Elle didn't know what to make of it. "That story is incredible," she said.
"Every word of it's the truth," Harry said. "Ask anyone who was here back then."
"I can't believe that the man I saw in the diner today might have been that boy."
"Well, I'll tell you this much," Harry said. "Abraham Snow didn't have any other children. I know that much. And he sure as hell didn't have any friends. He was alone in the world, as he deserved to be. If there's a boy here for the funeral, it's that very same boy. What was his name? Let me think."
Elle watched Harry like a hawk as she took a sip of her beer. She'd been completely sucked into the story of the boy. She felt personally connected to him after what he'd done in the diner. When he'd reached out to touch her, there'd been something in the gesture more than she'd ever felt before. It had gotten under her skin.
"Forrester," Harry said. "That was the boy's name. Forrester Snow."
Chapter 10
Forrester
FORRESTER LOOKED OUT ACROSS THE windswept graveyard and pulled his jacket more tightly around his neck. He was freezing. He'd had the presence of mind to pack a black suit and white shirt before he'd left home, but he hadn't remembered a good coat. He was paying for it now. The wind howled down the mountain peaks and cut through him like a knife.
In front of him was a grave, eight feet long, two feet wide, and six feet deep. That's what had become of his father, a hole in the ground and a pine box. He looked at the coffin, it wasn't the cheapest one available at the Stone Peak funeral home, but it was close.
The priest, in his long black coat, looked at him.
"You ready to get started, son?"
"Yes, father," Forrester said.
He was the only person who'd shown up for the funeral and he wasn't sure if the priest would have even bothered if he hadn't been there.
"We are gathered here today, to bury the remains of Abraham Snow, who has now returned to his home with Our God, Our Father."
Forrester didn't listen to the words. He stood there shivering, and stared up into the dizzying peaks of the mountains above. They seemed to be testing the limits of heaven themselves, seeing if they could reach high enough to pass from this world to the world of the Father.
He looked at his hands. What had he done? The day before, in the diner, what was that? That wasn't like him. She'd walked over, that waitress, and poured him coffee. Nothing unusual in that. But then he'd reached out and touched her. Why? What was it about her?
He was drawn to her. He knew nothing about her. He'd scarcely said a word to her. But he wanted her. He had to have her. He had to get closer, get a better look, maybe even have a taste.
The funeral didn't take long. When the priest finished, he addressed Forrester directly. Forrester wasn't sure how much of his story the priest knew, but he clearly knew some of it because he treated Forrester with an odd sort of deference, as if his past had earned him some deeper respect than the average man.
"Would you like to say any words, son?" the priest said.
Forrester looked up at him. He cleared his throat. Then he spoke.
"Which way is the closest whiskey bar?"
Chapter 11
Elle
ELLE WAS SITTING CLOSE TO the warmth of the fire in Harry's bar with Kelly the next afternoon. Gracie had let them shut the diner early because it was dead. Gracie liked to keep the hours as consistent as possible, but given the enormously long shifts the girls pulled for her, she was happy to let them go home early when it wouldn't affect business too much. Today was also a special day, because Grace was taking Luke to the zoo. They would be gone all day, and it meant Kelly could get out for a drink again, for the second night in a row. That was a rare treat for her.
"You didn't have a hang over last night, did you?" Elle asked Kelly.
"No, not at all. Did you?"
"No, but I think I had a few nightmares about that story Harry told us."
"I know what you mean," Kelly said.
Elle picked up her glass and as she was about to take her first sip, Kelly nudged her on the arm.
"What?" Elle said.
"Over there."
"Where?"
"Look," Kelly said, pointing.
Elle looked over to the door, and sure enough, the man from the day before was entering. If Harry was right about him, his name was Forrester Snow. Elle caught herself staring at him and had to force herself to look away.
He looked different than he had the day before, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit with leather shoes and an expensive cotton shirt. If it wasn't for the tattoos peeking out at the cuffs and collar, he'd have fit right in in any executive boardroom in the country. To say he was dashing was the understatement of the century. He was positively ravishing.
Elle and Kelly watched his every move as he came up to the bar and sat on the other side of it, facing them directly. The bar made a large U-shape, with the space inside reserved for Harry. Forrester was across from them, about twelve feet from Elle's eyes, and she took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him, every raw detail of his physique. She was under a spell, at least until Kelly kicked her on the shin.
"Ow," she said.
"Well, let him have a drink without you drooling all over it."
"I'm not drooling."
"Elle, you're practically leaning over the bar. If you try to get any closer to him you'll fall over."
Forrester ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey and only then looked around at his surroundings. Elle froze when he looked in her direction. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks in an obvious blush of embarrassment. She felt suddenly hot.
"Hi," Kelly said casually with a little wave.
"Afternoon, ladies," Forrester said, and Elle let out a silent sigh of longing at the sound of his voice.
She prayed he didn't look at her, because if he did, she was afraid she'd swoon and fall off her stool. But then he did look at her.
"Hey," he said. "Thanks for last night. I was a lot more comfortable in the hotel than I was in my truck."
Elle smiled. She tried to get her breathing and her galloping heart beat under control.
"No problem," she said, and instantly thought her voice sounded weird. She was trying to think of something else to say to avoid any awkward silence when the door opened and more people entered the bar. Her heart sank when she saw that it was the same four troublemaker boys who'd harassed her and Kelly in the diner the day before.
"Oh, great," Kelly said under her breath. "Here we go."
"They won't bother us in here, will they?" Elle said.
As if to answer her question, one of the boys came over to them and placed himself right between them. He put an arm around each girl.
"What are two beautiful girls like yourselves doing alone on a night like this?"
"Nothing," Kelly said.
"And who's your friend here? Sweet cheeks? Hot lips?"
"Her name's Elle. Now, leave us alone, creep."
"Creep?" the boy said. "Come on, Kelly. That's not what you were calling me the other night."
"Get lost, Phil," Kelly said.
"You were begging me for more the other night. Now you don't want to even look at me."
"If you don't get your hand off me and my friend in three seconds, I'm calling Harry."
Harry was in the kitchen behind the bar and didn't know that the boys had come into his peaceful establishment yet.
"What's Harry going to do?" Phil said, making a face toward his other three friends. "He knows my daddy's the mayor of this town. He knows what will happen to his liquor license if he so much as raises his voice to me."
Kelly sighed, and Elle suddenly realized that the boy's threat might be real. Maybe Harry was afraid of these boys, or more accurately their politician fathers.
"Harry," she called. If this town was under the thumb of some spoiled, stuck up, asshole boys, she wanted to know that sooner rather than later. "Harry, could I get another drink?"
No answer. She knew Harry was back there somewhere, but he was avoiding a confrontation with the boys. So it was true. These boys had free reign it seemed.
Phil was now allowing his hand to slide down lower around the girls' shoulders, getting dangerously close to touching their breasts.
"Not so fast, dip shit," Elle said. "If you move your hand one inch more, I'm going to kick your ass."
That caused a huge uproar of laughter from Phil and his three pathetic friends. Elle lifted up her bottle of beer and thought about smashing it into the side of Phil's ugly head. But she couldn't do it. She knew she'd regret it. If Phil's father was mayor, and the other boy's father was sheriff, she knew she really had no options. She couldn't afford to get in trouble like that.