Page 50 of While the Sun Shines

His chest hurts.

Drew slips into a chair at a table by the window, the rain pattering loud enough to hear, and the bustle of other customers rising in a competing murmur. It’s nice to watch people going about their mornings as they order coffees and read through the chalkboard menu hanging behind the counter. A baby fussing in a stroller over there, and at the table next to his, two women sharing a waffle topped with whipped cream and berries. A small, tiny treat to remember that there’s life outside of the disaster of the farm. All these folks who aren’t worried about escaping sheep and ruined hay, who don’t think at all about where the milk comes from that they pour into their coffees.

“Just the man I want to see,” Drew hears and looks up as Abelardo pulls out the chair across from him.

No. Oh fucking no.

“Morning.” Abelardo smiles at the women and their waffle, tapping at their unused chair. “Are you using this? Mind if I grab it?” Turns back to Drew. “Penny’s on her way. She’s just parking the truck.”

Drew wants to crawl under the table. “Hi,” he says.

“I got the paint on the ceiling in Whit’s room, but did you want a second coat of it?”

“Uh.”

“’Cause I can do it later, once everything’s dry. And do you sand the primer on the walls before you paint, or just go for it?”

Drew takes a sip of too-hot coffee. Paint, he thinks, like he’s never heard the word before. Sanding. Window trim and light sockets and—and Penny’s parking the truck. The farm truck, he’s sure. Go inside, don’t watch, he can so clearly imagine her saying, stubbornly coaxing the manual transmission into a halting, jerky reverse to edge into a parking spot.

“Honestly,” Abelardo says, “I’m loving working up there. It’s great to get to do something with my hands for a change. So really, whatever you need for help, I’m game.”

“I—” Drew starts, but the cafe door swings open and Penny’s right there, crossing to the counter, talking to the woman behind it, then picking up two mugs.

Penny tries to balance two plates on top of them too, but Abelardo jumps up, grabbing them for her. She smiles at Abelardo. And turns to find the table he came from. She freezes, the coffees steaming in her hands, her eyes on Drew, and her face completely still.

“Here,” Abelardo says, pulling out her chair for her. “Wow, these look amazing, don’t they? Drew, do you want a bite?”

“I’ve got a bagel,” he mumbles.

His cheeks heat. Of course he has a bagel. It’s sitting right in front of him, plain as day. Dry, too, no butter or jam or cream cheese. Just how he likes.

Gross, Penny’s always said whenever he eats one. Sometimes loads up a knife with butter, and he has to hold his plate away from her, laughing as she tries to reach. I’m going to fix that for you. Hold still, Drew. It’s gonna taste better, I swear.

He rips one circle of his bagel in half and then in half again. Penny’s chair squeaks as she pulls it close to the table.

“You don’t have to do that, Abelardo,” Drew says, watching his fingers as he tears one of the pieces into two smaller ones yet again. “The painting. It’s fine. I’ve got it, I—”

“Oh, trust me, this is the most fun I’ve had in far too long. Whit and Cooper are letting me help with the sheep fence this afternoon, if the weather lets us. And I’m being sent to the hardware store for—” Abelardo pulls out a piece of paper. “Uh, insulators and a new ground rod. Need me to get—what was it that broke? A screw?”

“Shear bolt,” Drew says.

“That’s right. Shear bolts.” Abelardo takes a bite of his donut and nudges Penny. “Oh, holy shit, you weren’t kidding. These are good.”

She folds her hands around her mug. Nods. Looks at Drew and then looks away again, silent.

But Abelardo chats his way through breakfast, a constant, easy patter of questions about cheese molds and sheep’s milk, and how, exactly, do electric fences work, even in the rain?

Not together, Drew thinks, looking at Abelardo and then peeking at Penny, as close as he can get—somewhere in the vicinity of her shoulder, hunched inward as she pulls apart her donut. Not together, but it’s Abelardo she’s spending her morning with, dark circles under her eyes and completely silent as she picks at her donut, letting Abelardo keep up a conversation for the three of them.

When Drew makes it back to his Jeep, it’s with a half-full cup of coffee and a tingle of relief. How long did Abelardo say he was staying? For a while, still. Good. Maybe Drew can make his way through the rest of today. Tomorrow too, even, if this breakfast is how things will go, lowball questions about farming that Drew can answer in his sleep. Let the dust settle, he thinks. Take the time to figure out what the fuck to say to Penny when he’s had time to chew over the last day. Get his thoughts in order and get a grip on his work on the farm, before he turns his attention back to her.

The passenger door of his Jeep swings open, and Penny climbs inside. “I told Abelardo to hold on a second.” Penny closes the door, dampening the sound of rain.

“Uh.” Drew nods. It feels jerky, uneven. “Okay.”

She smooths her hands down her thighs, her jeans dotted with water. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Oh God, Drew thinks. “Right, sure.”