Miracle on I-40 Page 2

  He stirred his coffee, then said, “I’ll have the chili dinner…and I’ll sit over there.” Slipping off the stool, he inclined his head toward the corner booth, then headed for it, wishing the gal would simply get to saying that she changed her mind about the trip.

  As he slid into the booth, he looked into the night-dark window glass and saw her reflection back at the counter, standing there gazing over at him.

  * * * *

  “I don’t know what to do now,” she said to Jolene in a low voice, not wishing to have her business spread out to Gerald and the cook, both busy near the stoves.

  She looked down to see that she was so flustered she had put tomatoes and cucumbers in the salad bowl, without the lettuce.

  “So, what’s the big deal?” Jolene asked.

  “The children are countin’ on going.” She got another salad bowl and filled it with lettuce. “They need to meet their grandparents and aunt and uncle and cousins. Their family. My sister and mother are plannin’ on us being there Christmas Eve.

  “I got myself all set to go home and face Daddy,” she added, feeling near tears.

  “So…go, honey,” Jolene said. “Cooper said he’d take you.”

  “Cooper isn’t Pate. Pate...well, we’re good friends. I wasn’t imposing on him— it’s not imposing on a good friend. You didn’t see Cooper’s face. He doesn’t want to do this. He’s only doing it for Pate.” She dumped dressing all over the salad.

  “So what? Doing it for Pate’s a good reason. And don’t pay any attention to Cooper’s attitude. He always looks grumpy. The man’s afraid to be friendly, afraid people will find out he’s got as big a soft spot as everyone else.” Jolene, who was mixing the house dressing, licked her finger.

  “Where did you get that idea?” Lacey asked and handed Jolene a soapy dishcloth to wipe her hands.

  “I’ve been serving him for four years. I’ve even been out with him.”

  Lacey stared. “When?”

  “Oh, long time back. Maybe right before you came to work here. Before I met Frank, obviously.” Jolene passed Lacey a small bowl of the dressing. “We went out twice, as a matter of fact. Once to a show, then to a show and dinner. He’s a real gentleman— good manners and all, so you don’t have to be worried at all. And he’s a loner. He’s not the marrying kind—he doesn’t want any entanglements. He’ll keep his distance. You will be perfectly safe.”

  Lacey gazed at Jolene. “Is Cooper his first or last name?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Jolene shrugged.

  “You went out with him twice and never learned his first and last names? Didn’t you ask?”

  Jolene said, “He’s just Cooper. Everyone calls him Cooper. Maybe that is his first and last names. And why would I need to know? Two shows and dinner doesn’t mean marriage.”

  “I know Pate respects him,” Lacey said, more to herself than to Jolene. “But I don’t really know anything about him.” She’d felt his low-keyed interest on a couple of occasions, but she didn’t think she wanted to speak about this to Jolene.

  “I think Pate’s recommendation should be enough.” Jolene pointed a finger at Lacey. “Cooper says he’ll take you. You want to go home— you need to go home. Now’s your chance, and my advice is to take it, because you’re not gonna get another like it. Besides, what will you tell the kids? Sorry, it’s all off? Then they’d have to tell their friends, and the UPS man, that their braggin’ was all lies.”

  “Thanks, Jolene,” Lacey said dryly and thrust the bowl of salad toward her. “You take this to him. I need a few minutes to think this thing through.”

  Jolene looked at the salad. “I hope he likes ranch dressing,” she said as she walked away.

  Lacey went to the cooler and brought back one head of lettuce and one of purple cabbage and began chopping them with a cleaver, hard, swift chops. She thought of Pate. Pate Andrews was around fifty, widowed and lived alone, and seemed to love his truck as one would a wife. He had alluded to regret at paying more attention to his truck and trucking than he had to his marriage and family. He had one son, who lived in Richmond with his wife and children, and the two were somewhat estranged. Pate had mentioned that he felt he was too rough for his son, who had been his mother’s child. Sometimes Lacey had the idea that he sought to make up for the loss of his wife and family with his relationship with her.

  Pate came into Gerald’s on a regular basis, and over the years he and Lacey had formed a special kind of friendship. Pate had taken the place of the father she didn’t have, the grandfather the children had never met. Her traveling with him out to North Carolina had been Pate’s suggestion in the first place. He’d first mentioned it back in the fall, and the idea had lodged in her mind, popping up again and again, so that she had begun to imagine going home and making peace with her father.

  When Pate had told her that he planned to get a payload to take him east to spend the holidays with his son, it had been easy to ask if the invitation to go with him still held.

  “You bet it is, gal,” Pate said immediately. “We’ll make this a holiday to remember, both of us makin’ a long overdue trip to family.”

  Everything had fallen into place. She had sort of thought the opportunity had been a gift from God, a sign that she was meant to go home at last.

  And hitching a ride was the only way that she and the children could make the trip. She could not afford a round trip even by bus. A single mother with two children and a patched up ’77 Delta 88 that she couldn’t possibly trust to carry her two children ten miles down the interstate, much less some eighteen-hundred-plus miles. What emergency money she had managed to put aside had been used up by the dentist for Jon and a new starter for the car. Beth had sent some money and wanted to have their mother send more, but Lacey refused. She couldn’t come home to her father like that.

  Besides, Pate welcomed their company, and she felt they were contributing to his holiday, too.

  She was fairly certain Cooper wouldn’t welcome their company, she thought, stepping to the double doors and peering through the small window, seeing him at his table eating his salad.

  “Ridin’ in a big rig? Man alive!” Jon had said. And, curiously, “Does my grandfather know what I look like?”

  Anna had said, “I’m makin’ a pot holder for our grandmother.”

  “Chili’s up!” the cook called.

  Lacey turned and walked over to get the steaming bowl, assemble it and the fresh bread Gerald had made and butter on a tray.

  “Mama’s aging, and Daddy’s heart could go anytime,” Beth had said.

  Jolene burst through the door, bearing the big plastic dishpan. She set it on a counter and whirled to hold out several bills toward Lacey.

  “Here’s your tip from that man who favored sliding his cup around. He was right nice, too. Now, you’d better get that chili out there to Cooper. It doesn’t take long to eat that small salad…and no, I’m not takin’ it. I’ve got to go do something with these antlers. They’re givin’ me a headache.” And she went off toward the ladies room.

  Lacey lifted the tray of food, took a deep breath, and pushed through the swinging doors.

  Walking toward Cooper in the booth, her heart thudded. He had to have heard her footsteps, but he didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading. Maybe he didn’t hear her. She stood at his table a moment, looked at his thick hair. Goodness, it was glossy brown. His mustache was, too, tinged with red, just like the hair on his head. And his eyes were brown as buckeye seeds.

  She realized suddenly that he was looking up at her.

  He folded the paper, wrinkling it in his haste, and she sat the plates in front of him, saying the chili was a little on the spicy side today, chatting in her nervousness.

  She stood there, uncertain, rubbing her hands together. Then she slipped into the seat opposite him. His eyebrow came up. He gazed at her a moment, then looked at his bowl and sprinkled cheese over his chili.

  “How did Pate seem when you left
him?” she asked.

  “He was wide awake and flirtin’ with the nurse.” He glanced at her, then stirred the chili, jabbing in the melting cheese.

  “How long will he have a cast on?”

  “Eight weeks at least, the doctor said.” He took up the bottle of dried pepper and shook it liberally over the chili. Without first tasting it, Lacey noted with a small bit of alarm.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water,” she said, when she realized he didn’t have one. She’d been negligent—they always brought the customer ice water first thing.

  She hurried around the counter and got the water, and as she brought it back, the father of the family of four held up a finger and called, “Oh, Miss…Miss, we’d like to order pie to go please.”

  She set the glass of water in front of Cooper, stepped away, only to stop and abruptly return to put a napkin under the glass to get the drips, then rush to get pie for the family who were in a hurry to get on the road. After that she had to attend the register for a trucker and the elderly ladies, who wished her and everyone in the room a very merry Christmas, and to get menus for two truckers who came in.

  Jolene had apparently gotten very involved with her antlers. Surely, Paloma, who was supposed to work the supper shift would come in any minute, she thought, heading back to Cooper’s table with the coffee pot.

  “You goin’ or not?”

  Cooper’s voice startled her, and she splashed the coffee out of his cup. “Oh…I’m sorry.” She dabbed up the spill.

  They gazed at each other.

  Again she slipped down slipped down into the seat opposite him. “I know it’s an imposition, and I really hate to bother you, only…”

  “Look,” he said, holding his knife like a pointer, “I told Pate I’d take you. The deal is still on, just like before, and I’ll probably get you there a bit faster than Pate would have. I don’t make a lot of stops. It’s not like it was with Pate—I ain’t Pate—but it is a ride. Now, do you want to go?”

  Lacey stared at those buckeye brown eyes.

  “I’d be very grateful for the ride,” she said.

  He nodded. “Okay.” And he looked down at his chili and scooped a spoonful into his mouth, hot chili and hot pepper.

  Lacey sat there, gazing at him.

  After several long seconds, he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Pate was going to pick me up at home at six o’clock tomorrow morning.” Why did this man have to be so purposely disagreeable?

  “You be here at the restaurant at five, and we’ll head out.” He returned his attention to his chili.

  Lacey opened her mouth, then closed it. “Fine,” she said at last.

  Rising, she walked straight-backed across the room and through the swinging doors. Oh, Lord, why did you let Pate break his leg?

  The Heart’s Desire

  At the exact moment that Lacey prayed for Paloma to arrive, the young woman came bouncing through the door, her arms laden with shopping bags, and singing Feliz Navidad.

  Lacey said, “Merry Christmas to you, too, my tables are all yours,” and whipped off her apron and unpinned her name tag.

  Growing a little frantic, with all she had to do racing through her mind like a pack of dogs chased by the dog catcher, she got her purse, threw on her coat.

  “Feliz Navidad!” Paloma called to her.

  “Honey, make it a good one,” said Jolene. “I love your face...here.” Jolene passed her a small black satin cosmetic bag. The name of Estée Lauder was printed on the side.

  “We agreed—no buyin’ gifts.” Lacey pushed the bag back at the woman.

  “I did not buy it. It came as my free gift for buyin’ the miracle wrinkle cream. Honest. Take it and enjoy.”

  Jolene gave a her a hug and a kiss. Gerald appeared with a pecan pie covered in plastic. The two of them waved her away at the back door, their wishes for a good trip and Merry Christmas echoing into the crisp dark night. Lacey hurried out past the dumpster and a beat-up Rambler with someone sleeping in it, and over to her old white sedan, which looked even more rundown in the silvery glow of the parking lot lights.

  She got in, set the pecan pie carefully in the passenger seat and pulled her coat collar up around her neck because the driver window was stuck down, which was why Anna had caught cold in the first place. At the turning of the key, the engine protested with a lot of whines and grinds, snorts, and pops, while Lacey whispered, “It will start…it will start…it will start.” It did, and Lacey revved it several times, then backed out of her space and headed in a chugging fashion past the restaurant.

  In the way of Universe arrangements, at the particular moment of Lacey’s passing, Cooper was coming out from the restaurant and heading for his rig, where he intended to spend the night. He saw the car jerking along with clouds of smoke puffing out the back of it. Next, with some surprise, he saw the gal—Lacey Bryant—at the wheel.

  He watched the pitiful car continue on to the entrance, where it paused before pulling out onto the narrow blacktop highway headed for town. It let out a loud backfire, then picked up speed and roared away.

  Cooper, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, strode slowly on to his truck, wondering about her, and wondering about himself, and maybe, reluctantly, a little pleased he would have the gal’s company for the drive east.

  As soon as he realized the sense of pleasure, though, he stopped it.

  * * * *

  The shopping mall was packed, people scrambling for bargains in the last days. There was only one Tough-Stuff radio-controlled car left at the hobby shop. Lacey spotted it and at the same instant saw another woman heading directly toward it.

  With a burst of speed, Lacey sprinted and reached the car first, snatched up the box from the shelf and held it close. The woman glared at her, and Lacey’s cheeks burned from shame.

  “My son…he really wants this one, you see. He hasn’t asked for another thing…and…I just have to have this one.”

  The woman’s expression turned wary. She stepped back, clutched her purse to her bosom and edged away.

  Lacey looked down at the box she held and then at the woman. Oh, Father, find that woman another car.

  Then she turned resolutely to the checkout counter, and her embarrassment eased into joy as she handed her hard-earned money to the cashier. “My son’s goin’ to be so excited about this,” she told the girl, who smiled brightly but being only a young teen could not possibly understand what it meant to a mother to want to please her first born son.

  Walking out of the mall, Lacey looked into the shopping bag several times, reassuring herself that she did indeed have the car. She held the pleasure to her, which in part made up for the fact she could not give Anna her longed-for Christmas puppy. But when they got back home after the trip, she promised herself, she would see about a puppy, even though it made not one bit of sense to take on another mouth to feed and one more to clean up afterward at the end of a long day.

  From the shopping mall she drove to Walmart, where she locked Jon’s car in the truck and raced into the store, tossing a couple of bills into the Salvation Army kettle without pausing and pushing a buggy down the aisles and around other shoppers like a marathon runner.

  When she got back to her car, she threw her packages in the back seat with an audible “Whew!” Her feet and back ached, her hands were stiff and dry, and at home were two children to wash and stuff with a snack, before finishing up the packing. She never had been able to pack until the last minute.

  It began to rain, and the Delta’s windshield wipers squeaked back and forth.

  “The traffic lights blinked a bright red and green...” came the holiday song over the radio.

  She reached over and touched the bags in the seat beside her, beginning to worry about having overspent. But Anna had really needed socks, and that fancy hair clip hadn’t cost that much. And Jon’s present shoes were disreputable.

  But she really hadn’t needed to buy that belt buckle for Cooper. I
t’d been a silly, extravagant thing to do. Twenty dollars, on sale. It was the sale tag that had gotten her. For twenty dollars she could buy supper on the trip for her and the kids.

  It’s Christmas, came the whisper. I will have enough money…I will have enough money…I will have enough…

  As she pulled into the driveway of her duplex apartment, the door opened from the adjoining apartment where the children stayed during the school break with their neighbor, Susan Price, who had her own baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her leg. Ten-year-old Jon and five-year-old Anna came running to meet her, Anna throwing herself on Lacey, and John slipping his arm around her.

  “They had hamburgers for supper,” Susan told her. “This one had two,” she said, her hand affectionately placed atop of Jon’s head.

  “Growin’ boys have to eat,” said Jon righteously.

  “I’ll be needin’ to pay you for three mouths, instead of two,” Lacey said, passing Susan the envelope she had prepared. “Thanks for takin’ care of them for me.”

  “Jon’s really a help to me, you know. And I had plenty extra. Marty’s workin’ late, again...you want to come have a hamburger?”

  Her friend looked tired and lonely, but Lacey declined. “I’ve still got packin’ to do.”

  Everyone called, “Merry Christmas,” back and forth, and at last Lacey got herself and her brood into their apartment and closed the door. She felt an immediate relief, as if shutting out the world.

  Then Jon and Anna were tugging on her, pretending to try to peek into the bags.

  “You’ll spoil your Christmas,” Lacey cautioned.

  “Not me. I won’t see my puppy until Christmas mornin’ after Santa brings it,” Anna said flatly.

  Jon switched on a lamp and threw himself on the couch, saying, “I’ve told her and told her that Santa won’t bring her a puppy this year because of the trip.”

  “He might.” Anna jutted her little chin.

  “Pate won’t want a noisy, messy puppy ridin’ all the way back here in his truck from North Carolina.” Jon sent Lacey a look; he was doing his best to help.