Song of the Brokenhearted (25 page)

Glancing back at the baby, Ava could see that Emma's eyes were still closed. Ahead, Ava could see a tall flashing sign.

“Please let us make it,” she whispered. The engine light was on continuously now, and there was a distinct sound in the engine that didn't sound right at all.

She stopped at an intersection. The traffic light rocked on the line, and a dreary fog permeated the surroundings, casting a hazy shroud around a gas station, diner, and motel.

Ava pulled into the deserted gas station and auto shop. A few lights were on, but there was no one around. She kept the engine running and stepped out, feeling the bite in the wind at the edges of her clothing. Through the window, Ava could see Emma stir in her car seat. She wouldn't leave the car with Emma inside, yet she didn't want to wake her if no one was here. Finally Ava saw a young dingy-looking man sauntering slowly toward her.

“Can I help you, ma'am?”

“Are you open?”

“For gas is all.”

“Is there another mechanic's shop somewhere in town?”

The guy spit out a wad of chew, sending a line of black juice across the dirt. Ava raised her eyebrows and he looked apologetic.

“Sorry 'bout that,” he muttered and wiped his hands on a grease-stained rag he pulled from the back pocket of his blue dungarees. “None's open on Sunday. Charlie is our best man, but he's gone fishing in Alaska for a week. I got a bit of an eye when it comes to fixing cars or knowing when they've gone to the happy home.”

Ava wiped the cold sweat that gathered at the back of her neck, shivering in the chilly weather. At least it wasn't a Texas summer with her off on this odyssey. For that, she could thank God. The rest of her situation didn't fill her with gratitude.

“Would you have time this afternoon?”

“It'll cost you.”

Ava bit the edge of her lip. “I don't have a lot.”

He studied her a moment, then stuck out his hand.

“M' name's Duffy, and we'll figure somethun out.”

“All right,” Ava said, glancing back at Emma. She caught a neon sign flickering against the dusk.

Lonesome Café and Motel.

“That place any good?” she asked Duffy, slipping into a stronger accent without meaning to.

“It's all we've got, so guess it be good enough.”

Ava nodded and opened the door to the backseat, where Emma was moving her head from side to side.

Duffy peered into the engine, making enough noises as he perused the parts to make Ava wonder if he'd ever seen a VW before.

She told him she needed an estimate before he fixed anything. He frowned, looking her over, before she hurried to the motel with Emma in the car seat and her purse, baby bag, and overnight bag weighing down her shoulders. Ava got a key and room number, and after dumping the things in the motel room, her grumbling stomach led her to the café.

The café was nearly as empty as the town.

The muscles in her back, neck, and arms seemed to moan in protest as she stood at the front counter waiting to be seated. Her hands stung beneath the Band-Aids from the blisters. Driving all day and carrying the car seat hadn't hastened her healing.

“Sit wherever you like,” a woman's voice called. Emma blinked in the lights and yawned with her pink mouth making a large oval.

“You've got your pick of the place,” the friendly voice called from the back. Ava noticed the empty seats.

“Thank you,” she called back, moving between a row of red

vinyl booths and the counter bar. She found a booth away from the draft of the front door and set Emma down. The baby gave her a large smile and kicked her feet as Ava sat down next to her.

Ava folded her manicured nails together and noticed how they were well past the time for a fill. She'd never gone this long, not even when she'd given birth to her children. Ava didn't look the menu over—she wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, fries, and a Diet Coke. Anyone could make that.

Outside the window, the vacancy sign shown in neon against the gray early-evening sky. The letter C fluttered off and on as if ready to blink out at any moment, making it read “Ya ancy.” Ava wondered about the people who slept in the rooms in the two-story building with a parking lot as a front yard. Probably mostly people passing through. The name Lonesome made it all the more depressing.

The highway stretched out across the desolate plains like an endless ribbon cast off an opened gift. Someone had taken that gift and left the ribbon as trash, just like the shabby little towns in this part of the state.

Ava knew these kinds of towns and these kinds of people. Many of them were honest and hard working. Then there were the others—the meth cookers, the deep-seated racists, and probably some who were hiding from the law.

Ava's uncle was as racist as they came. He showed it through his jokes and his bar fights when drunk. Uncle Stan would narrow in on any person he could guess had some Hispanic blood, and would walk up unprovoked, with barrel-chest stuck out and fist clenched. Most Texans had their own way of thinking, their own ideals, and their own way. They were Texans first, and then Americans.

“Well, what a cutie,” a woman called as she carried a menu and glass of water to the table.

“Yes, she is,” Ava replied as she unlatched Emma from the seat and gave her a rattle.

The waitress leaned close to Emma, cooing to her, and Ava felt a protective instinct to pull her away.

“You are a beautiful little girl,” the waitress said, and Emma responded with a huge smile.

“What can I get you?”

“I'll just take a grilled cheese and fries . . . and I see your special today is chili. Do you recommend it?”

“Best chili around,” the waitress said. “And to drink?”

“Diet Coke?” Ava glanced at the car seat where Emma grabbed at her feet, trying to pull them toward her mouth.

“Got it. You aren't from around here.” The waitress said it as a statement instead of a question.

“No, not really.” Ava wasn't about to explain her history to this woman. She was close enough to home that Ava didn't want to chance someone knowing her father or some other friend or family member.

“Let me guess. Dallas-Fort Worth or Austin . . . probably Dallas.”

Ava chuckled. “Why do you say that?”

“It don't take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. Accent, hair, accessories, nails. The car nearly threw a wrench in my guess.”

The woman looked like she'd worked the diner for decades. Her buttons were undone low enough to show an aging bosom that was most likely her pride as a younger woman—perhaps it still was.

“It also don't take Sherlock to know that there baby isn't yours.”

“You think I'm too old?”

“Nope, not at all. In fact, I gots me a kid who just started kindergarten, so you ain't too old for that there baby. All the movie stars are having kids in their forties now, so you're just in vogue if you do. But you aren't real comfortable with that baby. She's not even your grandbaby, is she?”

“No, she isn't.”

“You didn't steal her, did you? I'd really hate to see you in prison . . . you seem nice enough.”

Ava laughed, surprising Emma, who burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry.” She pulled the baby up, cradling her against her chest, rocking and patting her back. The feel of Emma's small warm body coursed through her with a soothing energy and melted her heart.

“That looks a bit more natural,” the waitress said.

“She's my cousin's baby, so I guess she's my cousin as well.

I'm taking care of her for a while.”

The woman studied her thoughtfully.

“Let me see that little muffin.” She set down her pad and pen on the table and reached for Emma. Ava immediately wanted her back, not in the arms of a stranger, though the waitress quieted Emma down with her bouncing and cooing noises that caused the baby to pull back and study her face.

“I'm Jackie,” she said.

“Ava. Nice to meet you.”

“Let me get your order in.” Jackie moved around to the counter, bouncing Emma as she did. She stuck the order into a metal rack that the cook spun around. He nodded Ava's way as he pulled it off and disappeared into the kitchen.

“We're slow tonight. Big rodeo drains the town out until near midnight, then we'll see things hopping as everyone comes back to town with their stomachs aching for some grub after that drive home.”

“Sounds exhausting.” Ava reached out her hands for Emma. The baby stared at her, then seemed to lean toward her.

“Looky there, she's reaching for you,” the waitress said, but hung on to Emma. “You staying at the motel tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Watch out for this little one. Keep her close to you.”

“Why?”

“Just saying. I'm sure it ain't as clean as you're used to.”

Ava held a teething ring out for Emma to grasp. “Beggars can't be choosers.”

“Why are you a beggar? Don't seem like it should be so.”

“Circumstances. And I'm bringing the baby back to her mama.”

“Does her mama want her back?”

Ava thought about lying and keeping this from getting too personal. But then she thought, what the heck.

“Not sure. You've lived around here a long time?” she asked Jackie.

“'Bout twenty-three years, I guess. Raised my kids in this town, though the first three got out as fast as they could say
eighteen
. My second husband dragged me out here. He's buried down the road, next to my third husband. Guess I should've learned to marry younger, not older.”

Ava wasn't sure how to respond to that.

A ding on the counter sounded and Jackie handed Emma back to Ava. “Your order's up.”

Ava pulled a bottle out from the baby bag. She still worried that she was doing the formula thing all wrong. Her babies had nursed their entire first year with food coming along at five months. She felt completely inept at this formula feeding.

Jackie reappeared and placed the food on the table. “You got kids of your own?”

Ava nodded. “Two.” She nibbled on her grilled cheese, enjoying the soft crunch of butter on the bread and gooey cheese that stretched into long strings with every bite.

“I better get back to work before I get fired . . . Isn't that right, Barney!” Jackie called to the cook behind the small window. He stuck out his head and cupped his ear.

“What?” he yelled over the sound of the fryer.

“Nothing, nothing,” Jackie said with a laugh, waving him away. She cleared the dishes from the table in the next booth, and Ava focused on getting herself and Emma fed.

“It was nice meeting you,” Ava said after she'd paid the bill.

“If you need anything, you give me a holler.”

“I just might do that,” Ava tossed out as she carried bags, car seat, and baby out of the diner.