When You Were Mine Read online

  I don't mean to sound snotty, but it comes out more like a spoiled brat than someone asking an actual question.

  When she shakes her head slowly, her pale curls tumble a little over her shoulder. Her hair is gathered in a high ponytail, with some of the layers underneath free.

  Every time I see her, I'm reminded of how imperfect I am, in every way.

  "No. Sorry to bother you."

  I hold back a sigh as she turns away, her words both honest and a little wistful. Maybe she wants to be friends, in spite of our situation.

  Is that even possible?

  Chapter Twenty Four

  It's hours before I see Michael again, but Sydney appears during her lunch break from school to ask if she should stop by after practice this afternoon to help.

  Apparently she's been texting me all morning, but today I've kept my phone in my purse, tucked into a small locker in the break room.

  "I hear that Emily doesn't want to set a wedding date."

  There's a dining room full of customers in front of us as Sydney makes this pronouncement, and two older ladies with silver-blue hair openly turn to stare at us. I hide behind the coffee pot station and wave Sydney closer.

  "What are you talking about?" I hiss, shuffling boxes of coffee filters around to make some noise. "You can't just stand here and say stuff like that!"

  She giggles and covers her mouth.

  I grab my own cup of coffee, which has been cold for some time now as I answered the phone for take out orders for businesses as well as running the cash register. As I fill my cup to warm up the older liquid inside, I shake my head at my sister, but she keeps talking.

  "She must not be in a hurry, especially now that she can see how he looks at you."

  I look up at the ceiling and close my eyes for a moment.

  "Just stop. I wish everyone would stop this."

  "Hi, can I pay my bill?"

  Sydney steps around me with a big smile for the woman, who is wearing grubby jeans and a stained t-shirt. She lives a few doors down, and is known for her paintings, which she sells online.

  "I think I'll take a piece of pecan pie for a snack later. It looks really good."

  My sister smirks at me and lifts her chin as she takes the woman's money and bill.

  "Jenny here made all the pies this morning, so I'm sure they are delicious."

  I want to bend my knees and duck out of sight, but instead, I return the woman's smile and thank her while I pull the pie out of the glass case and fix a piece up in a to-go box.

  Once she's gone, I push Sydney into the kitchen, looking into the dining area quickly to be sure no one needs anything right at this moment.

  "What the heck?"

  She whines but she's smiling, even when I tell her to get back to school.

  "And stay out of my business."

  I try to sound firm, but she's not going to take me seriously no matter what. And as the person who had to deal with the aftermath of my huge mistake last summer, she's entitled to her opinion.

  After she leaves, a muffin in hand for the drive, I help the lunch waitresses clean up a few tables, wondering if Cathy is home yet. Obviously, if my phone is in my locker, I won't get any messages, but I'm sure Michael and Mark would let the diner in general know what was going on.

  I jump a little when the phone rings, and snatch it up quickly as I wipe down the coffee station with a damp towel.

  "Lindsay's Diner, how may I help you?"

  "Hey, Jenny. You sound just right answering the phone, you know? Like you're meant to be there."

  Mark sounds upbeat, but it's a little forced.

  "Hi, Mark. How's Cathy?"

  I don't consider what he's said, my thoughts entirely on Michael's mother. If something had happened to her, he wouldn't sound as good as he does, even though there's a sense of discomfort in his tone.

  "Home and resting. Michael is going to come out, but I'll be staying here for the rest of the day. I can't trust her not to do anything, you know?"

  Yes, I know. But Michael doesn't need to overwork himself, either. Emily left much earlier, and he would probably rather spend time with her.

  Not that I would suggest it.

  "Tell her I said hi, and that everything is fine here. Michael should stay home, too. We're really okay."

  I'd love to see him, of course, but it's awkward, too, and I don't know how to deal with it. He belongs at his family's side now.

  "Oh, he wants to talk to you."

  I don't expect this, and I drop the towel on the floor, noticing that it needs swept.

  Gretchen, one of the waitresses, walks over with her eyebrows raised, and I mouth the words Cathy's home as I nod. She smiles and grabs the broom and attached dustpan in the corner behind the register as she takes the dirty towel from me.

  Hands free, I'm able to lean on the counter and rest my hand on my forehead as Michael's voice comes over the line.

  "Thanks, Jenny. Emily told me earlier that you and Ellie have everything under control, but I wanted to check in."

  He's breathing hard, like he's been running, but I don't ask about it.

  "Sure, no problem. Actually, Emily wanted to help, so I think Ellie had her doing something or other. I was trying not to drown in Karo syrup."

  His laughter makes me smile, and I start to relax a little. Gretchen glances at me with wide eyes as she returns the broom to the corner and I roll my eyes. She just smiles before walking away.

  "I haven't had pecan pie in a long time. Maybe I'll manage to snag a piece sooner or later."

  I wonder if it would be okay for me to stop over on my way home and bring a few slices for him, or a whole pie if there's one left. Mark wouldn't mind something sweet, either.

  "Do you have anything for dinner? I'm sure I can pull together something here to send over."

  Although I'd be happy to be the one bringing food to them in time for dinner, I need to stay longer than yesterday to cover the register. I'm a little surprised no one has mentioned that I should go, after all the fuss over me yesterday, but we've been busy and so has Michael and his family.

  "We have leftovers, so I think we're good. Maybe you could tackle that lasagna tomorrow? I can let my parents know to look forward to it."

  I quickly try to figure out when I'm going to be able to make the promised lasagna, but I'll worry about those logistics later.

  "It's a plan. I'll see you tomorrow."

  I'm leaning towards the phone cradle, sure that our conversation is over, when Michael's voice stops me from pulling the phone from my ear.

  "I'll be in early. Remember that talk I asked about?"

  I look up, my mouth open as I try to respond, and find Ellie inspecting the dining room, although she doesn't usually do that this time of day. She's definitely listening and waiting to give her opinion, although she can't be sure who I'm talking to.

  Or maybe she can.

  "I remember."

  It's all I can manage to say, softly, hoping he can hear me.

  "Good. Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

  His words echo my own moments earlier, and I wait until I hear the line go quiet before I hang up.

  What could he want to talk about? I don't like not knowing, but I also can't let it distract me from working.

  I haven't even spent any time thinking seriously about what I'm going to do from now on, besides working here. With a year's worth of general education classes, I don't want to waste the time, money, and effort I've already put in, so I could take online classes or attend one of the universities closer to Valley Vale.

  But I also don't want to do anything until I know what my goals are. What all that work would be toward.

  "You worry too much for someone so young. You'll get wrinkles."

  Ellie pats my forehead and I jump a little, surprised at the contact.

  "I have to figure stuff out, that's all."

  Surely she understands that.

  "That's smart, but sometimes you have to let lif
e take its own course. Plan what you can, and be willing to accept opportunities as they come."

  More wisdom from the diner's cook, which I don't take lightly but is a little annoying when I'm tired and greasy, wondering what to do with the rest of my life.

  There's nothing I like in particular, no specific job or career that appeals to me in the long run.

  I put my hands on my hips and let myself sigh.

  "Point taken," I manage, making sure I don't sound sarcastic or ungrateful for the time she takes to talk to me. She doesn't have to, and she means well.

  "Oh, I need to check my phone. I probably have some texts from my mom. Do you mind staying up here for a few minutes?"

  The crowd has thinned, and I know it won't take long for me to read whatever anyone has sent me. I can also check on the pies, and if there's some of the pecan left, I'll set a couple of pieces aside to take to Michael and his parents on my way home later.

  She nods and waves her hand to push me along.

  I wish I could take a shower right now, but I have to settle for a long hand and arm scrub at the sink in the break room before patting myself dry and taking my purse out of my locker.

  Sure enough, my mom and Sydney have both texted me several times.

  Sydney both before and after her very annoying visit, and my mom, just to ask how my day is going and what I'd like for dinner.

  I've been staring at, preparing, and serving food for about ten hours now, so I have no interest in eating and no idea what I would want to have later, so I just say I'm good with whatever she and Dad want.

  My sister says she'll pick up ingredients for the lasagna I have to make on her way home from school after practice.

  How does she know that I'm making a lasagna, and what ingredients I'll need?

  I haven't told her what kind Michael asked for, or that I have to make it for tomorrow night.

  Maybe she's just guessing, but I text her back to tell her the information, and to thank her. It will definitely help not to have to worry about going to the store. I could always put the lasagna together tonight, refrigerate it, and bring it here in the morning. Then Michael can take it home from the diner and cook it at home.

  When I return to the dining room, Ellie is talking to one of my middle school teachers, one who used to scold Michael and me for holding hands in the hallways, like we were running buck naked in public or something equally forbidden.

  "Hello, Jenny. I see that big city life hasn't ruined you for Valley Vale."

  I'm not sure what that means, but I smile at her politely and start to prepare a fresh pot of decaf coffee, which is more popular with the dinner crowd than regular.

  "I must say, that Emily Norris is quite the charmer."

  The hard plastic basket, lined with a new filter and coffee grounds, shakes in my hand, and I inhale, concentrating on not dumping the contents all over the floor. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing how her words affect me.

  Ellie sniffs, as if she has a runny nose. She doesn't.

  "Nothing against Emily, but I'll take our Jenny here over ten of the new girl for work ethic and consideration for others. You can quote me on that, Lorna. Something makes me think that you will, too."

  I can't help glancing over at her, biting my lower lip to control the smile that threatens to burst onto my face. No sense in rubbing it in Lorna's face, but Ellie did one up her pretty well. To my benefit.

  "I don't know what you mean by that, but I never said that Jenny wasn't a good worker. Just spent too much time mooning over that boy to put it to good use."

  When I slide the plastic basket onto the rails of the coffee maker and press on, I let her words sink in.

  How right she is, and how hard it is to hear it.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  It's not hard to find ways to avoid long stretches of thought on Lorna's observation, as the diner grows busy and time passes quickly. No one tells me to go home today, and while I'm tired and sticky, looking forward to washing the dried sweat from the back of my neck, I love being needed so much.

  Not that I'd want to do this every day. Hopefully Michael's parents will figure a way to shuffle the schedule around while Cathy recovers, and didn't I hear something about hiring new waitresses?

  On the drive home, however, I think of the girl I was for so many years, hand in hand with Michael, as if he was all I needed for me to be happy.

  Maybe that's why I have no idea what I want to make of my life, since he is no longer in it.

  But he is, and I've promised him and his parents a homemade lasagna, so as soon as I've showered and changed, I gather all the ingredients on the counter in the kitchen as my mom and Sydney watch.

  They act like I've never cooked anything in my life.

  "Guys, this is a lot of pressure, you know. Can you not stare at me while I boil noodles?"

  I have the recipe for the sauce pulled up on my phone, and just as the noodles start to boil over, the water bubbling and hissing, my phone buzzes.

  Seriously, I almost say as I swipe over to see who is calling or texting.

  Michael.

  Sydney rushes over and turns down the heat on the stove, moving the pan to a cold burner as I answer his call.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  My mom offers me a little wave along with a smile as she leaves the kitchen, presumably to join my dad in the living room. I can hear the British baking show they've taken to watching, which I avoid. All the baking I do at the diner is enough for me. Besides, I don't know who comes up with the challenges they get on that show, because no human being could actually make them.

  Except maybe Cathy.

  "Sorry, Jenny. It's Emily."

  I put my free hand on my hip, confused, then immediately think something's happened to Michael.

  "Is Michael okay?"

  My sister hurries over, the pan forgotten, her face scrunched up in concern.

  "He's fine, but he wanted me to call you because they had to take Cathy back to the hospital. She fell, and she couldn't talk. I just happened to be at their house, and now we're all at the hospital."

  What does that mean, that Cathy couldn't talk?

  "Do you, I mean, do they need anything?"

  She doesn't speak for a long moment, and I worry that we were cut off, but as Sydney waits impatiently for me to explain what's going on, she finally says something.

  It's not what I expect.

  "Listen, Jenny. Mark and Michael are with Cathy now, and I'm alone in the ER waiting room, so I think I can be honest with you."

  This can't be going anywhere good. Is she sick of seeing me at the diner? Worried that I'm trying to steal Michael from her? She couldn't possibly be jealous, not with her poise and perfection.

  "Okay," I say it sort of like a question, drawn out and unsure.

  Sydney's expression changes, her eyebrows rising as she leans back on the counter, her head tilted towards me, listening.

  "I didn't know what to make of all the stories about you. I've been hearing your name since I started dating Michael, and he assured me that the two of you were over."

  This is true, but I don't interrupt her to validate it.

  "He's always been a little distant, but sweet, with me, and I thought it was because he'd been so hurt when the two of you broke up. But now that you're back . . ."

  I wait for her to continue, since I'm not sure where she's going with this. Every time I've seen her with Michael, he's been very attentive, never indicating that he wasn't anything but happy to be by her side.

  "Is Cathy going to be okay?"

  The waiting is too much for me, and she hasn't spoken in so long that I have to ask. She didn't really say what, if anything, the doctors have said about Cathy, or even how Michael and Mark are. Maybe she doesn't know anything yet, but what she's saying now isn't revealing, either.

  "I'm sorry, I don't know. I'm also sorry that it's taking me so long to say this. Or ask it, rather."

  Ask what? I haven't got
ten the sense that she's asking anything, but telling me something.

  I'm not sure what, or if I want to know.

  "Do you want him back?"

  I've been relaxing against the counter, my back to the ingredients I've arranged so carefully to make the lasagna, but now I stand straight up.

  She has my complete attention now.

  I just don't know how to answer her.

  "Jenny?"

  Sydney takes my hand now, and I wonder what she sees in my face that leads her to connect with me like this. Is it so obvious?

  I do love Michael. But he loves Emily. And she loves him. Even if Emily is asking me, without a doubt, what good would it do for me to tell her?

  It would be honest, for one thing, something I wasn't with Michael months ago, when he would have explained about Annabelle.

  If I had only given him the chance.

  "Yes."

  I let my chin drop, as I whisper the word, hoping it's loud enough for Emily to hear. I'm ashamed of my selfishness, but admitting it has me in tears, as if I've needed to share it with someone, this openly and clearly.

  The silence between us stretches longer and longer, but I feel like I can hear something from her. Is it anger? Resentment?

  A challenge?

  I won't give up forging a friendship with him, something we've never had before, but I won't get in the way of their future, either.

  Is there a way I can do both?

  "Listen, Emily, I want him to be happy. If that's with you, then so be it. But I can't act like I don't care about him, at least as a friend. I grew up with him, and I love his family, too."

  Her voice is calm and quiet, maybe a little sad.

  "I know. Believe me, I know."

  My sister hands me a paper towel and waves it at my face. I realize then that I'm crying, the tears rolling hot down my cheeks.

  As I pat the towel against my skin, I wait for Emily to continue.

  "Thanks for telling me the truth, Jenny. I appreciate it. Also, I'll let you know what's going on here with Cathy, okay?"

  I nod and thank her, unsure what has just happened between us and what it means.

  "What the heck was that?"

  As soon as I take the phone from my ear, Sydney grabs it from me and sets it down on the counter. It's all I can do not to fall against her and keep crying, but I have a lasagna to make, complete with noodles to salvage.