Page 8 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
Stepping forward, I grasp the handle on the door to the café. Above my head hangs a teacup with the wordsClear Creek Café. As I step in, my boots click on the cement floor and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies greets me.
The bell above the door jangles again and Coach walks in behind me, clapping me on the shoulder. “Have whatever you want. I’m paying.” I nod and step forward.
There’s a beadboard wrapped counter jutting out from the right side of the room. A large chalkboard on the wall behind it showcases the various flavors of coffee and baked goods available. A display case of goodies attracts my attention. No one mans the counter, but a doorway behind it clearly leads to a kitchen, and I can hear dishes clanking and someone humming.
The humming stops as an older lady walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She has dark hair streaked with gray, complimenting her olive skin. She reminds me a little of my grandma. She smiles at me then focuses on Coach, her laugh lines crinkling and her brown eyes twinkling. She doesn’t say a word, just steps around the counter and plants a kiss on his lips.
I don’t know what to do, other than to jump back in shock. My eyes bounce around the room. Is this allowed? Is this one of those kissing cousins towns? I stare to my left at a small space with a bookshelf with games and books. There's a sign above it, telling customers to take a book and leave a book.
Once the PDA is finally over, Coach turns to me, his arm around her waist. They both laugh at the shocked look on my face. “Meet my wife, Rosa.” He motions between the two of us. “Rosa, Austin.”
Rosa grins as she continues chuckling. It’s a warm sound, soothing in a way. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Clear Creek. We’re so glad to have you here.” She speaks with a melodic Spanish accent.
“Thank you, ma’am.” I clear my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever saidma'ambefore.
“Well, Austin, you let me know what you want, and I’ll have it right out.” She flashes me a welcoming smile and slips back behind the counter.
“I’ll just have a strong black coffee.”
“Oh, you need something sweet, too.” She waves a hand toward the case of pastries. “You look like a guy who likes hischocolate chip cookies straight from the oven,” she says with a wink.
The corners of my mouth automatically lift up in a smile. The warm atmosphere and kind words have done something to me. “I won’t pass them up if you happen to have some.”
“There will always be fresh chocolate chip cookies in this café,” she says with a wide grin.
Coach leads me to one of the wrought iron tables after asking for a black coffee with a splash of cream for himself. Ms. Rosa brings our coffee and cookies to us as Coach picks a table looking out the front windows. After we’re situated, he bites into a cookie and groans in bliss. “Doesn’t my Rosa make the best cookies?”
I take a bite. They’re warm and the chocolate chips are just the right level of gooeyness, melting on my tongue. I nod and wait to speak until my mouth is clear. “I don’t know that I’ve had better. My mom isn’t much of a baker, so I can’t compare them to hers.”
Coach jumps right in and asks a direct question, skipping any small talk, “So, why’d y’all move out to little ole Clear Creek?”
I expected him to ask at some point, but not right from the get go. I stutter a little as I answer. “Uh, yeah. So my dad…” I clear my throat. “Um, my Gram grew up here, so my mom figured after the divorce this would be a good place to start over.” I take a sip of my coffee. Not scalding, but hot enough to sting and wake me up, and force the thoughts about my dad into a dark box. “Mom was able to get a job here, so here we are.”
Coach sets down his half-empty coffee cup. His eyes are thoughtful, and he strokes his chin. “Do you do anything besides baseball? Any hobbies? What about church, or anything like scouts?”
I shift forward, setting my elbows on the table. “Well, baseball is my only sport. I never got into football or anything. I went to a lot of Warriors games growing up. My, uh…” I staredown at what’s left of my cookie. “My dad gave me the truck out there a few years back.” I motion with my thumb towards my truck. “I really enjoyed fixing it up. I play a little guitar, and I try to spend time doing things with my little sister, but other than that I don’t do much.”
Coach’s eyes light up as he looks out at the truck, “You did most of the work yourself?”
“I refurbished the truck with the help of some of the guys on my ball team.” Sure, Dad gave me the truck, but he only offered me a pinky sized amount of help. I wish my truck didn’t make me think of him. A wave of disgust makes me crinkle my nose. He should’ve been the one to do all of it with me. But he was busy. Doing… Other things.
“I’m impressed.”
I duck my head, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Thank you. I just wish it didn’t always make me think of my dad.” I shouldn’t have said that. Now he’ll ask more questions about my dad.
Coach cocks his head, his brows dipping toward each other. “You mad at him?” I open my mouth to answer, but he holds up a hand, telling me not to speak yet, then rubs his chin. “I understand if you are, and I hold no judgment. You’re a human, and when someone hurts you, or hurts someone you care about, you can’t help but feel angry and hurt.” He gives me a serious look, his thick black brows arching downward. “Just don’t let it consume you. You’re obviously already redirecting it with baseball. But maybe something more would help. A job? A little horse-riding on a ranch? Maybe some roping?” Coach’s look turns mischievous.
“I’m not sure I’m the best guy for a ranch job.” I’m willing to give it a try, but I have a feeling I’ll fumble most of the jobs and be stuck constantly mucking stalls.
“Oh, you’ll do just fine.” Coach smacks his thigh with his palm. “Let's get you a job at one of the ranches around here andsee if we can give you some place to direct that anger.” He grins at me. “I also happen to lead the youth group at Clear Creek Baptist. I’d love to see you there on Wednesday nights.”
I exchange numbers with Coach before I leave. I’ve got baseball, met a cute girl, and a lead on a possible job. I refuse to hope for anything but an MLB career, but maybe this cabbage-patch town won’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 5
Raegan - The Present
Alub-lubsoundfillsthe small room, and my fingers twitch with nervousness against the scratchy paper on the exam table. Tears begin to fill my eyes. Tears of happiness and fear. I love this baby so much, and all I’ve heard so far is its heartbeat. But I’m terrified. Absolutely terrified. Terrified of raising a child. Terrified of how I will tell Austin. I haven’t tried to call him in a few weeks now.
