A Family of Her Own. Brenda Novak
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broke the eggs into a frying pan, and Katie listened to them sizzle. As awkward as it was between her and Booker, she was beginning to get warm—and to appreciate the fact that she hadn’t been forced to knock on someone else’s door in the middle of the night.
When the silence grew to the point of discomfort, however, she asked, “What have you been doing since I left?”
“Working,” he said simply.
“Doing what?”
“He owns Lionel & Sons Auto Repair,” a third voice proudly announced.
Katie looked up to see Delbert Dibbs standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A rottweiler the size of a small horse sat at his heels.
“You’re back,” he said, recognizing her immediately. Delbert was wearing a pair of Buzz Lightyear pajamas that weren’t buttoned quite right. Where he’d found such a large size, Katie couldn’t even guess. He was her age. At least five foot eleven, he had to weigh a good hundred and seventy pounds—only about thirty pounds shy of what Booker probably weighed. “I’m so glad,” he added. “I missed you, Katie. I missed you cutting my hair.”
Katie didn’t have a chance to stand up before Delbert hurried across the kitchen and gathered her tightly in his arms. They’d never been close, but she’d cut his hair every once in a while. They’d also gone to the same elementary school for kindergarten and first grade. By second grade, it had become apparent that he wasn’t developing normally, and he was put in a special school. But she’d still seen him around town. Especially after he dropped out of school altogether and took to rambling up and down Main Street, hanging out at the Arctic Flyer or loitering near the auto repair shop.
Katie frowned at Booker while Delbert squeezed her with all the exuberance of a child and the dog sniffed her curiously. But Booker neither came to her rescue nor offered any explanation.
“What—what are you doing here?” Katie asked Delbert when he finally released her and she could draw enough breath.
“I live here now,” he said, showing crooked teeth in a wide smile. “I live with Bruiser and Booker.”
Bruiser was obviously the dog, but Katie didn’t get the connection between Booker and Delbert. How did such an unlikely pair wind up as roommates?
“Since when?” she asked.
His face clouded as he slumped into the chair next to her. Bruiser went over to Booker and wagged his tail in greeting. “My dad died. Did you know that, Katie? I came home one day, and he was just staring at me. Wouldn’t say a thing.”
“How awful,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”
His sadness lifted as quickly as it had descended. “Want me to show you what I made?”
“Uh…okay.”
He got up and raced from the kitchen, and Katie slanted a questioning glance at Booker. “Delbert lives with you? How did that come about?”
“I met him at the shop once I took over.”
“And?”
“You heard him. His dad died.”
“So you took him in?”
“He works for me,” he said. “I’ve actually been able to teach him quite a bit about cars.”
Teaching Delbert anything had to be a slow, frustrating process. That Booker would have the patience and go to the trouble when almost everyone else in town—including the local minister—barely acknowledged Delbert impressed Katie. “There must be more to the story than that.”
“Not really,” he said. “Delbert’s dad was all he had. Once he died, there wasn’t anyone left to care for him.”
Katie shook her head as she toyed with the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the table. Somehow Booker never failed to surprise her. “That’s really nice,” she said. “What would’ve happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in?”
“He would’ve gone to a special home in Boise.”
“Most people would’ve let him go,” she said.
He set her eggs on the table and went to the counter to butter the toast that had just popped up. “Maybe, but it didn’t make any sense to me. He grew up around here. Dundee is comfortable and familiar to him. And they wouldn’t let him have a dog or work on cars. Delbert lives for those two things.”
As if to confirm his words, Delbert returned with a model of an antique Ford. “See?” he said. “This is a Model-T, one of the first cars ever made. It came in pieces. Booker helped me put it together.”
“He did, huh?” Katie watched Booker clean up the mess he’d just made.
“Yeah.” Delbert gazed lovingly at his model. “Booker can do anything.”
Katie lifted her eyes to meet Booker’s and found him wearing a wry grin. “Some people are easier to please than others,” he said.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Rebecca demanded as soon as the bartender at the Honky Tonk brought her to the phone. “Josh and I have been waiting here for over an hour.”
Booker returned the frying pan he’d dried to its place beneath the stove. “I ran into a slight complication.”
“What kind of complication?”
He looked toward the kitchen door to make sure he was still alone. “Katie.”
“What?” Rebecca nearly screamed the word. The fact that she could scarcely hear above the music pounding in the background probably had something to do with it. But he knew hearing Katie’s name on his lips had more impact than anything.
“Katie Rogers is back in town,” he explained.
“No way!”
“It’s true.”
She fell silent for a moment. “I thought you were over Katie. Just last week, you told me to quit bugging you about her. You said she was never going to contact you, and it didn’t matter anyway because you didn’t—”
“I remember what I said,” he interrupted.
“And now she’s back? Out of the blue? How do you know?”
“I found her stranded on the side of the road a few miles outside town.” He didn’t add that she’d been driving a hunk of junk, had dark circles under her eyes, looked as thin as a rail and was five months pregnant.
“Was Andy with her?”
“What do you think?”
“I think they lasted longer than I ever dreamed they would.”
They’d lasted longer than Booker had thought possible, too. For a while, he’d held out hope that Katie would reconsider his proposal and come back to tell him she’d made a mistake. But as month marched on to month, he’d finally realized he was stupid for continuing to hope and had forced himself to get on with his life.
Only now she was back. She just hadn’t come back to him.
“She should never have let you get away,” Rebecca said.
“Let me get away? Hell, she practically ran in the other direction.”
“Maybe it’s because you don’t give many people a chance.”
“She had more than a chance.”
Rebecca wasn’t listening. “You’re not unsociable, exactly. Just a little rough around the edges, stubborn—definitely stubborn—and a bit of a cynic.”
“That’s pretty funny, coming from you,” he pointed out, but Rebecca’s mind had already shifted