Whispers from the Past (4 page)

While she went all giggly over adolescence, I thought about what Jesse had said. Biking, while definitely something I enjoyed doing, wasn’t a passion that I had any interest in turning into a job. There had to be other things I cared about, and it would be really great if I could make money at them too. But what were they?

I liked the idea of conserving natural resources, yet I wasn’t sure whether it was simply curiosity or something I could do for a career. For now, conservation was just the answer I gave when someone asked me about my college major.

There wasn’t anything in this world that I loved as much as Benita loved music or Jesse loved chemistry.

Except Susanna.

Somewhere deep inside me, there had to be a talent, a need, a passion waiting to be released. And it scared me shitless not to know what it was.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

F
LIRTING
W
ITH
L
ITTLE
R
ESULT

I spent most of Friday taking a placement examination to continue my education. When I turned in my answer sheets, it was with relief and confidence. I had done well. It would not be long before I could participate in Wake Tech’s GED preparation program. Since the costs were minimal and many of the courses online, I expected to begin as soon as possible. Perhaps in a year, I would have a high-school equivalency diploma. That would increase my job opportunities greatly.

On Saturday morning, I rose early to start the laundry. Marissa was working at one of her jobs, today at a literacy center, teaching adults how to read. She would return to a clean apartment and fresh linens.

Mid-morning, my phone buzzed with Mark’s ring tone. I ran to the kitchen table and snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

“Ready to celebrate?”

Celebrate the taking of an examination? It seemed like a trifle, but I would never turn down the chance to be with Mark. “Indeed. Where shall we go?”

“It’s a surprise. Be ready in fifteen minutes.”

I put away the clean towels and then waited impatiently at the glass doors that separated the great room from the balcony. When I saw Mark’s truck pull into the complex, I hastened from the apartment with eager anticipation.

“Will you tell me now?” I asked, sliding onto the passenger’s seat.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

He was correct. When he took the airport exit, I beamed with approval. I could never get enough of Observation Park, a place where I could watch airplanes take off and land.

Mark had hardly finished braking before I was out of the truck and running up the ramp to the observation deck. A plane, decorated from nose to tail in vibrant blue and orange, screamed down the runway and soared into the air with the grace and ease of an immense bird. Even though I had lived in this century for seven months, this sight never failed to delight me.

An arm slipped around my waist. “I brought a picnic lunch,” he said. “Want to pick out a spot?”

It took little time to find a nice location for the blanket. Mark sat beside me and captured my hand firmly with one of his. In this place—unlike any other we visited on a date—I did not mind being this public with our affection. The sights and sounds forced me to acknowledge how utterly modern and fantastic my new home was.

“Did I make the right choice?” he murmured, pressing his lips to my cheek.

I laughed. “For both of us. The airplanes distract me from the impropriety of our touching.”

“That’s part of why I like this place so much.” He grabbed the cooler. “I’m ready to eat.”

“Naturally.”

An hour passed quickly. With regret, I allowed myself to be pulled to my feet and returned to his truck. As we were buckling in, my phone rang.

I did not recognize the number. “Yes, this is Susanna Marsh.”

“Hello, hon. This is Lucy Greer. From Lucy’s Farmhouse Restaurant.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I held my breath as hope flickered. Of all the positions I had applied for, this one had seemed the most comfortable to me.

“We’d like to offer you a job.”

“Thank you. I accept.” I reached blindly for Mark’s hand.

“Wonderful. Can you come in this afternoon? We’d like you to train as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am. When would you like me to arrive?”

“How about two? It’ll be quiet by then, and we can show you the ropes.”

“I shall be there on time.”

“I love your enthusiasm.” She chuckled. “See you then.”

The phone went silent.

Mark squeezed my hand, his smile wide. “Did you get a job?”

I nodded, dazed by my good fortune. I slipped my phone into a pocket and tried to breathe normally. A job. Finally.

“So tell me. Which one?”

I shifted on the seat until I faced him fully. “I shall be working at Lucy’s Farmhouse.”

“The place near the hospital?”

I nodded. “I shall keep the dining area clean and clear the tables. They will pay me minimum wage.”

“Busing tables?” He drew back with a scowl. “No, babe. You ought to hold out for something better. Didn’t you apply for a receptionist job somewhere?”

My smile faded. “I wouldn’t do well with those duties.” “Yes, you would. You’d look beautiful sitting behind a desk, smiling at people.”

I shook my head. I knew what a receptionist’s duties entailed, and it was more than he imagined. “My computer skills are too basic for that job. I would have to answer the phone, and I do not always understand what people in this century say—or mean.”

“You can learn.”

“I know how to clean
now
. A restaurant suits me.”

“You’re too smart to be busing tables.”

I stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Do you believe that people work in food service because they aren’t intelligent enough to work elsewhere?”

“No, it’s just…” His lips clamped shut.

The manner of his response to my good news cooled my excitement. “At present, this is the best job available for someone like me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I am a refugee, a person who has moved from a distant time and place. I do not have skills that I can sell here.”

He did not deny what we both knew to be the truth. “That will change once you get a college degree.”

I blinked at him, surprised that he harbored this expectation. I had never spoken of an interest in earning a degree beyond passing my GED test. “I have no wish to spend money on college.”

He let his head drop on the seatback. “My parents have money. Let them help you.”

We’d argued this point too many times to count. I did not care to do so again. “They are
your
parents. Not mine.”

He exhaled noisily. “When do you start at Lucy’s?”

“Today. At two.”

“What?” He straightened, frowning like a grumpy child. “You’re spending the day with me. You’ll have to call them back and say you can’t be there.”

“I shall not.”

“We have plans.”

“You didn’t mention that to me. I thought the picnic was our celebration and you were taking me home now. What else is there?”

“We’re going out to a movie and dinner with Jesse, Benita, and Gabrielle.” He slipped on his shades before facing me. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

His friends from Neuse Academy. His clever, beautiful, educated friends. And in the instance of Gabrielle Stone, famous around the world. Perhaps they had even chosen a movie starring her. “I do not think that your friends wish to celebrate something as simple as embarking on high-school studies.”

“Why would you think that? They’re happy for you, too.”

“My time is otherwise committed. Please take me home.”

Lucy Greer was a black woman, tall and straight with a large scar at the base of her throat. Her laugh echoed readily within the walls of her restaurant. It felt like a happy place.

She bustled about the dining room, explaining the precise instructions she had for getting this space clean. I had no concerns. Her expectations were quite reasonable.

Once she’d finished, she took me to her office and handed me two long-sleeved red T-shirts and a list of the uniform items I would have to provide myself. I did not know what overalls were, but certainly Mark or Marissa could help me.

After Lucy completed the orientation, she introduced me to the other staff. They were relaxing in the break room, drinking coffee, eating pie, and flirting with little result.

The EMPLOYEES ONLY door opened and in walked a handsome young man in dark jeans and a leather jacket over a pale-green shirt. His appearance had a startling effect on the group. The young ladies straightened from their slouches and smiled hopefully. The gentlemen shuffled their feet and peered at him with expressions of admiration.

Lucy beamed with genuine welcome. “Isaac!”

The man raised a hand in greeting, his gaze sweeping the group until it fell on me. “Hi,” he said.

“This is Susanna,” Lucy said. “She’s our new cleaning help.”

“Are you a server?” I asked.

Everyone laughed, as if my comment was vastly amusing.

“No,” he said, “I drive the food shuttle.”

I gave a brief nod even though I had no idea what a food shuttle was.

Isaac and Lucy disappeared into the back pantry. He left soon thereafter.

The next hours passed swiftly. I learned that my chores were unevenly paced, my co-workers were pleasant—if a bit silly—and the patrons were unnecessarily slovenly and wasteful with their food.

A few minutes before closing, Isaac returned and headed for a table at the back of the dining area. Moments later, one of the young ladies hurried out to serve him a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. He smiled at her, exuding kindness.

Although he was a puzzle to me, I had to ignore him to give full attention to my duties. Washing tables. Running the sweeper. Restocking the napkins.

As my first shift drew to a close, I reflected with satisfaction on how well the evening had gone. The tasks were easy. No one thrashed me for imagined mistakes. I could tell with a quick glance what I had completed and how much I had yet to do. I would receive pay for a few hours’ work. Truly, it was the best job I’d ever had, and Mark had not wanted me to take it.

Resentment tightened my gut. Perhaps this position would be beneath him, but then, his options were limitless. Mine were not. I would do this job well and expect him to keep any further opinions to himself.

By the time I reached the last table—where Isaac sat—the clock had already ticked past nine, closing time. Yet he made no move to leave, nor did any of the staff hurry him out. My curiosity had reached a fever pitch. He was by far the most intriguing person I had met here, besides Lucy herself.

Now that I stood so closely to him, I could tell several things that hadn’t been initially evident. Isaac was older than I’d first imagined, closer in age to Marissa than to me. His clothing, although casual, had the fabric and styling of expensive brands. His dark blond hair was overly long but, like his beard, carefully trimmed. His hands were clean and smooth—hands that had never done hard, physical work.

“Susanna?”

I met his gaze, cheeks warming at being caught staring. “Yes?”

“Am I in your way?”

“No, indeed.”

The light smile never left his face. “How has your first night gone?”

“Very well.” I longed to ask him who he was and the real reason for his presence here, but it was too soon. I did not know him yet. However, he was trying to engage me politely. I could try, too. “Did you drive your food shuttle tonight?”

“Yes, I completed a route.” His smile widened. “Do you know what a food shuttle is?”

I shook my head.

“Local restaurants donate leftover food to soup kitchens that are located near downtown Raleigh. I pick up the food in a van and then drive it down there.”

“What is a soup kitchen?”

“That’s where people who are hungry can go to get a free meal.” The response gave no indication if my question had surprised him.

“How admirable.” I hesitated, hoping that his comment was an appropriate opening for querying further. “Is this your job?”

“No, it’s…something I care about.”

“Indeed.” I gave a sharp nod. “A person who eats well while those around him go without their meals is displaying the worst kind of arrogance.”

His eyes narrowed on my face. “You’ve known hunger.”

“I have.”

“Maybe you can ride along with me sometime.” He rose. “It was nice to meet you, Susanna, and thank you for not chasing me out.”

With Isaac gone, I completed my chores and then carried the sweeper and rags to the custodial closet. As I walked through the dining area one last time, a truck pulled into the parking lot and dimmed its headlights.

It was Mark’s truck. I crossed to the public entrance and pushed open the door as he strolled up.

“Hey,” he said, his fists buried in his pockets.

“Hello. Why are you here?”

“To drive you home.”

I gazed at him with surprised joy. “I rode over on my bike.”

“We’ll throw it in the back of the truck. No way am I letting you bike that distance after dark.
Ever
.” He watched me intently. “Even though I wouldn’t have picked this job for you, I need to help.”