Tuesday, February 20
Thirty more minutes. Irene had just thirty more minutes before she finished her six-hour shift at the diner and could finally go home. She’d clocked in at six that morning. Soon, it would be noon. She’d have the rest of the day to do whatever she wished.
Waiting another half hour wasn’t much time at all . . . which was why it was really too bad that it felt like an eternity.
As she carried a stack of dirty dishes back to the kitchen, her arms screamed in protest, right as her feet let her know that they were sore, too. Unable to help herself, she groaned.
Lora, who was wiping down one of the counters, paused. “You okay, Irene?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, pasting a smile on her face.
Instead of looking reassured, Lora straightened. “Want some help with that?”
“Danke, but nee. I’ve got it.”
Lora raised her eyebrows at the obvious lie but didn’t say anything as she went back to her task. Irene was grateful for that. She was too tired to concentrate on anything other than her job.
But Irene kind of doubted that thought, realizing that she was simply just too tired to concentrate generally.
Irene knew she couldn’t blame her exhaustion and bad mood on the customers. Everyone had been rather kind and forgiving when she forgot to refresh their coffee or didn’t stop to chat as usual.
Maybe they realized she was having a difficult day and gave her space and understanding, Irene mused as she put the dirty dishes in the bin by the sink and returned to her station. If that was the case, then they were being far more lenient than she’d been yesterday afternoon with Alice.
Remembering the judgmental way she’d acted, and the hateful things said, made Irene feel terrible. Alice was her best friend. She was doing her job, too—and knew a lot about working with preschoolers and their families.
Irene did not.
All she’d thought about in that moment was how difficult it was to watch both Alice and that sweet little girl get berated by John Yutzy. Before she’d given a second’s thought to the consequences, she’d barged in like an avenging angel determined to protect Alice and the child with one fierce statement. Part of her was sure John Yutzy would back down when she confronted him.
Yet he did not.
So instead of helping, all she’d done was make things worse. Alice was hurt and frustrated, Mary Ruth lost her toy, and her father still got his way.
And she? Well, she now sported five dark fingerprints on her arm. Mr. Yutzy had grabbed her so hard, her arm was actually a little swollen. It was also throbbing from carrying heavy trays and coffeepots all morning. She knew better than to complain, though. Her injury was no one’s fault but her own.
“Miss? More coffee, please?”
“What? Oh, sure.” After hurrying to retrieve a coffeepot, she refilled a couple’s cups. Just as she turned around, the door opened and her heart practically stopped.
Because there he was. That scary, quiet, intense, large Englisher who had given her his card the other day. The man who she’d spent too much time thinking about . . . when she wasn’t staring at his card.
Unable to stop herself, she paused to gaze at him. He was wearing a stark white T-shirt and dark jeans. A black leather jacket hung on his shoulders. He looked like he was dressed for a fine spring day instead of the middle of winter.
He also appeared just as heart-stoppingly handsome as he had been the last time he’d come in. No, that wasn’t exactly right. He seemed more attractive than he had before—because now she wasn’t afraid of him.
He had also come alone.
She swallowed, realizing that she most definitely wasn’t looking at him in fear anymore. Instead, it was true anticipation. Had he come inside to see her?
As she refilled another table’s coffee cups, she peeked at him again.
May was seating him in the back against the wall. It wasn’t technically Irene’s station, but there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity to speak to him once more.
“I’ll take that man who just sat down, May,” she said as she returned the coffeepot to the counter.
May looked relieved. “Thanks, Irene.”
Feeling excited, she picked up a pitcher of water and approached. Then realized that he was staring at her intently.
Before she could stop herself, she was smoothing back the hair from her brow.
The man gazed at her movements. Then, just as the smallest hint of a smile teased his lips, he stilled. A second later a new, thunderous expression appeared on his face.
Concerned, Irene rushed forward. “Are you all right?” After setting the pitcher down, she ran a hand along the Formica tabletop. “Is something wrong with the table?” she asked as she inspected it for crumbs or a spill.
Instead of answering, he pressed his palm over hers. Effectively stopping her swiping motion.
Actually, effectively stopping the rest of her words. And any future ones forming in her brain. His touch didn’t hurt. Though his palm was warm and large and calloused, she knew he was taking care with her. As if she was fragile. Or as if he was worried that she would be afraid of his touch. It was all rather endearing and rather sweet. But it was confusing, too.
Feeling like every person in the restaurant was watching, she tried to tug her hand away.
He didn’t allow that to happen. “What happened to you?” he asked, his voice even rougher-sounding than usual. “Who did this?”
With her hand still held captive by his own, she looked at her dark-green dress sleeve. It seemed clean enough. So did her apron.
Try as she might, she couldn’t see anything wrong. “Who did what?”
Still holding her hand in place, West used his other hand to slide her sleeve up. “This,” he bit out.
Though she now knew what he was referring to, she followed his gaze like she, too, was making a new discovery. Under the florescent lights, her bruises shined brightly. If anything, they looked even darker than they had that morning. The skin around the marks was discolored and swollen.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Had all of her customers noticed the marks, too? Was that why they’d been so patient with her?
“Irene, answer me.”
But how could she? This was none of his business. She didn’t even know him. And even if she did, what could he do? No doubt he would probably tell her that she shouldn’t have stuck her head, or her arm, out where it didn’t belong.
She shook her head. When surprise flared in his expression, followed immediately by a narrowing of his eyes, she pasted a smile on her face. “Would you like some water? Or, perhaps, coffee? It’s freshly made.”
“It’s West.”
“Pardon?”
“My name’s West. I told you last time I was here. Don’t you remember?”
“I do.” Of course she did. But that didn’t mean she was going to start speaking to him so familiarly. “Would you care for water or coffee?”
His lips pursed. “All right, then.” Exhaling, he scooted out of the booth. “I guess I need to be more clear.”
“West?”
“This is what is going to happen. You and me are going to go have a talk.”
“No, I’m working.”
“That’s not an option,” he said as he removed the pitcher from her hand and set it on the table. “I’m offering to give you some privacy. Do you want to go tell your boss that you’re going to step outside, or should I tell her?”
“You can’t come in here and start ordering me around.”
“All right, then, I’ll tell her.”
And just like that, he started walking over to May.
Ack! He was going to get her fired. Feeling like everyone’s attention was on them, she scurried to his side. “West, you must stop.”
He did. Kind of. “Glad we’re making progress. Now that you’re saying my name, you can go tell your boss that you and I need to have a conversation. That it’s real important and can’t wait.”
“But—”
“Go tell your boss, Irene. I mean it.”
But, like a cantankerous child, she only glared at him.
After waiting for another couple of seconds, he nodded. Then, to her dismay, he walked toward May. Irene rushed to follow, a dozen apologies running through her head. “May, I’m sorry—”
He cut her off. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
May immediately turned to him. “Yes?”
And then, to Irene’s amazement, he spoke quietly. “I know Irene is working, but I need to speak to her outside for a few minutes. It’s important.”
May looked at her in concern. “Is everything okay, Irene?”
She knew why May asked the question. West did look pretty scary. And the impatient way he was standing next to her conveyed a lot of tension. Her boss was simply trying to figure out where that tension was coming from.
But she realized then that she wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, she just didn’t know how to handle his heavy-handed ways. “Jah. I promise that everything is fine. West is just, ah, concerned about something.”
May visibly relaxed. “If that’s the case, why don’t you clock out? You only have ten minutes left and you never took a break. You can leave for the day.”
What could she say to that? “Well, um . . .”
“That’s a great idea, isn’t it?” West interjected. He even smiled at May. “Thank you for letting me take her early.”
“Irene works so hard, it makes me happy to see that she has a good friend in you,” May replied.
They both looked at her then.
Irene looked back at them both, feeling frustrated and confused. But, goodness! Was May actually blushing? “See you soon, Irene.”
May’s smile grew wider. “Enjoy the rest of the day, dear.”
Irene stared at West again. His arms were folded across his chest. He looked immovable. Like a mini mountain right there in the middle of Bill’s Diner.
He was unexpected and harsh. She was also beginning to get the feeling that he didn’t easily take no for an answer. He could change like a chameleon and quickly gain the regard of other people.
Her mother would have called a man like him slick. Someone who was untrustworthy.
But she also had noticed something else about him, too, and that was that he didn’t seem mean. Not to her, anyway. With some surprise, Alice realized that she wasn’t worried about being alone with him again.
It was because of that that she finally looked up at him with a sheepish smile. “Let me get my things and I’ll meet you outside.”
“I’ll wait for you by the door.”
Honestly, did he have to correct everything she said? “There’s no need—”
“Take your time, Irene. I got nowhere else to be.”
Irene felt her pulse race, just from the way he was saying her name. It felt personal and tender . . . and, maybe, also intertwined with a hint of aggravation.
It should have been awkward, but all it really did was make a lump form in her throat. Maybe it was because everyone always assumed she was fine. No one expected much from her. Not anymore.
Looking down at her feet, she forced herself to come to terms with that.
And the knowledge that she’d begun to think she didn’t deserve anything more, either. That was why she was having such a hard time accepting his concern or allowing herself to become emotional about the bruises. She’d learned that expressing her anger or fear or pain didn’t change the fact that she was a lot of people’s afterthought.
May chuckled, bringing her back to the present. “He’s a fine-looking man, ain’t he?”
Embarrassed, especially since she couldn’t disagree, Irene hurried to the back area where her personal items were neatly kept in a wooden cubby.
West Powers might not mind waiting to talk to her again, but she didn’t want to wait another minute.