Page 54 of Back in the Country
“Sorren McKay! I don’t care if youdidjust get back, you will watch your language in here!” Holly comes bounding around the corner of the bar like the hounds of hell are chasin’ her. Her fiery-red hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and her pale skin is covered with freckles. Despite being in the south, she’s never had a real tan.
Hands on her hips, she gives him a stern look before it morphs into a smile. She’s bouncing on her toes in such an un-Holly-like movement. She’s nervous; join the club, lady.
“Can I hug you?” she asks. Sorren nods, and she wraps him in a tight embrace before moving a step back.
“It’s nice to see you, Holly,” he says, and there’s only a slight strain to his voice. She beams.
“I’ve been making those donuts you like every day in case you came in. I wanted them to be fresh. Otto was complainin’ thathenever gets special treatment. I swear he isexhausting.”
“You’re telling us.” I laugh.
“I’ll be right back with those for you, boys.”
We watch as she hustles into the kitchen and comes back with a plate of fresh apple cider donuts—also apparently anorthern thing. To her credit, they are delicious.
Sorren takes a bite and then closes his eyes on a contented sigh. Hell, if this is the trick to helping him along, I’ll place an order every day for him.
“These are even better than I remembered.” He gives her a small smile, and she blushes slightly as she beams at him.
“On the house. I’ll pack you some to take home.”
“Thanks, Holly,” he says as he licks the cinnamon and sugar mixture from his fingers.
We lapse back into silence, but I can’t sit still. Turning, I say the words I hope will truly make him understand.
“Your sister,”—I look my best friend dead in the eyes—“she’s everything to me, Sorren.”
“Then don’t make me hide your body.” He shrugs. “But listen. You’re good for her—anyone can see that—but if she wants to go back to Nashville, you gotta let her.” With that, he turns back to the TV across the bar, like this whole conversation didn’t just knock the wind out of me.
Again.
Also strangely…reminiscent.
I give him about ten minutes of peace before I speak again.
“You’re going to have to talk to her.” The words are somber.
“I’m not sure I know how to have the conversation she wants to have.” He doesn’t look at me as he says it.
“Then tell her you’re not ready. But man, you gotta talk to her. She’s struggling and feeling helpless.” I pause and lower my voice. “We all are.”
He points at the half-full plate of donuts. “There you go.”
I sigh at his attempt at levity.
The silence is heavy as it settles around us. We’ve never been here before, and no matter how much any of us prepared, there’s no one way to process or grieve.
It’s obvious that Sorren is grieving his injury, his military career, and the way he thought his life was headed. The weight he’s carried since he landed in Clementine Creek hasn’t lessened—it’s just changed.
“I know.” He takes a breath and looks down at his drink. “I’m trying.”
“I know. We just don’t want you to think you need to walk this alone.”
“Okay.”
It’s all he says, but its importance echoes off the wooden beams surrounding us. It’s more than I expected to get out of him, honestly, and I don’t take that for granted.
With the hard stuff tabled for now, we slip into an easy banter about the game playing on the TV, some orders I need to fill, and what everyone is up to at home. We each nurse another drink before heading to the parking lot. The drive home is much of the same.
