A Secret to Shatter by Katie O’Connor
Chapter Eight
Honey smoothed her mid-thigh length skirt. Peach and teal cotton tonight. Her layered chiffon top was white with tiny dots of peach, teal, and aqua. She took a quick look in the mirror. She loved her top’s spaghetti straps and floaty bodice. The skirt was lightweight and cool; perfect for a warm evening. She grabbed a lacy shawl in case the day’s heat started cooling off before she got home.
It had been almost a week since she’d seen Ira. Surprisingly, though they’d only had one official date she missed him. She’d gotten used to waiting on him every day at Tammy’s. He was never much for conversation, but was always polite and gracious. She was looking forward to talking to him again.
The evening was beautiful as she walked to Sammy’s Steakhouse. Originally, their date was for her to see his new home. At the last minute, he’d changed his mind and invited her to Sammy’s instead.
It was only five blocks from her apartment in the brownstone on Spruce Street. The early evening light breeze was a blessing after the day’s incessant heat. A family picnicked in the gazebo in the town square. Children swung on the swings and squealed with delight as they slid down the orange and green spiral slide. A short distance from the play park, in an enormous green space, the high school marching band practiced the Canadian national anthem for the upcoming Canada Day celebrations. They had improved considerably in the past few weeks.
Honey loved to walk past the quaint buildings of downtown Coyote Creek. The businesses ranged from the basic cinder block construction housing the rock and gem shop, to quaint repurposed homes.
Sweet Heaven Chocolate Shop was an enticing bubblegum pink and Betty’s Books was barn red with white trim. Marcy’s Crafts, in it’s bright yellow and white, two-story remodeled home, was a favorite hangout. Honey loved to get her crochet supplies there.
All the businesses were decked out with planters and flowers, and a few shops even had benches for resting on. Honey greeted several people she knew, including Ken Flint. He seemed oblivious as he stomped from his truck into the bookstore. She wondered what he was upset about. She ignored the slight. No sense fretting over things she couldn’t change. Ken tended toward grumpy since his wife Lindy left him. He was trying desperately to win her back. She sent up a silent prayer the family would come back together. She wanted everyone to be happy and their three children missed their mother desperately.
Up ahead, on the south side of Main Street on the corner of 12th Avenue, Ira leaned against the hood of his Jeep, outside of Sammy’s. Once again, he’d traded in his usual khakis for snug denim jeans and cowboy boots. His white cotton shirt was well-pressed and he had a denim jacket slung over one shoulder, held in place by the tip of his finger. He looked every inch a rancher and was about the sexiest thing she’d seen in longer than she cared to recall.
“Ira, hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I got caught up in my searching.” Her apology was sincere. Sometimes, she lost track of time. Luckily, she had set an alarm so she wouldn’t inadvertently stand Ira up. She smiled widely, unable to hide her happiness at seeing him.
“It’s only a minute or two, I saw you coming.” His grin tickled her right down to the toes in her adorable strappy short heeled sandals.
“Thanks. Oh, smell that!” She inhaled deeply. “Garlic toast and grilled steak. Does anything smell better? And this building,” she waved toward the red and white building housing Sammy’s Steakhouse. “It’s perfect. I love how it’s modeled after an old hip roof barn. Look, the patio is open.” The east end of the building was an enormous garage style door which opened into a patio eating area enclosed by a waist high white picket fence.
“It’s quaint and I love the implied pun. A barn for a steakhouse. Shall we go in?” He offered his elbow. His stomach growled, making them both laugh.
She clapped her hands before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yay, lets! I could eat…well, a cow.” She giggled.
Inside, the hostess led them past tables covered in brown paper where families colored together. Flameless candles burned on all the tables. A light breeze blew in through the open door to the patio. Fresh, small town air mingled with a dozen enticing food smells. Once they were seated, Honey said, “I swear sometimes I love the smell of food more than eating it. I mean seriously, I can’t get enough. Fried chicken, coffee, bacon, grilled meat, baked potatoes, and I think I smell pecan pie.”
“You can differentiate all that? Amazing.”
Honey sobered for a moment. “It’s part of my past. For a time when I was young, my family didn’t have much money. I learned to enjoy all aspects of food. How it looks, how it smells. There wasn’t much to go around, but what we did have was delicious. My mom was a great cook. I learned to eat slow and savor every bite. Quality became more important than quantity. We always had enough, but treats and junk were rare.”
“Admirable. There is something sensual about enjoying food.”
His words hung heavy in the air, drawing her attention away from food to the deepening magnetism pulsing through her. She pushed the attraction away. No sense rushing things, or imagining a double entendre where one didn’t exist. The universe would send her what she was supposed to have. Maybe it was Ira. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, she wasn’t in a hurry to find out. Things would arrive as they were meant to. Even if she occasionally wished they would hurry up.
“That’s true,” she agreed. “Food can be very sensual. Of course, I am super hungry. I hope the server brings a loaf of garlic bread when she comes. I’m not sure I can wait until dinner. Even if it is only twenty minutes.” She laughed as her stomach repeated the noise his had made earlier.
“I can tell.” He tilted his head to the right and looked at her, as if he was puzzling something out.
“What? I can see the questions in your eyes. Go ahead and ask. I have no secrets.” Okay, maybe one, a big one, but she wasn’t going there this early in a friendship. Even her best friend didn’t know the truth about her government job.
“You’re always…cheerful.”
“That’s not a question.” Honey grinned. “I try to stay happy. I wasn’t always. I search for the best in everything and try to find the good. I’m optimistic about life and the future. Although I do admit, sometimes it’s hard to see the bright side. Not tonight though. Tonight, for example, I’m hungry, but I smell steak.”
“It does smell delicious.” He sipped his water.
“You, on the other hand, seem to be a generally serious person.” She twisted his observation back at him, curious about his innate nature.
“I suppose I am,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “Being in the army teaches you life is a serious business, and shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“On the contrary,” she waved her hand in a fluttering half-dismissive motion, “it is precisely because life is serious that you have to take it lightly. You can’t let the bad weigh you down, which is why you focus on the bright side. I’m not saying there’s no time to be serious, I’m saying life hands us a lot of crap. Deal with it, let it go, and find the beauty.”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine living like that.” His words were not judgmental.
“People think I’m frivolous. I’m not. I’m just not looking for the bad. I’m a trained optimist. I worked hard to become this way. I did it for my mental health.”
“I admire the strength you took to change who you are,” Ira said seriously.
But you don’t think my attitude is okay, she thought. Oh well. This is just one date. His doubt in her methods wasn’t going to change her. “You don’t sound like you admire me,” she suggested, not giving him any wiggle room. He had opened this serious discussion, but she’d follow it through.
He was silent for several long seconds. He shifted in his chair, picked up his menu and set it back down. “I admire the strength it must have taken to change. I’m not sure being all sunshine and roses is the way to go.”
She shrugged. “Cool.”
“You’re not offended,” he asked, shock coloring his voice.
“Not in the least. Your opinion is just that; your opinion. I like who I am. No, I love who I am. Your opinion doesn’t change me, or my value.”
“You astound me.”
Honey laughed. “Yeah, it shocks most people.” She shrugged. “I am what I am, take me or leave me. Likewise, I do my best to accept people for who they are.”
The server finally appeared to take their drink orders, distracting them from the conversation, but Honey knew Ira was still considering her words. She wouldn’t ask anyone to change who they were, but she certainly wished more people searched for the positive. She pushed the thought aside and reminded herself she was lucky to have such a diverse pool of friends with all their quirks and foibles.
“I’m ready to order food now, if you are,” Ira said.
“Sure.” Honey turned to the twenty-something female server. “I’ll have the rib-eye, medium rare, with a loaded baked potato, extra butter and sour cream, and a side of baked beans, please.”
Ira gaped at her, his mouth hanging half open.
“What? I told you I was hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast at six this morning. Brace yourself,” she teased, “I’ll probably have dessert too.” She turned back to the server, “Can I have an iced tea and a cup of black coffee as well?”
“Absolutely, Honey. How about you, sir?”
“Make mine the same. No extra butter or sour cream and no coffee please.”
“Iced tea?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” The young woman hurried away.
“She called you by name?” Ira queried.
“Yup. I’ve lived here for a couple years. After a while, you get to know just about everyone. Small town living is like that. It’s part of why I moved here. I can do my job from just about anywhere. I like the close ties of Coyote Creek, even if gossip moves faster than light. Life here takes some getting used to, but it’s worth it.”
“I guess waitressing is pretty portable.”
“I’m not just a waitress. I do internet research in my off hours.” Truth was the research was her primary career and waitressing was strictly for companionship and human contact. If she let herself, she could easily spend twenty hours a day on research and never talk to a live person. Not a great way to live. She was much too outgoing and sociable. She loved people and talked to anyone and everyone. Their stories intrigued her. It was her gregariousness which facilitated her success in tracking potential terrorists through chat rooms.
“Right, you mentioned something about computer work? What is it, social media posting? Searching brands?” He sounded genuinely curious and vaguely dismissive.
“Yeah, something like that.” No sense fretting over his mistaken impression. She was under a gag order which prevented her from revealing the true nature of her work. If and when they developed a serious relationship, she’d get permission to reveal the truth to him. Until then, her job was strictly need to know and Ira Castillo did not need to know. “It’s interesting work, and it helps pay the bills. Waitressing isn’t exactly highly paid work. But I love working with people.”
The sever slipped in and placed their drinks without comment.
Honey sipped her iced tea. “How about you? What did you do in the military? You mentioned Afghanistan and Egypt.”
“Just the usual soldier stuff.” He glanced away. “It isn’t something I like talking about. That part of my life is over.”
“But you miss it.”
“Why would you say that?” He seemed surprised by her insight.
“Hmm.” She tapped her lip with her index finger, pretending to think. “Let me see. The short, military-standard haircut. The abundance of fatigue style pants and army green T-shirts? The combat boots?” She grinned to let him know she was teasing. “Or maybe, it’s your hyper vigilance, and awareness of your surroundings. Your eyes are constantly watching everything around you. Given a choice, you always sit facing the door. Loud noises, like dropped dishes, startle you ten times as much as everyone else. Most people jump, laugh, and go about their business. You stay on hyper-alert for several minutes; longer than most. To use a trite and over-worn phrase, loud noises make you look shell shocked. Still, there is something about you I can’t quite put my finger on. It tells me you wish you were back in combat.”
His eyes bulged and he seemed to be struggling for words.
“Sorry. You asked. I’m a people watcher. I love everything about them. How they move, their habits, what they wear, who they associate with. If they hold a grudge or let bygones be bygones. That sort of thing.”
“Is there anything you don’t notice?”
“Not if I can help it. For example, you have it covered tonight, but you have several long thin scratches on your left arm and what looks like a bullet wound on your right. I’m guessing you’ve seen combat and were injured in the line of duty. Those injuries probably got you drummed out of the service.” She paused. “Or, am I wrong?”
He looked like he wanted to bolt.
Too much too soon, Honey. You know better.
“You’re right. I never realized it, but everything you’re saying is accurate. My training made me vigilant. Combat changed and scarred me. Still, I’m a better man for all I went through. I just wish I hadn’t gotten a mandatory medical discharge.”
“Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”
“Not tonight, maybe another time. Tonight, I just want to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman and a good meal.”
Cool, his suggestion of another time implied another date. She was okay with that. “What branch of the service were you with?”
“I was in the army. Nothing more than a grunt; boots on the ground. But I enjoyed it. Well, enjoyed it as much as you can while living in the line of fire.”
“You sound proud of your service, as you should be. Thank you for serving my, your, our country.”
For a second, she thought she saw him flush. He gulped his tea. “Thank you. I appreciate your appreciation.” He chuckled. “I sound ridiculous, but the sentiment is accurate nonetheless. It isn’t every day a soldier, retired-soldier, receives gratitude in acknowledgement of his service.”
Honey swooned a little. Nothing like a man with good grammar and a decent vocabulary to heat up a girl. Brains were about the sexiest part of a man, right after expressive eyes, and strong hands. Or maybe before. Determined to keep her attraction at bay she changed the subject. “How was the ranch today?”
“Not all it’s cracked up to be.” He sighed heavily. “Although it was a short work day.”
“Really? You mentioned you were going to do some re-roofing. Did it go faster than you thought?” He closed his eyes for a moment, as if thinking. The soft murmur of voices and the clinking of silverware and dishes filled the empty air between them.
“It didn’t go at all. I ended up not working. I spent the day at home, working on shelving in the room I’m turning into a library.”
Okay, so discussing the ranch was out of the question. Something must have happened, and she had a hunch she knew what. But if he wasn’t ready to talk about it, or his paternity, she’d let it lie for now, even though she was certain she’d seen his jeep heading towards the ranch.
“Oh, a library,” she exclaimed, excited to hear he was reader like herself. “What do you read?”
“Mostly history. A fair bit of current events. Not much fiction, though I do read a bit of Lee Child.”
“What about military fiction?” she asked, trying to get to know him better.
“Not a huge fan. I’ve tried a few authors, but haven’t hit on one I love.” He paused. “Romance?”
“Not for me. I’m a thriller sort of girl, but Lacy is always trying to get me to read romance. Honestly, I love books but I don’t read much. I spend too much time on the internet researching.” She held up a hand to keep him from speaking. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my second job. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t do it.” Technically, waitressing was her second job, yet her statement wasn’t an out and out lie. “I would love to have a library. Especially one stocked with classics and books people have tried to ban. I’m hugely against censorship. I think people should be able to read what they want to.”
“I agree. I actually have a collection of old books. Several have been on banned books lists. I like to think the books which upset us also have the capacity to teach us something or to help us admit a fault of our own.”
She stared at him for several long minutes as she digested his words.
“What?” he asked.
“That’s profound.” For a man who claimed to be a simple soldier, he was a deep thinker. She wondered what he had really done in the military. Officer, maybe? Was he in military intelligence? Perhaps, but how many intelligence officers got shot?
“I don’t know if it is profound, but my intention is to keep growing my book collection and add it to the piles of books which were left in the house when I bought it. I’m building my library almost daily. I found some old journals from soldiers in World War One.”
“That’s incredible. Can I see them?”
“I guess so.”
His reluctance startled her. “I didn’t mean to push myself into your life, or into your home. The history and insights in those journals must be fascinating. I would love to see them, if it isn’t a problem for you. I understand if you’d prefer not to.” What she didn’t understand was why he’d suddenly changed their date to a public one after he’d invited her to his home. Maybe he thought they were seeing too much of each other.