Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
I vault to my feet and cross the kitchen, wrapping my hands around her delicate shoulders. “Beth…”
She sniffles. “I’m okay. I just haven’t let myself think about Patti Robbins in years. And watching Kailani’s birth this morning was…intense.”
“Totally.”
“So I’m just emotional. It will pass.”
She scoops half the onions onto a spoon and drops them to the heating skillet on her left, then cracks two eggs in each pan. They sizzle. The savory smells begin to meld. My stomach growls. But all my thoughts are with the complicated woman I’m holding in my arms.
“You must think I’m pitiful.” She dabs at her eyes. “Every story I tell you about my past is sad. I’m not an unhappy person.”
Maybe, but she’s not exactly filled with joy, either. I’m trying to decide what to attribute that to. Guilt? Or events far more tragic?
“You don’t have to pretend to be all right for me.”
“I’m not. I promise.” She sets thin slices of the cheese down around the firming eggs and throws the cherry tomatoes into another pan. “It’s just that I haven’t had time to reflect on anything in…well, pretty much a decade. Until I came here, I worked constantly and moved fast. Yesterday’s events quickly became irrelevant. My focus was always on tomorrow. Now that everything has changed and I’m…I don’t know, getting in touch with myself?…all these memories and feelings are flooding back.” A self-deprecating laugh follows. “I promise, I’ll get myself together.”
“You are together,” I assure her, caressing her shoulders. “Can I do anything to help?”
“You are, just by being here and listening to me.”
I’m glad that’s how she sees the situation, but if she’s actually innocent and figures out I’ve been hanging on her every word simply to gain her trust and use whatever she divulges against her? I’ll be another asshole in a long line of them who have used, hurt, and mistreated her.
But I’m here for justice, not to exploit her.
Another nagging voice in my head asks, if Dad knew I felt this much empathy for the woman who may have, even inadvertently, caused his death, would he be rolling in his grave?
That’s a question I’d rather not answer. I need to stay on task.
“Beth, something happened to you recently, didn’t it? Why did you come to Hawaii?”
She pops two pieces of sourdough in the toaster, then removes the cherry tomatoes from the third pan before dividing them equally between the first two. “We always talk about me, and I never get a chance to ask about you. Why did you move to North Dakota?”
Hard change of subject. I’m not surprised. Bethany doesn’t let many people inside her life or thoughts. Learning who she really is—and deciding what she’s capable of—is going to require more time.
The one commodity I’m running out of.
Negotiations for my dad’s business will probably resume tomorrow since the buyers seem eager. I’ll have to head back to California to sign the papers soon and move the last of Dad’s stuff out of the offices. While I’m there, I’ll visit Bret at UCLA, then try to slip up the coast to check in on Bry in Santa Barbara.
“You’ll laugh,” I tell her. “I went to North Dakota because I wanted to make money, and I read on the internet—which makes me sound really stupid in retrospect—that I could earn a lot of cash doing industrial work there. I like jobs that require both brains and brawn, and it was a drastic change of pace from where I grew up. I was determined to be independent. At first, everything was great. I have to admit, though, that after the first couple of snows, the novelty of the white stuff wore off.”
And the house I built there seems tainted by the ghost of tragedy. Every time I walk in, I see my dad lying dead on the floor. And on the rare occasions I’m there now, I can’t wait to leave.
“Still think you’ll go back in the spring?”
Though I’m beginning to wonder if that’s the right move, where else would I move? “Yeah.”
“But no girlfriend back there? I remember that from last night.” She gives me a little smile as she plates the toast, slaps on some butter, then sets a bit of spinach on top of our sizzling scrambles. “Can you do your job anywhere besides North Dakota?”
“Not really.” I could move to Texas or Alaska or a few other oil-producing states, but I’d only be starting all over again in a business where it’s hard to gain a foothold.
“Do you still like your job? Is it what you always wanted to do?”
“I like it, but I’m not sure I see myself doing it forever. The hours suck. It can be backbreaking. And it’s hard to find reliable people.” I laugh at myself. “Growing up I really wanted to be a rock star. Unfortunately, when I tried to sing…the feedback wasn’t super positive. So I had to give that up. What about you? I know you haven’t always been a waitress.”