Jane: Big Easy Bears III Page 2

  “Right. We need to chart those different patterns.”

  “Scientists are doing that, I’m sure.”

  “You know, I always teased my friend in high school for wanting to be a meteorologist. Called him the Weather Man. But I bet he’s working on global warming weather tracking or something now.”

  “I never had a mind for science. It fascinates me but it wasn’t my strong suit.”

  “Same here.”

  They talked global warming a while longer, then about Hurricane Katrina. She told him about snow and the winters of her childhood versus the last few winters before she left home. Her stomach growling alerted her to how much time had passed.

  “It’s starting to get late,” she said. “And I need sleep. But this was actually fun.”

  “So you’ll consider doing it again sometime?”

  “Maybe. I make no promises. And it still won’t be a date.”

  “Dating would probably make Carter very angry with us anyways.”

  “Look, I like making him angry as much as the next person but you’re not going to bait me into dating you just to get a rise out of the boss.”

  “It was worth a shot. Drive safe.”

  “You too.”

  Bryce headed for home. He was about equal distance from the care home as Jane but in the opposite direction. Just across the street was the community center he’d mentioned to Jane. Some of the guys were out shooting hoops so he jogged up to his place, changed, and came back out.

  Usually playing basketball helped him work off the stress of the day. Even though he didn’t usually work directly with the patients, a care home could be a depressing place to work. Around every corner was a reminder that old age was marching up behind him with unwavering persistence. It wouldn’t matter how much basketball he played or how hard he worked on those houses. One day he’d wake up old, feeble and lonely.

  More than wheelchairs and drool, it was the loneliness of the place that ate away at him. Of all the patients in the care home, just over half had any family living anywhere nearby and only a third received regular visitors. Was that his fate? Sitting alone in a faded chair in front of a dirty window staring out at a scraggly bush with drool running down his cheek?

  He didn’t like to think about it so he played basketball and joked with the neighborhood guys until all thoughts of work vanished for the day. Only today, as much fun as it was to joke around and stretch his legs, he didn’t really need the unwind time. Talking to Jane at the pub had done the trick.

  When it started to get dark the guys started heading for home. Bryce grabbed his water bottle off the bench. Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he turned. “Oh, hey Bill.”

  “We didn’t think you’d make it today. Boss keep you late?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just went out for a drink with a friend.”

  “Good. Good to see you getting out some. You take care.”

  “You too. Hey, did Gerry ever get that promotion?”

  “Naw, but his wife got some more hours so they’re doing okay.”

  “Glad to hear it. See you ‘round.”

  He went back upstairs, heated up a couple burritos, and turned on the TV but didn’t really pay attention to what was on. He was thinking about Jane.

  In truth he’d been thinking about her, on and off, since she got the job at the care home. He was a few years older than her and an orderly so he didn’t see much of her when she was working in the kitchen. The first he’d really heard of her was the day she’d helped Mr. Overwater off the floor. The nurses had been so impressed they hadn’t stopped talking about her, except when she walked into the room.

  He had noticed her then, a short, underfed teen with a haunted face. Her eyes always darted around a room when she first entered. She sat with her back to a wall, but never in the corner. She always had to be able to see the door. She seldom laughed. Her smiles were strained. When she first got her promotion, she only spoke to him and Kevin to ask for instructions. She listened intently, worked hard, and learned fast.

  In the last four years she’d lost some of the wounded look, put on weight so she was curvy now and strong enough to do the job alone. Whether she’d gotten past whatever haunted her or she’d just gotten comfortable at the care home, he didn’t notice her staking out the staff room every time she entered anymore. She started talking to him casually and actually had a wicked sense of humor. He could see how that sense of humor, combined with an intense need for privacy, kept most people at a distance. He found it intriguing.

  Maybe it was that wounded look in her eyes when she started, or how slowly she opened up to people, but he’d put off making a play for her for five years. Five years of saying stupid things to make her laugh while enjoying her dry, sarcastic wit. He didn’t mind that she was rough or that she had these walls up around her. He liked being around her at work and he’d waited five years to see if he’d enjoy spending time with her off the clock. So far it was really just more of the same, which wasn’t bad, but he wanted to see a little of what was behind the walls she’d put up, and maybe figure out why they were so high.

  * * *

  She managed to avoid Carter for the rest of the week, and all of the next week as well. Things were so much easier when she and Bryce and Kevin were allowed to do their own thing on their own schedule. Everything got done. The nurses never complained. It was when Carter attempted ‘hands on leadership’ that everything got jumbled.

  “Well, that was a good week,” Bryce said. He pulled his lunch kit out of the fridge. “What am I going to do with these?” His payroll stubs were still sticking out of the mesh pocket.

  “Put them back in the message center,” Jane offered.

  “Brilliant. Except then Carter will come looking for me on Monday and I can’t promise I won’t blame you.”

  “Fine, throw them out. But make it obvious.”

  “Now that is truly inspired.” He sighed. “I guess I should take them home and file them with my accountant come tax time. Apparently I never hold on to the right stuff.”

  Jane thought about her own neatly arranged files back home. Living with the Clan Chief, she’d learned a lot about finances. She had been grateful for the lessons until she learned his motives behind them.

  “Want to hit the pub tonight?” Bryce asked.

  “I’m starving,” Jane said.

  “Well then, how about dinner? Somewhere casual. Just two people eating food at the same table.”

  “So, not a date?”

  “Not a date.” He was grinning.

  She refrained from rolling her eyes. “Fine. Where?”

  “I know a nice little diner. You’ll like it. We won’t need to change ‘cause it’s nothing fancy but the food is amazing.”

  They went out to the parking lot where their cars stood side-by-side. “What are the directions?” Jane asked, hitting the button to unlock her door.

  “You could just catch a ride with me. Your spot isn’t used by the overnight shift and I can bring you back here after dinner. It’ll save you some gas and parking at the diner can be a nightmare.”

  “You’re not trying to kidnap me or something, are you?” It wouldn’t really matter. She could drink men twice her size under the table and still have the balance and dexterity to hand them their asses if they tried anything, so kidnapping and date rape were both fairly far down her list of fears. Still, she’d rather avoid that particular confrontation if she could.

  “Would I do that?” Innocent didn’t suit him.

  “I don’t know.” For a moment they stared at each other over the top of his car, then she hit the button and her car beeped, letting them both know that she’d locked the doors again.

  He grinned. “Don’t worry, as your co-worker I’m probably one of the first people the police would investigate and I’m a horrible liar. If I was going to kidnap someone, I’d want to make sure I wasn’t going to get caught.”

  “Strangely that’s a very good reason, and a
very bad one at the same time. You’re a horrible person.”

  “Sometimes,” he said with a shrug.

  It was a very short drive to the diner. Jane wasn’t sure the trip actually saved her any fuel but it was tucked in between a liquor store and the post office and shared the lot with both so he was right on parking being a nightmare. She didn’t mind walking from the far end of the lot though since it was a nice afternoon.

  When they got inside, Bryce led the way to a table near the far wall. Jane looked around. There were no booths, just padded chairs; some tables with two, others with four. It was small as sit-in places went and there were metal signs with funny sayings tacked all over the walls.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’ve driven by this place a few times but I’ve never been in here before. It’s nice.” Jane was still trying to read all the signs. Most of them made her smile. “It reminds me of home.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. There was a place like this in town, locally run, cheesy décor, but the food was good. I always got chicken fingers and fries. I haven’t been there since I was sixteen.” She looked down at her lap.

  “I like this place. It’s rarely busy and the food is fantastic. I haven’t hit a bad item on the menu yet.”

  Jane glanced up at him, her surprise plain on her face. He met her shock with a grin. She was certain he’d latch on to that little piece of her past and use it to dig for more so when he didn’t, she didn’t know what to think, except to be grateful. He had worked at the diner and at sixteen she’d found out about the plan, found out why she’d gotten free refills on her milkshakes and double orders of fries all the time, and she hadn’t gone back. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.

  A middle aged woman with greying brown hair appeared at the table and handed them menus. “Hey.” Her smile actually seemed genuine and she had a slight Cajun accent. “Can I get you a drink to start?”

  “Cola is fine,” said Bryce.

  “And iced-tea for me, please,” said Jane.

  “Sure thing. Be right back.”

  Jane picked up the menu. “So, what’s good?”

  “What do you like?”

  “Not fish.”

  “You don’t like fish?”

  “I love fish done right, so I cook it myself or I don’t eat it at all.”

  “I see. Well, the pulled pork is smoky and tender. Burgers are all homemade, so’s the fries, and its huge portions with all the fixings. Actually, I think that’s what I’m having.”

  “Then I’ll get the pulled pork. Hey, how’s the taco salad?”

  “I’ve never ordered it.”

  “It’s my favorite,” said the waitress, setting the drinks down. “I get the beef but you can get it with pulled pork too.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that. And some fries.”

  “You sure? Don’t think you’ll need ‘em. It’s a big salad.”

  “I can always take it home.”

  “All right.” She turned to Bryce. “And for you?”

  “Bacon cheese burger and fries.”

  “Gravy for either of you?”

  She said “yes” as he said “no”. They smiled at each other across the table.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, I think that’s all,” Bryce said, cocking an eyebrow at Jane.

  She nodded. “Okay. Food’ll be just a minute.”

  When she had gone Bryce said, “So what is the perfect way to cook fish?”

  “Besides a toasted tuna salad sandwich with tomato?”

  Bryce nodded. “Besides that.”

  “Depends on the fish. Cedar plank salmon with a tartar sauce and lemon coating is nice during grill weather. Pan fried in seasoned breading works for most white fish.” She shrugged. “But it has to be whole fillets, the fresher the better, and not the breaded from a box crap.” She didn’t mention the raw salmon her bear ate. The bear didn’t even care if it was as fresh as it could be.

  “You’ll have to cook for me one day.”

  “Are you going to return the favor?”

  “I’ve got a grill on my balcony. Man did I had a helluva time getting it up there. I make a mean kabob, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “So no processed fish. What else is on your ‘will not eat’ list?”

  “Anything with that marshmallow fluff filling.” She made a face and shuddered.

  “It’s not the first thing I’d reach for either,” he admitted. “Too sweet for me. I prefer dark chocolate and sarcastic people.”

  “I had wondered about that. Most people tell me to cheer up all the time.”

  “Doesn’t bother me if you want to bitch about Carter.”

  “Oh, don’t get me started. Work is done for the week. I don’t want to talk about Carter. I don’t want to think about Carter.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Carter either,” Bryce said. Inside he was gloating. She doesn’t want to think about or talk about Carter but she’s here talking to me. “I’d rather talk about you.”

  “Yeah, I wondered when that was coming.”

  “Do you watch movies?”

  She laughed. “What? No invasive questions about diners and fish-frying?”

  “Oh, I’m curious as hell, but you said no intrusive questions. So, movies?”

  “Yes, I watch movies.” She smiled at the waitress. “Thank-you.”

  Three plates of food clunked against the table and the waitress smiled. “You’re welcome. Anything else?”

  “No thanks.”

  “If you need anything, just wave. It’s pretty busy in here so without a reminder I might forget you.” She winked. Aside from them and the old man nursing a coffee by the door, the place was empty. “Enjoy your meals.”

  “I can see why you like this place.”

  “Wait ‘til you try the pulled pork.”

  Their conversation paused while they started their food. Bryce watched Jane out of the corner of his eye. She could be a difficult woman to read, aside from wariness which seemed to be her natural state. The rest of her emotions she kept shielded, showing only what she wanted people to see. Even when she was joking, her face tended to remain neutral. It suited her dry wit but he was hoping there was more to her than that.

  His patience was paying off, if slowly. He knew she’d grown up in Canada and while she didn’t say where, she had chosen to move to New Orleans which suggested she was comfortable with the French language.

  Quebec is the most obvious place, but there are other parts of Canada with strong French roots.

  She’d mentioned outdoor rinks which made him think rural until he’d done an internet search and discovered that any Canadian city with a river or a lake had natural outdoor rinks, that every community center and arena built an outdoor rink, and that some places even flooded pavilions to make rinks, so that tidbit hadn’t narrowed down his search by much.

  Now she’d mentioned a little diner “in town”. Not ‘up the block’ or ‘across town’, or ‘downtown’ but ‘in town’. He knew people who lived in New York City who still said, ‘across town’ so he didn’t know how big the town of Jane’s childhood was, but he was convinced that she lived outside of it.

  So, not Montreal or a big city, probably not even in a little city. Most likely in a rural area a short drive from town, or a small town and the diner was one town over. It was a stretch but it was all he had to go on. He could only hope she’d let something else slip because the curiously was burning him up.

  Want her to talk? Lead by example, he thought.

  “Got any plans this weekend?”

  “Not really. You?”

  “Spending the weekend helping my cousin with the house he’s renovating.”

  “You mentioned something about that before. What is it exactly that he does?”

  “He flips houses, like that DIY TV show.”

  “Oh, I don’t really watch reality TV or DIY TV, or anything like
that.”

  “Ah. You’re not missing much. Okay, so he buys houses that need renovating or updating, does all the work, and then sells them for more than he paid.”

  “Does he like it?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s hard work, heavy lifting, dusty, dirty, noisy.”

  She laughed. “Doesn’t sound any worse than what we do. Probably better.”

  “Sure, if you like physical work, long hours, and a lot of risk.”

  She mulled that over while she crunched on a taco chip. They used the zesty cheddar flavor ones. It was a nice touch. “I think it would be neat to build and fix things.”

  He filed that away for later. “Our dads were pretty handy,” he said. “They had us building bird houses and dog houses and re-staining the deck as kids. I did shops in school.”

  “So why are you working in a senior care home washing sheets and flipping mattresses?”

  “Because I didn’t like the idea of getting into commercial construction, spending twelve hours a day at a build site doing the same damn thing for a week straight.”

  “Uh, if you wanted to avoid repetition you chose the wrong job.”

  “It was supposed to be temporary.” He ran a hand through this hair. “I can’t afford a home with shop space so I can’t make a go of carpentry, so here I stay.”

  “God, I know that feeling. I was only going to stay until something better came along and the only ‘better’ I ever saw was my promotion.”

  He raised his glass. “To dead end jobs.”

  “Cheers.” She tapped her glass against his.

  “How’s the salad?”

  “Perfect.”

  “It looked huge.”

  “Well, you were right, big portions.”

  He eyed her plates. The taco salad was mostly gone and she’d made a good dent in the fries. “You gonna have anything left to take home?”

  She shrugged. “I was hungry.”

  “I see that.”

  Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Being a werebear meant a big appetite and a high metabolism. That was all well and good for the males since no one ever commented on how much a fit, muscular man ate. For her it meant a lot of eating in secret. She’d been so caught up in the conversation she’d forgotten to keep up her act. She nudged her plate back. “Actually, I think I’m almost full.”