And I’m on your side. You can talk to me about anything. I’ll try to help wherever I can. Like by taking you drinking on Saturday night.”
Lori smiled. It was just too funny, her homebody little sister trying to get her to go out drinking. It was probably the last thing on earth that Mandy really wanted to do. How could she say no? “You’re right. We should go out. Tell Sunny we’ll be there.”
“And you need to apologize to Wade if you really were out of line. Eat some humble pie. It won’t kill you, and you just might talk him into sharing his well.”
Sometimes Mandy reminded her so much of their mom. Lori’s heart ached a little. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and smiled when her sister giggled.
“You know I’m right,” Mandy retorted.
“I hate humble pie,” Lori grumbled, poking at her eggs with her fork.
“I’ll make you a peach one when you get home,” Mandy offered. “To take away the bitter taste.”
“That’s a nice offer.” But even Mandy’s prize-winning peach pie wasn’t sweet enough to take away the bitterness that Wade Hoffman brought with him when he came home to Marker Ranch.
* * *
IT’S ONLY GROCERY SHOPPING, Wade reminded himself. People do it every day. You get your wallet and step out of the truck and go into the store and shop. But he stayed where he was, white knuckles on the steering wheel, because shopping wasn’t simple anymore.
First of all, now that he was back in Benson, he never knew what kind of reception he’d get. Some places he went, people were fairly friendly. But there was still plenty of suspicion attached to the Hoffman name. He was tailed at the pharmacy as if the clerk thought he was going to run off with all the cold medicine. And whenever he went into the bank, the security guard provided a personal escort for his entire visit. A special perk they provided just for Hoffmans, apparently.
And then there was PTSD. Combat had messed with his perceptions. A loud noise like a motorcycle could suddenly sound like a machine gun. And once he heard it, he’d be on the floor, rolling for shelter, regardless of where he was or who was nearby.
Wade pried his fingers off the steering wheel and exited the cab. Leaning on his ancient truck, he stared at the Blue Water Mercantile. Its weathered sign with a grinning fish jumping into the air was a vintage monument to the 1960s. The Blue Water was out on the outskirts of Benson and far less crowded than the market downtown. But despite all that, Wade was on edge. He just kept imagining himself perusing the aisles, a shopping basket on his arm, and a Harley going by on nearby Highway 395. The Benson gossips would have a field day talking about how poor Wade Hoffman hit the decks, firing a baguette like it was an M60.
He had to man up. A guy who couldn’t even go buy a few groceries was pathetic. Plus, it was early, so he shouldn’t have to worry too much about loud noises. His sister, Nora, who was hell-bent on fixing his PTSD, had advised him to shop in the morning, before things got busy. He had no excuse. It was time to find some courage and buy some food.
He shoved himself away from his pickup and strode to the market door, only to find it locked. He shook it once before realizing the sign read Closed. Feeling foolish, he pulled out his cell phone and glanced at the time. Seven o’clock. Sleep had eluded him last night, so he’d rolled out of bed at first light, relieved to be free of the nightmares that plagued him. But he hadn’t realized it was still so early. Guess that was what happened when his day started at 5 a.m.
Frustrated, he turned to go, wondering what to do with himself in the hour before the store opened. The tinkling of a bell behind him had him turning to face Dan Sanders, the store owner.
“Wade, you’re up early today.”
He could feel his face flush. He was a former army ranger. Since when did he blush like a girl? “Yeah...sorry to bother you. Didn’t realize quite how early it was.”
“Why don’t you come on in?” Dan asked. “You can get your shopping done now. It’s fine. And I’ve got coffee brewing if you want some.”
“Thanks,” Wade said, following the older man into the shop. Dan had thick gray hair and a kind smile. He’d always been good to Wade and Nora, slipping them food and sweets when they were young and their dad forgot to feed them.
He accepted the cup of coffee Dan handed him and sipped it black. Its sharp taste was just what he needed to wipe away the last few cobwebs of the night before.
“How’s everything out at the ranch?” Dan asked. He had a ledger open on the counter. Wade must have interrupted his bookkeeping.
“Coming along, slowly,” Wade answered. And knowing he needed to make some small talk, he asked, “How’s business?”
“Doing better,” Dan answered. “It used to be that most of my customers were tourists, and fishermen getting supplies. But I’m getting more locals these days. I’ve improved my produce section. I’m trying to give the Downtown Market a run for its money.”
Wade smiled, feeling a little more at ease with the chitchat. “It’s nicer here. Way too crowded at the Downtown.”
“That’s what folks have been telling me,” Dan answered. “And speaking of that, I had a talk with your sister a while back.”
Wade’s sense of dignity went on alert. He was Nora’s little brother, and she would go to great lengths to help him out. “Do I want to know what she said?”
Dan laughed. “Well, she’s a little worried about you, I think. And I get it. I fought in Vietnam. I know what it’s like to come home from a war. Getting used to civilian life again is tough.”
Wade shifted his weight uneasily. He wasn’t used to talking like this. Not to someone like Dan. Not to anyone, really, except lately to Nora and Todd. And Dr. Miller. “It’s kind of a challenge,” he admitted. “And starting up the ranch was a crazy idea. I’m learning pretty quickly that I’ve got a lot to learn.”
Dan laughed. “Don’t worry. I almost bankrupted this business a few times when I first started out. There’s a big learning curve when you try something new.”
Wade nodded. “Thanks for the sympathy.” But he didn’t really want more of it. It just didn’t sit well. Maybe it was just his pride talking, but now that he knew his mind didn’t work as well as it used to, pride was all he had left. “I’ll just get my groceries, then.”
He started down the aisles, filling his basket with soups and pasta and other staples. And a baguette that, thankfully, he never mistook for an M60. Then he was back at the counter and Dan was ringing him up.
Wade was just starting to feel relieved that they weren’t going to have any more personal conversations when Dan handed him his receipt and said, “You know, when I first got back from ’Nam, loud noises bugged me a lot. And crowds.” He sighed as if reliving the memory. “Honestly, pretty much everything bugged me. So if you want to come here early, before the store opens, and do your shopping like you did today, that’s no problem.”
“Thanks,” Wade muttered, touched and mortified by Dan’s kindness. Was his PTSD that obvious? Could everyone see it? He grabbed his bag. “I appreciate that.”
“And if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m
