Elizabeth Mowers

A Promise Remembered


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kind of social life. Maybe someday, when she was older and wiser, she’d meet someone sweet like Danny or Joe. They were good guys, although she’d had three years of daily interaction to vet them.

      “So, like I said,” Joe continued. “He’s a good-lookin’ kid, Annie.”

      “He’s not my type.”

      Danny howled. “Ya? You go for the ugly fellows, eh?”

      She grinned. “Really ugly is more like it.”

      William was still handsome, though she’d never admit it to anyone other than herself. He’d traded his boyish looks for the mature face of a man. His voice had deepened to a husky bravado, except for the other night, when it had drawn her in with its warm gentleness. But it was his gaze that sent her heart skipping. Those eyes had remained unchanged. They’d studied her the other night in the parking lot, admired her with such a fierceness, her knees had nearly buckled. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have a man see her, truly see her, and want to know her. She’d had no choice but to hurry off. It took every ounce of her being to glue herself together every day and get by for the sake of her children. But the way he had looked at her that night and the way his eyes followed her now...

      Annie took down an order for another pair of customers before whisking behind the counter to fill two sodas. She angled her chin, aware William had been waiting for her to make eye contact.

      “How’s Betsy?” he asked.

      “Fine.”

      “She’s a great kid. You should be really proud.”

      “I am.”

      William searched her face. “I got a kick out of talking to her. She’s spunky.”

      “Spunky?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Okay.”

      “She is. She reminds me of you when we were in high school.”

      Annie paused, waiting for more explanation. “Is that how you remember me, William? Spunky?”

      “I remember a lot, actually,” William said, stifling a grin as he sipped his coffee.

      “Well, I don’t.” She turned for the kitchen. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was flirting with her. She slapped the bell at the pass-through window and rattled off an order for Miles.

      “Cluck and grunt and a dry stack! Times two!”

      Mia bustled in behind her. “Scrape two, burn the British, Miles!” Miles nodded, cracking eggs in a fury. “Karrin and I are going out tonight if you want to join, Annie?”

      “Thanks, sweetie, but I can’t.”

      “You need some fun, girl. I know you’ve got your troubles, but if you don’t blow off a little steam, you’re gonna lose it.”

      “I can’t afford to lose it, Mia. I have Betsy and James to think about.”

      “I know, I know. You’re a good mama, but an hour of gossiping can’t hurt.”

      Annie knew she was right, but when she got off work all she wanted to do was get home to James and Betsy. Perhaps she just wasn’t as spunky as she used to be.

      As she faced the dining room, she noticed Joyce and realized she wasn’t the only one who’d spotted her boss.

      “Mornin’, Joyce,” Earl said gruffly, tucking away his newspaper and tipping his Kromer hat. Joyce fluttered her fingers in a delicate wave. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Earl asked.

      “Yes, it certainly is. How’s your coffee today, Earl?”

      “Very good, very good,” he said as Danny and Joe nodded in agreement. “Yous have the best coffee in town, Joyce.”

      “Do we now?”

      “Didn’t ya know that, Joyce?”

      Her peachy cheeks rounded with amusement. “Yes, Earl, you tell me all the time.”

      After seating new customers, Annie slipped behind the counter to collect the coffeepot and William’s sour disapproval.

      “Who’s that?” William said, motioning with a thumb toward Earl.

      “He’s been coming in for a while.”

      “All of them?”

      “Yep.”

      “Anything to do with my mom?”

      “Probably. She’s a good-looking woman, you know.”

      “Annie, that’s my mom you’re talking about.” William eyed Earl.

       “So?”

      “She’s too old to flirt like that.”

      “She’s talking to her friends.”

      “Hmm? I’m not sure that’s...”

      Annie scowled. “You’re impossible. What are you doing here anyway?”

      William leaned back on his stool. “Aren’t I allowed to visit my mom?”

      “It’s been twelve years, so yeah, I’d say she was due a visit.”

      “What’s the matter with you, Annie? You’ve been on my case since I showed up.”

      Annie grumbled something under her breath as she reached for the coffeepot. William jostled his cup on the counter toward her with a playful tinkering.

      “I’ll take a refill while you’ve got it.”

      She paused in front of him as his eyes scanned hers.

      “You’re not in my section,” she said before strutting away.

      * * *

      WILLIAM STEPPED OUT onto the curb in front of Pop’s Place and raised his arms above his head in a deep stretch. As he released a breath, he imagined what life would be like locked away from the simple pleasures nature had to offer: the late-morning sun warming his face, the cool lake air filling his lungs, a tasty sausage casserole expanding his gut. He knew the lumberjack special wasn’t one of nature’s finest breakfast offerings, but it satisfied him all the same.

      The forecast called for sunny, mild days ahead, which was perfect weather for the first leg of a long road trip. If he wanted to be gone by then, he needed to get the bike running by the end of the day and tell his mother he was leaving.

      As he was about to cross the street, he noticed a little boy sitting alone on a bench alongside Pop’s Place. A sweet, timid-looking child with sandy-brown hair and gray eyes slumped his shoulders heavily as he stared at dangling feet. William scanned the area, but without an adult in sight, he strolled over to the little guy and eased down beside him.

      “Hey, buddy. Are you okay?”

      The little boy hugged himself tightly and shook his head in a resounding no.

      “Are you waiting for someone?”

      “I got sick in the car.”

      “Where’s your mom?”

      “Inside.”

      “Do you want me to take you in there?”

      The little boy nodded, still clutching his side.

      “What’s wrong with your stomach?”

      “It hurts really bad,” he peeped.

      William gently held his hand to the little boy’s side. “Right here?” he asked, inspecting the boy intently. Just as the child’s face screwed up in a hearty cry, William scooped the boy up into the crook of his arm and carried him into Pop’s Place.

      He knew it was generally a bad idea to have a stranger