Wind Over Marshdale (4 page)

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The meeting went well, as far as meetings were concerned, but Rachel wondered how she was going to remember all those names after just one go around. Marshdale School was a composite from kindergarten to grade 12 with a total of 23 staff members. She was the only new person on staff, so the rest of them had it easy.

Oh, well. In a few days she would have everyone figured out.

“You want to head over to Sonny's Café for a bite?” Grace asked as they were lingering by the door.

“Not me,” Rhoda answered. “I brought my lunch. I have a ton of work to do before tomorrow when the kids get here.”

Grace laughed. “Oh, I get it. Trying to make the rest of us look bad. What about you, Rachel?”

“I have an awful lot of work myself,” Rachel replied.

“Come on,” Grace coaxed. “Don't we all? Believe me, it'll still be there after lunch.”

“Well,” Rachel considered, “I haven't actually been to Sonny's yet…”

Grace's eyes widened. “You haven't been to this town's only half decent restaurant?”

“No. I can't say that I have.”

“It's settled then,” Grace said, taking Rachel's arm. “See you later, Rhoda,” she waved as she continued to steer Rachel toward the door. “Come on. We better get going while Friest is still occupied.”

Rachel glanced toward the Phys. Ed. teacher, still in an animated conversation with the principal about travel funding for the upcoming season of tournaments. “Good idea.”

“You've already been clued in to our resident Casanova?” Grace asked.

“In person, I'm afraid,” Rachel replied.

“Figures.” Grace shook her head. “He has a nose for fresh blood. He did the same to me last year when I was new here, but I scared him off when I flexed my muscles at him. Mine are bigger." The thought of this “Viking-like” woman flexing her muscles in front of Steve Friest brought a smile to Rachel's lips. “Unless of course, you're interested…” Grace added.

Rachel shook her head firmly. “Not at present, thanks.”

They walked briskly down the side street, directly on the road since there were no sidewalks on this particular avenue. In two more blocks they would be at Main Street, which ran through the center of town. Almost all Marshdale's businesses were lined up on this one street. As a bleak reminder to more prosperous days, there were also several empty buildings, some rather dilapidated and run down.

The tinkling bell over the restaurant door announced the entrance of the two women. Grace led the way to a booth near the large front window. Sonny's was decorated in what could be called “Late Seventies Chinese Canadiana”—lots of imitation wood grain paneling, orange and gold vinyl seating and some seemingly out of place prints of bamboo and rice paddies. A couple of teenagers, one boy and one girl, busied themselves behind the long glass case which served as a front counter.

The vinyl seats squeaked as they sat down and they were promptly greeted by a woman of Chinese descent with tall glasses of ice water and menus. Rachel perused the worn plastic coated card.

“I recommend the combination plate,” Grace said. “That, or the breaded veal cutlets. The special sauce Sonny uses is to die for.”

Rachel opted for the cutlets.

“They all work so hard,” Grace commented as they watched the family at work.

“Are those Sonny's children?”

“Yes. It's a real family business. Lily is Sonny's wife, Billy and Suzie are both in high school and Annie will be in Rhoda's class this year. Crazy alert,” Grace whispered gesturing toward the door with her head. “Local crazy woman just entering.”

Rachel glanced at the entryway. A woman of indeterminate age swept into the room. Her hair was a shocking mass of backcombed orange frizz; her flowing skirt and blouse reminiscent of a gypsy at Halloween. She had large, dangling earrings, a clutter of rings and bracelets that jangled when she walked, and her makeup was plastered on like she was in a stage play.

“Mirna Hyde,” Grace supplied. “Apparently, she moved back here a few years ago from Vancouver Island. She was in some kind of hippie colony or something. She has a twin sister in town. Marni Hyde. I'm sure you'll run into her.”

“Is she really crazy?” Rachel asked.

“I don't really know,” Grace replied. “I think people just say that because she's different. In the way she dresses and whatnot. People aren't used to that sort of thing around here.”

Mirna sat down at a booth just two away from Rachel and Grace. Lily automatically brought her a pot of herbal tea without even needing to ask. A few moments later, a couple of preteen girls entered the establishment, giggling as girls their age often did for no apparent reason. They headed straight for Mirna's table and sat down.

“Not in here!” Lily piped up, refilling some coffee cups just a few tables away. “You go outside with that. Not in here!” She made a shooing motion and the girls beat a hasty retreat, whispering and giggling all the way.

“What was that all about?” Rachel whispered, leaning forward in the booth.

“Rumor has it Mirna is a fortune teller. She reads palms and tarot cards and stuff,” Grace informed.

“Really?”

“I've never gone to her myself, but I know people who have. They say she's pretty accurate. Maybe we should go together sometime. Just for fun, of course. I don't really believe in that stuff.”

“Me neither,” Rachel agreed. Although, she did wonder sometimes…

“The Changs don't appreciate it. They go to that big church on the corner. The one when you first drive into town?”

“Oh.”

“There's the pastor of the church right over there.” A man of about thirty with neat, though thinning, hair and a goatee had just entered the restaurant and was talking to the teenaged Chang children behind the counter. “They have a pretty active youth group.”

Rachel watched as the pastor turned to nod at some elderly farmers who were debating politics. She couldn't help but overhear their conversation. One of the men, who sported a graying beard and dusty miner's hat, was talking loud enough to be heard in the next room. “I tell you, Amil. The local boys better start hauling every kernel of grain to the elevator in town or it's goin' down like the rest of them. After that they'll be pulling up the rail line and you and I both know what happens after that. A ghost town. Why I remember when we used to come to town on a Saturday night and the streets were lined with cars.”

“Hudson, them's the old days,” the other man, Amil, countered. He looked to be slightly younger, was clean shaven and his hair was trimmed in a much neater style than his companion's. He wore the usual ball cap, cocked to one side at a jaunty angle. “How do ya ‘spect a fella to stay competitive nowadays? With the size of most folks' operations, they need to get the best price per bushel. That big cement terminal down at Silver Creek is offering a better price than our local elevator.”

“Huh,” Hudson grunted. “That's the trouble. Farms are gettin' too big these days. I'm still operatin' with the ten foot swather I bought in sixty-nine.”

“Exactly my point, cause you're too stubborn to do otherwise! But these young fellas—they got education.”

“I never had no education, and I'm doing fine,” Hudson snorted. “And I can't afford to haul all the way to Silver Creek.”

“Maybe it's time you sold out to your neighbor, there,” Amil suggested and took a long swig of his coffee.

“Not selling out to those McKinleys,” Hudson mumbled. “Soon they'll be taking over the whole municipality.”

Rachel didn't hear Amil's reply. Grace had leaned over and was explaining in a semi-whisper, “This same conversation goes on every time I come in here.”

“Oh,” Rachel nodded.

The little bell above the door tinkled and Rachel glanced over to see who had entered. A very tall, well-built native man was holding the door for two children, one a teenage boy and the other a little girl.

“So? Who are they?” Rachel asked under her breath.

Grace frowned and shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Really?” Rachel questioned, her eyebrows raised. “That's a first. You seem to have the low-down on everyone else that's come in so far.”

“I really don't know,” Grace repeated. “Although I did hear something about an archeological excavation going on outside of town at some ancient burial grounds or something.” Grace surveyed the threesome more closely as they seated themselves in a booth. “This town can definitely use a few more strangers if they all look like that one.”

“Grace!” Rachel suppressed a giggle.

Lily Chang brought the newcomers water and was about to pass out the menus when the man stopped her. “We don't need menus today, thanks. Ryder and I want the special and Whisper said she wanted a grilled cheese. Isn't that right, Whisper? You wanted grilled cheese?”

The little girl nodded vigorously.

Rachel knit her brows as she sipped her coffee.

“What's up?” Grace asked.

Rachel glanced over at Amil and Hudson, hoping their continued discussion about the merits and pitfalls of progress would be loud enough to muffle her own voice. “I remember seeing that name on my register,” she said quietly. “Whisper something. It sounded Native. I remember thinking it was very unique. That's probably them.”

Grace stole a glance at the small family and then looked back at Rachel. “Chances are you're right.”

“Should I…do you think I should go introduce myself?” Rachel asked. “I mean, if I'm going to be her teacher.”

“I thought you weren't interested in that sort of thing at the moment?” Grace questioned with a sly grin. “He is kind of sexy...”

Rachel's eyes widened. “I'm not. That's not why–”

“It's okay. I just wish I had an excuse to introduce myself.”

“That settles it, then,” Rachel said huffily. “I'm not going to.”

“Don't be so silly,” Grace laughed. “Go on. I keep forgetting that I really don't know you that well yet and I probably stepped over the line. Sorry, I can't help it. Just the way I roll.”

“No, it can wait,” Rachel decided. She reached for her purse and stood up. “We really do need to get back to the school now, anyway.”

Grace sighed, but complied. “You're right.”

They waited at the counter for a few minutes as Billy Chang perused the bill. He said something in Chinese to his mother, who was passing by with a stack of dirty plates. She answered with a sing song reply and he entered the amount of each meal. “That will be fifteen sixty-five,” he said in perfect English.

“Oh,” Rachel leaned forward. “We wanted separate bills, please.”

He was about to comply and redo the bill when Grace interrupted. “I'll get this one,” she offered.

“Oh no, I couldn't,” Rachel protested.

“Why not? It doesn't happen too often,” Grace laughed. “Besides, I deserve it. Hope you're not mad at me.”

“Of course not. Thanks.” The truth was, she did feel a little bit mad. Who did this woman think she was? They hardly knew each other and she was acting like they were bosom buddies, teasing her like that. Rachel took in a deep breath and then let it out again, slowly. No, that was too harsh. It was she who was too sensitive. She just needed to lighten up. That was what she was here for after all. To start fresh.

She glanced over at the table where the small family sat and with a quick intake of breath, darted her gaze away. He had been looking right at her! And he'd smiled, too! She turned fully toward the counter as Grace and Billy Chang finished settling up the bill, then practically bolted for the door, the tinkling bells mocking her swift exit with their laughter.

“Now that was a pretty productive lunch hour, if you ask me,” Grace said once they were both outside. “You got to see the town gossips, crazy woman and preacher all in one fell swoop, not to mention a tall, dark, and handsome stranger.”

“Great. It's almost too cliché to be true,” Rachel groaned.

“Ya think?” Grace asked. “Well, I've got news for you, girl. You ain't seen nothin' yet!”

 

“You're dropping Bradley off before you go to the church?”

Todd looked across the breakfast table at his wife, a spoonful of cold cereal halfway to his mouth. “I said I was,” he clipped.

“Technically, no. You didn't,” Carol countered, rising to clear the table. “I asked you yesterday and you never gave me an answer. Hurry up with your teeth,” she called over her shoulder to her son Bradley, who was somewhere in the back of the house. She turned back to her husband. “I don't want him late on the first day.” She removed a sticky spoon from the grasp of three-year-old Amanda and started wiping her face with the dishcloth. Amanda started to howl, jerking her head in an attempt to avoid the offending cloth.

“Can't you use a proper washcloth?” Todd asked.

“It's fine,” Carol said, still swiping at the uncooperative child. “It's fresh out of the drawer. Now, about Bradley.”

“Maybe you should take him,” Todd suggested. “I'll stay home with Amanda.”

Carol narrowed her eyes. “Fine. If that's how you want it.” She swung Amanda down from the table and continued her efforts at clearing the dishes with renewed vigor, her mouth clamped in a tight line.

Todd sat chewing, surveying his wife's unhappy countenance. With a deep sigh, he set his spoon aside and pushed back from the table. “Sorry. Of course I'm taking him.”

“Good. A boy needs his father. I don't know what's gotten into you.”

“I'm just under a lot of pressure from the board, that's all.”

“No need to take it out on us,” Carol said, scrubbing the table with the cloth.

“I know, and I said I was sorry.” Todd stopped, realizing he sounded defensive. He tried again, a little more gently this time. “It's hard to please everybody.”

“Then quit trying,” Carol reasoned. “How about pleasing God instead?”

“Oh, thank you!” Todd exclaimed, his voice riddled with sarcasm. “I'm so glad you pointed that out to me. Of course, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I forgot!”

“You know what I mean,” Carol continued.

“Don't start. I'm still in ministry, for goodness sake! Did you want me to quit altogether? Go running off somewhere with my tail between my legs?”

“Not so loud,” Carol warned. “I don't want the kids hearing.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” Todd grated.

Carol shook her head, tears shining along the lower rims of her eyes. “You used to be so on fire for the Lord. That's all you cared about. You were God's man, a man of integrity.”

He hated it when she pulled the tears out. “So I guess that means you think I'm not anymore. What do you want, Carol? A pound of flesh?”

“You used to be so…so zealous,” Carol continued, her voice quiet. “Everything you did was for ‘The Kingdom.' Now it's like you're trying to run things on your own steam, without even bothering to make sure it's the Lord's will. You're playing at church, Todd, and it's not right! Sometimes I think we would have been better off to leave the ministry altogether. At least then we wouldn't be lying—not just to others, but to ourselves.”

“You done?” Todd asked coolly.

Carol blinked, obviously hurt by the question.

“Bradley!” Todd called, turning away from his wife's stricken look. “Get a move on or you'll be late for school. I'll be waiting in the car,” he informed Carol on his way to the door.

The bang of the screen door coincided with a heart wrenching sob coming from the kitchen. With a deep sigh, Todd stalked toward the garage. Of course, he still believed in the ministry—believed in God. But did God still believe in him?