The Family Gathering

“I’ll take it,” he said.

There was a rental agreement to sign and the property manager had to run him through a credit check. Fortunately, he knew his credit was excellent, and even though he’d been in the brig and stood a court-martial, he learned when he purchased the Jeep that his military incarceration didn’t show up in civilian records. “You just tell me when you’re ready for me to sign papers. You have my cell number.”

He was oddly euphoric about this cabin in the woods. A man could sit quietly on that porch and watch nature, watch wildlife. He imagined that in the dark of night he would hear wildlife and in the morning, birds. He would be busy because he liked being busy, but he would thoroughly enjoy relaxing in a small, isolated cabin. He’d like sleeping there. He’d like listening to the rain there.

He hadn’t really imagined this scenario—that he’d come to Colorado and get his own place and be within a short drive of family. Actual family. He thought he’d visit, check them out, maybe stay a little longer than was typical for him, then press on. But then, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. He’d left his Army family. Where else would he turn? Even though Dakota was independent, he liked having people in his life. There had always been soldiers. He took good care of them, they took good care of him.

And something had changed with his siblings. Or with him. For the first time he considered them friends, not just family he was stuck with. He’d never been good about keeping in touch and the Army had always provided him with plenty of excuses. If he didn’t feel like checking in with them, then the Army, he could say, had other plans for him and he couldn’t get away. At the moment, for whatever reason, he wanted to be around them. Could it be they’d finally all grown up?

He went to the bar and grill in town for lunch. It looked like the bartender was just coming on duty. She was tying on her apron and talking to another employee, nodding vigorously and smiling. The man put a hand on her shoulder as she tied the last knot in the apron. Then she washed her hands and went behind the bar. “How can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

“How about a hamburger, fries and Coke.”

She flipped the menu around for him. “I have seven burgers for you to choose from. We’re famous for them.”

“What’s your favorite?” he asked.

She pointed to one of the burgers. “The Juicy Lucy with bacon and pickles, hold the onion. The cheese is on the inside. That’s my meal.”

“Thanks,” he said, squinting at her nametag. “Sid?”

“Sid,” she confirmed. “Short for Sidney. And how would you like that burger cooked?”

“Medium,” he said.

“Excellent,” she said. Then he watched her go to her pay station to punch his order into the computer.

This was his first visit to this pub. It was all dark wood with red leather bar stools and booths, red leather chair seats at the tables. It wasn’t real big but he assumed they could pack ’em in at happy hour. He took the menu and looked through it. The bar was open from eleven to eleven, no breakfast menu. They probably rolled the sidewalks up around here at nine every night. There was nothing fancy on the menu—just burgers, flat bread pizzas, salads, ribs and miscellaneous bar food. They did have a kids’ menu. And chili.

The bar was beautifully crafted, with an ornately carved back wall with a mirror so he could admire himself. He chuckled and took a drink of his Coke, but he was watching Sid. She greeted everyone. One older couple, probably in their seventies, came into the pub and she leaned across the bar to give them each a hug, laughing with them. Everyone knew her, it seemed. And she presided over the bar as her domain. He watched her laughing and talking while throwing together two tall Bloody Marys for her elderly friends. She put them on a tray and walked around the bar to serve them at their booth. She chatted with them for a moment.

Relatives? he wondered.

She brought him his lunch. “It’s going to be hot,” she said. “Enjoy.”

He was immediately disappointed. She was gone so fast.

He took a bite of the hamburger, burned his mouth but wouldn’t let on. He closed his eyes, chewed slowly and swallowed. When he opened his eyes Sid was standing there, smiling at him.

“Burned your mouth, didn’t you?” she said.

He nodded clumsily. “How could you tell?”

“Your eyes. Tears. Slow down, buddy. I’m not going to take it away from you.”

And then she whirled away again. She served up a couple of sodas, two beers and a glass of wine. But she came back.

“Well? How is it?”

“Outstanding,” he said. “As you know. But I would have put a couple of jalapeños on it.”

She tilted her head, thinking about that. “Not a bad idea. I skip the onions so I don’t drive away business.”

“This is a popular place,” he commented, making conversation.

“It’s almost the only game in town. We don’t compete with the diner—they’re better for breakfast, pie, soup, hot meals like roast beef, meat loaf, chicken pot pie. Home cookin’.” She smiled.

“Well, you’re right about the burger. Damn near burned my tongue off,” he added with a laugh. “You seem to know everyone.”

She gave the counter a wipe. “That takes about three days around here. And you’re not from around here.”

“I’m visiting,” he said. “I have some family nearby but today was a good day to look around. Have you been here all your life?”

“Unlike most of the population, no. Not from around here. Born and raised in South Dakota, worked a few years in California and now I’m here for a while.”

“We have that in common,” he said. “What’s ‘a while’ for you?”

She shook her head absently. “It’s been a little over a year so far. I didn’t plan that.”

“What’s holding you?”

“Besides the clean air, views, weather and people?” she asked with a lifted brow. “This is my brother’s place. I intended to help out for a little while, but...” Another shrug. He understood that—his future plans were full of shrugs, too.

“Your brother has a nice little place,” he said.

“So, where do you come from?” she asked.

He stopped himself from wincing. He’d have to remember to ask Sierra and Cal if everyone knew they all grew up in a bus. “I’m fresh out of the Army. I’m going to take a little time to decide what’s next. I’m going to see if there’s any work around here to keep me while I think it out. Like you said, lots to like around here.”

“Army? That’s a big commitment.”

“I went in as a kid,” he said. Then he picked up his burger to avoid explaining any more to this completely pleasant bartender.

“Well, if you like the outdoors, you’ll enjoy your stay.”

A woman sat down at the bar, leaving just a stool to separate them. “Can I get a chicken Caesar?” she asked Sid before Sid even had a chance to greet her.

“You bet. Anything to drink?”

“Water,” she said. And then she was texting on her phone.

He didn’t turn on his stool to look at her, but as he ate his hamburger he caught sight of her in the mirror behind the bar. She was very beautiful, her mahogany hair falling forward as she concentrated on her phone. He bit and chewed, and as his eyes moved just slightly left, he caught sight of Sid, but she shifted her gaze quickly. It made him smile. She was watching him and everyone else. She might have wanted to see how he reacted to the woman beside him.

He looked at Sid. She was in her thirties, he guessed. Her long hair was blond. Or reddish blond. She had that freckly pale skin of an Irish lass. She was quick, physically and verbally. And she didn’t flirt, but she was friendly. Or maybe neighborly was a better word. She treated him like she treated everyone else in the bar.

He was almost finished with his burger by the time Sid placed the salad in front of the woman at the bar. She shook out her napkin, placed it on her lap and picked up her fork. Then she looked at him and smiled. “Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should have been more polite and said hello when I first sat down.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, picking up a couple of fries. “You were busy. Texting, I assume. Our world’s great new communication tool.”