Break The Line Read online

  “I just got myself hustled, didn’t I?” I ask Liza.

  She pats my back and says, “You sure did.”

  * * * *

  I’m resting back against the wall, trying not to make an ass of myself staring at Danni leaning over the pool table. She’s focused on the game and shooting her striped ball into the pocket at the far end of the table. As expected, she’s more skilled at billiards than I’d hoped. She makes a stop shot, and the ball rolls smoothly into the pocket she was aiming for. Without standing, she raises her eyes to mine and smirks.

  “You tricked me,” I say, pulling the beer bottle to my mouth. The alcohol swishes through my veins. She shrugs her shoulders at me in response, again trying to hide her smile.

  “Your shot, angler.” She looks over to Liza who is laughing and shaking her head at my massacre.

  I point to myself. “Benson.”

  “Fisherman, angler . . . speed demon,” she says the last part with an edge.

  “Awe, come on, forgive him. I ain’t never seen him so worked up over a pretty girl getting pissy about something,” Jess calls from the corner. Liza extends her pool stick and whacks him on the shoulder. “Owwww, damn it,” he says. He looks at her wide-eyed, rubbing his arm and his ego.

  “Danni,” Liza says, pointing to her friend. “Liza,” she then says, pointing to herself. “Not pretty girl, sweet thang, sugar lips, honey, or darlin’. Got it?” she asks, and Jess nods his head up and down at her. “Now, go buy me a margarita,” she commands, and Jess runs to fetch her a drink like the dog he is. Danni bends over at the waist, laughing.

  “And you,” Liza says to Danni, getting her attention, “his name is Benson,” she says. Danni scowls at her friend, then walks over to take a large drink of her beer. I stick my tongue out at Danni as I walk past her to take my shot. I sink it in the pocket and decide that I’m a better pool player when I’m a little bit drunk.

  Liza hops off the bar stool and picks up her pool stick. She studies the table, and then takes aim. She over shoots the cue ball, and it ricochets off the wall of the table, causing it to smack against the eight ball. It stops inches from the corner pocket, and Danni lets out an audible gasp from across the room. “Oops,” Liza says. She walks past me and whispers, “You owe me.” I blink at her for a moment, then give her an appreciative wink. She walks over to Jess approaching with her margarita, and takes it from his hands. She rubs the top of his head saying, “Good boy.”

  Jess makes the rest of his shots, and Liza magically misses the rest of hers. At some point in the night Danni realizes what is happening, and I hear her saying to her friend, “I hope a pack of rabid racoons show up at your hospital.” Liza leans over and kisses her cheek and responds by saying, “I love you, too.”

  Danni pulls in the last drink of her beer, and watches me intently while I take aim for the eight ball. If I sink this one in, I gain her forgiveness. I arch my arm back and shoot. My eyes widen, watching the ball curve at an odd angle before returning to the course and sinking the eight ball directly into the pocket. I let out a loud yell, and raise my arms into the air. Liza and Jess are laughing in the corner, and Danni is shaking her head. This time she doesn’t hide her smile. This time she lets it spread across her face in amusement, and I swear I think my heart stops.

  * * * *

  “Wait a minute. I said you could buy me another round and I would accept your apology. I didn’t say I would sit here and drink it with you,” she says, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She’s standing in front of my cozy corner booth with enough resilience to be cute, though I wouldn’t dare say it to her face.

  “Nice try. Sit.” I pull her beer close to me so that she can’t grab it without taking her place across from me. Liza and Jess are out in the middle of the dance floor. She’s laughing at his attempt to line dance, along with the rest of the people who see him.

  “So, Danni-Rose . . . will you accept this beer, and my sincerest apology for stumbling into your afternoon?” I ask, and she begrudgingly takes a seat on the other side of the table. I slide the beer across to her and she glares at me.

  “I suppose that was the deal, wasn’t it?” she says.

  “Why are you trying so hard to be so mad? You’re having a good time. I can tell. So, cut me some slack. If you got to know me, you would see I’m not the asshole you’ve told yourself I am.”

  “All I know, is you’re just another fisherman. You have not a care in the world for the danger you cause while flying up and down the water. You were going so fast out there today. There could have been another boat on the other side of the inlet, and you never would have seen it. Or even worse, there could have been someone in the water. It would have been too late at the speed you were going. I know. I’ve seen it happen.” Her voice cracks, and she tries to recover by clearing her throat.

  I tilt my head at her, wondering what must have happened to cause her to be so bitter toward fishermen in general.

  “Wow. I’m sorry, Danni,” I say quietly. Her eyes snap up to meet mine. She takes a minute, either gathering herself or deciding what smart-ass thing to say to me next. I’ve decided I’ve tried my best.

  “I accept your apology,” she says, raising her beer in the air. I clink my glass against hers and we both take a pull of our drink.

  “So, you know I’m a nasty fisherman,” I say, and I see her lips twitch, “but what do you do, Danni?” I ask.

  “I’m the State Park Naturalist. I had my pontoon out on the other side of the lake studying the water milfoil today. I’m sure you’ve seen how overgrown it is on the water tops. I’m working with the TVA to figure out how we can eliminate most of it during the summer season.”

  “Ahh yes, I saw. My prize-winning bass was hiding underneath a large swath of it. I know it’s a hazard to lake wildlife and boaters, but man . . . it makes for good fishing.”

  “Did you win?” she asks, seemingly genuine and with a hint of a smile.

  “I did, seems your little town has a lot to offer a guy like me,” I say, not trying to hide the fact I’m flirting with her. I watch as her eyes drop from mine to my lips, lingering for just a moment before breaking her stare.

  “So, Park Naturalist, singer, pool hustler . . . anything else?” I ask. She smiles at me and I’m starting to feel more relaxed around her. I can see she still has her shield up, but at least she’s lowered her sword.

  “She’s also a line dancer extraordinaire,” Liza says loudly behind her. Her eyes seem a little glazed over, and her words are coming out a little more slurred than they had been earlier in the night.

  “Oh boy,” Danni says, laughing and standing up. “And that’s my cue. Come on, Liza, it’s getting late. How about some of Mama’s apple pie, a warm cup of coffee, and my couch tonight?” Dani asks. Liza leans her head on Danni’s shoulder in response. Danni is walking toward the door, smiling and laughing with her friend.

  “Good night, Danni-Rose,” I say to her. She stops and turns her face toward me, her eyes locked onto mine.

  “Good night, Angler.”

  I think the nickname is growing on me.

  Chapter Four

  Danni-Rose

  “Danni, you’re one of the only people in this world who can get up so dadgum early and not have a single coffee bean in their house,” Liza shouts from my kitchen. “I might have been a little tipsy last night, but I do recall being promised coffee.” She stomps back into the living room and plops down on my sofa beside me. Beau takes his place at her feet, nuzzling his wet nose on the top of her running shoes. Liza spent the entire walk home with her arm draped over my shoulder. She barely made it to my couch last night before her eyelids closed.

  “I promised Mama I would help her out at the bakery this morning, and you know she makes the best cup of coffee in town. Hey, do you remember Gabby Wilson from high school?” I ask.

  “G
erman Shepperd, Bella, has hip dysplasia,” she says to me, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to associate everyone in town by their pet.

  “Yep, that’s the one. She’s getting married to Boyd Henderson. Mama is making their shower cake today, and I have to help run the front of the store.”

  “Well, Lord knows she can’t count on you to make anything worth eating. Seriously, Danni, there isn’t a scrap of food in there,” she says, throwing her hands toward my kitchen.

  “I could have let Jess take you home last night. I’m sure he would have showered you with bacon and eggs in bed. You sure seemed keen on getting up close and personal with him on the dance floor.” I laugh as I dodge a sofa pillow being thrown at my head.

  “You know dang well that was the margaritas talkin’, and I’ll have you know I have my eyes on someone else,” she says, then begins laughing with me. “Besides, you were the one chatting up that sexy fisherman toward the end of the night,” she says, and I’m instantly feeling on the defensive. I narrow my eyes at her, and she playfully swats at my leg while leaning down and giving Beau the attention he’s been craving from her.

  “Well, a bet is a bet, and you made sure that we lost that one,” I accuse, and a sly grin plays on her face. “What did you mean earlier and why is this the first time I’m hearing about your liking someone? Do I know them? I want details!” I chase her off the couch and follow her around the living room giggling.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you, maybe I won’t.” Liza batts her eyelashes and twirls her fingers around in her hair, teasing me.

  “Oh, you’ll tell me. You always kiss and tell, make out and tell, everything and tell. I learned more from you about the birds and the bees than I did from any talk mama ever gave me, or any biology book for that matter,” I say, bending at the waist and laughing.

  “I know, I totally do,” Liza says, hands on her hips unable to breathe from the giggles. “Make you a bet, find me some coffee and I’ll give you all the dirty details ya want. But first . . . coffee. I need some energy before I have to wrestle Mrs. Hall’s herd of poodles in for their vaccines.”

  “Come on, we gotta stop by the Crawfish Barn and get my Jeep before we go to the bakery. Let the thought of muffins and coffee motivate you,” I say, swiping my keys and wallet off the kitchen table. Liza throws on one of my flannel shirts over the vintage Red Hot Chili Pepper T-shirt she snagged from my drawer. “I swear if you get any animal excrements on that shirt, I will murder you.” She drags her feet behind me, a little less pep in her step than usual.

  * * * *

  The vet clinic is only a block down from Penny’s Pies & Pastries. Pulling onto the side curb of Main Street, I notice there is already a line outside waiting for Mama to open up. “Let’s go in the back,” I say, and Liza follows me down the alley between the bakery and the dry cleaners.

  The smell of blueberries, cake batter, and coffee waft in the air as we open the back door. Mama is hunched over a wooden cooking island, kneading dough. She has flecks of flour in her red hair, and smeared across her forehead. “Hey, baby girl. Liza honey, can you bring me that basting brush and bowl of butter?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll trade you for a cup of coffee,” she says, looking for an area on the island not covered in sugar, salt, and flour.

  “What you need is hair of the dog.” Mama reaches around and swats Liza on the bottom before she walks out of the kitchen and into the lobby. I snicker, and Mama turns to kiss me on the cheek. Liza was a strong presence around my house growing up. There were countless sleepovers, gossip sessions, and evenings spent getting ready for dances and proms. She’s as close to a sibling as I’ll ever have. As an only child, I cherish Liza and the bond we have more than anything.

  “So, are you going to tell me about the young men you two were playing pool with last night, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?” Mama asks with a smile on her face.

  “Just a couple of fishermen,” I say, and if my mother is trying to hide any trace of shock from her face, she is failing miserably. “I had to tow his boat in to the weigh station. He hit a tree stump. Anyway, he wanted to thank me for my good deed. I guess you could say I put up a fight,” I say, and she gives me a knowing expression. “He won. Benson Howell.”

  “It’s not the only thing he was trying to win over,” Liza says under her breath, walking back into the kitchen. “Miz Penny, you have a whole crew of firemen outside the door waiting for your biscuits. I don’t have to be at the clinic for another hour, me and Danni can open up if you want.” Liza takes a timid sip of her coffee and closes her eyes in pleasure.

  “That’d be great, baby. We’d better put Danni up front, though; that child can’t even boil water,” Mama says, and Liza sputters her coffee back into her cup, laughing. I pick up a handful of confectioners’ sugar and toss it toward them, creating a foggy cloud in the air. It’s only a catalyst to more laughter, and I can’t help but join in.

  I throw on an apron and make my way into the lobby. I turn the open sign on the front door over, smiling at the fire crew on the other side. They all stumble in the doors, wagging their tails and waiting to be fed.

  “Hey, Danni, how have you been?” I know Thomas’ voice before I even turn around, and I’m unprepared for it. I clench my eyes shut, waiting for the memory to pass, before I turn around and give him a half-hearted smile.

  “Hey, Tommy.” I give him a wave, and I feel guilty that I can’t conjure up anything else to say. It’s not his fault. I just can’t look at his face without being taken back to that day. I tried for years to rekindle the friendship we once shared. I would see him around town, and he would always wrap his big arms around me, trying to start a conversation. But all I ever saw, instead of Tommy’s kind face, was L.J. lying face down in the water.

  “I’m going to run to the back and see if Mama has a fresh batch of croissants for ya’ll,” I say to the room, and I’m met with a round of applause.

  “Liza, can you take over? I need to run to the restroom,” I say, not waiting for an answer, and heading straight for the bathroom sink. I lock the door behind me, and quickly splash water on my face. I take three deep breaths, and watch the water spinning down the drain. I remember the words that Dr. Martin spoke to me, “When it’s too much, just breathe. Don’t take it day by day, don’t take it hour by hour, take it breath by breath. Just breathe.” I look at myself in the mirror, refusing to let the memories of that day pull me down.

  “It’s been six years, just breathe,” I say to my reflection. I hear a knock on the door, and I know it’s my mama before she even says, “baby, it’s me.”

  I open the door and she has a warm smile and flour across her face. “I saw Tommy out there in the lobby. Is everything ok?” she asks.

  “Just the same old thing, Mama. He feels bad that I feel bad, and I feel bad that I can’t at least look him in the eye and tell him it’s ok,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

  “Ya’ll were just kids. You shouldn’t have ever had to go through that, you shouldn’t have ever had to lose someone you both cared for so much. L.J. would want you both to be better than this. He would want you, Thomas, and Liza to all be ok,” she says, smoothing a piece of hair behind my ear. “Liza is out there having coffee with Thomas right now, why don’t you just try, baby,” she says, and it’s not the first time someone has attempted to give me a push toward healing. After therapy, moving away to college to try and start fresh, meditation and praying, nothing seems to help me move past that sticky, July evening six years ago.

  “I’m ok, Mama. I just have my moments is all. Now . . . why don’t you try for the millionth time to show me how to make your famous banana-nut muffins,” I say, walking out of the bathroom and snagging my apron from the hook on the wall.

  I chance a peek out into the lobby and see Thomas and Liza making their way across the store to the door. Liza looks back at me and blows me
a kiss, and I give her an appreciative smile. Thomas only keeps his head down and avoids eye contact with me. I feel like an ass.

  * * * *

  The breakfast rush is finally over, and I’ve wiped down the last table. I’m sweating, and my hair is sticking to the back of my neck. Before I have a chance to walk back in to the kitchen, I hear the ding of the front door pinging in the air, signaling another customer has come in search of Mama’s mouthwatering offerings. I have my back turned to the door, with my head in the cooler searching for an orange soda. “Hey, Danni-Rose,” his voice reverberates through my chest. I turn to face Benson, wondering what the universe is trying to do to my sanity today.

  “Angler,” I say, and watch a crooked smile play on his lips. “What can I get for you this morning?” I ask.

  “So, you’re a baker too? What don’t you do?”

  “Oh, no, no, you wouldn’t want to taste anything I tried to concoct in a kitchen. This is my mama’s bakery; she’s had it for over 30 years. Try the croissants, you won’t be sorry,” I say, wondering why I’m telling him this. Something about the way he put up with all my bull yesterday, and the way I treated Thomas this morning, has me feeling like I need to show some southern hospitality.

  “Make it two and enjoy it with me?” he asks with a hopeful tone. I’m taken aback with the unexpected invitation. He tilts his head at me waiting to see what I’ll say. I hate to tell him, but I’m just as clueless as to what will come out of my mouth as he is.

  “Oh . . . ummm, I can’t. I’m helping out here, on the clock,” I say, pointing to the clock above the cake cooler.

  The swinging doors that lead to the kitchen abruptly open, and my mama comes swaying through them with a cloud of flour and smoke trailing behind her. “Danni-Rose! I swear to all that is holy child, did you forget something?” she asks with her hands on her hips. I have a flashback to being seven years old and getting scolded. I look at her with a perplexed expression, and then shriek, “The banana-nut muffins!” I take off toward the kitchen to rescue them, but by the smell and the smoke I know it’s too late.