Page 9 of Show Me How to Heal
The Bar looked pretty much like I’d expected it to. A lot of dark wood, dim lighting, a little old, a little worn down. There was a big, wooden bar opposite the door with two bartenders working behind it. The smell of fries and grease wafted over, mixed with the scent of beer.
In Germany, we’d have called something like this aKneipe. Very casual, homey, usually didn’t serve fancy stuff.
I stopped two steps into the bar, my eyes searching for Corbyn, but the dim lighting wasn’t helping. Neither was the fact that The Bar had many small niches. Corbyn was a big fella, though, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find him.
Letting my gaze wander, I saw my realtor sitting in a small booth with two other people. He had his arm around the shoulders of a smaller, slimmer man. That had to be his boyfriend, the bookstore owner. He looked like someone who’d own a bookstore. Kind of nerdy with thick, black rimmed glasses and a leather messenger bag sitting next to him.
But I wasn’t looking for them, I was looking for…
“Luke! Over here!” I sighed in relief when I spotted Corbyn waving excitedly with both hands. He, two other guys, and one woman had snagged a booth in the far-right corner of the bar, barely visible from my spot near the entrance.
I made my way over to them, carefully dodging all the obstacles in my way. Walking on crutches was a nuisance, especially in crowded places like the town’s only bar on a Friday night.
Everyone had backpacks and bags placed on the floor next to them, some people’s feet were closer to the neighboring table than their own, and wherever people consumed alcohol, there was a lot of gesturing going on.
But I made it to Corbyn and his friends, and they’d been nice enough to reserve the only chair for me. I sat down and sighed in relief. I’d opted for a little walk in the woods outside of my cabin this afternoon. No, I hadn’t encountered any bears, but yes, I’d had the bear spray handy.
“Glad you made it!” Corbyn smiled at me before starting introductions. “That’s my sister, Mel. She approves of your color choice, though she says it’s not really sage.”
The only woman nodded and grinned. The similarities to Corbyn were obvious. Their hair was the exact same shade of brown, and they had the same nose and same shaped eyes.
Right, I thought when his words registered with me,sagemeantSalbei. That weird herb my mom had always used to make tea whenever I’d had a sore throat. I hated that stuff with a passion.
“Well, up until two hours ago, I didn’t know what sage was, so you’re lucky I didn’t choose something far more outrageous.”
Mel laughed. “No matter what you would have chosen, it’d have been better than anything Corbyn would have picked. I have no idea how he manages to stay in business.”
“Hey!” Corbyn protested. “Everyone loves my furniture. And I have a great variety of colors. I’m just not good with names. But for my business, I don’t need to be. All the colors I’m using have a number to indicate the exact shade.”
Mel snorted. “Excuses, excuses.”
“Anyways,” Corbyn said. “The guy next to Mel is Raphael. He owns the flower shop on Main Street.”
“Hi!” I raised my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Raphael was a little older than me, maybe in his late thirties, with thick, coarse black hair, tanned skin, and dark brown eyes. I’d guess he was of Italian heritage.
“And the other guy is Walker. He’s the high school football coach.”
A fellow football enthusiast!
I paused.
Football.
Right.
Notsoccer.
I suppressed a disappointed sigh. Too bad he wasn’t a soccer coach. I missed having someone to talk about sports with. Maybe I needed to learn the rules of American football. Or ice hockey. Or baseball.
There were so many popular sports here that I’d never even seen a game off.
At least I knew how basketball worked, but I wasn’t a fan.
“Nice to meet you,” I said a little belatedly. After all, it wasn’t his fault I’d messed my sports up again.
“Corbyn told us you’ve recently relocated to Juniper Creek. That true?” Walker asked.
