Chapter 6 - The Woman They Thought Was Dead
Six months after Lake Geneva, Brooklyn stood behind the counter of Brook’s Table during the busiest breakfast rush she had ever seen.
“Two pancakes!”
“Walking!”
“Eggs over medium!”
“Table six!”
A teenage server named Mia hurried past.
“Brooklyn, the gentleman at twelve says his coffee is cold.”
“Replace it.”
“He said he wants to complain to the owner.”
Brooklyn grabbed the pot.
“Perfect.”
She approached table twelve.
Winston sat there.
Brooklyn stared.
“You.”
He looked at the coffee.
“It’s cold.”
“You’ve been sitting there forty minutes.”
“Exactly.”
“Drink faster.”
Winston smiled.
Mia whispered, “That’s Winston Marchetti.”
Brooklyn answered loudly, “I know.”
Three nearby customers turned.
Winston looked amused.
“You’re frightening the staff.”
“You frighten the staff.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You do it aggressively.”
Mia escaped before laughing.
Brooklyn poured fresh coffee.
Winston had become a regular.
Not because he needed breakfast.
His house had chefs.
Not because he needed privacy.
Brook’s Table was usually packed.
He came because Brooklyn was there.
Neither of them said it directly.
Not until one evening after closing.
Brooklyn was counting receipts when Winston entered through the unlocked front door.
“We’re closed.”
“You knew it was me.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You’re the only person arrogant enough to ignore the sign.”
Winston set a folder on the counter.
Brooklyn eyed it.
“If that is another legal document, I’m throwing you out.”
“It isn’t.”
She opened it.
Inside was the finalized divorce decree.
Brooklyn stopped.
Bradley had signed from prison.
She read the first page.
Then the last.
“It’s over.”
“Yes.”
Brooklyn sat down.
Winston poured himself coffee.
“You’re supposed to ask.”
“You never say yes when I ask.”
“That doesn’t mean stop asking.”
Winston put the pot down.
“Brooklyn.”
Something in his voice changed.
She looked up.
“For eight years,” he said, “I carried that twenty-dollar bill because it reminded me there were people in the world who could still do something kind without calculating the price.”
Brooklyn watched him silently.
“When I found you again, you were half-dead in a lake.”
“You always know how to make a moment romantic.”
“I’m getting there.”
She smiled.
Winston continued.
“I told myself helping you was repayment.”
“And?”
“It stopped being repayment a long time ago.”
Brooklyn’s smile faded.
Winston walked closer.
“I don’t want you to owe me anything.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“I do, however, owe you several bowls of chicken soup.”
“I’ll survive.”
“So what are you saying?”
Winston looked uncomfortable.
Brooklyn raised an eyebrow.
“The terrifying Winston Marchetti is nervous.”
“I’m reconsidering this conversation.”
“No.”
She stepped in front of him.
“You started it.”
He exhaled.
“I want to take you to dinner.”
Brooklyn stared.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You walked in here looking like you were negotiating a ceasefire to ask me to dinner?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
Winston did not.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Brooklyn folded her arms.
“One condition.”
“Name it.”
“No armed men outside the restaurant.”
Winston paused.
“Visible?”
“Winston.”
“Fine.”
“No private dining room.”
“Fine.”
“No intimidating the waiter.”
“I don’t intimidate waiters.”
“You intimidate furniture.”
He almost smiled.
“Anything else?”
Brooklyn considered him.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You don’t get to save me.”
His expression changed.
She touched his hand.
“You can stand next to me.”
Winston slowly turned his hand and closed his fingers around hers.
“I can do that.”
Brooklyn nodded.
“Then dinner.”
The next morning, a letter arrived at Brook’s Table.
No return address.
Brooklyn opened it in the office.
It was from Vivian.
I know sorry will never be enough.
Brooklyn almost stopped reading.
Then she continued.
You asked me to prove I was sorry. I testified. I told the truth. I know that doesn’t undo what I did.
I’m not asking you to forgive me.
I just wanted you to know that when I wake up at night, I still hear you calling Bradley’s name.
I wish I had moved.
I wish I had jumped in.
I wish I had been the person you thought I was.
Brooklyn folded the letter.
She did not cry.
She did not respond.
Not yet.
Some wounds needed time instead of answers.
She placed it in a drawer.
Then walked back into the restaurant.
Mia shouted from the front.
“Brooklyn!”
“What?”
“Your scary boyfriend is here.”
Winston’s voice followed.
“I heard that.”
Mia replied, “Good.”
Brooklyn smiled.
May you like
For the first time in years, the future did not frighten her.
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