Page 3 of Holding Grace

I checked the clock for the 240th time, groaning out loud when I saw that less than five minutes had passed since the last time I’d looked. It was a gray, rainy Sunday afternoon and the diner was beyond slow.

“Tell me, girl.” Vanessa gave a deep sigh as she handed me several wrapped bundles of silverware to put in the bin where they were kept before grabbing a paper napkin to wrap another set. “I hate days like this. Time moves so slow, and the tips are ridiculous.”

I finished wrapping the silverware I held as I looked around the dining room. We had only two tables of guests – four at one, three at the other – and both were getting close to finishing up. I was hanging out up front with Vanessa since there was no need for me to be back in the kitchen.

I’d worried at first when I’d realized that it was just me and Vanessa on the schedule today, but that worry had obviously been for nothing. We’d already refilled the salt and pepper shakers and the condiment bottles and wrapped more silverware than we’d use in a week. If things didn’t pick up, the only thing we had left to do was wipe down all the menus. After that, who knew, but we had hours to kill yet.

It didn’t help matters any that I’d been restless all day with no clue why. I just had a weird feeling that something was about to happen. Usually something like that would get my guard up and have me looking for any sign that I needed to grab my things and head out of town. This time it felt different, less like a warning and more like anticipation. Not like something I needed to run from, just like...a change coming, maybe.

Either that or I was just so tired of constantly being on alert, ready for the next move, that my brain was refusing to accept anything as a sign of trouble. I hoped that wasn’t the case, but at the moment I couldn’t muster up much energy to worry about it.

The table of four came up to the register to pay just as a car pulled into the lot. I rang them out, then stashed the mountain of silverware Vanessa and I had wrapped while she headed for the front door to greet the new arrivals, a couple who looked to be in their 60s.

I was back in the kitchen working on their order when I heard the bell over the door jingle signaling the arrival of more customers. Glad for the business, I glanced through the kitchen pass-through to see how many guests Vanessa was seating, then paused when I saw the group.

Vanessa was seating a party of four men and one of them...he was a big guy with a muscular back that stretched the t-shirt he was wearing and a butt that did very nice things to a pair of worn jeans. He was facing away from me, but everything about him, from his physique to his short dark hair to the way he moved reminded me of Michael.

Shock that Michael may have just walked into the diner jolted through me as I stepped back quickly from the pass-through, taking deep breaths to stay calm. My brain whirled as I plated the couple’s food by rote.

Was it possible? Why would Michael be in this area?

He lived nearly four hours away in Lark, KY near Louisville. Well, as far as I knew, anyway. What did I really know, though? It had been nearly 18 months since I’d left the pub. Maybe Michael had moved to this area, and I’d just been lucky not to run into him until now.

Careful to stay out of sight, I set the plates up in the pass-through for Vanessa as she walked up.

“Thanks, babe.” Vanessa glanced at me and stopped, the plate she held suspended midway to the tray balanced on her other hand. “Are you okay? You’re all pale.”

“I’m alright.” Was I? “It’s...did those men say why they’re in this area?”

Vanessa looked over at the table she’d just seated, then back at me with a frown. “No, but I can ask when I get their order. Is something wrong?”

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter, telling myself I was freaking out over nothing.

“No, I just...I thought I recognized one of them, but he has no reason to be here, so I’m sure it’s not him.”

Vanessa looked at me for another moment, then grabbed the other plate for the couple. “Let me deliver these before they get cold. I’ll see what I can find out and be right back.”

Endless seconds ticked away while I waited, fighting the urge to peek out at the men again. Finally, Vanessa appeared at the pass-through.

“They’re here to go fishing for a couple days. I’ve never seen them before so they’re not regulars.” She watched me with a critical eye. “You sure you’re alright?”

I nodded at Vanessa wordlessly as she handed me their order slip, not sure what to say. Did it make it worse or better that they didn’t live here and weren’t regulars?

I searched my brain trying to remember whether Michael had ever mentioned that he liked to fish. It wasn’t like we’d chatted about our favorite pastimes and hobbies when I’d worked at the pub. I’d barely spoken to him – or anyone – for a while, and even when I’d gotten more comfortable, we’d talked strictly about work. For all I knew, Michael went fishing every chance he got.

I worked on their order – four double-burgers with fries – while I tried to decide what to do. The smartest thing would be to stay in the kitchen, out of sight, until the men left. The odds that the man I’d seen was Michael were small. Staying hidden, resisting the urge to look out and confirm it for myself, was definitely the best, smartest, safest thing to do.

The only problem was...I didn’t think I could make myself do it. The need to know – and to get a glimpse of Michael if he truly was here – was too strong.

I had to look. I had to. I’d drive myself crazy wondering “what if” if I didn’t.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the pass-through and looked...

Straight into the eyes of the man who haunted my thoughts.

Somehow, someway, the man staring back at me from no more than thirty feet away was none other than Michael.

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