A Promise Remembered

“How long have you been working here?” he asked, eyeing her intently. He hadn’t been prepared to see her again, not after all this time. But as she scooted here and there, her eyes focused only on the task at hand, he found himself yearning for her to look at him. “I said, how long have you been—”

“I heard you.”

“Do you like it here?”

Her mouth twisted. “I suppose.”

“Don’t be too enthusiastic,” he said. “It’s only my mom’s place.”

Her chin jerked up. “What was that?”

“I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, Annie.”

A flush crept up her face as she stopped short in front of him. He braced himself, waiting for a reaction of any kind, even if it was an outburst. Anything had to be better than the silent treatment.

“Can I get you something else, sir?” she asked. William’s stomach lurched at the coldness in her voice. At how forced it was, as if she were straining for control.

“Grab me a water, would you?” he said, holding a fist to his mouth to try to calm his upset stomach. Seeing Annie had thrown him for a loop, that was for sure, but he never expected he would have such a physical reaction to it. “I’m feeling a bit queasy.”

Annie’s eyes slowly widened as William groaned and leaned heavily against the counter, tiny dots of perspiration percolating on his forehead.

“Oh,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Oh, William.”

“What?” He motioned for the water. Annie slinked backward to fetch an ice water and crept closer again, hesitating before handing it to him.

“I’ve done something...” She winced. “Awful.”

“What?” William asked, although he wasn’t really listening. A wave of nausea propelled him to his feet.

“The restroom is over by the—”

“I know,” he gulped, racing to its sanctuary.

“I’m sorry!” Annie called after him, but he didn’t have time to wonder what she meant.

* * *

ANNIE HURRIED TO the kitchen, grabbed the carton of remaining egg salad and slammed it into the trash. She paced, or rather hid behind the kitchen door, periodically peeking out the porthole to see if William had ventured back out among the living. As each minute ticked by, her own stomach clenched tighter as if in a vise.

“Is everything okay, dear?”

Annie jumped at Joyce’s warm voice, homey and inviting like a crackling fire. Immediately, a pang of guilt slammed her. Joyce was her dearest friend, and she might have killed her only son. As much as she wanted to throw herself at Joyce’s feet and offer a dramatic confession, she decided it might be best not to mention what she’d done until all the facts shook themselves out in their own good time.

“William’s sick,” she blurted.

“Sick?” Joyce said, her face contorting into a mass of wrinkles in the blink of an eye.

“He’s been in the bathroom for a while now.”

Joyce scurried off as Annie found Miles staring at her.

“What?” she said, popping her hands to her hips like a hen rearing to peck.

“Annie Curtis,” Miles reprimanded her. “Do I even want to know why?”

“I’ll take the blame, Miles, so I’ll stop you right there,” Annie replied, sneaking a peek out the porthole window again.

“Joyce could lose her license.”

“Nah, he won’t call the health inspector on his own mother.”

“What about on you?”

Annie scrunched her face. “Don’t you have something to fry back there?” She furiously slammed the top of his order bell several times and shooed him back to the kitchen. “Order up, order up, order up, Miles.”

He shook his head. “Call me before you tell Joyce you poisoned her baby. I sure don’t want to miss that.”

Annie returned to the porthole window and heaved a sigh of relief when William finally emerged, though staggering and green.

She ventured out to the dining room. “Are you okay?” she asked him softly. William turned and glared at her, making her recoil slightly.

“Annie, what exactly did you mean before when you said you were sorry?”

Annie paused, grazing a finger over her lips as she scrambled for an explanation. She had yelled the words like a reflex, without thinking, without predicting the consequences. But now, as William’s eyes narrowed, she knew they were a tragic mistake.

She winced. “Hmm?”

A deep growl vibrated behind his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

“I pulled the car around to the front, dear,” Joyce said, hurrying over to them. “I can take you straight to the emergency room.”

William put a hand over his stomach. “Take me back to the house.”

“But you got sick so suddenly and so violently. They should check you over to find out what’s wrong. You’re dehydrated at the very least.”

William shot Annie a scowl. “I know what happened.”

Annie’s eyes pleaded with William to not give her away. She couldn’t bear to imagine the look of disappointment and hurt in Joyce’s eyes when she learned what Annie had done. It would be too awful.

“Was it something you ate here?” Joyce asked, turning to Annie to help supply the answer. As Annie clasped her hands in a prayer and was about to explain, William shook his head.

“You can’t trust sushi from a gas station, Mom.”

Annie’s mouth dropped open as Joyce took her son’s arm and patted it.

“Golly, no. It had probably been sitting out for days, William.”

William allowed his mother to squeeze him in a long hug, but his body was rigid, eyes boring holes into Annie. Several moments passed before he finally responded. “Something like that.”

“I’ll bet you won’t do that again,” Annie said, cringing, knowing full well she was pressing her luck. William huffed at her as Joyce led him to the door.

Perhaps their long-awaited reunion hadn’t gone completely as Annie would have predicted, but she took satisfaction in William Kauffman knowing where she stood.

CHAPTER TWO

ANNIE POKED HER head into her children’s shared bedroom as Marjorie, her neighbor, helped them fumble into pajamas.

A nurturing widow in her sixties, Marjorie had proved to be a reliable confidante and babysitter in recent years. While Annie was prone to overreaction, nothing ever seemed to rile serene Marjorie. Her auburn hair had peppered to white over the years, and her face, a road map of heavy wrinkles and lines, was radiant because of the loving expressions it constantly displayed. A transplant from Tennessee, she carried a Southern hospitality and charm. Between Joyce and Marjorie, Annie was certain her own mother was in heaven, sending surrogates to stand by her side.

“Are you okay, honey?” Marjorie asked in her sweet, charming lilt.

Annie managed a negligent shrug, the day hanging heavy around her neck as she leaned against the doorway.

Marjorie kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “We’ll have a cup of tea on it another time. They’ve been watching the clock, waiting for you. I’ll let myself out.”

Annie climbed onto her daughter’s bed and sighed with satisfaction. Despite all her failures over the course of her adult life, the two little people tumbling over themselves to embrace her were certainly not included in the list. They were the only reason that the last few years had been tolerable.

Betsy was an outspoken eight-year-old with a round, expressive face and big brown eyes like hers. She had a goofy expression to match any occasion and had certainly gotten herself into trouble by an inappropriately timed raised eyebrow. James, on the other hand, was as fair and gentle as a light summer rain. With storm-gray eyes and moppy brown hair, he moved delicately through the world, examining it from his owl perch before cautiously dipping in a toe and joining the action.

While they didn’t share a father, the two were thick as thieves, and Annie, who had no siblings of her own, took solace in the fact that what she couldn’t give them in extended family, she had made up for by giving them each other.

James, following Betsy’s flailing pantomime directions, selected a Rapunzel storybook from the cupboard and sandwiched himself between Annie and Betsy on his bed.

“Wasn’t it your turn to pick?” Annie asked as James snuggled into her side. He shrugged as Betsy yanked the book from his hands and flipped open the cover.

“I love this book so much,” Betsy said, shuddering with excitement.

Annie tucked a pillow behind her back and prepared to read Rapunzel for the hundredth time. “Why?”

Betsy tipped her head back against her pillow before replying with a whimsical look, “I love how the prince saves Rapunzel and carries her off to his palace.”

“That isn’t how life works, Bets.”

“I know. I know,” her daughter grumbled, aware she had heard this talk before. “But I still like this story the best, and I want to read it a hundred more times. A thousand more times!”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” Annie said. She pulled the covers over the three of them. “But I’ll read it once tonight.” As her children melted deeper against her, she understood the allure of getting lost in a little fantasy now and again, especially a romantic one. Her children didn’t need to be privy to the disappointing ways of the world yet. Unfortunately, that was her job.

* * *

WILLIAM THRUST OPEN the rickety shed door and stood back to admire how everything inside was still meticulously placed just as Dennis had left it. It was a clear indicator his mother had not been inside since Dennis’s death three years ago. As the early-morning sun filtered in from behind him, thousands of dust particles glittered and swirled around his first hesitant step. The air inside hung heavy and musty. With his eyes closed, the stale scent of cedar chips, rusted-out gas cans and motor oil wafted over him. It engulfed his nostrils with a nostalgia he had long tried to bury. Only one whiff and he was back to the day his life veered off course.

Right on the threshold of this shed, when William hadn’t had any proof that he was the true victim and not the violent juvenile Dennis had claimed, his stepfather had tried to have him arrested. For as many times as he had recalled the altercation, the details had slowly begun to fade. Perhaps it was a way to cope with his anger and soften the hard edges, but standing in the shed again, the details came back to him: the dueling sawhorses Dennis had made him sand until his fingertips were raw and bleeding; Dennis’s apple-red tool chest he’d once innocently scratched and paid hell for later; and the wooden pallet he’d punched a fist through minutes before the cops arrived and Dennis had falsely accused him of assault. It took all his restraint to not boot the nearest thing just for the satisfaction of hearing it shatter and break against the wall.

Heaving a sigh, he jerked the corner of a dust-covered drop cloth to reveal one of his teenage fantasies in all its chrome glory: the classic 1981 Indian motorcycle. Fully restored, practically fawned over daily by the old man, it was a thing of pure beauty. And now it was finally his.

He gingerly ran his fingers over the smooth cinnamon-colored paint that had inspired him to nickname the motorcycle Old Red. He carefully swung his leg over the leather seat and firmly gripped the handlebars. The bike had been sitting cold for several years in the harsh Lake Superior winters, so he drew a breath and hoped for the best.

He shifted the transmission to Neutral and carefully set his choke. After pulling in the clutch, he pressed the starter button and waited for the crackle of the engine to tear through every corner of the tiny shed.

Nothing.

William double-checked that his kill switch wasn’t set at Off and tried again, but the engine was silent.

Perfect.

“Call The Chinoodin Chronicle! Hell hath officially frozen over.”

A grin leaped to William’s face at the familiar voice. “How are you doing, man?” His buddy Brandon Rodriguez strode into the shed and embraced him in a bear hug. “How’d you know I was back?”

“Son, please. I know everything happening in this town.” Brandon slung his suit jacket over a chair and loosened his tie. He stopped short to admire the vintage bike. “Are you fixin’ up Old Red?”

“It looks like I have to. I can’t get it started.”

“I’d love to buy it off you, but the hours I work at the mayor’s office wouldn’t leave me enough time to make it worthwhile.”

“Are you at the mayor’s office now?”

“Two years in August,” Brandon replied, sitting back on a dusty sawhorse. “What are you doing in town?”

William shook his head. “Hard to say right now.”

Brandon nodded and held out a grocery bag. “A homecoming gift of sorts.”

William glanced in the bag. “Pabst Blue Ribbon beer?” He chuckled. “Are you still drinking that?”

“Nah. Only for you, man,” Brandon said. “Rocky’s was my first stop when I heard you were back. I had to help you stock the fridge. Have you been by the diner yet?”

“Unfortunately,” William said, his empty gut still raw from the restless night.

“Did you catch a glimpse of Annie?”

“I caught more than that.”

“She’s still a good-looking woman, eh?”

“Annie? Annie Curtis? Are you two...?” William couldn’t quite get the words out, but his meaning was clear.

“Oh, no. Annie’s great, but I’m already seeing someone. How long are you staying?”

“Just passing through.”

Brandon surveyed the shed. “Well, I know things ended on a sour note before.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Yeah, it sure is. It’s been a long time.” He focused on William. “If you’re interested, I could always put in a good word for you with Annie. Maybe help mend some of the...”

William waved off the idea immediately.

“Not worth my time or hers, Brandon.”

“Did you tell her you’re just passing through?”

William snorted. “Why would I? It’s none of her business. Besides, she wouldn’t be interested.”

“No?”

William angled his chin. “Am I missing something?”

Brandon looked confused just as the shed door swung wide with a loud creak.

“I thought I heard you out here.” Joyce carefully stepped inside before stopping short and studying the two men. “Back together again,” she mused. “My, oh, my, has it been a long time. Brandon, did you know William surprised me?”

Brandon waggled his eyebrows. “I can imagine.”

“I’m sure they heard me hollering with joy all the way in Munising.”

“It didn’t take him long to find that bike.”

Joyce rolled her eyes. “William, should I feel honored you at least came to see me first?”

William shrugged. “Who can say for certain that that’s what I did?” Joyce swatted him playfully on the arm as he grinned. “I had to make sure we were still on good terms. It needs more tender loving care than I’d hoped, though.”

“Don’t we all,” Joyce said. “We need to leave in ten minutes, Will. We can get coffee at the diner.”

“The diner?”

“Our shift begins in half an hour.” Joyce shuffled outside and headed to the house as William squeezed past the motorcycle and scratched his chin.

“Helping at the diner, eh?” Brandon said, collecting his suit jacket.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“What better things do you have to do?”

“Get this engine running for one.”

“Ah, there’s time.”

But that was exactly what William didn’t have much of and wanted to avoid—spending more time in Chinoodin Falls than he could afford.

* * *

ANNIE SPED INTO the diner. Her purse dangled from her wrist and a sweater was slung haphazardly over her shoulder as she swirled her hair into a messy bun. After calling hello to Joyce and playfully hip checking Karrin, her fellow waitress, on her scramble to begin her shift, she sprinted to the office. Beads of sweat were already perspiring on her lip when she stopped short at the sight of William carelessly rummaging through her desk as if he owned the place. The scene caught her so completely off guard, it took a moment for her to piece together a coherent sentence.

“What...what...what on earth do you think you’re doing?” she finally stammered, charging toward him and slamming her purse onto the desk. Her eyebrows shot up as she waited for an explanation, but William made no effort to answer her. He leaned comfortably back in her chair and a satisfied grin curled his lips. “That’s my desk, you know,” she pointed out.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ll tell you if you wouldn’t mind easing up a bit.”

“You tell me right now,” she commanded, her shadow darkening his handsomely chiseled jaw. She avoided looking directly into his eyes, hoping to avoid the mesmerizing pull of those blue pools. William stretched his hands, clasped them behind his head and leaned farther back in her chair.

“Seriously, Annie, I can practically see up your nose from this angle.”

Annie pursed her lips and looked around for the nearest thing to knock the easygoing smile off his face. She snatched the papers he was reading from the desk in one crinkled wad and smacked his shoulder with them.

In an instant, William was on his feet. “Hey. What’s the matter with you?”

“What are you snooping through?” She flipped through the papers with such speed, she couldn’t read or register what they were. The last few years she had tried her best to keep the paperwork for the diner organized—invoices, tax forms, payroll—but it was nearly impossible between working the floor and hurrying home to her children after each shift. As she eyed the evidence of her miserable bookkeeping abilities, it was his scent that finally made her turn her head. She caught her breath at its charming appeal and found William studying her. His gaze sending a series of tickles like butterfly kisses down her spine.

She didn’t know what was going on here, but she wasn’t going to stand around and twiddle her thumbs while he slowly pieced together an explanation. She could table this matter for later, after she had collected herself and put more distance between them. As she tossed the papers at him in a flurry, William sat back on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms.

“I was searching for your letter.”

“My letter?” she said with a sputter.

“Mmm-hmm. I know I missed your voice mail.”

“Voice mail?”

“Unless... Were you planning to apologize in person, Ms. Curtis?” William rubbed his stomach. “I was up all night, you know. It’s a wonder I didn’t have to go to the hospital after all.”

Annie scoffed. “I saw you when you left. You weren’t that sick.”

“No? Have you ever been poisoned before?”

“Are you accusing me of poisoning you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annie said, tipping her nose in the air on her way out of the office.

“What goes around comes around, Annie.”

“Remind yourself of that fact!” she called. Desperate for an outlet to funnel complicated feelings she’d ignored since she was seventeen years old, Annie attempted to start the coffee maker with a series of pointedly timed clangs and clanks. After a moment of telling it off in vulgarities muttered under her breath, she noticed a shadow behind her.

“Are you okay?” Miles was cautiously peeking from around the corner.

“I’m a little mad.”

He carefully pried a glass coffeepot from her whitened fingertips. “At my kitchen?”

“At you know who.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think revving yourself up on caffeine is gonna make things better?” Annie reluctantly smiled, snatching back the pot and shoving it into the coffee maker with a final clank. “You know, Annie, he seems like a decent guy. I talked to him earlier and...” Annie’s eyes narrowed as the husky college student hurriedly backpedaled. “I mean...he’s a total jerk, and I guess I don’t like him, eh?”

Annie jerked a nod of approval as she waited for the coffee to percolate.

“Too bad you can’t hide out in the kitchen with me today,” Miles suggested before chugging a soda.

“You know I’d love to, kid, but the farthest point from you know who happens to be the dining room.” Impatient for her jolt of caffeine, she stole a swig of Miles’s soda and rolled her eyes at the fact that that wasn’t nearly far enough.

* * *

WILLIAM GNAWED ON a piece of bacon while sizing things up from the end of the counter. Between observing the morning regulars and quietly recounting his youth slaving away in the diner, he had enough to occupy his attention. Though nothing was as fascinating as the way Annie Curtis could work the dining room. She carried food trays with ease and chatted to all like a long-lost friend. She winked at her regulars, anticipated their requests and bubbled with laughter until, that is, she had to walk within three yards of him. He had categorized himself as the black sheep over the years, depending on the situation, but Annie now helped him experience it at a more personal level.

“That’s it. Keep ignoring me,” he whispered under his breath. She’d marched past him into the kitchen, her face etched in a stern glare.

It was a figure at the entryway that finally drew his attention. A tall, hefty man with a commanding presence and pressed suit, who looked out of place in the small, folksy diner. William could feel the energy in the room shift as others followed the man’s arrogant saunter.

“Hello, Sean,” Joyce said. Her voice rang brittle with forced politeness.

William did a double take, recognizing the dressy brute as Sean Butler, a fellow Chinoodin High alumnus who had graduated a year ahead of him. He had been a smug jerk in high school, and judging by his demeanor, he hadn’t changed much except for putting on a few pounds and splurging on polished designer shoes.

Sean halted, his eyes on William. William calmly sipped his coffee and waited for Sean to lose interest in his presence. He generally didn’t engage others in conversation, choosing to keep to himself as much as possible. Besides, if he remembered correctly, Sean’s conversational skills were akin to a wrecking ball.

“Hey,” Sean grunted, screwing up his face to place William. “Chinoodin High?”

“A year behind you.”

“That’s right, that’s right. Heh. You’re Joyce’s son, eh?”

“Will.”

Sean leered at him. “I know who you are. You’re not moving back, are you?”

William had no desire to stay in Chinoodin Falls longer than the time it took to eat his breakfast, but the disgust in Sean’s voice rubbed him the wrong way.

“Hard to say.”

Sean snorted. “Why’s that?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Are you holding up the counter and weighing your options?”

“Do you need a second-by-second commentary, or can’t you fill in the blanks on your own?”

Sean jutted his chin before what sounded like a forced chuckle. “You’re a plethora of knowledge, ain’t ya?”

William took another sip of his coffee and turned his attention to what was behind the counter. He knew when he was being baited and couldn’t afford to lower himself to Sean Butler’s level. “So, it’s back from the Navy, is it? Are you gonna help your mother clean up this dump? Lord knows it needs it. I hate just being seen in this place.”

William was surprised Sean knew he had been in the Navy. Suddenly Annie burst through the swinging doors, a tray of breakfasts teetering in her hands. Sean straightened and lumbered toward her as she hurriedly passed out the plates before trying to slip around him.

“I’m in the middle of the morning rush, Sean. I’ll talk to you later,” she said before hustling into the kitchen, but Sean barreled through the kitchen doors after her like a pit bull fixated on a scrap of meat.

Joyce hovered nearby, wringing her hands fitfully. When her frightened eyes found William’s, his spine stiffened in alarm. A quick glance around the dining room proved that Joyce wasn’t the only one on edge with Sean’s arrival. The collective murmur of folks’ conversations had momentarily hushed. A few customers had put down their newspapers. Two women exchanged a worried glance. They were a herd of antelope at the watering hole, and a lion had just been seen on the savannah. They knew something he didn’t, and he hated surprises.