Somewhere Along the Way (5 page)

REAGAN COVERED FOR EDITH AT THE DINER AGAIN. THIS time Edith said she had to drive to Amarillo to see a doctor about her cold. This time Reagan didn’t even try to act like she believed the waitress.

The weather held an icy stillness over the air, hesitating between winter storms. By eight o’clock, Reagan was surprised at how many people had wandered in. Most only wanted coffee, stayed an hour, and left a quarter tip. Noah dropped by to keep her company, but she was busy enough that they talked little. When she finally had time to sit down, he was into his homework and only wanted to ask her questions about algebra.

Edith’s husband came by a half hour before closing. He said he was looking for his wife, claimed he’d forgotten about her trip to the doctor. Lloyd Franklin was somewhere in middle age. Reagan marked him as one of those loser types who might have been good looking in his teens but settled into overweight, dumb, and sloppy. He winked at her as if he thought he was doing her a favor by talking to her, then left. Reagan noticed he walked across the street to the bar.

She sat back down across from Noah and continued checking his homework. Unlike her, he had his future all planned out. He wanted to travel the rodeo circuit for ten years or so, then settle down on his land and raise horses and cattle. For Noah, algebra didn’t seem a necessary skill, but he had to keep his grades up to go to college, and he only wanted college so he could ride with the team at Texas Tech. Reagan often thought God must have tattooed
Rodeo
on Noah’s brain before he set it in place.

About the time Reagan decided to tell Noah the details of seeing Gabriel Leary last week, Noah packed up his books and hurried out. From the window she watched him pull out his cell once he was off the steps, and she couldn’t help but wonder who was calling him. A year ago, even six months ago, he would have told her. She would have talked to him about Gabe, but now the world’s slowest earthquake seemed to be separating the earth between them, and the gap was too wide to jump by the time they noticed it.

She went back to refilling coffee for mostly old men who were busy solving every problem with the government.

When she passed the pass-through, she yelled to Cass, “Thanks for putting in the step. Makes it a lot easier for me to reach all the paper goods.”

He looked up from the sink. “I didn’t put it in. Edith must have.”

Reagan glanced down at the step that swung down from being flat against the wall. She could flip it up or down with the toe of her shoe and, when up, it was completely out of the way. When down, it added five inches to her height.

Cass moved closer to the pass-through. “You think you can lock up? Ain’t nobody else coming in and, if I leave now, I can watch my show.”

“I can lock up.” Reagan almost giggled, wondering if Cass’s favorite program was
Project Runway
or gator wrestling.

He grabbed his coat. “Don’t forget to wash the coffee-pots and wipe down—”

“I know. I won’t forget.” As he passed her, she added, “What about takeout?”

“We don’t do takeout after five,” Cass answered, and was gone.

Reagan watched him go, realizing he didn’t know anything about the Wednesday night delivery.

The last two old men left a little before nine. Reagan went to the kitchen and packed up a meatloaf sandwich, stew, and two cinnamon muffins. This place had more mysteries than one of those CSI shows. Evidently Cass and Edith had a communication problem. No wonder new waitresses only stayed a few weeks.

She walked out into the stillness of a night that froze her breath. The lean figure of a man stood just at the edge of the back light. He must trust her, for he’d crossed out of the trees. It dawned on her that maybe Leary had been as afraid of her as she’d been of him last week. Suddenly, he wasn’t nearly as frightening.

“Evening, Gabe,” she said, seeing his whiskered face. “Nice night for takeout.”

He stammered just a bit before he answered, “Evening.”

“If you’re walking, I could give you a ride home.” She noticed his cheeks were red from the cold already, and it was a long way back to his place.

“No thanks, I’ve seen you drive.”

She laughed. She did like to drive fast, and more than once she’d called Noah to come pull her out of a ditch.

“Do you drive?” she asked, guessing that if he’d walked tonight, he might live out on his place without a car.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Doesn’t everyone?” He took the bag from her. “But mostly, I like to walk. There was a time I thought I’d never walk again.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out two bills. “Thanks for the supper.”

“You’re welcome.” She stood, watching him move down the gully and across to the trees all dead with winter, and wondered if a part of this man wasn’t dead too. She knew without asking that he’d just talked to her more than he’d talked to anyone in a long time.

Gabriel Leary no longer frightened her. Reagan just felt sorry for him. He wasn’t crazy or a madman running loose, he was simply alone and she knew how that felt. Once in a group home she’d gone a month before one person talked to her. The house mother had a habit of just pushing kids along and pointing as if she were herding cattle. That winter she’d turned twelve and cried so much a lifetime of tears spilled out.

When she walked back into the diner, a woman huddled in the middle booth, her suitcase by her side.

Reagan filled a glass of water and moved to her table. “What can I get you?”

A thin wrinkled face looked up at her. “Just water and an order of fries.”

“With chili or cheese?” Reagan smiled, remembering a few years ago when she’d been asked the same question by Edith. “This late at night there’s no extra charge for chili or cheese.”

The woman nodded and straightened as she warmed. “Then I’ll have both, if you don’t mind.”

“Just get in town?” Reagan asked, guessing the woman to be in her sixties. Not old, but worn down like some people get about that age.

The woman nodded and turned her face toward the window, telling Reagan she didn’t want to talk.

When Reagan delivered the food, she said, “I put the chili in a bowl with cheese on top. That’s how Edith, the usual waitress, gave it to me when I first got here.”

The woman smiled, pulled off her gloves, and slowly began to eat.

Reagan moved to the counter and started cleaning as she kept an eye on her one customer. There was something about this town, she decided, that made her feel . . . that made her care. People here wore their hearts on their sleeves. If the woman had a suitcase, she must have come in on the late bus. Since no one met her, she’d have to walk a ways in the cold to find a hotel.

When she refilled the woman’s water, she said, “We’ll be closing soon. I could give you a ride somewhere if you like. Not much of anywhere is out of my way in this town.”

“Thanks. The bus driver said he thought there was a hotel about four blocks over near the cemetery. I could walk, but I won’t turn down a ride on a night like this.”

Reagan collected her empty dishes and turned off the lights. The woman was waiting by her pickup when she locked up. They didn’t talk on the drive to the hotel, but when Reagan pulled into the hotel lot, she said, “If you’re planning to stay, I think the diner might need a waitress, at least part time.”

“Thanks, but I’m not looking for work.” The woman stepped out. “Good night, dear.”

Reagan watched her go into the tiny office of the run-down hotel. The lady would have no trouble getting a room; only one car was parked in the lot. Reagan couldn’t help wondering what the woman’s story might be. Her clothes looked well made but wrinkled from days of wear.

“I got to stop covering for Edith,” she said aloud. Every time she did, she found another character. People, their lives and dreams, were starting to fascinate her. When she first came, she would have walked right past everyone on the street without caring, but now, Reagan wanted to reach out and help.

On her way home she drove around the old downtown square. In a window on the second floor of one of the buildings was a sign that read ELIZABETH MATHESON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. She circled again and read the smaller print. CIVIL LITIGATION PRACTICE—WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE ON YOUR SIDE.

Reagan stared at the sign for several minutes. Maybe she should go to college. If she became a lawyer, she could help people. She could take classes online or drive over to Bailee’s community college for night classes, and then she could still watch over Uncle Jeremiah.

She shoved the pickup into reverse and swung back on the road heading home. What a crazy dream. She was barely passing English. You probably had to be able to spell to be a lawyer. Plus, nobody liked lawyers. She’d already spent enough of her life with no one caring about her.

As she drove along Lone Oak Road in the dark, Reagan tried to think of another dream she might follow, but none came to mind. Wishing for something was new to her. She hadn’t even thought a town like Harmony existed until she met Miss Beverly one day while cleaning rooms at a nursing home. Miss Beverly told her all about Harmony, and Reagan’s first wish ever was to be from such a place. She’d never been from anywhere. When she finally hitchhiked into Harmony, she felt like she’d found home.

Her cell rang as she turned down the dirt road to the house.

“Rea.” Noah sounded excited.

“What’s up, Preacher?” She smiled, thinking of how announcers always called him Preacher when he rode bulls because every time he climbed on more than a thousand pounds of meanness, Noah McAllen got religion.

“I had to tell you all the news, Rea. I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t tell someone. Dad says he’ll take me to the finals at Oklahoma City next month. Not a high school rodeo, but the big time. He thinks I may be ready soon to go pro.”

“That’s great,” Reagan lied, wishing she could be happy for him, but every time she watched him ride, she remembered the night in the hospital after a bull had tried to stomp him to death.

“And another thing.” He lowered his voice as if hesitating. “Stephanie Summer agreed to go to the prom with me. She must have had a dozen other offers and she picked me. Can you believe that?”

“Terrific.” Reagan fought back tears. She’d told him she didn’t want to date. She’d even coached him on how to ask girls out and what to say, but deep down she’d hoped he wouldn’t go out with anyone. She wanted them to be best friends forever, but she guessed for a guy of eighteen, forever’s not as long as she hoped it might be.

“You all right with it, Rea?”

“Sure,” she answered.

“You planning on going? I’ve heard lots of kids say they’re going without dates.”

“Sure.” She pulled to a stop. “I wouldn’t miss seeing you try to dance with Stephanie Summer.”

He said good night as she walked into the house. Reagan made it to the kitchen and held it together while she said good night to her uncle and climbed the stairs. Alone in her bedroom, she fought back a scream. Not because she wanted to go to the prom with Noah, but because she didn’t want him to go with anyone else.

When her muscles finally relaxed, she hiccupped a laugh, wondering if they let crazy people be lawyers. How could she give others advice if she couldn’t even understand herself?

JANUARY 17, 2008
HARMONY FIRE STATION

HANK MATHESON FINISHED UP HIS PAPERWORK AT THE fire station and glared at the clock. He still had an hour to wait until Alex McAllen could leave work. The need to see her ate at his gut. He’d loved her for as long as he could remember. They’d been engaged for almost two years and he couldn’t get her to decide on where to eat, much less a date to marry. She ran the county sheriff’s office with great proficiency. He had no doubt she loved him, wanted him, needed him.

Why didn’t she want to be married to him? Hank asked himself for the thousandth time.

All he had to do was walk out of the fire station and cross the street to the county sheriff’s office. Since her Jeep was in her parking spot, she’d be in her office. He could just ask her flat out. Alex liked directness.

Only, Hank wasn’t sure his heart could take the answer. If she said no . . . if she said good-bye . . . He was a logical man—part of his job was to plan for emergencies—but he had no backup plan if Alex said good-bye. So, they played a game. He didn’t push, and she never planned.

He walked to the window and stared out at the traffic that moved down the street between them. If he went to her now, people would talk and they’d both had enough of being the topic of conversations in town. He’d even heard that Buffalo’s Bar had a pot going on whether they’d ever get married.

Leaning against the window frame, Hank tried to think of something to kill the time. He could call his little sister and see how she was doing, but Liz had made it plain she wanted the family to leave her alone. He was proud of her for stepping out on her own, but that didn’t keep the big brother in him from wondering how she was doing. She was the youngest and they’d all babied her. He’d seen her practically go into cardiac arrest over a broken fingernail or no ice cream left in the freezer. How could she possibly handle living alone?