Chapter One
Ally
3 years later
Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Just the thought gave me the boost I needed to climb out from under the nest of warm blankets I slept in every night on a secondhand pull-out couch that I named Mr. Back Breaker. That creaky contraption really did a number on my back, but it was still better than the cold floor.
Every morning was the same, up at five a.m. to start the generic, dark French roast. The lack of a name brand didn’t bother me, so long as it was strong and bitter. My caramel creamer alleviated the bitterness. Once it was waiting in my cup, I inhaled deeply. Ahhh, heaven on earth. And after that first sip, my life felt complete.
Once I drowned my fatigue with a full cup, I made my son breakfast. How I wished his young palate would wake up, wanting ham and eggs or biscuits and gravy, but no such luck. It was Froot Loops or Apple Jacks for Sam. I insisted that he at least eat a few slices of an apple so I felt as if he was eating properly.
Packing lunch for Sam was always the same also, peanut butter and jelly, an orange and fruit juice. By the time, he was ready, we had to hurry to the bus stop. Once he was safely on the way to school, I had to push myself hard to get ready for work.
Waitressing was not my dream job, but it paid the bills. Working the middle shift from ten a.m. to seven p.m. was grueling work. Though it took its toll on our family time, the tips earned from both the lunch and dinner rushes were vital to our survival. Thank heavens for Frannie. If not for her, I wouldn’t have been able to make the extra money.
She adopted Sam as her honorary grandson, since she and her late husband were never able to have children. And my son? He loved her more than my cookies! I couldn’t believe he turned down my cookies to go to Fran’s last weekend.
Would I rather be at a comfy desk job working nine to five? Of course, I would! We had to give up so much. My son lost the most – his friends, his school, his home, his toys. Just about everything we were used to. Some creature comforts like, cable TV and internet were suddenly luxuries we could not afford. Sam had to sacrifice so much, too much for a little one. It would get better I reminded myself daily. We just had to watch our backs, keep a low profile, and trust no one. Ever.
I rushed around grabbing the bits and pieces of my uniform, which seemed to have mysteriously shrunk lately, a black skirt that I had to shimmy and wiggle into without falling over since I was a glutton for Frank’s home cooking, a button up white shirt that always gaped in the center of my um… generous chest giving the entire world a boob flash and a pink apron. Yep, pink. It was not a flattering uniform but hey, it could’ve been worse. I, for sure, needed to snack a little less and start exercising before my uniform split in the middle of dinner rush. That was definitely something that would happen to me and right in front of Mr. Dreamy Eyes. Starting tomorrow, first thing on my list was to look for a gym. Maybe.
Working five full days and one half day was exhausting. Staring at myself in the tiny mirror above the sink in our quaint bathroom, I prepare to put on my new face. For a second, I honestly did not recognize myself. Once upon a time, I had long, beautiful, natural curly hair that had a mind of its own. And its color came from my beloved grandmother. Whenever I thought of her my heart ached that she was no longer with us. But, I had her beautiful strawberry blonde hair and most days, red was all that could be seen. And with the red? Freckles. Yep. Tons of freckles. As a child, she told me to be proud of my Irish roots and not to hide my freckles, which embarrassed me. That seemed so long ago. My heart broke just a little more. My long shiny red hair was gone now and in its place, a rich dark brown, almost auburn, and it was cut just below my shoulders. The shortest it had ever been in my life. I used one of those burn your fingers off straightening irons to take out the curl every single day and I had scars to prove it. In the past, I seldom wore more than a touch of mascara and eyeliner. With my new life, I used everything, shadow, blush, extra black eyeliner to make my Irish green eyes seem darker, almost an azure blue.
“Hey there, Ally. Who the hell are you? Who will you be? Tell Sarah I know she is in there and I miss her.” Yes, I talked to my former self. Sometimes it was the only way I could stay sane and on track to make sure we were safe from my mistake. I could not forget who we were. We would, by the grace of God, be them again someday. There had to be someone that could help and protect us. But I couldn’t turn to the police, the very people supposed to uphold the law and protect me, what was I supposed to do? So, I ran. That was the only option left. Run and keep running.
I glanced down at my watch and squealed, “Not again! Just get to work or you are going to be late, Ally.”
Halfway through the lunch rush, Frank, the owner and head cook at Dine With Us truck stop, threw a fit over a wrong order, again. Cleaning a table next to the counter, I could see poor Frannie, a soft-spoken woman, catching hell again for writing the order incorrectly. It was the second time this shift. In all fairness, Frannie just started waitressing with us, part-time, three months ago.
Frannie was our neighbor and had been a dear friend since we moved in. She had not worked in years, but due to the untimely death of her husband of over twenty-five years, she found herself without enough money to support herself in her later years. Fran gave my heart an extra jump whenever I was near. She reminded me of my grandmother and home.
Home, back when life was beautiful and full of family and friends, back when there was no pain, no wondering if he would come home to love me, taunt me or hurt me.
So, I breathed Frannie in every chance I got, to calm my heart and keep going for my son, Sam.
Frank, on the other hand, was a bear sized man that wouldn’t hurt a flea. Most people didn’t know that though because he had to keep up appearances, since the diner could bring in rowdy bunches on the weekends. No one would ever guess that Frank was an Army Ranger back in his day and not one to underestimate. When that big guy gave you a hug, it felt like nothing in the world could touch you. It was so full of warmth, love and protection kind of like a father who would slay dragons for his kids.
I had to intervene before he went overboard, so with my hands on my hips, I said, “Frank, seriously, calm down. It was a simple mistake. She didn’t mean to do it and making a mountain out of a molehill isn’t doing anyone a bit of good.”
“I don’t care! That’s money out of my pocket, not yours! I can yell at her if I want to!” Frank fired back at me.
Frannie was teary eyed and her lips trembled. Sometimes I felt more like a referee than an employee. But, underneath his gruff exterior, Frank was a big softie with a heart of gold. Something must have really bothered him for him to yell that much over something so small.
“Hey, Frankie Bear, I will make a double batch of my secret recipe chocolate chip cookies if you will say you’re sorry to Frannie and let this go. I will even throw in a batch of oatmeal raisin. What do you say?” I tried to coax him to be nice.
Frank’s eyes lit up like a starving kid in a candy shop. “Make it a double batch of both and you have a deal, Bright Eyes.”
Frank started calling me Bright Eyes almost from day one. He said my eyes were as pretty as spring grass after a long dreadful winter like they had in the Mid-West. It was a sweet thing for the old guy to say and I could tell he was genuine. That was the day I fell in love with the cranky old coot.
Laughing out loud at Frank’s boyish charm and winking, “Apologize right now or I will use all salt and no sugar in all of them, young man!”
He looked properly chastised and a little sad. With his baritone voice, he turned right around and said, “Frannie girl, I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, but I shouldn’t have hollered at you like that. I hope you can forgive this cranky, old man.”
We couldn’t help it, Frannie and I both cackled at his fake puppy dog eyes and overly sincere apology. I could tell Fran was a bit smitten with him but wanted to play a long a bit. “Well Frank, I don’t know. You really hurt my feelings today. I don’t think you deserve the cookies, not even if it was your birthday.”
I couldn’t believe it! Frannie was flirting with him!!! Frank’s eyes were as round as saucers. He started tripping over his own lips he was so stunned by her refusal at accepting his apology. “But…bu… bu…. I’m sorry. I really am. Please, Frannie. Please?”
Frank heard me trying to keep from snickering and looked at Frannie, then at me and back again. “Well, if that don’t beat all…you are playing with me huh, Frannie?” He let out a big old belly laugh and blushed.
“I’ll tell you what Frank, I will accept your apology on two conditions.” Frannie had his full attention.
“Anything Frannie, just name it and it’s yours.” He looked sincere, waiting.
“Alright then, when Ally bakes up those tasty cookies, you have to bring them to my house for dinner and we will eat them for dessert.”
He turned every shade of red under the sun. All along, Frannie had a crush on him and he didn’t even know it.
“Aww…al…all right, Frannie. I will do just that. I promise.” He winked at me as he walked off and my chin hit the floor. All that time, it was him playing with us! That turkey! Apparently, he was smarter than Fran and I put together.
I loved watching their interaction. These wonderful people had made my life so much richer, less lonely. They treated my son and I like family, always buying little things he needed or wanted here or there. Frank had even taken Sam to a baseball game or two. I think he knew that something was not quite right for us, but instead of pushing me for answers as to what it was, he just kind of took care of us like we were his own family.