Page 4 of Needing His Touch
“I suppose.” My hand takes his place, propping the screen door while I give him a one-armed hug. It lasts longer than our usual, probably because I’ve been gone for so long and it didn’t matter that we talked on the phone daily, sometimes more than a few times. I missed him and he missed me. Our bond goes deeper than most grandfathers have with their grandsons. A product of being the only grandchild from his only child. We both lost a lot, him more than me. I can’t miss what I never had, a father who never showed up. My grandparents and Mom never missed a single thing along the way. At any baseball games, I had a cheering squad behind the plate. When I graduated from high school, they were the loudest section on the football field when I walked across the stage. Anything big or small, they were there. It wasn’t until Grams died and my mom only a year later, both to cancer, two different types. Grams had bone cancer. We had no idea she was riddled with the nasty disease until she fell and broke her arm. Gramps rushed her to the hospital, pissed at himself that she was trying to ride a bike without him around, only to find out once the doctor came in to set the bones she was riddled with cancer. One scan and a somber look from the doctor later, and we were all at a loss for words. She passed away two months later, only for my mom to be diagnosed with a different type of cancer six months later. Our family was rocked to its core when we heard that vile fucking word again, this time pancreatic cancer. Let’s just say our family had a rough couple of years, and I wasn’t sure how Grandpa Bernie would be able to recover from it. That was ten years ago. Now, while we miss them, the heaviness isn’t surrounding us.
“Missed you, Gabe,” Bernie tells me in a hushed tone.
“Missed you. I’m home for a good long time now.” We pull apart, I nod, and he gets the clue, finally going inside. “If you’re going to meet me at the door, at least put on a pair of socks or your slippers.”
“I’ll do what I want. I’ve been an adult a lot damn longer than you’ve been alive.” He shakes his head as he walks inside, and I already know where he’s headed, straight to his recliner. “Dinner is in the microwave. You’ll have to heat it up. Grab me a glass of milk and my cookies on your way into the living room.” He veers left, and I go to the right. Every night, it’s like clockwork. He turns on the television, eats his evening snack, and watches professional basketball if there’s a game, or he’ll watch an old western. How he manages to stay up past midnight most nights and get up to be at the diner by eight the next morning, I’ve got no idea, except maybe the cat naps he takes in his recliner in the afternoon might be part of the reason.
“Thanks. What have you been up to, old man?” Usually, when we get on the phone, it’s a few-minute conversation here or there. Gramps told me how busy the shop is when he drives by, the latest stats on his team, and to check in on me.
“You know, same shit, different day. The highlight of my day is The Sunshine Diner and when Carsynn comes over once a week. Which reminds me, I’m going to need more firewood. She’s been bringing it off the back porch for me. The woman reminds me of your grandma and mom all wrapped in one.” I hit the button on the microwave, watching as it lights up and shows me I’m in for a damn good meal. Beef stew on top of a bed of rice. I’ll bet its Gram's recipe, too, big chunks of seared meat before adding the potatoes, carrots, and the rest of the fixings, along with her secret ingredient—rosemary.
“I’ll work on it tomorrow after work.” I pour the two of us a glass of milk and grab the bag of chocolate chip cookies from the pantry where Grandpa Bernie keeps them in stock from the local bakery.
“Thank you. Carsynn helped make our dinner. She stopped by while I was getting the ingredients. The woman doesn’t know how to sit still for a minute, so I offered her a meal if she cut up the vegetables,” he tells me as I carry the cookies under my arm, two glasses in one hand, and my plate of food in the other. His face lights up when he talks about the new girl in town. The man is trying to matchmake. Too bad I’ve got too much on my damn plate to even think about letting my grandfather set me up on a date.
“That’s nice. Is she settling in?” He called me when I was out of town, and she applied for the small apartment I had for rent. You know, the one I built for my grandfather, who refused to move once it was all said and done. It’ll be there whenever he’s ready. In the meantime, I may as well make back what I put into it.
“You’d think she’s on cloud nine. Gone is the girl who rolled into town looking dead on her feet, wary of the world, and too damn skinny for anyone’s liking. Thank you for not requiring first, last, and a deposit. It might have bankrupted her.” He knows me well enough, and I know him well enough that if she couldn’t afford it, then he’d attempt to take care of the fee. It was easier to waive it, even though she didn’t come with a wealth of background in the renting department. Grandpa Bernie is a good judge of character, and since I was out of town, he did most of the work.
“No big deal. She’s been hanging out with your old ass voluntarily. I think I’m making out in the long run.” I wink. He grunts but helps take a few things out of my hands so I can sit down and dig into the first real meal I’ve had in weeks. “Damn, this is real good.” I’ve barely sat down before I’m shoveling a forkful of the stew and rice into my mouth. Gramps opens the bag of cookies and sets them on his lap. He’ll share a meal with you. His cookies are a whole other story.
“Of course, it is. It’s your grandmother's recipe.” He’s gearing up for more, I can see it written all over his face. Either Gramps is about to ask for a favor or he’s about to lay something out I don’t want to hear.
“What’s on your mind? Spit it out. You know I won’t say no to you,” I say in between bites.
“Good, I want you to pick me up tomorrow morning. We’ll go to the diner and then to the shop. I haven’t been in a while. You’ll probably need help with something or other, and I’m bored.” He’ll usually meet me at the diner, then follow me in his car to the shop. I’m beginning to think he missed me more than he let on.
“I can do that. Normal time?” I ask.
“A bit earlier. I want to make sure we get seated in Carsynn’s section.” And there lies his scheme. I should have seen this one coming. I nod. No use in replying. Grandpa Bernie officially got his way.
5
CARSYNN
“Wow.” I’m standing behind the counter of the diner the next morning. The early morning rush has come and gone. Now I’m slack-jawed as I watch the McCoys walk through the door. While Mr. Bernie is tall and his stature more on the lean side, Gabe is so much more. I’m not sure how to describe him. All I know is he has to duck his head in order to clear the door and that the pictures Bernie had around his house don’t scratch the surface of his grandson. The older gentleman has always talked about Gabe with nothing but pride in his voice. You’d think his grandson hung the moon. Never in my life have I ever had someone like that in my corner. A hint of jealousy hits me in my sternum even when it shouldn’t. The McCoys had their fair share of heartache, and me being all in my feelings is doing nothing but making me seem like an idiot.
“Here, you’re drooling, Cars.” I’m interrupted when a napkin is thrown at my face. I catch it with one hand. Olive is laughing, and I’m busy ducking my head in embarrassment. No longer am I the shy and standoffish girl around her. We’ve grown closer with each passing day. She teases me, and I have no problem giving it right back to her. While I’m in my mid-twenties, Olive is only twenty, a baby compared to how I feel. When she saw me taking a breather in the break room, a magazine flipped open, my eyes bulging at the most beautiful design I have seen—rich in colors, dark blue walls, mustard yellow, and big, beautiful flowers in different textures—Olive teased me about drooling then, too. At least my nose wasn’t in the same book it was last night. Shew, that would have been hard to explain, especially the spicy scene I read in the bathtub. The duke now owns his wife completely. She’s no longer a virgin of any kind. If only I could have stayed up another hour to finish the book. I break away from my thoughts on my book, and dang it, I really wish my hair were down right about now. I could use the concealment. “He’s not looking, Cars, you’re good,” she whispers once her laughter is under control.
“No way. I’ll just see myself out. You don’t know me, and you’ve never met me. Bye now.” I spin around. My back is facing Bernie and Gabe, hands covering my face while I worry that I made the biggest fool out of myself.
“Considering Mr. Bernie and his grandson are sitting in your section, waiting on you, judging by the way the older McCoy is tapping his fingers, I’d say your time for running has long since passed.” Olive delivers the news like a final blow inMortal Kombat. Great, now I’m going to have the visual and how the cartoon says it in my head all day. I can do this. I’ve been in worse situations and came up swinging. However, this situation doesn’t need me to keep my head down and blend in. This time I’m safe. I can lift my head and allow myself to be brave.
“I can do this,” I mutter under my breath, turn back around, plaster a smile on my face, and look at my section, where Mr. Bernie nods his head in good morning. I smile in response, then wipe my hands on the front of my apron, trying to settle my nerves. It’s when I go to grab two mugs that I notice my hands are shaking. How in the hell am I going to make it through the next hour, and I haven’t even interacted with Gabe McCoy. It’s now or never. Unlike living in Virginia, here in Plaine Hill everyone knows the new girl in town. One hand is holding two coffee mugs by their handle, and since my hands are no longer visibly shaking, I grab the pot of coffee and set off to fake it till I make it. I fill up a few customers’ cups along the way. My face may show a happy and smiling Carsynn Nichols, but on the inside I’m a damn mess.
“Hey, Mr. Bernie,” I greet my friend. “Hi, Gabe, it’s nice to meet you.” I set the mugs down, already knowing that Bernie will want his daily cup of joe, no cream or sugar. He said coffee is enough to destroy his body; he didn’t need to add anything else to the mix.
“He-ya, sweet pea. You’re right on time. This guy made me wait on the porch for ten minutes this morning. An old man like me could get frostbite, you know?” I pour his cup of coffee while shaking my head and chuckling lightly at his antics.
“You coulda stayed your tail inside the house, too.” Pause, then, “It’s nice to meet you as well, Carsynn.” I look up from pouring his coffee after finishing Bernie’s and am caught in the gaze of gray eyes. Stormy, turbulent, and so all-consuming that I’m sucked into their vortex. It seems everything about Gabe McCoy is unique. I’m going to have a hard time not picking apart every difference between him and Bernie.
“Anytime. Your grandpa is a hoot and a great friend.” I manage to move my focus off Gabe to ask Bernie, “You want the usual?”
“You know it. Is Denny working you too much? I know the owner.” My eyebrows furrow, wondering why he’d bring something like that up.
“You look a little flush. I know you’ve been working a lot. I don’t want you getting sick.” If only he knew the reason why my cheeks are tinged with color.
“I’m good, probably just warm from running around all morning.” Shew, I pulled that lie out of my ass without a stutter. I’m not sure who this woman I’m becoming is, but damn, do I like her.