Rebecca reached for one of the fries, made sure to scoop up plenty of the cheese curds and gravy, and stuffed the entire thing into her mouth. She let out a groan, her eyes closing and her shoulders sagging.
“Is it good?” I asked.
She nodded, still not opening her eyes, and I laughed.
“I don’t know how I lived my whole life without poutine,” she said. “Seriously. It is the world’s most perfect food.”
“I'm glad you like it,” I said. “Don't forget the coconut cake.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “I would never forget coconut cake. Don’t even joke about such a thing.”
She picked up her fork and ate a massive bite of the cake. I kicked back with my own plate and ate several bites while I listened to Rebecca gush alternately about the food and the baby.
I was almost through the slice when the front door opened, and I heard Deacon calling in from the front of the house.
“Babe, I’m back,” he called. “I got that creamer you wanted to try. I still don’t think you’re going to like it. Almonds should not be milked.”
I looked over at Rebecca and she swallowed the new mouthful of cake she’d just taken.
“Eloise isn’t responding well to dairy in my breastmilk, so I am eliminating it. I saw an advertisement for almond milk coffee creamer to go in my decaf,” she said.
“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Yeah. I’ve had that. It’s not that bad. Kind of thin. But it tastes pretty good.”
Deacon came into the room looking confused and I realized he didn’t know I was there. He must not have noticed my car where I parked it to the side of the cabin.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize someone was here.”
“It’s okay,” Rebecca said. “Helen just came by to hang out with me a bit.”
“I miss her around the diner,” I said.
He nodded. “That’s right. Helen. Dina’s daughter.”
“Most people refer to me as ‘Dina’s other daughter,’ so that was a nice change,” I said.
He let out a short laugh. “Well, I won’t lie. That was what I was going to say.”
In the kitchen, the kettle started screeching and Rebecca got up to make our tea. Deacon came the rest of the way into the room and leaned down to kiss the baby’s face.
“I thought Rebecca could use a special treat,” I said, gesturing toward the table.
“Is that poutine?” he asked. “I love that stuff.”
“Help yourself,” I said.
He sat down and grabbed up some of it. He had a similar reaction to Rebecca, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I know that I’m supposed to be one of the simple locals who is disgruntled about some of your strange and different ways, but I’m a big fan of the new stuff you’ve put on the menu. You’re an awesome cook—chef? Sorry.” He grabbed more fries and shoved them into his mouth.
I laughed. “It’s fine. Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I’m sure the others will come around to the new stuff. And if I need to be reined in, I’m sure they’ll tell me that as well.”
When Rebecca came back into the room with a tray of tea, milk, honey, and more of the coconut cake, Deacon and I were chatting about the food scene in Chicago. It turned out he had visited there a few years back and really enjoyed it. It was fun talking to someone who was familiar with the restaurants I loved there.
By the time I left to go home, I had decided I needed to rethink my opinion of the loggers and at least give them a chance. If Deacon was so nice, funny, maybe the others were, too.
11
EVERETT
Scanning the parking lot as I pulled in, I saw that I was the last to arrive. It wasn’t much of a surprise since I had been the last to leave. I was starting to think this whole covering for Deacon thing was more trouble than it was worth. Then I would get an excited picture from him on my phone and remember that, for him, this was the most precious few weeks of his life.
I wondered if I would ever experience anything even half as meaningful as his time at home with Rebecca and Eloise.
I parked beside Carter’s truck and walked across the parking lot, checking six or seven times to make sure I had my car keys. I didn’t know why I’d developed that particular quirk, but I knew it began years before, just after the day I almost lost my life in the desert. I was always just a little bit paranoid that I had locked my keys inside the truck.
Parked just beside the diner was a car I didn’t recognize, which was odd since I tended to recognize the same vehicles at that spot all the time. It was a smaller hybrid car with a bunch of stickers on it. Lots of bands, a couple that looked like restaurant and bar stickers, and a few meme-like images. I wondered whose it could be when it hit me. I had seen it before, but it was usually parked farther back.