interspersed with stammering and blushing, he took it over to her table. She surprised him by speaking to him calmly.
"Deacon," she began hesitantly. "I'm sorry."
The salad bowl clattered to the table, making heads turn again. "For what?"
"For acting like such an idiot," she said. "Today in the meeting, and just now... I was being stupid. I'm sorry."
It had been too much to expect she'd apologize here, now, for being the reason he'd spent the past three years as part of a jail work crew. Did she think that just saying sorry would make things all right? Three years didn't erase so easily.
"Is there anything else I can bring you?" He asked as though she had said nothing.
She said his name again, lower this time. For the first time she met his gaze steadfastly, without twitching or turning away. "I am sorry."
The words hung in the air between them like smoke. "Can I get you anything else?"
She looked down at the salad without much interest in her eyes. "No, thanks."
Her apology rang in his ears as he checked his other tables. Extra napkins, refills on beverages, scraping crumbs off the tables between the entrée and dessert. All these things took up his actions, but not his attention.
She was sorry? That was it? She announced to him in the middle of a public place, while he was working, no less, that she was sorry? What was he supposed to do? Just...forgive her?
That's exactly what she expected, he thought, pouring coffee as bitter as his feelings. That would make it a lot easier for her, wouldn't it? Especially since her father had decided to hire him at the family business--something he was sure she didn't like.
He'd had three years to think about seeing her again, to think about what he'd say and do. How he'd demand answers to all the questions he had about them and the time they'd spent together. Three years was a long time to dwell on things like that. Too long to let it all go just from hearing two little words.
* * * *
The dinner she'd looked forward to as a treat sat in her stomach like a pile of rocks. Lisa pushed away the slice of pumpkin pie--her favorite--that Deacon had brought her. She hadn't been able to enjoy it. Tonight, the sweet orange pie tasted sour.
"If you're finished, I can take the check." Deacon's voice was cold, his manner stiff. Now he was the one who wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Sure, yes." She fumbled in her purse for her wallet, and pulled out her credit card. She offered it to him without thinking, then realized she had enough cash in her wallet to cover the bill. "No, wait. I don't want you to take the card."
His lips thinned and his fingers tightened on the bill, crumpling it. She suddenly realized how she'd sounded. Afraid to let him take her credit card like he was some sort of thief who couldn't be trusted. That wasn't what she'd meant at all, but it was too late to change. Explaining would only make things worse.
She took the thin plastic card and handed him two twenty-dollar bills. "I don't need any change."
Again, the way his mouth turned down and his eyes sparked, she knew she'd made another mistake.
"That's nearly a forty percent tip," Deacon said.
"I want you to have it."
Without another word, he turned, and took the money and the check. Lisa sat back, wanting to kick herself. The young couple at the table next to hers was staring again. She smiled at them and nodded, and they whispered to each other. She knew they were talking about Deacon, and probably her, too.
She made a quick visit to the women's room to wash her hands from the sticky pumpkin pie. When she got back to the table, she saw her money sitting there. Nearly thirty dollars of it which meant he hadn't taken any tip at all. Lisa sighed. Had she thought she could bribe him into forgiving her?
"Excuse me," she said to Nancy, who'd been in Lisa's graduating class from ECC High School. "Can you tell me where Deacon Campbell went?"
Nancy gave her a quick look of curiosity as she ran one lacquered nail down a
"Deacon," she began hesitantly. "I'm sorry."
The salad bowl clattered to the table, making heads turn again. "For what?"
"For acting like such an idiot," she said. "Today in the meeting, and just now... I was being stupid. I'm sorry."
It had been too much to expect she'd apologize here, now, for being the reason he'd spent the past three years as part of a jail work crew. Did she think that just saying sorry would make things all right? Three years didn't erase so easily.
"Is there anything else I can bring you?" He asked as though she had said nothing.
She said his name again, lower this time. For the first time she met his gaze steadfastly, without twitching or turning away. "I am sorry."
The words hung in the air between them like smoke. "Can I get you anything else?"
She looked down at the salad without much interest in her eyes. "No, thanks."
Her apology rang in his ears as he checked his other tables. Extra napkins, refills on beverages, scraping crumbs off the tables between the entrée and dessert. All these things took up his actions, but not his attention.
She was sorry? That was it? She announced to him in the middle of a public place, while he was working, no less, that she was sorry? What was he supposed to do? Just...forgive her?
That's exactly what she expected, he thought, pouring coffee as bitter as his feelings. That would make it a lot easier for her, wouldn't it? Especially since her father had decided to hire him at the family business--something he was sure she didn't like.
He'd had three years to think about seeing her again, to think about what he'd say and do. How he'd demand answers to all the questions he had about them and the time they'd spent together. Three years was a long time to dwell on things like that. Too long to let it all go just from hearing two little words.
* * * *
The dinner she'd looked forward to as a treat sat in her stomach like a pile of rocks. Lisa pushed away the slice of pumpkin pie--her favorite--that Deacon had brought her. She hadn't been able to enjoy it. Tonight, the sweet orange pie tasted sour.
"If you're finished, I can take the check." Deacon's voice was cold, his manner stiff. Now he was the one who wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Sure, yes." She fumbled in her purse for her wallet, and pulled out her credit card. She offered it to him without thinking, then realized she had enough cash in her wallet to cover the bill. "No, wait. I don't want you to take the card."
His lips thinned and his fingers tightened on the bill, crumpling it. She suddenly realized how she'd sounded. Afraid to let him take her credit card like he was some sort of thief who couldn't be trusted. That wasn't what she'd meant at all, but it was too late to change. Explaining would only make things worse.
She took the thin plastic card and handed him two twenty-dollar bills. "I don't need any change."
Again, the way his mouth turned down and his eyes sparked, she knew she'd made another mistake.
"That's nearly a forty percent tip," Deacon said.
"I want you to have it."
Without another word, he turned, and took the money and the check. Lisa sat back, wanting to kick herself. The young couple at the table next to hers was staring again. She smiled at them and nodded, and they whispered to each other. She knew they were talking about Deacon, and probably her, too.
She made a quick visit to the women's room to wash her hands from the sticky pumpkin pie. When she got back to the table, she saw her money sitting there. Nearly thirty dollars of it which meant he hadn't taken any tip at all. Lisa sighed. Had she thought she could bribe him into forgiving her?
"Excuse me," she said to Nancy, who'd been in Lisa's graduating class from ECC High School. "Can you tell me where Deacon Campbell went?"
Nancy gave her a quick look of curiosity as she ran one lacquered nail down a
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