face the dining room, her stomach lurched, and an easy grin pulled across her face. Smoothing her uniform, she grabbed an empty mug and the pot of decaf.

“Afternoon.” She set the mug down in front of Thomas and filled it. He looked tired. She idly wondered if he was having to work late because of how much time he was spending at the diner, on what she presumed were his lunch breaks.

“Hello, Clarissa.” He smiled up at her, and her knees had a moment of weakness.

“Do you know what you want today? Another omelet?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t have much time to stay today. There’s some family business that needs to be taken care of.”

“Oh.” Her face fell.

“I’d love to take a pie though. My sister’s been having cravings for blueberries.”

“Sure thing, I’ll go get that for you.”

Opening the revolving tower of pie, she pulled out a blueberry and set it in a paper bag. The sight of the revolving tower of baked goods gave her a new sense of pride now. However, she was having a hard time feeling smug about it at the moment.

She took the pie back to the table. Tom stood up and pulled out his wallet. “Will this be enough?” He handed her forty dollars.

“That’s way too much.”

“Keep the change, put it toward the fund for a new coffee maker.” He smirked.

“Ah, you noticed that, did you?”

“What, you going two rounds with an inanimate object? No, no, I didn’t see that at all.”

Taking the paper bag with the pie in it, he pulled out a medium-sized gift bag. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer today. I brought this for you. I hope you accept it as a token of apology.”

Without waiting for her to open the bag, he left. Clarissa stood there, dumbfounded. What had just happened? Where did this man learn his manners from? No one paid double for baked goods and left presents for the waitstaff on the same day.

Muttering under her breath, she took the money, dirty coffee mug, and gift bag to the counter. Sylvia, Jeff, and Eugene were all staring at her.

“What?” she demanded.

“He brought you a present?” Sylvia gushed.

“Don’t get too excited, I don’t even know what it is.” After placing the cash in the till, she set the bag down.

“Well, how long are you going to make us wait?” Jeff asked.

With a heavy sigh, she opened the offending bag. Not wanting to pull anything out without checking first, she peered inside. Her mouth fell open.

Putting the items on the counter, she was at a loss for words. They were so simple, yet she’d never received anything more thoughtful.

A sketch pad; one hundred and fifty pages of high-quality paper for graphite. A set of artist pencils with a white eraser, a kneaded eraser, and blending sticks, and a Batman pencil case to put them all in. In the spirals of the notebook was a single pink peony flower.

“I didn’t know you drew,” Sylvia said.

“I used to,” Clarissa admitted. “It’s been so long.”

“And look, he knows peonies are your favorite.” Sylvia pulled out the flower, placing it in a water glass.

“How long have you been dating?” Eugene asked.

“We aren’t,” Clarissa said. “I talk to him here a lot, but … we haven’t actually been on a date.”

“Oh, an old-fashioned courting,” Jeff said.

“Presents and you’re not even dating, how sweet!” Sylvia said.

“Too sweet.” Clarissa pursed her lips, suddenly wary of her gifts.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” Sylvia chided.

“Do what?”

“Talk yourself out of a perfectly good match just because you’re romantically stunted.”

“I am not ‘romantically stunted.’ I’m just cautious,” Clarissa shot back. “There are whack jobs everywhere.”

“Yes, there are whack jobs, but there’s also good and genuine people out there too.” Sylvia put her items back in the bag and handed them to her. “I’m not saying you have to date this guy if you don’t want to. I’m just saying don’t count him out because you’re afraid.”

* * *

Crickets sang under a veil of inky night. Sitting at the small kitchen table, Rachel did a jigsaw puzzle. Clarissa had forced one of the side windows in the double-wide open. It was rusty and dented, so it was no small feat. The cool breeze wafting through the stuffy enclosure made the crick in her elbow worth it.

Her peony sat in a cup on her dinky kitchen table. Staring at it, she pondered everything. From her terrible abuse in high school, to her short-lived relationships in college where she had to be intoxicated before any physical intimacy, to recent events with Thomas. Finally, her thoughts landed on Sylvia’s words.

How bad could a guy be if he buys his pregnant sister a pie to satisfy her cravings? He also saved her. Saved her and asked for nothing in return. When she talked to him, he seemed genuinely interested in her.

If he wanted to hurt her, wouldn’t he have done something by now?

Clarissa got up from her chair. Grabbing her gift bag, she ripped open the pack of pencils and put them in her Batman case. Flipping open the sketch pad, she started outlining the peony flower. Her flower.

* * *

The front door jingled, and Clarissa couldn’t help the crane of her neck and the flutter of her heart—again. She’d been watching the front door all day.

She had no indication that Thomas would be in today. But she also had no indication that he wouldn’t either. As a result, she spent the morning only half paying attention to her customers, and half anticipating his arrival.

“Hey.” Sylvia caught her attention as she was putting in a new order. “You working a fourteen today?”

“It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, it is. The morning rush just finished, why don’t you go take your break while you can. I can handle the front.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, there’s only three tables, go on, rest your feet, get a snack.”

“Thanks, Sylvia.” Pausing to wash her hands, Clarissa then snagged her purse and hoodie, going out to her car. Locking herself in, she dug the apple from her bag and leaned the seat back.

A cold spring breeze beat against the car, whistling through the cracks in the doors. She pulled her hoodie in closer. Normally she’d start the car and turn the heat on, but her tank was creeping toward ‘E’ and it had to last until Thursday.

Stomach growling for more, she wrapped her apple core in a napkin. Closing her eyes, she did the mental math for how much she had left on her car and what bills were due next week.

A chill crept over her that had nothing to do with the weather. The unmistakable feeling of being watched had come over her. Not just watched, but calculatedly observed. Opening her eyes, she slid them from side to side. The parking lot was still.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, her heart stopped. A green SUV was parked in the empty lot of The Barrel.

Clarissa knew little about cars, but she was almost certain it was the same one Alister and the others had been in. Wasn’t it?

It was too far away to tell. Fear seized her. What if it was? Was he here, or was it the others?

A knock rapped on her window. She screamed.

She clasped her hands over her mouth, and her heart hammered. It was just Thomas.

Struggling to catch her breath, she opened the door.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“I saw …” She turned her head toward The Barrel. The lot was empty. The green SUV was gone. Had she just imagined it? “I thought I saw something.”

“I’m sorry, I should have waited for you inside,” he said.

“It’s not your fault.” Getting out of the car, she wrapped her arms around her middle, huddled against the chill. “Do you want to come in out from the cold?”

As she asked, she realized he wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Wasn’t he frozen?

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time this afternoon. Instead, I stopped by to ask you a question,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“Would you like to have another meal with me?”

“I just had my lunch break, I need to get back to work,” she replied, confused. Hadn’t he just said he didn’t have much time today?

“I didn’t necessarily mean now, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.” He fought back a laugh. “Are you free for dinner one night? I’d like to take you out, spend time with you someplace other than where you work.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing at her own obliviousness. “I work late tonight, but tomorrow I’m off earlier.”

“Tomorrow works perfectly. Have I moved far enough from stranger territory to pick you up from your home?”

“I’m not sure. After all, I’ve only seen you at work. I’m not entirely convinced that counts.”

He chuckled. “Do you still have my business card? Text me your address and I’ll come pick you up at six.”

“What—” She chewed on her lip. The ridiculousness of the question she wanted to ask hitting her.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“What should I wear?”

He thought for a moment. “Something casual. I won’t scare you off with anything too fancy. Not yet at least.”

“I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a threat or a promise.” She frowned.

“Yes,” he said. “I should let you get back. I heard the coffee maker is planning an uprising. You need to get in there and stop it before it recruits the toaster to its cause.”

“If the toaster stops working too, I quit.”

“Well then, you better get in there and run interference.” He raised a hand to brush her cheek.

Bracing herself, she tried not to flinch this time. She did. Rather than a full body jerk, her face contorted, her neck yanking back.

The slightest of touches brushed against her, rough, calloused, and warm against her soft skin. Looking up at him, she expected to see anger or hurt, but she saw neither. His dark eyes filled with sorrow. She couldn’t understand why.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said.

It was only a few paces away, but she didn’t protest. Against her better judgment, she found she simply enjoyed being in his company.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at six.” Nodding, he turned to leave.

“Thank you!” she blurted out after him.

“For?”

“Yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to say thank you for the gift. I appreciate it.”

His face reddened as his familiar warm smile lit up his features. “You’re welcome.”

Watching him leave, her heart melted. Back inside the diner, she ignored Sylvia, Jeff, and Eugene. Pulling out her wallet, she retrieved his card, typing the number into her phone. With his contact saved, she messaged him her address.

* * *

The moon was bright in the hazy sky as Clarissa parked the car at the double-wide. Her feet ached and her stomach growled, all she really wanted was a hot shower. Trudging up the steps, she turned the key in the door. Pushing it open, she felt resistance.

“Go away!” Rachel yelled from inside.

“Aunty?” Clarissa tried to angle her face so she could see through the crack. “Aunty, it’s me. It’s Clarissa.”

“I don’t know you! Go away, you aren’t welcome here.”

“Rachel, you do know me. My name is Clarissa Roberts, I’m Maddy’s daughter. You remember Maddy, right?” Her aunt stopped yelling. She took that as a good sign and continued. “Your younger brother, Mason, you call him Maddy, he married the girl he met at school, Emma. They had a daughter, do you remember?”

“Maddy … Maddy and Emma,” Rachel muttered to herself while she thought.

“They had me, then I moved in with you. We’ve been living together for years.”

“I just went to Maddy’s wedding last week. You can’t possibly be their daughter, you’re lying! You’re trying to trick me, you’re one of them! You’re with the bears, aren’t you?”

Rachel shoved against the door and bolted it. Clarissa heard sounds of her lugging something heavy in front of the door.

Sinking onto the front steps, Clarissa leaned her forehead against the makeshift railing. Rachel had had so many good days, something like this was bound to happen. Her illness was like that, predictable in its unpredictability.

The problem was, it was after seven thirty, freezing cold, and she was locked out. She could call Sylvia and crash on her couch. That wasn’t a good option though. Rachel was unsupervised and highly agitated. What if she accidentally hurt herself? No, she had to stay.

She contemplated forcing her way inside, but what if Rachel thought she was an intruder? That would only make it worse. Scowling, she realized she only had one option. Pulling out her cell, she called the only person on her speed dial.

“Hello.” The voice sounded gruff on the other end.

“Hi, Greg, it’s me.”

“Clarissa?” He was suddenly alert. “Is everything okay, did something happen to Rachel?”

“She’s having a bad day, Greg, a real bad one. She doesn’t recognize me, and she locked me out. I don’t want to try to go in by myself and …”

“Say no more, I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Greg.”

Hanging up the phone, she closed her eyes and placed her head back on the railing. Her body felt too heavy to move, her mind too numb to cry.

In less than fifteen minutes, the police cruiser pulled into the drive next to her car, the word ‘sheriff’ painted across it in ugly tan. He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. For that, Clarissa was grateful.

“Hey, Sheriff.” She smiled weakly up at him.

“Hey, kiddo.” He sat next to her on the step. Greg was in his late fifties, but the only indication of his age were the laugh lines and his salt and pepper hair. More salt than the last time she’d seen him. “Tell me what happened.”

She groaned. “I got home just after seven thirty. She wouldn’t let me open the door. Shoved herself against it and started screaming that she didn’t know me. I heard her moving something heavy, I think she barred the door.”

He frowned. “Did you see her? Was she hurt?”

“No, I couldn’t get a good look, I only heard her yelling,” she said.

“Was it the bears again?” he asked.

“Yes, she said I was sent by them to hurt her.”

He sighed. “Alright, why don’t you take a step back. I’ll see what I can do.”

Getting up, he rapped his knuckles on the door. Clarissa moved backward onto the lawn.

“Rachel? Rachel Jhonson, are you in there?”

“Hello?” Her aunt’s tentative voice was muffled through the door. “Greg, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s Greg. I wanted to check on you, is everything alright?”

After several moments and sounds of shuffling, the door flew open. Rachel’s hair was disheveled, her eyes panicked.

“Oh, Greg!” She flung her arms around his neck. “You heard they came for me, the bears, and you were worried about me. You came to help me fight them off!”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” he said. “The bears are gone now. I chased them off.”

“Thank you, Greg.” Rachel froze, staring at Clarissa. “Her! She’s one of them!”

Carissa felt her shoulders fall as despair settled into her chest.

“No, no,” Greg soothed. “She’s not a bear, she’s with me.”

“She is?”

“Yes, she’s here to help take care of you. Her name is Clarissa, she’s going to live here with you in case the bears come back.”

“Oh.” Rachel blinked.

“Can we come in?” he asked.

Rachel moved aside and Greg walked in. Clarissa followed him, downcast. The inside of the double-wide was a wreck. Rachel had dragged her dresser into the front, it sat at an angle preventing the door from fully opening. The kitchen table was turned sideways, the glass with her peony inside shattered on the floor. Her pile of books and magazines were thrown everywhere, and the recliner was on its side.

Clarissa picked up her flower and placed it on the kitchen counter, then she grabbed the broom and dustpan. Rachel talked to Greg while she cleaned up the broken glass.

He set the kitchen table and chairs upright, guiding Rachel to sit down while he helped Clarissa move the dresser. He set the recliner back up while Clarissa started picking up.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, not looking at her aunt.

“Yes, I had … I had …” Her brow furrowed as she concentrated.

Clarissa checked the fridge. The plate she’d made Rachel for lunch was untouched. Placing a glass of water on the table, she told her to drink while she microwaved a bowl of rice and beans for her.

“Clarissa.” Greg’s voice sounded strained. “While Rachel eats, do you mind if I speak with you?”

Grudgingly, she followed him to her room. This was going to be unpleasant. All she wanted was to be left alone to fall apart. She hated that Greg had to see Rachel like this. He closed the door behind her.

“Clarissa …” His voice was soft, his face lined with worry. “Oh, Clarissa, this isn’t working. You need help. She needs help.”

She wiped the tears that’d fallen on her face. “I know, I have a number for a home aide company, I was going to call them this week.”

“How many hours are you working?”

She didn’t answer.

“Those aides are expensive. If you need any help, I can—”

“What?” she said. “We can’t take your money, Greg.”

“Of course you can. Rachel and I, well … I know things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve been part of your lives for so long. You’re like my own kid, Claire. And you need the help as much as she does.”

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

“Come here, kiddo.” He pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “You going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I have to be,” she said. “Thanks for coming by, Greg. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, I gotta take care of my girls.”

She laughed and walked him to the door.

“Such a wonderful man,” Rachel gushed from the kitchen table. “Can I tell you a secret? I think he’s going to propose! My friend works at the jeweler in town. They said he was in there shopping for an engagement ring.”

“That’s great, Rachel, I’m happy for you.”

The truth was, Greg had proposed. Rachel had a rule: she wouldn’t marry until after Clarissa made it through high school. Greg had waited, but by the time he’d asked her, the illness had taken over. She wasn’t Rachel anymore, and her aunt and the sheriff never got the happily ever after they deserved.

It was after nine before Clarissa could convince Rachel to go to bed. Only after that was she able to finally take her shower. Letting the steam engulf her, she stood there staring at the drain. She felt numb.