to provide for Betsy and herself, she had married Sean. Oh, how she had wanted to escape from the hall after Sean got drunk with his buddies and forgot her during their first dance.
She was still paying the price for those bad decisions, and she didn’t need anyone’s pity or judgment, especially William Kauffman’s. Perhaps if he hadn’t bailed on her in the first place, things would have been different somehow. But instead, here he was, standing in front of her as the aftershock of Sean’s visit rattled her.
“Are you okay?” His voice aimed to soothe, but Annie wouldn’t allow it. She paused, fiddling with her apron strings as William leaned closer, the heat from his strong build warming her skin, making goose bumps prickle up her neck.
“Never better,” she said.
“I heard the way he talked to you.”
“So?”
“Does he do that often?” Annie shrugged in dismissal, but he quickly continued. “You don’t deserve that, Annie.”
She met his gaze, ready to defy his pity, but found only grave concern instead. His center of gravity seemed to shift, and she thought he was about to reach out and touch her. How she had ached for him to touch her when it had been another man cozied up beside her in bed and all that truly comforted her was the memory of his gentleness.
Annie pulled away. “Unless you want to place another order, I have paying customers to see to. Excuse me.”
She breezed past him. She hated that she still longed for him to touch her. And she hated that he was witnessing how her life had fallen apart these last twelve years without him in it.
* * *
WILLIAM SLID A For Sale sign onto his dashboard in one swift movement. Once he sold his truck, he’d have enough money to gas up Old Red and head for the Pacific Northwest for the summer. Who knew where things would lead him after that? He’d travel on the wind, no ties to anyone, and decide next steps as opportunities arose.
“Are you selling your truck?” Joyce frowned at him, having just locked up the diner for the night. William nodded, opening the passenger door and helping her up into the cab. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I can’t drive a motorcycle and a truck at the same time.”
Joyce clutched her handbag on her lap and fiddled with the straps as William climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I don’t see why you can’t have both. There’s room in the garage and shed.”
He stalled before answering as Joyce’s eyes bored holes in the side of his face. She had assumed he was home to stay, and he knew he had to correct her. At some point. After firing up his Chevy, he offered a reply.
“I need to sell her while she’s still running.”
“On her last legs, is she?”
“Something like that,” he said, tuning the radio to a classic-rock station. Joyce nodded before yanking a handkerchief from her purse and hacking into it with such force, William nearly swerved off the road. “Ma, are you okay?”
Joyce attempted a nod as her cheeks swelled to a patchy rouge. With each gasp for breath between coughing fits, William was more alarmed, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the road.
After several agonizing seconds, she finally heaved a sigh, clutching her chest in relief. “Oh, goodness,” she breathed. “I’m glad that’s over. Don’t look so worried, sweetie. It comes and goes.”
“What exactly?” William said, resting his hand tenderly on her shoulder.
“It’s a little respiratory infection I’m still shaking. My immune system is building itself up again after my being sick last winter. I could do with a nap before dinner.” Joyce blotted her mouth with her handkerchief before carefully tucking it into her purse. She smiled reassuringly. “Really, honey, I’m fine.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“Of course, of course. My seasonal allergies aggravate it. Plus it’s been a long day.”
William finally eased back into his seat and put both hands on the wheel. “It was an interesting day.”
“How so?”
“Does Sean Butler come into the diner often?”
Joyce rolled her eyes. “Define often.”
“He hasn’t changed a lick since high school, you know.”
“Did you know him, dear?”
Bullies like Sean hardly went unnoticed in a school as small as Chinoodin High. “Unfortunately. How long have they been married?”
“They divorced three years ago, but he’s as awful an ex-husband as he was a husband.” William tensed, imagining Annie married to Sean Butler. He was a class-A creep. “Annie’s had a rough time of it,” Joyce continued, tilting her head back to rest.
“Why? What’s happened?” William frowned. A soft hum vibrated behind Joyce’s cute smile as she lovingly patted his leg. “What?” he blurted, shoulders jerking in defense.
“Some things don’t fade with time, I suppose.”
“Never mind,” he said, turning up the radio volume. The less he knew about Annie and her troubles, the better. She’d be a dot in his rearview mirror in a matter of days anyway.
SITTING ON HER porch steps, Annie wrapped her arms around herself. Summer evenings like this one reminded her of her youth, riding her bicycle around the neighborhood and down to the lake. She hadn’t had a care in the world back then except a scolding and a cold dinner if she didn’t get home before dark.
But as she admired James tenderly coaxing a caterpillar onto his hand, she regretted that he had bigger problems at the tender age of six than she had ever had.
“Look, Betsy,” he said, carefully crouching closer to his sister, his eyes fixated on his prize. “He was on the flowers.”
“Can I hold him?” she said, examining his discovery. “We can build him a little house or bed out of these sticks.”
Annie knew they could be a happy little family if they could just get away, but the informal arrangement with Sean kept her from pressing her luck. He was content to let her have sole custody of James and she didn’t want to jeopardize that. Besides, it would be difficult to leave good friends. They were the closest thing to family she and the children had.
Although she had just glanced at the clock on her phone, she obsessively checked it again. Each minute dragged them that much closer to Sean’s arrival. His visits were better than sharing a home, but their arrangement was far from great for her and the children.
She closed her eyes briefly when she heard Sean’s BMW roll up the street. He swung wide into the driveway and sat for a minute, letting the car idle while issuing orders at someone on the other end of his cell phone. Annie was not in the mood to draw out their exchange any longer than necessary, but each second he spent on the phone was one less second he had with James.
The children, having spotted Sean’s car racing from down the block, had fled behind the shrubs along the side of the house. The tips of their visible sneakers the only giveaway of their position.
“The movie starts in a few minutes. Where is he?” Sean asked, finally emerging from the car.
“James!” Annie called. “Your father is waiting!”
Sean sneered. “Is he hiding again?”
“He doesn’t want to go,” Betsy said, stepping out from behind the shrubs, a hand propped on each hip. “He doesn’t