Wingman: Just a Guy and His Dog Read online

  "Ella."

  "Ella."

  My eyes popped open, obliterating the foggy dream. Mom was staring down at me with a worried expression. She lifted her hand to touch my forehead.

  "What are you doing, Mom?"

  "Checking to see if you have a fever. You overslept and I was worried you might be sick."

  I sat up and looked at the clock. "Shit, I'm so late. It was my turn to open. Patty is going to be snarling at me the rest of the day." I climbed out of bed and scooted around my mom as I searched for my clothes.

  It was obvious I was in a mad hurry, but that little detail didn't affect my mom. "You were talking in your sleep," she said, as I knelt down next to my bed to look for my second shoe.

  "Was I? Guess I shouldn't have had that extra slice of pizza last night."

  "It was something about Prancer and Twinkies."

  I sat on the bed to pull on my shorts. "I'm pretty sure that when you talk in your sleep you're not expected to produce nuggets of wisdom, or coherent thoughts, for that matter."

  I got up and brushed past her, but before I was out the door to the bathroom, she spoke again. "You were talking to Ethan."

  I stopped cold in the doorway. I turned back to her, and even though I expected her eyes to be glassy, I was still not ready for it. My throat tightened.

  "I dream about him all the time, Mom. Don't you?"

  She lowered her eyes and nodded. "I just hadn't heard you talking to him in so long and you said his name and . . ."

  I took the two steps between us and hugged her. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry about that."

  I lowered my arms and she wiped her eyes and drew in a long, sniffly breath. "No, I'm being silly and sentimental. You should get going so Patty isn't upset. I'll be by the store later to buy things for the trip. And I'll fill the refrigerator for you."

  "You don't have to, Mom. I'll be fine. I work at the store, remember?"

  "Ella, I'm not going to leave you without food." She waved her fingers toward the door. "Now get going."

  * * *

  It was early, possibly too early for Fynn, which would explain why the fountain was empty. Or maybe he decided to pack up and leave town for good. I had to push that depressing thought from my head or I'd spend the rest of the day in a grim mood. He wouldn't have just left town without a word. Would he?

  I parked my bike. The shop was already open. Which meant Patty had to unlock the door this morning. Which meant I was going to hear a lecture. And with the empty fountain across the park and Fynn's kiss still fresh on my lips, I was in no mood to be scolded.

  I readied myself for it as I walked inside. Patty was at the counter. She didn't look up from her account books. In fact, she didn't even acknowledge me at all. There was a silent, coldness in the air. I was wishing for that lecture.

  "I'm so sorry about this morning, Patty. I overslept."

  "Uh huh." She didn't look up from her books, but from the movement of her pen, she wasn't actually doing any work.

  I debated whether or not to continue my apology, but since my mood was already working against me, I decided to give it a rest. I walked into the backroom to get my work apron.

  As I walked back out to the front tying the back of the apron, my gaze, naturally dropped to the floor. I stopped just a hair's breadth away from smacking into Patty. She had a look on her face that went beyond a scowl. It was a harsh glare I'd never seen before.

  "I really am sorry about being late."

  "You knew I liked him." Her abrupt tone was unfamiliar. Even when Patty was mad about something, she never spoke sharply.

  "I'm confused. Are we still talking about me not opening the store on time?"

  "You knew I liked him, but you spent the whole day in the fountain, shaking your boobs and flirting like a slut, just like you did in high school."

  Her hurtful words were so unexpected, they sent me back a few steps as if someone had just pummeled me with a blast of hot air. I was rendered speechless. There just wasn't any way to respond to an unexpected verbal assault from someone you considered a close friend.

  "And then the kiss," she continued. "Everyone saw it but then we all know how you are." With that final barrage of bullets, Patty turned sharply on her heels and walked away.

  I caught my breath and followed her.

  "That first day, I gave you a chance to go out and talk to him. I handed you the water bottle, and you refused it." I reached the counter as she circled around behind it, putting a solid barrier between us. But it wasn't enough to stop the flow of anger coming from her direction.

  "Wasn't that generous of you. You knew darn well that I couldn't walk out there and talk to him."

  I held out my hands. "And that's my fault? Take the damn pills the doctor gave you, Patty. Maybe then you can join the world again."

  She pointed at me. "Don't you dare bring up my issues. This is on you, you and your unquenchable appetite for boys. I thought you grew up after high school, but I can see I was wrong."

  "Patty, you built this wall around your world, and you're the only one who can break it open. That's up to you and only you."

  "Well, it must be nice to have no inhibitions at all, where you can just stand in the middle of the town square and kiss a complete stranger. People are already talking."

  "Let them talk. And he's not a stranger, at least not to me." I blinked back tears and stared at her for a long time. I'd intended for my voice to come out brisk and angry, but the words that came out were weak and shaky. "We all dealt with our grief in different ways. I won't bring up your issues, if you don't bring up mine. I lost someone too, Patty. Everyone in town lost someone, one way or another, but I'm the only person in town who has to withstand secret glances and withering stares from people who are thinking 'why did you survive when my child didn't'. Try living with that sharp edge of the tragedy for just one day, Patty. I know you've thought the same thing. Why Sheila and not Ella. Everyone thinks it. Me most of all."

  Patty's tears were rolling nearly as fast as mine.

  The clang of the cowbell startled us from the intense moment.

  "Morning Star—" Fynn stopped short when he saw my face. "Ella, is everything all right?"

  Patty dashed out from behind the counter and stomped to the backroom.

  The expression of concern on Fynn's face only made the tears fall faster. "Ella?"

  I took hold of his hand and led him out of the store and around the corner. I fell against him and he wrapped his arms around me. "Sometimes, Fynn, I just wish the world would stop spinning enough for me to step off."

  He didn't ask any questions. He just held me until the tears stopped.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fynn

  I climbed out of the fountain. More than one person had walked by looking aghast at all the parts strewn over the dead grass, but no one said a word. It seemed everyone was just waiting to see if the unsavory guy with all the ink was actually going to fix the damn thing. I was far enough in now that I wouldn't go to my grave until the fucking fountain was spraying water five feet in the air. Every salvageable part was cleaned and free of clogs. I was ready to rebuild it and turn it on. Hopefully, it would work.

  Boone scratched my leg. I bent down to pet his head. He had been patient while I worked on the fountain. Not that he was inclined to do much more than nap on any regular day, but I'd hardly had time to pay attention to him.

  "It's all right, buddy. I'm taking a break right now." Boone had discovered the few, sparse shade spots in the park, and he'd made them his own by scratching away the weeds and debris and softening the dirt with his claws. His favorite spot was beneath the tall slide in the taped off play area. The tall structure was shaped like a rocket and the slide spilled out of the middle of the rocket like a long tongue.

  I sat down and leaned my back against the rocket boosters. The shade kept the metal cool enough to touch. In the distance, the cowbell rang. Ella emerged from the store with a brown paper bag. There was a faint smile on
her lips, not her usual smile, but I was glad to see she had recuperated some from her bad morning. I had held her for a good five minutes while she collected herself. Then, with only a light kiss and a quick plan to meet for lunch, she headed back into the store.

  "We're in luck," she said as she crossed the dead grass toward me. "Vernon's deli over in Langston sent over their special egg salad sandwiches." She stopped and looked down at me. "But if you don't like egg salad, I can go inside and switch it for the roast beef."

  "No, that's awesome." I reached up for the bag. "I love Vernon's egg salad sandwiches."

  Ella's dark brows pinched together. "How do you know about Vernon and his egg salad?"

  "Oh, I—well, I'm staying in Langston, and I had one already."

  "Ah, that's right. Forgot you were staying there." She sat next to me and leaned against the rocket. Boone immediately draped his chubby body across her thighs.

  I patted his head. "Move, you mooch. We're going to eat lunch."

  "No, he's fine." The dog released a low, appreciative dog sigh as Ella stroked his back. Ella's attention was drawn back to the store and the blue car that pulled up out front. "Looks like I just missed my mom." Ella glanced over at me with a teasing grin. "Guess you might be meeting her soon."

  "Oh shit." I opened the bag. "Did you by any chance stick a bottle of whiskey in here too?"

  "You'll be fine. She's not that judgmental, at least not compared to some of the other people in town."

  "Good to know, I think." I pulled back the wrapper on the sandwich, and Boone's head and ears popped right up. I broke off a corner and gave it to him.

  Ella leaned back with her sandwich. "Looks like you have that fountain stripped down to just the basics."

  "Yep, it's ready to be put back together and then—"

  She looked at me expectantly. "And then?"

  "Then we'll see if I did all this just to humiliate myself or if the thing will actually work."

  "It will work." She followed her emphatic statement with a confident bite of her sandwich.

  "Hey, Starshine, I'm glad to see your day got better."

  She nodded and took a slow sip from her water. "It was a rough start. Patty and I never argue, but, today, it seemed we both needed to get some stuff aired out. We both cooled off. By late morning, we were back to talking. Maybe not as freely and lightly as usual, but we'll be fine. Most of the time all of us just move along through our day, but occasionally, those fragile emotions pop up to throw a wrench in things. I don't think there's any way to avoid them."

  A pigeon landed on the cone of the rocket and stared down at our sandwiches with an eagle eye, or, in this case, a pigeon eye. "We've got an audience. This is a cool slide. I would have loved this thing as a kid. Why did they throw caution tape around it?"

  "Too much rust. The town decided it was no longer safe."

  "Really?" I reached up and rapped on the metal side. "It seems sturdy enough."

  "I think just like the rest of the park, no one wanted to bother with keeping it up. I still remember when Harlan Moore decided he could climb up on the cone of the rocket. He fell off and broke his arm. At that time, it was the biggest news story ever. No one could stop talking about it." Ella's face dropped and she smoothed her hand over Boone's back. "I miss those days when Harlan's broken arm was considered big news." She ran her fingers over Boone's ear and he lifted his head for more. "Harlan is Butterfield Angel #7. That's what the newspapers called them, the Butterfield Angels. He was my brother Ethan's best friend. I had such a crush on him. He would come over to play video games, and I'd pretend to be interested in the stupid game just to be near him. In my mind, Harlan was destined to be my future husband. He had no idea about that destination, but as far as I was concerned, it was a done deal."

  I reached over and took hold of her hand. We sat and watched the pigeons strut around us, waiting for a crumb. The cowbell rang and Ella's mom walked out of the store with two grocery bags. She squinted across the street to search for Ella.

  Ella hopped up and waved to catch her attention. Her mom opened the trunk to put away the groceries.

  "My mom is coming over to meet you."

  "Shit. Do I look all right?" I stood up and brushed off my shorts.

  Ella surveyed me, head to toe. "You look fine. If you could just shave that beard, cut your hair and cover all those tattoos before she gets across the street. Oh, and do you happen to have a pressed shirt handy?"

  My mouth dropped open.

  Ella laughed. "I'm just messing with you. As far as I'm concerned, you're the best looking thing in this town." She winked. "And my mom has good taste."

  "You are a brat." I took a deep breath as Ella's mom approached. I wiped the egg salad grease on the back of my shorts and stepped forward to greet her.

  She stopped to pet Boone first. "Aren't you cute and pudgy."

  "Mom, this is Fynn. He's the man who has been working on the fountain. Fynn, this is my mom, Susan."

  Susan reached for my hand. "Nice to meet you." She was trying to be smooth, but her vibrant blue eyes kept drifting to the tattoos on my arms.

  "It's easy to see where Ella gets her beauty from," I said with a smile.

  "Oh, thank you. That's nice to hear." She looked back toward the fountain. "It looks totally different." She turned back to me. "Do you think it will work?"

  "I hope so. I'm going to put it back together and then flip the switch. After that, it's up to Chip, Igor and Prancer."

  Susan laughed. "I guess Ella told you about the names she came up with. Well, let's hope those three horses come through. I know you've put a lot of work into fixing it." She looked at Ella and then back at me. "Thank you." She adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. "Well, Ella, I bought you plenty of food for the next week."

  "Told you, you didn't have to do that, but thanks. And no polyvinyl, right?"

  Susan rolled her eyes. "No, I bought real cheese. It was nice meeting you, Fynn." She kissed Ella's forehead. "I'll see you for dinner." She inspected the newly cleaned fountain a bit more on her way back to the street.

  I looked over at Ella. "Polyvinyl?"

  Ella shook her head. "She was trying to pass it off as healthy cheese. My parents are leaving for a week to visit my aunt, and I'm looking forward to having the house all to myself."

  My brow arched instantly. "All to yourself, eh?"

  It took her a second to catch my meaning. A blush and a smile followed as she took hold of my arm. "Yep, and if you play your cards right, I might even invite you over for a dinner . . . with real cheese."

  "I think I'd like that. But for now, I'm going to stick this fountain back together and then brace myself for the humiliation of an epic fail."

  Ella stepped in front of me and took hold of my face. She kissed me lightly on the lips. "That's for luck."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ella

  The workday that had started so disastrously, with tears and hurtful words, had ended on a softer note but I couldn't wait to leave. Patty and I had talked intermittently throughout the day but only about store business. We had left our usual banter and friendly chat behind, which made the work day extra long and dull.

  Patty had made a noticeable effort all day not to stare out the window. She seemed determined to show me that she no longer cared about Fynn. It pained me to think how badly she wanted to meet and fall in love with someone and how impossibly hard that was for her. Her anxiety was keeping her a virtual prisoner.

  I walked out of the backroom with my backpack on my shoulder. Patty was at the counter ringing up Meg Upton, the third grade teacher at Butterfield School. Meg had never married and she hadn't lost anyone in the accident, but she had taught every student on the bus so she was definitely a third degree person.

  Meg turned around when she heard my footsteps. "Hey, Ella, I was just telling Patty that the fountain looks so different. He's doing a great job out there. And as much as I shouldn't be saying this to two former students,
he sure is something to look at. With that intimidating physique and all those tattoos, I don't think I've ever seen anyone quite like him."

  Patty's face fell more with each word. I decided to shorten Meg's description.

  "I hope he can get the fountain working," I said rather too abruptly. "I think it would be nice to see the water flowing again."

  "I'll say. I don't think that fountain has run right for eight or nine years." Meg picked up her bag of groceries. "Well, both of you have a nice night. I'm going home to try a new chicken recipe. I saw it on Pinterest and have to give it a try."

  "Goodbye, Ms. Upton," Patty and I both said in our third grade sing song voices. It was something we did every time our third grade teacher left the store, and it always made Meg roll her eyes and laugh.

  "Oh, you two." Meg walked out the door.

  I looked at Patty, and for the first time that day she smiled at me. "Old habits," I quipped.

  The cowbell clanged with urgency as Meg raced back inside. "It's running. The fountain is running!"

  Patty and I ran outside. A small group of people had already gathered around the fountain and more were coming out of the surrounding shops. There was no shortage of excited murmurs and wide grins. In truth, I wasn't completely sure how people would react. Sometimes it seemed we had all collectively and silently decided to let the town square wither away because it had been the sight of so many memories, and, so often, the memories, even the good ones, made the pain and agony of loss more acute. But people looked pleased. More than pleased—they looked happy.

  I headed straight over to Fynn, who was casually collecting his tools as if he hadn't just created the incredible scene. Boone sat loyally by his side, looking slightly nervous about the sudden crowd filling the otherwise desolate park. Fynn hadn't noticed me walk up, but Boone's hello bark made him turn around. His smile was far more muted than I'd expected and that was when it struck me. The fountain was finished. Fynn had no more reason to stay in Butterfield.