The Haunted - Jessica Verday [72]
Nothing happened at all.
I shook my head back and forth. “I don’t understand it. I just know that I love him. However wrong… or right… that may be. He makes me happy.” I let out a quiet laugh. “Crazy, right? I know. God, I wish you were here to talk to.” Something pinched in the pit of my stomach. “I wish I could share this with you, Kristen. Because that’s the difference between you and me. I would have told you about him instead of keeping it a secret.” Sorrow overwhelmed me, and my tears came faster. Gasping for breath, I turned my face to the sky. The rain was cool and clean, and I just wanted it to wash away my pain. To make everything better. I thought I’d been able to put this all behind me, but apparently not. The wound was still fresh. It still burned.
Monday morning Mom woke me up with a reminder that I had to go help Uncle Bob. I’d completely forgotten about my promise and was not very happy to remember. But I climbed out of bed and quickly threw some clothes on. At least I’d get a paycheck out of the deal.
Mom dropped me off at the front door of the ice cream store and said she’d be back at five, then sped away. I forced myself to enter the shop, already regretting this decision. Working in a back office once a week was one thing—that kind of felt like I’d been doing admin stuff for my own store—but handing over melted ice cream cones to sticky-fingered children all day long was another.
The bells over the door announced my arrival, and Uncle Bob came running from the back. His gray hair was standing up at weird angles, like he’d been pulling at it, and a ring of sweat lined his collar.
“Abbey, I’m so glad to see you.”
I noticed several customers were already in line with impatient looks on their faces, while a brunette who had her back to us was busily scooping away.
Uncle Bob motioned for me to follow him, and we went over to a small supply closet. “One of my freezers quit working, and I have to run in to the city to find another one.” He reached for a box that was sitting on a shelf, and pulled it down. “There are some shirts in here, part of the uniform and all, so you can choose your size and use the bathroom to change.” He stuck one hand in the box and lifted out a bunch of shirts. “Here’s an extra large… an extra large… another extra large… Damn it, are these all extra large?” He rifled through, scanning tag after tag. “I thought I had some more sizes in here.” He looked at me in defeat.
“Don’t worry about it, Uncle Bob,” I said. “An extra large is fine.” He smiled at me and handed over a shirt. Abandoning the box to the floor, he hustled me out of there. “After you’re changed, I’ll show you around the counter area.” The shirt was a hopeless disaster. I pulled it on in the bathroom, and it hung to my knees, the sleeves practically going to my wrists. I tried to tuck it into my shorts, but that bulged in all the wrong places.
Finally, I just tucked in the front of the shirt and tied the back into a knot. It was the best I could do.
As soon as I exited the bathroom, Uncle Bob shuffled me off to the counter. He directed my attention to the tubs of ice cream lined up in a cooler beneath a clear lid. “Ice cream’s here,” he said. “Scoopers are kept in a water trough there.” He pointed behind him. “The counter has all your toppings: peanuts, sprinkles, M&M’s, Reese’s Pieces, coconut, gum-mies… Hot toppings are kept in the warmers.”
He opened the lid of a small silver pot, and I saw a long-handled ladle bobbing up and down in some brown goo.
“Caramel,” Uncle Bob said. I nodded, and he leaned down to open a mini fridge located under the countertop that held the silver warmers. “Your cold toppings are kept in here: whipped cream, marshmallows, strawberries, pineapples, et cetera.” The brunette girl turned to us, and my heart sank.
It was Aubra Stanton. A cheerleader from school.
I had a momentary flashback to that first day of