Keeping Cole's Promise

She sighed and held out the cookies, her mouth downturned.

“Forget about me and those guys. Nothing but trouble that direction. Focus on the kids you can help.” Cole picked two of the biggest cookies and then set the tin on the table next to his grandmother’s photo album. A split second later he realized he should have shut it before confronting Rebecca. He’d been trying to distract himself by flipping through the pages. Sixth grade had been a rough year for him. If she got a load of that school picture, she’d die of laughter instead of fright. “Those girls headed to college appreciate your help. Save yourself some aggravation. Work on them. Leave the rest of us...” Behind. Where we fall. In the dust. He wasn’t sure what words finished that sentence.

He took a bite as she slammed both hands on her hips. Wrong thing to say.

“I’m supposed to help them all. And that boy needs his high school diploma.” She paced in a line back and forth in front of the coffee table, her fingers twisted together in a tight knot. “Loitering like that is only going to lead to trouble.”

“No argument here.” Cole nodded as he took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie. Then he closed his eyes to savor it. Nothing tasted like homemade.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” Rebecca stopped pacing to wait for his answer.

He couldn’t be bothered. They weren’t his grandmother’s sugar cookies, but they were heaven.

When the first cookie was gone, Cole realized she was waiting for him to say something. “What?”

“I asked what we’re going to do about Eric. Those kids. Out there.” She pointed at the window in case he couldn’t add all the clues. “We have to do something. Good people don’t walk away when they can see someone needs help. What should we do tonight?”

“Nothing. You’re too scared to say boo to them and I’ve got all I can handle keeping a roof over my head.” He broke the second cookie in half and held a piece in each hand.

“Unacceptable.” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Try again.”

He thought about arguing. The firm set of her jaw indicated she was ready to go a round or two.

Cole sighed, set his cookie down and stood abruptly. If that didn’t send her on her way, he’d be shocked. He held both arms out in a trick he’d learned to make himself seem bigger.

More dangerous.

The more he said with body language in prison, the fewer bruises he’d picked up.

She didn’t retreat, but something about her posture shrank. Her hands were clenched in white-knuckled knots. Standing her ground was costing her.

“I’m not going to panic. Not again. No one who hums when he bites into a chocolate chip cookie is going to hurt me.” She tapped her chest. “I make the best cookies in Holly Heights.”

Cole pressed one hand to his chest and dropped down on the couch.

“Also, that’s a dirty trick, using my fear against me.” Rebecca’s disappointed face wasn’t quite as powerful as his Mimi’s, but it was hard to ignore the guilty feeling he’d always gotten when his grandmother gave him the same sad eyes.

“And now we know it doesn’t work,” Cole muttered. “When did that happen?”

“Possibly it was the sight of your knobby knees.” Rebecca tilted her head, a bright smile chasing away clouds of worry. “Now I know your weak spots.” She blinked so innocently as she said it that he studied her face. She was teasing him? They were alone. She had no safety net.

He didn’t smile but watched her until she got that nervous V in the middle of her forehead.

Her smile faded as she stepped closer to the door. When she had one hand on the doorframe, she stopped. “You could talk to them? Tell them they should be in school?”

Cole shook his head slowly. “Not going to happen. I made a promise. No more trouble. They are trouble.” She was trouble.

Rebecca nodded slowly. “If I leave my phone here, will you call the police if things get out of hand when I go tell them they should be in school?” She snapped her fingers. “I could pay you in more cookies.” Her enthusiastic smile told him she’d won plenty of cooperation previously with charm and baked goods.

For a split second, the idea that she was trusting him to have her back, even from way back, by being her phone call lifeline amused him. Her opinion of him had taken a small turn, at least. Then he realized she honestly thought baked goods could fix everything. How naive. And insulting.

“You’ve done your good deed, so your guilty conscience should be taken care of. Go home. Call their parents. Help the kids who want your help.” Cole waved another cookie. “Write a cookbook or something, but learn the lesson that kid tried to teach you. Don’t stick your nose in his business and you’ll be okay.”

Now get out. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

He expected an argument. Instead, she pointed at the tiny photo his Mimi had framed and hung over the sink. “Is that the county fair?”

Cole frowned as he tried to follow the conversation.

“It looks like the building where they do all the craft and food judging.” Rebecca bent to study the photo. “Someone should have brushed your hair.”

“Someone did. The tousled hairstyle was in.” That sounded like a criticism of his grandmother. She’d done her best to hold him down and make him presentable. It wasn’t her fault he’d taken that as a challenge. “And yeah, that’s my grandmother and me at the fair.”

“Blue ribbon. For what?” Rebecca asked.

Cole rubbed his aching head. “What does it matter? Baking. She won a ribbon for baking sugar cookies, but she’s dead, so you don’t have to worry about losing your cookie queen title.”

Even he was surprised at how angry he sounded. Instead of arguing or telling him to shove his head in the toilet, Rebecca turned and disappeared into the dark night.

If she gets hurt by three boys when you could have stopped it, you’ll have nothing in this life left to redeem, idiot.

Cole lifted the curtains. The boys had disappeared.

He hurried over to the door to see Rebecca’s taillights fading as she drove out of the trailer park.

Good. This was not his problem. Those kids would learn their hard lessons.

Cole slammed his door shut and locked it before he turned to see Rebecca’s neatly folded apron on his grandmother’s counter. “Probably has a frilly apron for every day of the week. She’ll be fine.”

Cole studied the tin of cookies and considered walking down to EW’s to offer him a couple. The guy had been his lifeline so far. Without him, Cole wouldn’t have stood a chance. That burned, irritated him because he’d been so certain he’d be better off by himself. There’d been no beer runs, but it was a matter of time until EW let him down. Still, that afternoon had been nice, normal, a glimpse at what life could be like. Too bad EW hadn’t taken him fishing at seventeen. How different his life might have been.

What if you could do that for one of those kids? What if that is all it takes to make a difference?

To drown out the little whisper that sounded a lot like Rebecca’s voice, Cole snatched up another cookie. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my knees,” he grumbled.

He was certain he’d be replaying her visit long after her peace offering was gone.