Page 4 of Then Came You

In fact, she’d seemed irritated by his very presence, and he hadn’t wanted to push. He’d just bide his time, and one day, maybe she’d be more open to having a conversation.

He’d only known Owen for a couple of weeks before he’d died. It had been long enough to learn that the man had a fiancée and a chocolate lab he loved. Sam had started out working for the Fenton Police Department but had recently transferred to Holly, where he’d met Owen. They’d gotten along immediately, and he’d been looking forward to getting to know him better. Cops were a tight-knit group, and Sam suspected that he would have eventually met Owen’s fiancée and his dog, but he’d never expected to meet Gillian the way he had.

Even though Sam hadn’t known Owen that long, he had attended his funeral because that was what cops did. They paid their respects to fellow officers who fell in the line of duty, knowing that the same would be done for them. Nobody liked to think it would happen to them, but it was a risk that went with the job.

Having never met Gillian or any of Owen’s family before, Sam had hung back at the funeral. He hadn’t approached her even though he’d wanted to. Every time he’d thought about it, somebody else had beaten him to it, so he’d stayed in the background with some of the other guys from the department.

He still remembered how Gillian had looked that day—shocked, saddened, and overwhelmed. There’d been quite a turnout, and her expression had said she would have liked to escape. She’d held it together for most of the service and only lost it at the very end when Owen’s casket had been lowered into the ground.

She’d been immediately surrounded by a group of women, who, at the time, he’d assumed were related to her. Now, he’d learned that two of the women were her friends Lauren and Savannah, the co-owners of A Latte Books.

He’d recalled Owen telling him that Gillian and her two best friends from college were opening a coffee shop/bookstore in downtown Holly, and his pride had been obvious.

For a while after Owen’s death, Sam had thought about going into the store to pay his respects to Gillian. Time had a way of slipping by, though, and he’d never done it.

Finally, he’d started swinging by the shop for a cup of coffee on his breaks. He supposed it was his way of making sure she was okay. It had been June then, and whenever he went in, he’d been waited on by a teenager. Occasionally, he’d catch a glimpse of Gillian, but she’d always seemed to be occupied.

It wasn’t until recently that she’d been working the coffee counter, and he’d seen her almost every day for the past two weeks. She’d given him a chilly reception, though, and he still hadn’t broached the subject of Owen’s death. Now it had reached the point where he felt uncomfortable bringing it up. Over a year had gone by, and surely, Gillian didn’t need the reminder.

He’d studied her when she wasn’t looking, which was most of the time while he was there. Her appearance had improved since he’d seen her at the funeral. She was probably around five feet five and lean, but her frame looked more filled out. At the funeral, she’d looked gaunt and pale, like the last thing on her mind had been maintaining her health.

Now her skin had a healthy glow that she’d undoubtedly acquired during the summer months since Michigan winters were harsh enough to make anyone look pale. He’d noticed her hair was different too. At the funeral, she’d worn it pulled back in a severe bun. Now her shiny medium-brown hair was shoulder length and styled in what one might call a swingy bob. (He’d heard that term somewhere and was embarrassed he’d remembered it.)

Whenever she looked at him, her mouth was set in a straight line. But he’d seen her smile at other customers, and she’d looked so much prettier. If only she’d smile at him too, not for any other reason than he’d like to be her friend.

He understood what it was like to lose someone you loved, and in his job, he’d witnessed a lot of losses. In his profession, he was supposed to be tough, but he was also compassionate. He would like to share some of that compassion with her, if only she’d be receptive to it.

“Come here, boy. Let’s go inside and get you some water.”

“Woof,” Rocky agreed.

They went up the sloping backyard and into the ranch home that used to belong to Sam’s grandparents. He’d always loved visiting there as a kid, mainly because it was situated on a lake that was perfect for fishing. And of course, he’d enjoyed spending time with his grandparents too.

After they’d passed away, he’d moved in, and while he’d made a few updates to the house, much of it looked the same. Some might call it nostalgia; he called it contentment. He was perfectly satisfied with the way things were, and that applied to all aspects of his life.

After all, he had a good-paying job, a roof over his head, and his dog. What more did he need?

Chapter 3

It was a beautiful September morning, the kind that occurs right before summer turns to fall. Lauren had the weekend off, so Gillian and Savannah were working that day. While Gillian usually handled the coffee counter, today Savannah had offered.

“But you hate working the coffee counter,” Gillian said.

“I don’t hate it. I just don’t like it.”

Gillian laughed. “Why, because it messes up your manicure?”

Savannah looked down at her fingernails. “Well, yeah. Do you know how much I spend to keep my nails looking this good?”

“I have an idea.” Gillian glanced down at her own nails, which hadn’t been painted in months. She’d stopped going to the nail salon after Owen had died, and she hadn’t been motivated to start up again.

“Thanks for sacrificing your nails for me,” Gillian teased.

“I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

Gillian nodded since a lump had formed in her throat. After Savannah went into the coffee shop, Gillian went behind the bookstore counter and perused the to-do list. The three of them had come up with a system of keeping each other informed, although it wasn’t very sophisticated. They kept a notebook on the counter with a running list of notes/tasks.

Gillian reviewed the notes Lauren had written last night, which read as follows: