Page 5

5

JESS

Hello, Hockey Town.

As I roll into Cobbiton, the small town where Grandma Dolly lives, I pass the massive Ice Palace sports complex. It’s the home arena for the Knights, the Nebraska hockey team. While I’m here, I’ll definitely be taking a break from all manner of men, whether they wear a crown or a helmet.

I have nothing against the sport, in fact, Grandma Dolly is a super fan, but I left here telling myself when I returned, I’d be a new and improved version of myself, having succeeded at life. Employed, married, and with a happily ever after at the ready.

The plan was not to be a wedding day reject. Rather, I wanted to make it on my own.

No sooner do I turn onto Main Street, than I need to use the ladies’ room. Actually, it’s more of an emergency and I can hardly appreciate how the pale pastel sky paints Cobbiton with watercolor brush strokes. I’ve always loved the early morning before most people are awake—these days I see it more than is healthy, being up most of the night since normal sleep habits are a rarity.

Just like everyone in this quirky town, the main street, intersecting 4th, has its own unique character. We have Once Upon a Romance, a bookstore; Spaglietti’s which has the best meatballs; the Buy and what looks like a new hair salon.

Unless you’re Mrs. Gormely, the town gossip, the friendly chatter of the townsfolk fills the air, except right now. Only the bakery is open on this cold winter morning. Fresh bread, pastries, and pies hide behind its steamy window.

I never let myself get too comfortable anywhere because I inevitably have to leave. However, I have nowhere left to go. Cobbiton is my safety net and unfortunately, it has holes in it.

I park on the street and hoist my wedding gown a few inches so it doesn’t drag on the frozen ground.

Inside the Busy Bee Bakery, the sign on the bathroom door says, For Paying Customers Only . I’ve been running on caffeine and fumes, so I may as well get another coffee and maybe at least a couple of Nina’s famous Danish kringle pastries with honey and pecans—I’ll surprise Grandma Dolly with an assortment of baked goods.

The buttery scent and the coffee-infused air give me a second wind. Or perhaps I’m on my third … or fourth wind? I’ve lost count.

It kind of feels good to be home. Yet, I’m not ready to face the public if I run into anyone who asks why I’m wearing a wedding gown and makeup that’s over twenty-four hours old. I plaster on my ‘Everything is fine face,’ trying not to stand out too much, and get in line behind a tall man and a toddler.

Nina, who owns the bakery, is the friendliest person on the planet, but that also means she chats up all the customers, asking about their lives and the day ahead.

That’s all to say, the line tends to move slowly.

I have to pee so badly I can feel it in my eyeballs. Short of leaping over the counter and retrieving the key—which might prove difficult in this gown, never mind the fact that I couldn’t clear a hurdle on a good day—jumping the line is the only thing that will keep me from having an accident.

Desperate, I tap the man ahead of me on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me.”

He doesn’t turn, keeping his massive back toward me. Shoulder to shoulder, he’s practically a yard wide, built of solid muscle that tapers to a trim waist and a very firm, um, backside. I can’t help but notice since I’m practically eye level with it.

I’m short. He’s tall, so perhaps he didn’t hear me all the way up there. Also, his son is antsy, so he’s probably trying to keep him occupied.

Always look on the bright side!

Clearing my throat again, I say, “Pardon me, sir, I’m just wondering if?—”

His head snaps in my direction.

I shrink back from the imposing big cat.

He has a scar on his lip, wears a snarl, and all but bares his teeth.

I shiver and not only because I really, really have to pee.

He slowly looks me up and down with what can only be described as a joy-starved gaze.

“Hi. Um, if it’s okay I’d like to please scoot ahead of you to ask Nina for the bathroom key and then come back and grab some things. But you can order while I’m gone. I mean, as planned since you’re in line waiting too.” I realize I’m rambling, but the flow of words won’t stop like I’m negotiating a hostage situation and know if I go quiet, I’ll lose his attention and the robbery will continue.

I add, “It’s an emergency. I’m desperate.”

He grunts in reply. As he faces forward again, he mumbles to himself, “You and me both.”

The little boy with him has a serious case of the wiggles. If I wouldn’t look conspicuous and like a lunatic since I’m still wearing a wedding dress, I’d join him and do the potty dance.

He grips the child’s hand in his big one. There are still two people ahead of them, and the sweet little fussy fella sags as the man’s deep, rumbling voice echoes in my mind.

You and me both .

He has trim, dark blond hair but sports some stubble. His nails are clean, but he has calloused hands. The overall picture is that he’s tidy but has a certain kind of wildness that might solely be because of his size. Kind of like a domesticated wooly mammoth.

The snapshot I took of his face included a wide brow, stormy blue-gray eyes, a strong nose, and full lips.

It’s like women across the world were surveyed to compile the perfect man and this is what they produced.

Or maybe that’s just me.

I tell myself to stop drooling. Is that a symptom of having to use the bathroom?

Anyway, he’s probably married. There’s no ring on his finger, but do they make them that big? An ironic laugh comes from my throat. I’m the one in the wedding dress.

Peering around his side, I wonder if I could just tiptoe by unnoticed.

Casting me a grimace as if concerned that I’m a weirdo, he picks up the little boy.

Never mind. Time to come up with another plan.

My heart makes a cartoonish throb at the sweet sight of a huge, overgrown man with a little guy in his arms. However, that doesn’t change the fact that I really, really need to use the facilities. My, “Awww” turns into a soft whimper.

I’m not sure how much longer I can last.

To get his attention, I pat his very firm arm.

He glances at me as if remembering that there’s an annoying little fly nearby.

Time to break out the glitter guns.

I say, “It’s already a lovely day, isn’t it? Perfect for a walk in the park. A picnic perhaps. What are your plans after you so kindly let me grab that bathroom key real quick?”

He grunts and doesn’t look my way.

What does a woman in a wedding dress have to do to get his attention?

Ah! I realize the problem.

Hopping at his side, mostly so I don’t lose my bladder in the middle of the bakery, but also so he can’t ignore me, I say, “Sir, I understand how hard Mondays are before coffee, but I assure you that I’ll only take a second to grab that key … I just need to go potty.” I say the last part at a whisper.

Frowning at me, he says, “I don’t need coffee.”

I chuckle. “Tea or whatever?—”

“I don’t need anything.” His voice is a low, thundery rumble.

“Okay, well, maybe, um, you feel like doing a good deed and will just let me place my order super-fast, grab the key to the ladies’ room, and then you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Stick to that last part.”

I huff. “Rude.”

Mercifully, Nina rings up the last customer between Mr. Meanie and his precious place in line when his son starts to have a tantrum. Trust me, amigo, I want to cry too.

His arms flail and his little fingers move in a vaguely familiar way. The corner of my lip lifts and using my hands, I send him a little ray of sunshine and a rainbow from a signing song I learned when I’d go to ASL storytime with Grandma Dolly.

The child goes still and looks at me with the same blue-gray eyes as his father.

I do a few more child-friendly signs, thankful I can help even if his dad is a great big growly bear.

As if suddenly realizing the little boy is no longer a writhing, upset mess, he turns toward me, gaze hard. It lingers for a long moment. Something trips inside, sending a swizzly feeling through me.

Or maybe that’s just because I still have to pee.