Page 1 of Serve and Protect
Chapter 1 – Jennie Lopez
I wake up in the middle of the night, my pulse racing. I’m drowning in sorrow. My throat is tight and clogged with unshed tears. It takes me a frantic minute to orient myself.
It’s just a dream.
One that I have often. I cherish it even as it shatters my heart into a million tiny pieces.
It’s my wedding day, and I’m wearing a beautiful white gown. All my friends are here—Maggie, Ruth, Hannah, Maya, Gabrielle, Robyn—as well as Granny and Grandpa, and of course my parents. Everything’s perfect.
My dad walks me down the aisle, and Mom, Granny, and Grandpa wave from the front row of pews.
And standing at the front of the church, looking so handsome in a black tuxedo, is the love of my life—the guy I’ve loved since I was eight years old. The way he looks at me—his smile, the intensity of his gaze—takes my breath away. Even from this distance, I can see the sparkle of tears pooling in his eyes.
Beside him stands his best man—our best friend—Micah Jackson, who squeezes Chris’s shoulder in a show of support.
Everything is so perfect, I could cry.
And I don’t mean shed a few ladylike tears. I mean I could release a torrent of breath-stealing, heart-pounding, soul-shredding sobs.
Because it didn’t happen.
It never will.
And it’s all my fault.
It will never be anything more than a dream because my parents died when I was eight years old, my granddad passednearly a decade ago, and the love of my life is beyond my reach. I missed my chance with him long ago because I was young and afraid and stupid. I let other people’s opinions control my life, and I tossed away my chance for real happiness.
Out of loneliness and desperation, I ended up settling—and that turned out to be a colossal mistake.
I must fall back to sleep because the next thing I know, my 6 AM alarm is going off, dashing the cold water of reality in my face. I hit the snooze button, giving myself nine precious minutes of alone time before I have to get up and face the world and all my responsibilities—most importantly, Granny. And, of course, the diner.
The birds perched in the blossoming tree outside my bedroom window sing loudly and joyfully, welcoming this Wednesday morning in early May. Spring in Colorado is well under way.
Our male orange tabby, Pumpkin, saunters through my open bedroom door and jumps up on the bed. His squeaky purr is energetic as always.
“Good morning, Punky.” I scratch behind his ears, and he eagerly headbutts my hand. “Yes, I know. You want your breakfast. Give me a minute.”
My big, chunky boy walks across my belly, his feet somehow knowing exactly where my bladder is located.
“Not the bladder, Pumpkin!” I gasp as I gently relocate him onto the mattress. “I need to pee.”
My alarm goes off once more, indicating my snoozing window is over.
With a groan, I shove the covers off, sit up, and swing my feet to the floor. I linger at the side of the bed for a full minute, giving myself a chance to wake up and gain my equilibrium. My mom always did this when I was little, and I thought it was a funny thing to do—something onlyold peopledid. But I’mjust twenty-eight, and I don’t consider myself old. Not yet, at least. Ironically, Granny is eighty-four-years old, and a spry little thing. When she wakes up, she’s out of bed and on her feet in seconds.
I walk barefoot down the hall to the bathroom to pee and brush the tangles from my dark, chin-length hair. Pumpkin, my little shadow, rubs against my shins, purring loud enough to wake the neighbors.
I reach down to scratch behind his ears. “Shh, buddy. You’ll wake Granny.”
After taking a quick shower and drying my hair, I return to my room and dress in a nice pair of jeans and a pink T-shirt bearing the whiteJennie’s Dinerlogo. By the time I make it to the kitchen, I find Granny seated at the small table for four.
As Pumpkin races over to greet my grandmother, I switch on the kitchen light. “Good morning, Granny.” I make my voice as chipper as possible because she takes her cues from the people around her. I stop to kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
She glances up at me, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “Hello, dear.” She smiles. “My, aren’t you pretty? I like your T-shirt. I used to own a diner.”
“Thank you, Granny.” I go check on the programmed coffee maker. “Would you like some coffee? It’s ready.”
Her brow knits in confusion. “Are you Sandra, my daughter?” she asks in her soft, sweet voice.
