Destiny

Roseville was a nice enough town, Helen thought, but it would be nicer still if it had more choices. Two theaters, a handful of restaurants, a few grocery stores, a book store, a few things for kids, like a couple of parks with swings and such, and that was about it. Roseville didn't have much, but it mostly had what she wanted. Mostly. For a woman starting over in her mid-thirties, it didn't have quite everything.

The streets were safe enough, with little in the way of traffic, and she didn't feel threatened when she walked home at night. The high school, where she taught biology, was on the other end of town, far enough away that she had to drive to work. For most other places, a short walk was all that was needed. That suited her just fine. Even with only a few cars on the road, she really didn't like driving. She felt she saw more walking to wherever. In a car, you had to watch the road; it was only as a passenger that you got a chance to look at things. And when you were walking, you could stare at whatever you wanted and take in the calmness that seemed to rest on the town like a warm blanket on a cool fall morning. It was a big change from the frantic pace of the city, a change she embraced with gratitude.

Today, she decided she'd walk to the grocery store. All she needed was cereal, so there wouldn't be anything unwieldy that she would have to lug back home. It was a good day to walk. The air was cool, especially welcome after the hot summer they had had this year. The leaves weren't changing color yet, but she could tell in the air that change was coming. She relished it. Fall was her favorite season, although she had no idea why. Perhaps it was the cool mornings, or maybe the rains that came and washed the streets clean. Or maybe it was the knowledge that fall lead to winter, with the ice and snow, something of a last gasp before the world wound down to start yet another rebirth in the spring. Whatever the reason, she liked fall.

She grabbed her purse and made for the door of her modest home. It was small, as most of the houses in the area were, but it was big enough for her. And small meant less cleaning, always a plus. She smiled as she opened the door, looking out at the quaint neighborhood that became her new home a few years ago. All the houses looked like comfort to her, something she never got in Chicago. They were mostly two and three bedroom homes, most of them shielding young families from the elements. Small children played ball in the street, an amazingly safe thing to do. They were always on the lookout for cars, but rarely had to stop a game because of traffic. Another pleasant change from Chicago.

"Hello, Mrs. Grant!" yelled a small boy, Tommy, from across the street. She smiled and returned his wave. She hadn't been married for several years, but she never corrected the children when they called her "Mrs."; it felt good, even though it was no longer accurate. Tommy was a good kid, although he was known to get into trouble on occasion. Nothing serious, really, just a bit of mischief. She thought about her own youth, noting the differences between the world Tommy knows and the one she knew. She was Tommy's age about twenty five years ago, but what she grew up with was nothing like what Tommy had. She would never have dreamed of playing in the street, there were no woods to explore, no frogs in the pond, and, even when the sun dropped out of the sky, there were few stars to dream about and wonder at. Tommy would most likely spend the day playing with his friends, wandering around the streets and streams, dreaming of a future that held so much promise. For Helen growing up, the future was uncertain, but she didn't know any better, like most kids, so she took it all in stride. Now, she realized what her childhood missed. Too late to do anything about that, she thought.

She turned down Ash Street and headed for the store. She was used to the neighborhood now and didn't marvel as much at the quaint homes as she did when she first arrived. It's funny how you can get used to things, she thought. And it's sad how some things stick with you, no matter how hard you try to forget them. Things like the death of her son.

A jolt of pain hit her as she thought of Danny. Such a cute kid, always with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Danny was her only child, and now he was gone. He was only five when death claimed him. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the thoughts that served no purpose but to remind her of what she had lost.

As Helen walked up to the grocery store, she noticed it looked like it was about a century old. Fitting for this town, Helen thought. Everything here seems like it's a century old. No one was in the grocery store except for the clerk. "Hi, Sam," Helen called out as she entered the store. She waved at him and he smiled at her. Sam was the owner, about sixty or so, with a lanky build and a shy smile. Maybe, if she were at least twenty years older, she would ask him out to dinner or a movie, maybe both. But she wasn't, so she didn't. Still, as a widower, he was one of the few available men around. It would be nice to have a companion again, someone to share the day's events with, and someone to share a bed with. But Roseville didn't have everything, and available men her approximate age was one of those things Roseville just didn't have. It wasn't clear what she could do about that, though. You had to take what you could and feel lucky you got what you got. Right now, though, she didn't feel all that lucky.

She found the cereal she wanted and decided to get a carton of milk while she was there. She brought the items over to Sam to pay for them.

"Another gourmet meal for you, Helen?" Sam smiled.

"Yep, Sam, just living on the edge, like always. How have you been?" Helen replied.

"Things have been going well," Sam said. "We got a new line of laundry detergent in the other day, if you'd like to give it a try. They say it's pretty good." He smiled and raised his eyebrows; Helen assumed he was trying to manipulate her into another purchase.

"Thanks, Sam," Helen smiled, "but I'm walking today and can't carry all that much. Besides, I'm not sure I can take the stress of something new. The excitement might kill me."

Sam winked. "I know what you mean. Excitement isn't all it's cracked up to be. Besides, that new guy moving into your neighborhood is probably enough stress for you. Why add a new detergent into the mix?"

Helen raised her eyebrows. "Someone moved into town? When did this happen? And why wasn't I notified?" she smiled. People didn't usually move into Roseville. In fact, it was generally the opposite. Typically, the kids would move out, usually to the big city, looking for their fortune. The small town of Roseville was too boring for the kids and they hightailed it out of there as soon as they could. Someone moving in was fairly rare. In fact, Helen was pretty sure she was the last outsider, as she was still considered to be, to come into town. At least she wasn't last anymore.

"Yeah, some middle-aged guy moved into the Lancy place a few days ago. I haven't met him yet, though. Sooner or later, he'll come in and I'll see if I can con him into buying some new detergent," Sam smiled. "As for why you weren't notified, well, I think you just were. Had you come in earlier, you would have found out earlier. This one's all on you."

Helen laughed. "I guess I've been too antisocial for my own good. Maybe I'll swing by his place and make sure he's not stealing lawn furniture or something. You can't be too careful with these interlopers, you know."

Sam smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, keep an eye on him, will you? Good thing you're past your probation period or we'd have two outsiders to scrutinize."

"Okay," Helen said, "I'll see what I can do. Do you happen to know his name?"

"John Barber, from what I hear. I don't know what this town needs with another barber, though." Sam laughed at his own joke. Then he got serious. "Careful with him, Helen," Sam said, "he's hurting something awful."

"Okay, Sam," Helen replied, "I'll watch my step." She wanted to ask for some details but decided it was none of her business. She paid for the milk and cereal, put the change into her purse, thanked Sam, and walked out of the store, lugging the box of cereal and milk back home. She thought about swinging by the Lancy place, to see if she could get a peek at the only new resident in years, but decided she really needed to get the milk into her refrigerator as soon as she could. Introductions, if there were to be any, would simply have to wait.

She thought about the possibilities as she walked home. A new person around would be a good thing, she decided. She didn't have much of a social life, in part because there weren't that many social things to do in Roseville, and in part because she was single. Roseville was a place where couples did things, like take their kids to the movies or play with them in the park. She wasn't part of a couple anymore, and she didn't have kids anymore. Both of those things hurt, but it was what it was.

By the time she got home, she had decided to make some cookies for the new stranger. Oatmeal cookies, loaded with white chocolate, were her specialty. She sometimes struggled in the kitchen, but she could always make a mean cookie. And who didn't like cookies? Certainly nobody Helen would be willing to associate with.

Helen dragged out the ingredients and got to work, creaming the butter, folding in the oats and chocolate, and putting just the right amount of dough for each cookie onto the cookie sheet. Into the oven they went, and she waited for them to turn just the right shade of brown. She ended up with plenty of cookies, more than enough to give to this Barber guy with a bunch left over for herself. A cookie or two was always welcome, even for breakfast.

It didn't take much time to make the cookies and she carefully selected the ones that came out best, putting them into a tin she had. She put on a slightly nicer dress than she wore to the grocery store and headed out. The Lancy place was just a block over, so she figured just a couple of minutes of walking would have her at his front door.

As she approached John's house, she began to have doubts. What the hell was she doing? Cookies for a complete stranger? Really? Just how desperate was she? Pretty desperate, she thought, although she made a pact with herself that she wouldn't talk to him for longer than ten minutes if it turned out he was an axe murderer.

The Lancy place looked a little worn out, if a house can look worn out. The Lancys were an elderly couple who couldn't really keep the place up, once Mr. Lancy got sick. His wife cared for him the best she could, but that was all she could handle; the house would have to wait for better times. Only better times never came. Mr. Lancy died, a blessing according to all who knew him, for he was too kind a man to have to suffer the way he did, and Mrs. Lancy passed shortly thereafter. The Lancys' daughter liquidated the estate and apparently got the house sold, although it was unclear how she did that. Few moved to Roseville, after all. Roseville was a place for coming from, not going to. Still, Helen came to Roseville, so sometimes people did move in, if only to find shelter from a previous life. Helen was proof of that.

Helen walked up the steps of the small porch and knocked on the door, noting that the paint was peeling, just a bit, on the door. She waited a little while, then knocked again. Maybe he wasn't home, she thought. No, he must be: there's his car. Or someone's car, anyway. Hmm, maybe he's busy with someone. No, best not to think that way. She waited some more. The house seemed as dead as the previous owners. He should be home; it's Saturday, after all. Just as she gave up and turned to leave, she heard the door latch turn.

"Yes?" said the man at the door.

She stood and stared at him for a moment. Sam was right about the man's age, from what Helen could tell. He seemed to be in his early to mid forties, tall and broad-shouldered. His face exuded strength, but there was a sadness in his eyes she couldn't help noticing.

"Yes?" he repeated. She realized she was staring at him.

Flustered, she smoothed her dress out with the hand not holding the cookies and said, "Hi." She held out her hand. "I'm Helen Grant, your neighbor a block over. I heard you had just moved in and thought I would introduce myself." She extended her hand toward him.

He shook her hand gently. "John Barber," he said as he gave her a calculating look.

"Pleased to meet you," Helen said, now feeling quite awkward. "I, uh, brought you some cookies." She pushed the tin toward him.

John slowly took the tin from her. "They're oatmeal cookies with white chocolate," she said. "People tell me they are quite good. They are one of the first things to sell out at the bake sale. I hope you'll like them." Why was she so nervous? It's not like it was a date or anything. And he didn't seem like he was an axe murderer, but then again, axe murderers frequently looked pretty ordinary.

Still, he was anything but ordinary. There was a underlying strength to the man, something that told you he wouldn't tolerate much and he could do something about it if you were foolish enough to challenge him. And there was an underlying sadness to him, as well, something that suggested a slash of pain that had not yet eased.

He looked at her with a puzzling expression. She had no idea what he was thinking. Well, what could he be thinking, with some strange woman knocking on his door, giving him cookies? He must think I'm nuts, Helen thought.

He looked at the tin of cookies, then looked back at Helen. "This is very kind of you. I would ask you in," he said, glancing at the living room behind him, "but I'm not really in any condition to entertain at the moment."

Helen took a quick look behind him and saw an empty living room, except for a small couch, a table with a computer on it, and some weights in the corner. "Ah, yes, of course, you haven't finished moving in. I quite understand. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, that's all." She smoothed her dress again while she looked into his eyes. There was something there, but she couldn't tell what. "Well, I must be going. My name and number are on the inside of the tin. Give me a call when you finish the cookies and I might be talked into a refill," she said, giving him an intimidated smile.

"Thanks," he said. He continued to look at her in silence.

Helen felt entirely too uncomfortable. "Nice to meet you," she said. "Goodbye." She gave him a shy wave and turned to leave. As she walked to the sidewalk, she turned to look at him once more. He was still standing there, looking at her.

Well, that went well, she thought. I do believe I convinced him I'm a complete idiot. What was I thinking?

Helen walked home, trying to figure out what just happened. It wasn't what she expected, and it certainly wasn't what she had planned. Just what did she plan, anyway? She had no idea.

_________________________

Helen thought about her brief encounter with the mystery man for days afterwards. She didn't know anything about him, what he was doing in town, why he moved here, where he worked, or even if he worked. Maybe he was independently wealthy, although she was thinking that if he were rich, he'd have more furniture. Maybe it hadn't arrived yet. Yeah, that was it.

School had started up again for the semester and she busied herself with class work and new students. She loved teaching, and she particularly loved teaching biology. It was an elective course, so the students she got were generally the ones headed for college. This meant they were usually fairly intelligent and usually interested in learning what she had to teach. It was rewarding, teaching kids new things and exposing them to some of the mysteries of the universe. She loved what she did and she hadn't been doing it long enough to become bored with it. She knew that day would come, when teaching the same thing over and over again became a ritual she didn't want anymore, but that day was not here yet. She had something to contribute and she was proud of that.

It was a Wednesday morning when she heard the squeal from her car as she pulled into the school parking lot. Oh, great, she thought, just what I need. She knew the squeal was a brake job, and an expense, she really didn't need right now. Of course, was there ever an expense she did need? No, of course not. Still, she put so few miles on the car that a single brake job would last her the rest of her life. She was annoyed, but it wasn't really a problem. As a teacher, she didn't get paid much, but her expenses were pretty low, too. it's not like she was traveling or buying expensive things. It was one of the advantages of living in a small town: there just wasn't a lot to spend money on.

During her free period at school, she called up the repair shop to see if she could bring the car in soon. She knew the brakes would continue to work for a while, but it was embarrassing to her that, every time she slowed down or stopped, she announced her presence to the world with a screech that told everyone she didn't maintain her car well. She dialed the number to the shop and heard the phone on the other end ring twice before a heavily accented voice said "Otto Care, Otto speaking."

She winced at what she was sure was a very funny joke in Otto's native country. "Hi, Otto, this is Helen Grant. My brakes are squealing, so I'm pretty sure I need new pads. Do you have time to work on my car?"

"Sure, sure, darlink, bring it in and I'll have my man take a look at it. Venever you vant," Otto said.

"Tomorrow morning?" Helen asked.

"Sure, sure," Otto said, "ve'll be vaiting for you."

The next day, Helen drove up to Otto Care, announcing her arrival with a screech that made her teeth clench in embarrassment. Otto came out as soon as she pulled to a stop.

"Hmm," he said, "I sink you are right. Zuh brakes are no goot. My man will fix zem, goot as new. John, can you come here?"

Helen got out of the car and waited for Otto's helper. She was more than a little surprised, and maybe a bit chagrined, to discover that John was John Barber. "Hello again," she said, extending her hand to shake his.

John took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. She was willing to bet he could rip her hand right off her arm if he wanted to.

"We meet again," he said.

"I think my brakes need some work," Helen shrugged.

"Yes," John said, "so I heard."

Helen smiled. "I think everyone heard. I'm getting my brakes fixed by popular demand."

"Okay, it should be a pretty simple fix. It'll be ready by the end of the day," John said.

"Thanks," Helen said. "Otto, do you think you can drive me into school? My classes start soon."

"Sure, sure," Otto said. "John, can you drive ze nice layty to verk?"

"Yes, sir," John said. Helen detected no indication how John felt about this. It wasn't like he had a choice, but she was hoping he didn't mind.

"Thank you, John," Helen said. John and she climbed into the shop's car. John started the engine and pulled out into the street.

The drive to school was short and John did not seem in a mood to talk, so Helen sat silently, watching John stare ahead at the road. As they got closer to the school, Helen got brave. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"Huh?" John responded. He looked at her and shook his head. "No, sorry, just lost in thoughts."

"I'll give you a penny for them," Helen said, smiling at him.