Dedication
To those seeking answers, who never give up, who will hunt till the end.
Thirty-Five Years Ago
Stacy
From the moment I laid eyes on the six–foot-three, brown-haired man who walked into the diner that Sunday morning, I knew he wasn’t from around here. A man like that stuck out. His broad shoulders had the guy next to him shifting down a stool so they didn’t have to touch. I nodded at Jack, who was about to serve him, to let him know I had it. I removed the pen from my ear, pulled out my note pad, and strolled over.
“Hi there, what can I get you?”
He closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. “Just coffee.”
“Coming right up.” I turned to pick up the coffee pot and checked out his reflection in the glass. He cursed quietly as he looked at his phone while I poured the dark brew and slid the mug over. “Here ya are.”
“Thanks.” He yawned, and his head remained down. Friendly.
I tapped my pointer finger on the counter. “My name is Stacy. If you need anything, just call.”
“Yeah,” he grunted as he rubbed his head again. I reached under the counter and grabbed my purse, then took out my Tylenol and clicked the bottle down in front of him.
My other customers waited, so I moved over to them and took their orders. After I got them situated and went back, he was gone. Under my pill bottle was a twenty.
“Jack?” I called. He poked his head from behind the divider. “Did you see where that guy went? His bill was only a dollar, but…” I held up the twenty.
“Nice! He left about five minutes ago. Looked like he was hung over or something.”
The rest of my shift went quickly, and I never thought about the guy again until I left to walk the ten blocks to my tiny apartment, thinking of the twenty he had left me. Soon after that, I was passed out on the bed.
Mondays were slow, like ‘jam a fork in your eye’ slow. There were only so many times a person could fill the salt shakers and restock the shelves. Jack’s radio pumped Cindy Lauper, and I sang along as I dried a glass.
“Excuse me?” A voice broke into my song. I turned to find the man from yesterday in the same seat as before. I hopped off the counter and made my way over.
“Coffee, right?”
This time he stared right at me. My Lord, his eyes were a soft melty brown, like caramel with a light honey swirl. He gave me a tight smile. “Can I order pancakes along with it…please?”
“Coming right up.” I handed Jack the slip, and he gave me a little wink.
“Stacy, right?” he asked, then cleared his throat. I gave a little nod as I poured his coffee. “Charlie, nice to meet you.”
“It is,” I stated. “Can I ask you something, Charlie?”
“Sure.” He ripped a piece of paper and started to fold the edges down.
I replaced the pot and looked right at him. “Where are you from?”
“Phoenix.”
“So what brought you to Nashville?”
He continued to fold the paper even smaller. I watched in fascination for a few moments before he spoke. “Just felt like a drive.”
Two guys came and sat at the other end of the counter. I recognized Will and sighed inwardly. “Stace!” Will called out as he took a seat. “French toast with extra whipped cream and lots of chocolate sprinkles. Thanks, doll.”
Charlie looked up at me, then over to the guys. “Friends of yours?”
“No.” I sighed as I scribbled Will’s order. “Let me get your food.”
“Thank you.” He kept his eyes on the guys, who were loudly talking.
I placed Charlie’s plate in front of him, then headed to give Will his.
“Can I get you anything else?” I asked. As a reply, Will snagged my hand, pulled me forward, and dabbed my neck with whipped cream. “Will,” I sighed, “please don’t start today.”
“Oh, come on.” He smiled. “I’m just playin’. You want me to clean it off for you?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Stacy?” Charlie looked unimpressed. “Could I get another refill?”
“Yeah,” I called out, but Will caught my arm.
“Who’s he?”
“A customer.” I looked down at his grip and felt my patience wear thin. “Do you mind?”
He slowly let go but stared at Charlie like a bull checking out his next rider. I pulled the pot free from its stand and forced a smile at Charlie.
“How are the pancakes?”
“Great, thanks.” He pushed his empty plate aside and sipped his coffee. I noticed he’d made a little origami bird. Sweet.
“So are you sticking around here for a bit?” I didn’t know why I asked. There was just something about him that interested me.
He tensed but then rolled his neck as if to relieve the tension. “Not sure yet.”
“Well, I hope to see you around.” He glanced up at me, his eyes unreadable, but I knew with a guy like that there was more to his story then he’d ever let on. That was fine with me. All I cared about was that I made enough money to leave this damn town. I pulled out his bill and placed it next to him. “Stick around if you’d like.”
He studied the bill. “This should be eleven sixty. Why is it free?”
I kept my back to him as I rang up Will’s order. “You left too much yesterday.”
“It was a tip—”
“It was too large,” I interrupted.
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“I beg to differ.”
“My tip, my decision.”
I turned to look at him and wondered what his angle was. “Do you always leave such a generous tip?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I was rude to you yesterday. I didn’t feel good, and you helped me out. I can leave you a tip if I want to.” He pulled out his wallet and left a twenty. “See you later, Stacy.”
“Bye, Charlie.” I couldn’t help but stare at his large, lean body as he left the restaurant.
And that’s how it went for three weeks. Charlie would come in, eat breakfast, leave a heavy tip, then disappear until the next day. There was always an unspoken attraction between us, though neither one of us acted on it. One day he didn’t show, and the day after. A month went by, and I realized my sexy stranger had vanished. It bothered me a lot, more than I thought it would. Sad. He interested me; he was way different than the guys in this town.
“Thanks, Jack,” I called out as I opened my umbrella.
“If you can wait, I’ll drive you home.”
I stepped out into the rain. “Are you kidding? I love the rain.” He laughed as I waved goodbye.
Three blocks from home, and my shoes were a soggy mess and I was frozen. I didn’t usually go out after work, but today the Red Piper looked inviting. I slipped inside and sagged into a chair at the end of the bar and ordered a hot rum. It went down a little too quickly. I wasn’t a drinker, and the liquor went straight to my head, but it sure warmed me right down to my wet toes.
I didn’t bother with my umbrella as I meandered the rest of the way home. It was too hard to coordinate my feet and the shield. So instead I let the icy drops hit my face and fall freely down my coat. A homeless man sat next to a building, holding a piece of cardboard over his head to protect himself and his golden retriever. They both looked miserable. I handed him my umbrella and a few dollars. He was way worse off than I was. The guy nearly sobbed at the gesture and thanked me. I made a note to bring him some leftover food from the diner tomorrow.