Chasing Rainbows

CHASING RAINBOWS

By

Amy Sutch

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Amy Sutch

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Special thanks to Bobby Gupta for always believing in me and encouraging me to never give up my dreams.

And to God for blessing me in ways I cannot count.

Chapter 1

IT WAS after five when Bevin punched out at the time clock. She was late. She had less than an hour to pick up Trissa from daycare and get to her second job.

Is it five already? Margaret Debois asked, with suspicion. She glanced at the elegant watch on her too thin wrist. Don’t forget we have a lunch meeting tomorrow. Have a nice evening.

Bevin nodded and bit back the expletives that were running through her mind. Margaret Debois was distrustful and nit picky. Bevin wouldn’t dare clock out a moment before five.

Working was very inconvenient at times. It was days like this that she dreamed about working for herself. But that possibility was about as likely as pixie dust falling from the sky. Where was her fairy Godmother when she needed her?

Hey, silly girl, Bevin greeted her six year old daughter twenty minutes later.

Mommy! Trissa leaped into her arms. Can we go to Mickey D’s? You get a pink pony and you can brush her hair. Please, pretty please?

Trissa wore her silly face. At six she was very aware how best to manipulate her tired, single mother. You silly goose girl, Bevin laughed. I have to work tonight.

But Mommy, I want Mickey D’s. It’ll only take a minute. Trissa hugged her mom tighter.

We’ll go another night. I bet Ricky will make you something really special for dinner, Bevin coaxed. Waitressing at the end of her day job was tiring but they needed the extra money and Trissa was allowed to come with her; Mr. Burdette was good about that. The smart, sparkly child had become a fixture in the café, like the old regulars who smoked cigars on the bench out front.

I want grilled cheese and French fries. I’m starving, Trissa exaggerated.

Maybe some green beans too, her mother suggested. Did you have a good day today? she asked, thankful she bypassed a tantrum.

Uh huh, she nodded. Bevin was used to her vague answers.

SORRY, I’m late, Bevin called to whoever was listening as she strode into the café. Trissa immediately went to her favorite booth and plopped her backpack on the table.

Hey, sweetie, Gwen called. How’s my favorite customer?

I’m starving. Mommy wouldn’t stop at Mickey D’s. She’s gonna have Ricky make me grilled cheese. Can I have a soda, too? she whispered to Gwen, so her mom wouldn’t hear.

The usual then? Gwen winked at Trissa, who gave her a thumbs up. Trissa had a satisfied look on her face as she took out her pretty new notebook and began coloring.

Bevin did a quick change in the restroom stall, wondering if her life was always going to be so hectic. Sometimes she felt like she was living someone else’s life. She took a deep breath and cringed at the tired woman staring back at her in the dirty bathroom mirror.

Hey, Bevin. Cracker’s looking for you, Casey said, barging in the little bathroom in her usual boisterous manner. He has a question about the books.

Is it slow tonight? Bevin asked. Casey was a bubbly college student who liked to chat more than she liked to work, but she made the customers happy so she stayed. She was young, she’d learn, Bevin guessed.

She brought energy to the old café.

Uh, yeah, Casey said, sarcastically. The café was always slow. Ricky is looking hot tonight, she said. Casey pulled out a bright glossy pink lip gloss which she slathered on her lips.

Ricky always looks hot, Bevin confessed. The good looking cook had a bad boy charm. Bevin had worked at the café for a year and a half but she didn‘t know Ricky well, except for the fact that he was a flirt who could cook up a storm if given a chance, which he wasn’t, and who liked to read. The latter intrigued Bevin even more, who loved to read herself. Everything about Ricky said sexy, off limits, drifter. Definitely not what she was looking for, if she were looking that is, which she wasn’t.

Can I use some? Bevin asked Casey.

You go girl, Casey laughed, as she handed over her lip gloss.

Bevin puckered her full lips and fluffed her short spiky hair. The lip gloss did perk up her tired looking face and her hips had a little extra swagger as she went to work.

The café owner sat hunched over his cluttered desk puffing on his sweet smelling cigar.

Hi, Mr. Burdette, Casey said you were looking for me.

Yeah, he muttered. I need the receipts from last month. Can’t find them anywhere, he grumbled, through his cigar. His voice was raspy from fifty some odd years of smoking.

I filed them, Bevin said. The small stuffy office was filled with smoke. Aren’t they in the file cabinet? Bevin asked with concern.

Trying to organize me again, are you, the old man chuckled.

Never, Bevin laughed. She quickly found the file he wanted and handed it over. An MIT genius couldn’t organize you.

Hah! He waved her off in a haze of smoke.

Bevin was relieved to see Trissa eating dinner. Eat some vegetables too, Kiddo. She planted a kiss on her daughter’s head and swiped a French fry.

Notice anything? Gwen asked. Bevin joined the older waitress as she was clearing away a table.

Hmm, Bevin hesitated. Gwen was a fifty something single mom with grown children. She had bright, shoulder length red hair and skin that had spent a lifetime in the sun. She insisted her bottle enhanced hair attracted men. Unfortunately she had a penchant for attracting the wrong kind of men. She had as many disastrous date stories as she did craft projects lying around her house.

Oh, your necklace, Bevin exclaimed. It’s beautiful. Did you make it?

Sure did, she answered proudly. I’m taking a class. You should come. You’re crafty. It’s like a girl’s night out.

I don’t have any nights left, Bevin said. She began wiping down the table and cracked vinyl booth. I haven’t touched my own projects for ages.

I bet Trissa could come. She could make something too, Gwen suggested. Think about it.

Bevin did think about it. She lay awake at night thinking about everything she’d like to do if only she had the time. Was life meant to be lived at the speed of a roller coaster? At thirty-five she was tired and afraid she’d be stuck behind a desk for the rest of her life. She was just another working ant tunneling in a mound of dirt.

When the few regulars trickled out after dinner, Bevin collapsed in the booth next to Trissa. Did you finish your spelling?

Uh huh, she nodded. She put down her coloring book. Can I help?

Sure, Bevin said. She slid an empty sugar container over to Trissa, who eagerly kneeled in the booth anxious to help. I’ll be right back. I need to help Gwen close out, okay?

I got it covered, Trissa announced. Bevin smiled, even though a lot of sugar ended up on the table.

I can see that, Bevin laughed.

Hey, Cracker! We need more deposit slips, Gwen hollered, her head turned toward the back room.

Indecipherable grumbling was the only reply.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Gwen mumbled. He’s going to be even more cranky when he gets a load of today’s deposit.

That bad, huh? Bevin asked.

Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve worked here on and off for twenty years. The café has its ups and downs. Damn stubborn man won’t listen.

He does seem pretty set in his ways, Bevin admitted. The place could stand some remodeling. There are so many young families moving into the area. We need to appeal to a newer crowd.

Good luck with that. Gwen set aside the cash and started adding up the credit card receipts, her reading glasses balanced on the tip of her nose.

The place does have a kind of charm, I guess, Bevin said. She sat perched on the stool at the end of the counter watching Gwen work, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. A little sticky perhaps, she added, rubbing a worn spot on the counter.

Just then Ricky emerged from the kitchen and winked at her. Bevin’s heart did a little jig. She had avoided Ricky all evening. Recently he’d begun flirting with her. He wore his salt and pepper hair long and his jeans snug. He was tall and well built with a killer smile and the prettiest brown eyes she had ever seen. He had bad boy written all over him.

What was he up to now, she wondered, twisting in her seat. He sat across from Trissa and they were laughing.

Look, Mommy, Ricky made me a mud pie. Trissa smiled and revealed chocolate covered teeth and a smudged mouth.

Bevin cringed. Trissa wasn’t generally a hyper child, but the high sugar dessert so close to her bed time may do the trick. It’s mud pie all right, she came over to inspect the damage.

Gee, thanks Rick, Bevin said with as much nonchalance as she could while his sharp brown eyes remained on her. Now I’ll never get her to bed.

At this, Ricky lifted his brows and grinned. She could feel the heat rise in her face. His devilish grin gave her all sorts of ideas. Trissa continued to giggle, oblivious to the tension between them.

Time to go, kiddo, Bevin said, packing up her backpack.

You ladies have a nice evening, Ricky said. He clucked Trissa on the chin and gracefully extricated his large frame from the small booth.

Bevin was relieved. She knew not to take his flirting seriously. But boy did he stir her up.

It was nine thirty by the time she had Trissa settled in bed. Her apartment above the café might be cramped but the location couldn’t be beat. Mr. Burdette had been her landlord for six months before she began waitressing part time. Her ex husband was good about paying child support but it was still never enough.

It was well after ten by the time Bevin crawled into bed. She snapped on her reading lamp unable or unwilling to go to sleep without reading. She was currently reading a self help book about finding your passion. For a brief moment she thought of Ricky. She shook those thoughts away and began reading.

Her books made her feel hopeful and inspired. One of these days it was going to click and fall into place for her. She longed to open her own business, had a journal full of ideas, but nothing ever panned out. Her friends teased her about all her plans. But they didn’t understand how important it was for her to have them. She needed her dreams. She could never get through her pencil pushing job without them.

Chapter 2

FRIDAY MORNING Bevin woke to the insistent ringing of her alarm. Oh, not yet, she cried. With eyes still closed, she repeatedly hit the snooze button before she realized it was her phone ringing.

Groping for the cordless phone, she practically fell out of bed trying to retrieve it. Hello?

Bevin, I just wanted to remind you that I’ll be picking Trissa up at six tonight.

You already told me, she snapped. She should have known it was Drew. She suspected her ex deliberately called early.

There’s no need to be defensive, he replied. His voice was calm, just a trace condescending.

Is there anything else?

Yes, I would like to spend more time with her during the week. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to be at the diner three nights a week while you work.

This was an old argument. Bevin had to bite back her tongue. She refused to be baited by him anymore. Can we discuss this later?

Of course, if you can make the time in your schedule, Drew jabbed again.

Talk to you tonight then, she hung up. Bevin tossed the phone across the bed. Grrr!, she growled. Now she was too peeved to go back to sleep.

She didn’t give Drew another thought, instead she picked up her journal and reviewed her recent entry. One of her self help books suggested keeping track of her ideas and developing them on paper, so as not to trivialize them. She had pages and pages of ideas from a pet walking business to her own craft store. Somehow nothing ever left her journal. She’d even gone so far as to create a flyer for her pet walking service. She called the business Paw Prints and had such details as a doggy bag with treats and a coupon for further services. The flyers sat in a drawer somewhere.

Recently she read of a woman on welfare who baked muffins and sold them to commuters from her wagon. She now had a thriving business. Bevin had folders stuffed full of entrepreneurial ideas, most of them companies started by woman.

Mommy, Trissa cried. My tummy hurts.

I’m sorry, baby. Come snuggle with me for a minute, Bevin invited, throwing back her covers.

Can we play hooky today? I don’t wanna go to school. It’s boring.

Not today, goose girl. Mommy has a meeting.

I hate your job. Why can’t you work for Mr. Cracker all the time. Then Ricky can teach me how to make pancakes.

Wouldn’t that be nice, Bevin thought, if she could walk downstairs to work every day. Her waitress job didn’t pay enough. The food was cheap and the customers too few.

BY the time Bevin walked in to work that morning, she was late. Trissa had gone to school pouting. This didn’t fare well with her boss, who glared at her as she walked by. Bevin didn’t fear losing her job – the higher ups knew she did a good job with the billing, but the tension with Margaret only added to her list of grievances.

A message was waiting for her as soon as she sat down at her desk. It was her mother. Ignoring company policy, Bevin called her back.

Hi, mom. What’s up?

Can you and Trissa come to dinner tonight? Your Aunt Muriel is in town.

Oh, I’d love to see her. But Trissa’s with Drew this weekend.

Oh, I know Muriel will be sorry. Maybe Drew would switch?

I don’t even want to go there, Mom, Bevin warned.

Okay, her mother said with some hesitation. I hope you can come then. Your sister will be there, of course.

Sure mom. I’ll see you tonight.

Bevin felt ambivalent about her Friday night plans. Her aunt was an over achiever who always seemed to favor her sister, C.C. Bevin, who hadn’t finished college, never seemed to measure up to her standards.

BEVIN raced around the apartment trying to help Trissa get her things together, while Drew waited impatiently by the door. She felt his critical eye roving her cluttered home. He didn’t mention their earlier conversation.

Baby! Trissa yelled. She ran over to the recliner where the black cat sat on a pile of newspapers. There you are! Trissa picked up the reluctant kitty and smothered her with kisses. When she put her back down, Baby took off, scattering the papers all over the floor. Come here, Baby, Trissa trailed after her.

Come on, Trissa. It’s time to go, her father reminded her. To Bevin he said, I think she’s allergic to the cat hair. She’s been congested lately.

We’ve had Baby for two years. I’ve never noticed allergies. Drew hated cats. Give me a big hug, kiddo. I love you bunches and munches and scrunches, Bevin told Trissa, wrapping her in a bear hug.

Trissa giggled and pulled away. By the time they finally left, Bevin felt drained, but her family was waiting.

Cutting through the café on her way out, Bevin couldn’t help but notice how quiet the restaurant was. Casey was flipping through a people magazine at the counter and Gwen was shooting the breeze with Harry, one of the regulars. Ricky was either concocting a delicious meal that Cracker would never allow on the menu, or he was reading. Already feeling flustered with the impending family get together, which always seemed to involve toes getting stepped on, mainly hers, Bevin hurried out, intent on avoiding the sexy cook.

JOANNE and Dave Willard lived in the split level home where Bevin and her sister Cecilia Claire grew up. The house was always tidy and dust free, but the furniture and décor was close to thirty years old. The hideous puke green carpet from the seventies had been replaced with like carpet, the couch reupholstered, but the coffee table, lamps and other fixtures had the clunky gold and dark wood of another era. Her dad’s philosophy was, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Still, it made Bevin feel safe.

As dinner was pushed aside, while they made room for dessert, they sat around the dining room table talking. CC’s kids, Kyle 10 and Klaire 12, went down to the basement to watch television. The Willard home was the only house on the block that did not have cable TV, therefore the reception was poor. The kids had to settle on a DVD movie from their grandparents collection, which caused some arguing before they agreed on a Disney movie that was a little too young for either of them.

Bevin smiled at the memories the evening encouraged.

So, how are you? Muriel asked. She set her teacup aside and gave her attention to Bevin. In her early seventies, Muriel was trim and still very attractive. Her husband had passed away twenty years before but Muriel remained active and fit. A retired teacher, she traveled with her church and was involved in various clubs and organizations. Bevin had fond memories of her aunt teaching her to knit when she was Klaire’s age. Even when Bevin was frustrated and wanted to scream, her aunt would remain calm and show her how to correct her mistakes. Next to reading, Bevin’s love was knitting.

I brought you a book, Muriel told her. Bevin followed her aunt to the guestroom which was her old bedroom. It was a relief to see that she still looked like the same Aunt Muriel. She still appeared strong and capable. Bevin didn’t want to be reminded that she wouldn’t be here forever. She regretted not asking Drew to let her bring Trissa. She wanted her daughter to know her great aunt like Bevin knew her.

Stitch n’ Bitch! Bevin laughed. That’s definitely me, she admitted.

I can say the same, Muriel said. Every knitter ought to have this book. It’s actually a journal. Do you still knit?

When I have the time. I’m working on a lace shawl. Bevin didn’t mention that the project sat untouched for months at a time. Baby liked to sleep on it.

Like when they were little, Muriel came with gifts for everyone. This is for Trissa. I hope I can see her before I leave.

Oh, Aunt Muriel it’s beautiful! Bevin held up the bright pink and purple knit poncho. She’s going to love it.

The rest of the evening was spent looking over the gifts Muriel had brought. Even Kyle and Klaire seemed pleased with the t-shirts from Muriel’s trip to Arizona. Bevin thought she had escaped her aunts critical opinions on what she should be doing with her life. C.C. , the lawyer/homemaker, rarely received a lecture. She’d gone to graduate school after all.

Are you still doing medical billing? Muriel asked.

Bevin shoved the piece of cake aside with a sigh. Yes. She waited for her aunt to continue, knowing she would.

Seems like a steady job. Does your company reimburse for education? You know some employers will pay for your college education.

Don’t know. I don’t really have any plans to go back to school, Bevin admitted. Where would she ever have time for that? Besides the things I love to do, don’t require an education.

How’s your practice, Cecilia? Are you putting that law degree to good use? Muriel shifted her focus onto C.C. , unaware that her younger niece felt