Page 15

A Gut Feeling

In a donut shop, life feels a whole lot sweeter. That’s why I made a point of swinging in for a dozen for the break room at least once a week. And though I wouldn’t say I’m the wisest person to ever live, there is one truth I stand by: There is nothing that can compete with the aroma of freshly fried dough, sugar, and spices. That’s why I consumed more donuts than was probably advisable.

Amazin’ Glazin’ happened to be my very favorite business in all of Dreamer’s Bay. Lulu and Peggy co-owned the place, trained their focus on one thing and did it really well. With artisan donut shops popping up all over the country, Amazin’ stuck with the classics, capturing our hearts with their greasy glazed masterpieces.

I stood in the doorway and let the heavenly smell wash over me. I refused to rush, closing my eyes and enjoying that precious first moment. The dining room sounded half full, as the sounds of satisfied customers chatting quietly filled the space. “Savanna’s here,” I heard Peggy call to Lulu, who spent most mornings in the kitchen, making the goods. “And she’s off the crutches.”

“Is she off that new ER doctor, too?”

I opened my eyes and stalked to the counter to confront the two women who had become my friends over the years. They were too busy air-fiving to notice. Both Peggy and Lulu were in their sixties and a true comedy act, playing off each other and their customers in that effortless way not many could master. “I’d act offended, but I don’t think it would bother you two.”

“Nope. We’re selling you donuts either way,” Peggy said, hands on the back of her hips. She wore her customary white apron with the red lettering in line with the shop’s cozy, classic vibes. I gazed at the display case in reverence. Their award-winning glazed, chocolate frosted, sprinkles, and the classic jelly donut were the stars of the show. The apple fritter was a star in its own right, and I’d be back for it next week. The coffee at the shop was standard coffee, served from a pot that offered a gentle hum. No giant espresso machine to be seen on the pristine countertops. The flour on Lulu’s cheek was reserved for the kitchen, visible through a large square window where she slid trays of the freshly fried donuts through to Peggy.

“What’ll it be, Little Miss Kisses Women in Bars?” Peggy asked with a smirk.

“You know too much.”

“Just the important bits. Gossip is the jam on my toast.” She slid a strand of imaginary hair behind her ear like some kind of a sugar-coated victory lap. She’d stopped dying her hair a few years back, and her now silvery locks were pulled back in a tight ponytail. Lulu kept hers short and curly.

“The higher the hair, the closer to God,” Lulu would always say. Then she’d wink at you. “But I hang out with the devil more often. Don’t tell my mama.”

In response to Peggy’s question, I studied the menu as if I didn’t have it entirely memorized. Still riding the high of the night before at Ronnie Roo’s, I decided to splurge a little. “A dozen glazed. A fan favorites bag. And a chocolate frosted for me to eat right here in this establishment like the sugar sinner I am.”

“The warmer the better, I always say,” Peggy quipped. “And these gentlemen are fresh. Prepare for your little piece of heaven in South Carolina.”

As she rang me up, I shifted my weight, wondering if I was honestly about to go there. “Speaking of romance, how’s your love life been lately?” Damn. I’d just gone and done it. Can of worms opened.

“Well, I’ll tell you right off. Jake hasn’t brought me flowers in over a year, but he visits me daily so we can argue about the best way to mow a lawn. If you feel like arguing, too, he’s right over there sippin’ on his coffee.”

I turned automatically, and sure enough, there he sat. Jacob Kielbasa. Jake to everyone who knew him. My first time seeing him since learning the truth about my biology. I went still, unsure how to feel, what to do. He sat at a table by himself with a cup of coffee in front of him in a tan diner mug. A newspaper folded in half sat off to the side while he chatted with Chaz Schumacher from the garage and Tim Newton from the bait and tackle shop, both seated one table over. It was the most casual scene in the world. This was likely their standard morning, but nothing felt standard about it to me.

“Savanna, you’ve gone white as a sheet,” Peggy said, handing over my two big bags and one smaller one. “You need some water or a chair?”

“No. I’m fine. I just”—I turned back to her absently—“need to do something. I think.”

The joking between us set aside, Peggy regarded me sincerely. “Then you go on ahead and do it, sugar.” Her words were quiet and encouraging. Did she know? Did he ? I nodded and walked into the dining area like someone sleepwalking, pulled along on an invisible string toward Jake’s table until I stood alongside it.

The three men, noticing me, paused their conversation. The world moved into slow motion and my senses went into overdrive. I was hugely aware of the soft clinking of silverware being gathered, the aroma of the fresh pot of coffee coming on, and the feel of my own nails digging into my palm. Get it together .

Jake turned, likely curious about the purpose of my presence. Other than occasional pleasantries, generally lasting ten seconds at the market or a town gathering, when had we ever had a true conversation? He offered a smile. “Hey there, Savanna. What’s new?”

I didn’t say anything because the three different sentences I had floating around in my brain all seemed inadequate. I was nervous and stripped of my traditional interpersonal skill set like one of those bad dreams where you realized you hadn’t attended class all semester and knew nothing for the big test. I opened my mouth, hoping the words would take over. They didn’t. I was nervous and humiliated.

“Why don’t you sit down a minute?” Jake said, concern lacing his features. He had brown eyes like me. His were soft, which had to have served him well back in his days on the police force. I bet people trusted him. Right now, I did.

“Okay,” I managed to say.

His gaze hadn’t strayed, and Tim and Chaz had struck up a conversation at their own table, giving us privacy. “You doing all right today? Can I get you a cup of coffee to go with your donut?” That’s right, I had my single donut, meant to be a treat to me this morning. Forgotten now, in favor of a bigger moment.

“I think you knew my mother,” I said, barely above a whisper. It was almost as if I was afraid to say the words any louder for fear of shaking the very universe that was propping me up.

“I did,” he said without hesitation, nodding, never breaking eye contact. His silver hair feathered back into neat layers, thick like mine. His eyes were brown and wrinkles creased his face, most prominently around his eyes. He was handsome, one of those men who wore his age well. “She was a great girl. Woman , I mean. I’m so sorry we lost her.”

“I think she loved you once upon a time.”

He took a moment before answering; a slight hesitation made him look away. “I like to think she did. We had a little something going at one point.” He took a deep breath. “I was older than she was, and life was complicated at the time.” His eyes were clouded with either sadness or regret.

“I understand.” The next pause seemed to stretch on for ages as I gathered the confidence to ask the question that burned a hole in my heart all these months. Nothing would ever be the same again once I did. “Do you think it’s possible that you’re my father?”

His features seemed to freeze and the words settled. It took a few beats for Jake to gather himself and reanimate, paler now than when we’d started the conversation. I had, in fact, just tossed the grenade of the question his way without warning.

“Um…” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, meeting my gaze. “I think it is.”

“Oh.” Where did I go from there? My hands went entirely numb, and the quiet chatter around us faded to the edges of my periphery until it eventually disappeared entirely. “Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t understand why no one did.”

“For one, you had a real good dad. And I wasn’t entirely sure until I was sitting with you here right now, looking into your eyes. Shit.” He sat back, pulled a ballcap out of his back pocket, and gave the worn, blue bill a tight squeeze. “I wanted to ask her, your mom, but she was, well…with your dad, and I had my family, and it felt like a lot to undo. For a whole group of people who seemed real happy.”

“The whole leaving well enough alone mentality.” My ability to think was drifting back.

“I suppose that was it. Things were different thirty years ago than they are now.”

“Thirty-five,” I corrected.

“Then, too.” We shared a short smile, anything to cut the heaviness of the moment.

I took a breath, feeling the need to explain my intentions. I didn’t want the man on his heels thinking he was now expected to leap into my life and make up for lost time. I was realistic enough to know it didn’t exactly work that way. “Hey, I didn’t ask this question to upend your life or to ask for anything from you. I just needed to know the truth.”

“I get it. I’ve always kept my distance out of respect, but wanted more than anything to get to know you some.” Tears appeared in his eyes and he looked away, embarrassed.

I now wished I hadn’t done this with his friends so close by.

“Maybe we could do just a hair of that here and there. I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” I said, caught off guard. I honestly hadn’t expected anything from Jake. “I’d love to hear more about your life sometime. Your time on the force.”

“The good old days.” He smiled. “The life I’ve led is nothing out of the ordinary, but I’d be happy to lay it all out there. And I could, maybe, hear more about yours, too.”

“That’d be great.” I stood, deciding to take this thing in small doses. The few words we’d exchanged left me feeling overwhelmed. My head was spinning and my emotions were firing in a lot of different directions. It was clear to me that I was going to have to manage this new discovery in small doses. There’d been no DNA test. Nothing was certain, and yet it was. Some things in life just came with a gut feeling so powerful, it couldn’t be ignored. I’d just had a conversation with my biological father. I had a living parent, who’d lived and worked just blocks away from me most of my life. When I’d stood in line for pancakes at the firehouse breakfast as an orphaned twelve-year-old, I’d likely had a dad standing in line, too. A brother. How did my brain make sense of any of this? I was excited, invigorated, but also a little bit angry at the decisions that had been made on my behalf.

Donuts in hand, I headed to work in a daze. I went through the motions of my daily list of tasks, taking care not to cut any corners but aware of the fact that I was distracted. I smiled and laughed in all the right spots. I wondered about Kyle and how her afternoon was going, while letting Buster know that two jars of pickles had been dropped and shattered by a customer on aisle four. But I had a father who now knew I knew, and my life was never going to be the same again.

“What if this whole thing starts rumors about my mother? I would hate that,” I asked Jonathan, taking my comfort cookies out of the oven. After I’d filled him in on my morning, he’d promptly come over to my place after his dinner date with the new guy, Christian. I’d needed someone to vent to, and Kyle had a shift in the ER until midnight. Plus, did I really want to drag her into the deep end so soon? We’d only just barely gotten off the ground again.

“It might,” he said, locating the milk in the fridge. “But like every other rumor, it will run its short course until it’s replaced with who’s making out with Leon at the Laundromat.”

“More like, who isn’t making out with Leon? He’s such a kissing bandit. I hope I have that kind of game when I’m eighty-three.”

“Right? That man can sneak up on you. Or send the snake up on you, if you know what I mean.” He bounced his eyebrows.

I stared at him. Hard. Arched brow and all.

“Not that I’ve experienced it!” he shouted in horror. “Damn, Sav. I’m not that hard up.”

“I don’t judge,” I said primly.

He studied the warm little comfort cookies, lined up like dutiful soldiers on the sheet pan. “And after ten minutes, nor would the people of the Bay. That’s my point about your lineage scandal.”

“God, I’ve never been a scandal before. Maybe I should try to see it as some sort of badge of honor.”

“You’re racking those up,” he said, popping a piece of the chocolate chunk cookie he’d selected. “First, hard launching you and Kyle in the middle of Ronnie’s and now announcing your bio dad suspicions on a busy weekday at the donut version of town square. My, my. What a week.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I put three large cookies on my plate, stared, then added a fourth before heading to the couch. Comfort cookies were best enjoyed in generous quantities. Jonathan followed, sporting one arm-crutch today. I knew that meant his pain level was moderate.

“I want you to know, even though all of this may be scary, I’m proud of you, okay?”

I smiled up at him, a small lump emerging in my throat. We didn’t get sentimental too often, living more comfortably in humor, so it mattered when one of us went there.

“You came right away when I called,” I told him. “You had a hot date and everything.”

“There will be plenty of opportunities for gazing dreamily at Christian.” His smile dimmed. “But there’s only one you, so of course I’m here. You can always count on me. Got it?”

He knew what I’d been through in my life, and the sentiment underscored his words tonight. “I love you.”

“I love you right back.”