Page 74 of Those Two Words

“It was fun, great to see everyone. Now, back to you and Daddy Pat.”

“Harry,” I groan and bring my head down to rest on the bar. “Listen, no one knows, well, apart from you and Booth, and it’s new and we’re…We’re taking our time, and it feels good. We never got a chance last time, but this feels right. It feels like our time.”

“You look good. And I’m not talking about your postcoital glow. I didn’t see a lot of this Jo in Tennessee, and I love you in every shape and form, but happiness looks good on you. I’ve missed this version of you.”

She leans into me and hugs me tight.

“I’m really happy here,” I say, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “I loved living with you, though I bet you’re glad you don’t have your big sister invading your space anymore.”

She cranes her neck, arm still slung around me. “I miss you like crazy, but this is where you belong. You needed me and it wasn’t a question that I was going to help you. You’ve come so far since that evening in Dad’s living room. And I’m so proud of you. For doing what was best for you, finding the help you needed, but most of all, for letting yourself be happy again.”

Her words hit me then, because I am happy. I’m really happy. And there doesn’t seem to be a limit on this happiness, not like when I lived in Tennessee.

“I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.” I rest my temple against her shoulder.

She stiffens beneath me, mood shifting suddenly as she speaks softly, “We can’t lose this place, Jo.” I look at her and she has a fond look in her eyes as she stares ahead. I follow her gaze and find the photograph of Mom and Ted where it belongs, in a new, shiny gold frame. Patrick asked me if it was okay that he put it back on the shelf, and let me choose a new frame. “For them. I don’t say this to put pressure on you guys, it just feels like we’re losing the last pieces of Mom and Ted we have left.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Harriet’s worries aren’t different from my own, and as I glance at Patrick, he’s staring at us with a weak smile on his face, eyes moving between us and the photograph.

The impending news about the restaurant is one of the gray clouds hanging over our heads. The upcoming anniversary of Ted’s death is the second.

If I can’t save this place for me, I’ll do it for him. I’ve only been in town a short while, but Patrick has been here for every up and down. Putting in his all to keep this place afloat and look after his family. I can survive the loss of the restaurant if I have Patrick, but does he feel the same? And what if once he knows the full story of why I left, he thinks I’m too messy and complicated? All questions I’ve voiced with Amanda, and as much help as she is, I know I won’t know the truth until I rip off that last layer.

Harriet excuses herself to go to the restroom, and I spin on my stool to face the full house of customers we have in again tonight. The light chatter, laughter, and sound of silverware clanking together fill the room, and the mishmash of noises remind me so much of my childhood.

“Patrick, not there. It goes there,” I cry as he tries to force another piece into the wrong spot. I jab a finger to the empty one closest to me. “Right here.”

“No, that’s wrong. It’s this one,” he argues, and continues to smush it down until the edges bend and it gets stuck. He looks up at me and smiles, but I’m not happy. “Oops.”

“I told you!” I turn my head and cross my arms across my chest, not wanting to hear him say sorry for wrecking another puzzle.

“I’m sorry, okay. I can fix it. And my mom bought me a new Sonic the Hedgehog one we can do together at my house next week.”

“I don’t want to do one of a dumb hedgehog.” I can see him making funny faces, twisting his mouth in weird directions, trying to make me smile with no luck. This is the second time I’ve tried to teach him how to do puzzles, and he sucks at it. Stupid boys.

The scrape of his chair and thud of his sneakers against the floor lets me know he’s left the table. Leaving me to sulk.

I look up to see him talking to his dad, who is standing next to mine at the end of the bar. My dad has a big Band-Aid on his hand from when he and George were building the bar. Patrick and I learned a lot of new swear words when they were putting it together, and we made almost one hundred bucks.

Patrick and his dad disappear into the kitchen, right as my mom walks out, carrying a couple of plates. She spots me in the corner, but her smile falls when she sees my face. Dropping the food off with the customers, she comes over and sits across from me.

“Mayflower, what’s up? I don’t like it when you frown,” she says.

I throw my hand out toward the ruined jigsaw puzzle. “Patrick messed this one up too. He’s no good at it, Mom. Why do boys suck?”

She laughs and moves the puzzle piece Patrick got stuck. With a few wiggles, she sets it free and hands it over to me. “They can be smelly sometimes. They also make good friends too. He just wants to enjoy something you do, because he knows it makes you smile. Like when you go out and play dirt bikes with him and Dexter.”

“I like that.”

“I know, but you don’t like it when they ride off quicker than you. You’ll get the hang of it, just like Pat will get the hang of doing puzzles.”

I fiddle with the puzzle piece and look up at my mom. “I think I upset him.”

“I think he’ll be okay. Don’t tell anyone, but I think he’s about to get you a surprise.” She leans over the table, kisses me on the head, and heads back to where my dad is standing.

I don’t know what surprise Patrick is getting me if he’s in the kitchen, but I hope it’s not bean-hole beans, because they smell like my little sister’s diaper. I wait patiently, glancing up anytime one of the servers walks through the swinging doors.

After a couple of minutes, Patrick steps out with his dad, a tray in his hands with something balanced on top.

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