Free The New Hope Cafe by Dawn Atkins Page B

borrowing a car was something
that shamed her.
    “Sorry.” Bunny cringed.
    He could tell she’d known not to say that. Strange.
    “That’s a stupid move,” Rosie said. “Stay here and make the
cash to fix your car. You’ll need a car in Denver.”
    So Rosie had gotten her to reveal her destination.
    “We’re expected,” CJ said. “We can’t stay.”
    Bunny sighed, took the hula hoop from her shoulder and handed
both toys to Rosie. “Thanks anyway.” Her shoulders slumped and she went down the
hall to the stairs.
    “You’re not making sense,” Rosie said to CJ, then followed
Bunny, the rejected gifts clunking into each other with every step.
    CJ stared after them, upset. She was in a tough spot. He felt
for her. He had the urge to put his arms around her and tell her it would be all
right—hell, he wanted to make it all right.
    Totally misguided considering his track record. The best he
could do was give her practical information. “Not many buses on Sunday. Be sure
to check the schedule.”
    “What?” She turned to him, her eyes red.
    “If you need the cash, feel free to work breakfast tomorrow.”
He caught a flash of hurt in her face, so he added, “But not if it holds you
up.”
    Now she looked irritated. “I get it. If I’m leaving, stop
whining about it and do it. I’ll be out of your hair ASAP.” She whipped off her
apron, slapped it on the counter and left him with his mouth hanging open.
    What the hell? He’d tried to help, but he’d pissed her off.
Should he run after her and apologize? Nah, he’d only make it worse.
    Jonah finished up at the café, eager to get to his shop.
Stepping inside, he felt better. The shop had always been his sanctuary. When
they’d lost the twins, when his marriage had failed, the workbench had given him
solace and satisfaction.
    He ran his hand over the high-backed bench he was finishing.
He’d had to wrestle the dense mahogany into the curves he wanted, but it had
been worth it. Jonah tried to honor the wood, let it speak to him, guide him
with its texture, its give and resistance, its grain like bloodlines.
    Today, he would carve hearts into the flared corners. Hearts
modeled after CJ’s lips. Forget CJ and her lips.
    Jonah retrieved the carving chisels his father had given
him. See the shape in the wood and set it free, he’d said—something like what Michelangelo said about freeing the angel in the
marble he carved. His father had been a patient teacher. Jonah’s best memories
of him were in his father’s shop.
    He’d noticed that since his dad died four years ago, Jonah’s
good memories of the man had begun to override the bad ones.
    Jonah was halfway through the first heart when Louis whisked
by, crackling the tarps over the pieces he’d finished, then disappearing in the
lumber at the back.
    “Louis!”
    The shout made Jonah look up. Bunny stood in the doorway
looking frustrated. “He hates me. He always runs from me.”
    “It’s not personal. Louis is his own cat. He likes the shop for
some reason.”
    “Probably because it smells like the woods where he lives.”
    “I hadn’t thought of that.”
    “Will he ever come out of there?”
    “Eventually. You have to be patient.”
    “I don’t have time to be patient. We’re leaving.” She sounded
resigned, like she was used to being disappointed. It was kind of pitiful the
way an old pogo stick had thrilled the hell out of her.
    “Can I wait for him in here?” she asked.
    “Be my guest.”
    Bunny lifted a few tarps searching for the cat, then came over
to him. “Is that hard to learn?”
    “Carving? It takes practice. Patience.”
    “More patience? I hate patience.” She sighed.
    “Woodwork is a craft. You get better as you go along.” He
preferred furniture to cabinetry. More creative and he could work alone. Selling
out to Jared hadn’t hurt anything but his wallet.
    Bunny wandered off and he half forgot about her, until a crash
near the power saws sent him running back