Page 8 of Deacon

“Just my stepfather and his sons,” I say.

That doesn’t sit right with her; I see it in her eyes. “Your parents not together?”

I shake my head. “She…left, then passed away.”

Tracy clears her throat and dusts her hands off. “You said you have experience?”

I nod. “I worked at an ice cream shop back home for five years. I can work a cash register. And I can cook and bake.”

She leans on the counter and studies me. It’s like being put under a microscope. Then, she sighs and lifts her hands.

“I’ll give you a trial,” she says. “Lord knows I can use some help. I’ve got three other businesses downtown.”

I dip my head, a shock moving through me. “I promise I’ll do it right.”

She nods, reaching under the counter and taking out an apron. “You look responsible. Don’t disappoint me.”

Hardly able to believe my luck, I set my purse down and take the apron. She watches while I take my coat off and put it over my fern-green sweater.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

She nods, giving me a smile I hold onto for the whole day. People have been kind to me before, but I’m still in shock when it happens. I’m going to make sure she doesn’t regret taking me on.

She gets out a bowl and starts teaching me how to make blueberry scones. I’ve spent my life cooking and baking, so I know my way around a kitchen. Tracy talks, and I do my best to respond. She’s curious about me, but I don’t know that I’m very interesting at all.

By the end of the day, Tracy is impressed. We have an entire case of goods ready for tomorrow. The shop is so warm and smells so nice, there’s a pit in my stomach as I drag my apron off, hoping she’ll say I can stay. I hold out the apron.

Tracy smiles and shakes her head. “It’s yours now. You be here tomorrow, bright and early at seven.”

I nod, unable to speak. This job gives me money, but it also offers me a place to go that isn’t the house.

Bittern picks me up by the courthouse. He’s tired, I can see it in his face, so I keep quiet for the drive. Bittern is always so sad. I hoped moving would help, but since the accident…he’s just broken.

It happened when I was little. When the recession hit, the factory closed briefly. Aiden and Ryland started a handyman business. Maybe it was just a cover for other things, but Bittern and Wayland went to the mines in Harlan County.

They were gone for months. I wrote to Bittern. He sent me back the wings of moths he found underground and notes stained with coal dust.

Then, one day, the call came. The ground had collapsed, Wayland and Bittern trapped for days. When they pulled up Wayland’s body, it was clear he’d died instantly. But Bittern, he’d laid in the dark with nothing but a pack of saltine crackers and a bottle of water for too long.

He broke ribs, but it was his heart that really needed fixing, and not even the compensation check of two hundred and fifty government dollars could put it back together again.

Bittern pulls up to the house and gets out. I follow. It’s snowy, ice cold. I don’t stand on the porch longer than it takes to tap off my boots. Inside, I can hear Aiden in the kitchen. I put my head down and try to hurry past the doorway. Bittern goes in to sit at the table.

“Come here,” Aiden barks.

My stomach sinks. I back up until I’m standing just inside the kitchen. It’s dark out, making the kitchen look small. Aiden has his arms crossed, and he’s leaning against the counter. Bittern issprawled out in his seat. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lip, but he’s just staring at the wall without lighting it.

Bittern has a kind face, unlike Ryland, who looks more like his father. Aiden is a handsome man, but not even that perk could make his wives stay. He’s over six feet, with wavy dark hair dusted with gray and bright blue eyes. Years of manual labor have made him strong. Rough living has put scars and tattoos all over his body.

“Yes?” I say, keeping my tone low, respectful.

“Where were you?” Aiden asks.

“I got a job,” I say.

Bittern smiles. “Hey, that’s great.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

---