Halfway to Nowhere

"Oh, I shouldn't bother you."

"Really, it's no bother. I don't mind at all."

"Would you? There's no one else here for me to ask."

Stepping behind the cash register, Angie spent a couple minutes looking at the machine before she began punching an assortment of keys. Soon a receipt printed, negating the incorrect tabulations. Then she rang up each item of her groceries, pushing the final key to get a total. Satisfied with the amount, she dug into her pocket for some money, laid it on the counter, and hit another key that calculated her change.

"You made it look easy. I forget which one of those keys does what."

"It's not that hard if you use the register a lot. Besides, if you worked somewhere busy, and made mistakes all the time, you wouldn't keep your job long."

"That's very true, young lady. I assume you've done that before?"

"Well, not at a store, but at a diner, and it got busy at mealtimes. And often I was the only waitress there, so I couldn't take the extra time to fix mistakes."

"You aren't from here."

The woman said the words with confidence. She reminded Angie of the matriarch of a family. No matter what happened, or who did it, she would know.

"You're young, so this is a perfect time to follow your dreams. Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Angie said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Ah, turning wherever the mood strikes. I like free spirits."

"It's not difficult to learn how to use a cash register if you know certain tricks." Angie changed the topic to one she was far more comfortable discussing.

"You think you could teach someone as old as me?"

"Age isn't a factor in learning. Anyone can do it."

"That sounds very convincing, young lady. Are you a school teacher?"

Angie laughed at the idea of her having the patience to be a teacher. However, she sobered when she imagined teaching her own children. A quick vision ran through her head of a husband sitting at her side. Finding someone she trusted wouldn't be easy, she knew.

"Are you staying in town?" the woman asked, breaking Angie's concentration.

"No, I'm not."

"I was hoping you were because I could use someone with your skills to help out here for a while."

Angie wasn't sure what to say. After all, she didn't even know the woman's name, yet she seemed to be offering her a job. That she was in need of one wasn't the issue. If she didn't work again, she would have to live in her car. That meant finding a place safe enough to park it until she earned more money. Yet the offer, as ideal as it was, came so fast it worried her.

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not sure how you can offer me a job without even knowing my name."

"You have kind eyes," the woman replied.

"That's it? You're basing it on my eyes?"

Angie wasn't sure if she should take the comment as a compliment or if she should laugh. A sudden image of her father telling her the very same thing took any hint of laughter away.

"Let me backtrack a little. My name is Jeanette Roundy. My late husband and I built the Totem Pole in 1933. Rolla didn't have much then—it still doesn't—but we loved it here. Herman suffered a stroke and passed away five years ago. I've been holding on to the place because I see him here. And I worry that if I sell it, I might lose him forever."

The younger girl saw the tears in the old woman's eyes after she finished speaking. She felt the emotion in her words and wanted to let the woman know she would never lose the memories. Suddenly she had an odd feeling that the best way to help would be to take the job and spend time with her.

"Angie Barrett and I'm very pleased to meet you, Jeanette. This looks like a lovely place for making memories."

"Herman made me laugh. He always knew if I was having a bad day—like today, with this old machine here," she said, tapping the cash register for emphasis.

"I can't promise how long I'll stay. And if I can't find a cheap place to call home while I'm here, that would change everything."

"Oh, I don't expect you to commit yourself to a specific amount of time. Although, I would appreciate it if you gave me a day or two notice before you leave."

"I don't have a problem with that. Is there somewhere you can recommend I rent a room?" Angie asked.

"Yes, I have just the place. Come along and I'll take you there."

"What about the store?"

"I'll put up the sign that tells anyone wanting to come in I'll be back in ten minutes. They can either wait or come back later."

"Aren't you afraid someone will steal from you?"

"Honey, this is Rolla, not some big city in California. Herman and I found that if we showed the community we trusted them, they would be honest and trustworthy with us."

The old woman flipped over a piece of cardboard hanging in the front window. She turned toward Angie and smiled before stepping outside.

They walked along a sidewalk that connected the trading post parking lot to what appeared to be Jeanette's home. Shrubs and bushes once trimmed hung in total disarray. The sidewalk turned into a narrow path hidden by the overgrown brush. Angie pushed branches and twigs to the side as she followed the old woman.

"Herman used to keep the path cleared," she said, ducking under a prickly branch.

"You must not come back here often then."

"No, I haven't been out here now for several months. I hope the neighbor children haven't destroyed . . ."

A miniature castle stood in the clearing in front of where Angie stopped. Built of stone, the structure featured towers, and a small walkway. A gate led to the thick front door. Angie fell in love at first sight.

"We traveled across Europe when we first married. Herman had this built as our guesthouse."

"It's beautiful."

The building looked deserted. Angie noticed a cracked window and wondered about the condition inside.

"Without Herman, I couldn't come back here."

"But you're showing me now," Angie said.

"It's the right time. He would have liked you."

The women smiled at each other, both deep in thought, neither making the first attempt to enter the building. However, a squawking bird brought them back to the reality of the moment.

"Here's the key. Go on in," Jeanette said, holding the object out for Angie.

She held the metal key in her palm until she stood in front of the door. Images of the future skittered through her mind. Reassured by the visions, she turned the key, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. Fine particles of dust floated through the air before settling on the covered furniture. Shadows danced on the walls from the sunlight that managed to shine through the dirty windows. Angie couldn't wait to see the space shiny and clean.

"This is gorgeous," she whispered. "I love it!"

"It needs a lot of scrubbing. There doesn't seem to be any damage, but there's certainly a lot of dust everywhere."

"I'm not afraid of cleaning. Are you saying then . . . do you . . . I mean . . . yes . . . if this is . . ."

Jeanette smiled at the young girl's confusion. She liked her enthusiasm for what could be a difficult task. They went back up the path to the trading post for supplies. Jeanette had customers and went to work but Angie returned to the castle to begin cleaning. She scrubbed counters and floors and wiped down cabinets and inside the cupboards. The bathroom she saved for last.

Angie hummed along to the music playing inside her head. Memories from her childhood kept her company in the otherwise empty spaces. When she took a break, thoughts of her current situation played on a movie marquee. Questions she couldn't answer taunted her.

"Why do they trust me so fast? What do they see in me that tells them I'm a good person so they offer to help?"

She whispered the words, yet in the sparsely furnished rooms, they echoed the same as if she shouted. Startled at the sound, she shrieked, tipping the water bucket she held when she jumped backward. Dirty water splashed everywhere, including over her clothes.

"Oh, hell, that was stupid. I swear, Angela Rae Barrett, you can be the clumsiest female in the world at times."

She whipped her wet shirt over her head and went to the sink. There she stood in just her shorts while she tried to rinse off as much of the dirty water as possible.

"Well, well, well, it looks like the beautiful princess lost her shirt instead of her shoe."

Angie spun around when she heard the voice behind her.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Angie tangled the wet cotton in her haste to cover her naked breasts. Her cheeks changed from their normal golden tan to a warm blush tone. The stranger stared but didn't move.

"Get out! Jeanette!"

"There's no need to scream. She isn't coming to save you."

"What did you do to her? What do you want?"

Angie backed toward the cabinets as she spoke and tried to remember where she saw the knives. She dropped the wet shirt and whipped around all in one move. However, she didn't count on the stranger moving as fast as he did.

"You won't win that fight, sweet thing. Besides, you really don't need a weapon."

Her heart thudded against her rib cage the same as if she had been running a marathon. Angie whimpered when the man wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"Jeanette can vouch for me, you know."

"You didn't knock."

"For that I should apologize. Of course, if I had, I would have missed seeing—"

"Oh my god," she mumbled, suddenly aware again of her naked chest. "Don't look!"

"Honey, I've already looked. Not only that, but they're touching my arm—both of them. And if you move at all, you're going to push a puckered nipple right against my thumb."

She stopped breathing. Her knees buckled. Angie tried to catch herself on the countertop but failed. The stranger gripped her waist and held her to him as she gulped in enough air to breathe again.

"That's it, sweet thing. Breathe nice and slow."

She felt his heated skin on her nipple and gasped. The intense pleasure confused her and angered her at the same time.

"Who are you? Why are you here? Where's Jeanette?"

"Easy there. Don't worry about me. Let's get you—"

"No, damn it! Answer me."

Angie pulled away as she spoke. She stood in front of him, her chest naked, looking defiant.

"My name is Steve. Jeanette is at the trading post yet. She stays open until six each night," he said.

"You didn't answer why you're here."

"No, I guess I didn't."

"Are you always so obtuse?" she asked.

"Do you always greet company half naked?"

He tossed the question at her with a straight face. Something about the situation suddenly seemed funny. Angie laughed—not a chuckle or a childish giggle, but a hysterical snorting laugh that brought tears to her eyes within seconds.

Steve watched the transformation and relaxed. Angie sat on a kitchen chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She didn't know where her shirt was and didn't even care anymore. The stranger had looked at her for so long that a few more minutes didn't matter.

"So, Steve, do you have a last name? Or are you going to ignore that one too?"

"Cook," he said, sitting across from her on the only other chair in the small kitchen.

"OK, so, Steve Cook, why are you here?"

"Would you buy that I'm here for the view?"

She snorted and shook her head. "Try again."

"I'm passing through and couldn't resist the allure of the castle?"

"You're full of it."

"I followed you so I could make passionate love to you all day and night?"

The thought of someone following her made Angie nervous. Even though she didn't believe the stranger, she hesitated. Traveling on her own hadn't seemed dangerous until his comment made her admit she was often too trusting of strangers.

"I'm a lesbian."

He somehow knew she wasn't but went along with her ruse. "Oh, well, then I suppose you wouldn't have any use for what I have."

Stunned at his words, she stared at the bulge in his jeans.

"I turn my back for two minutes and you've got the poor girl half naked," Jeanette said from the doorway.

"Then leave and I'll do the other half," he said, motioning for the old woman to go.

"You think I'm as green as the first day you walked into my house?"

"I'm positive you learned something each time that door opened to another defiant smart ass like me."

"Excuse me, but not only am I thoroughly confused, I'm still half naked. Mr. Cook, since you have a dry shirt, and you broke into my home, I believe it's only right you give me yours."

Angie put one hand on her hip and held the other out to him. She wasn't going to allow the man to embarrass her any longer.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Your shirt, right now," she replied.

He looked into her eyes for a few seconds before following her instructions. She slid the soft polo shirt over her head and let it fall down her body.

"And do you feel better now that I'm half naked?" he asked, flexing the muscles in his chest to draw her attention to his physique.

"Ah, I, um . . ."

"Stop teasing the girl," Jeanette said.

She moved into the room to stand next to Angie. Steve had already noticed the protective tone the woman used when talking to her. He wondered what the girl's story was and how long she was staying.

"You've done an excellent job, Angie. The place is looking fantastic."

"I just had to clean the dust off everything. The mattress wasn't covered though. I thought about taking it outside and hitting it with the broom, the old fashioned way, you know?"

"Get Steve to carry it out for you. He can do something good while he's here. In fact, I haven't asked yet, but why are you here?"

Angie waited for the man to give his answer. She hoped he couldn't see how interested she was in his reply.

"I haven't been here for a while," he said, shrugging his shoulders and looking away.

"That's a vague answer and you know it."

"I wanted to meet this gorgeous—"

"Steven, the truth," Jeanette said, her voice telling the man she was losing patience.

"The firm defended one of Whitey Massino's boys last month and lost. You can imagine how happy Whitey is about that."

"You're staying right here. I won't let you work for a man who represents anyone as evil and unscrupulous as that mobster Whitey Massino. I'll clear out the back porch and you can sleep there."

"The porch? Come on, Jen, there's not even room for a decent sized bed in there. I've always used the castle . . ."

"Angie's staying here. You'll have to find somewhere else," the older woman said.

"No, please, I'm the one who should have the porch. You're family and I'm a stranger."

"Honey—"

"No, really, I'm just here for a while helping Jeanette. I can't take the castle and let her family sleep on a porch."

"Although this scoundrel is the closest thing to a son that I have, he never accepted my offer to make it legal."

Angie didn't have to ask the other woman if his refusal hurt. The pain was in her voice.

"This isn't the time to bring that out," Steve said, glaring at the older woman.

"Look, it's obvious you two have a history. I'm the new girl. I should have the smallest and most uncomfortable sleeping arrangements."

"The castle has two bedrooms. I don't see why we can't share the space for as long as you're here. That way we're both comfortable," he said, looking from Angie to Jeanette for support.

"You think that's a smart idea? Look how fast you had her topless."

"She didn't have her shirt on when I walked in," he said. "And if you don't believe me, you can ask her."

Angie turned away to hide the blush creeping over her cheeks. Since she arrived in Rolla, Missouri, she hadn't thought about her family or the problems facing her back home. The owner of the Totem Pole Trading Post—and the man at her side—had her so off balance she was afraid she might be giving them the wrong impression of her true personality.

"I'll do whatever you decide is best, Jeanette. This is your place, and since you're being kind enough to let me stay, and to give me work, then I can't make demands on where I'll sleep," Angie said. "I'm not a bad person. I'm not in trouble and no one is looking for me. I'm just . . . I needed time . . ."

"I think we should get some dinner and figure out the sleeping arrangements later. Steve, the old grill is still in the garage. There's a new bag of charcoal from the neighborhood block party last month. Get that started and I'll pull some hamburger patties from the freezer. Oh, Angie, we'll need buns . . ."

Jeanette kept talking as she left the castle, assuming the others would follow. She smiled when she heard their footsteps on the path behind her.

* * * *

Dinner was a success. They sat at an old picnic table where conversation revolved around the food and the weather. Soon the food was gone though and the mosquitoes arrived. They gathered empty plates and bowls, doused the few remaining coals in the grill, and went inside.

"Look, Jen, I'm tired. I haven't slept more than two or three hours a night in weeks. If Angie has a problem, either now or any other day while she's here, I'll move to the porch. Agreed?"

"I don't mind sharing. I have a bro—um, it's fine, really."

Jeanette tucked the tidbit of information away about Angie having a brother. She might find it helpful later.

"I've had more excitement today than I've had in months. I'll see you two in the morning," Jeanette said, waving them off.

Steve followed Angie down the path to the castle. He tried not to notice the gentle curve of her hips or the way her bottom swayed with each step.

"I'll take whichever room you say. I've slept in more strange beds than I care to admit," Angie said, not realizing how her words sounded.

"In that case, I'm surprised you didn't invite yourself into mine too."

"What? No, oh crap, no, not that. I meant, traveling, I've slept in strange beds along the way."

His look questioned her explanation. She shook her head but didn't clarify herself.

"Good night, Steve. I'll take the pink room, since you haven't chosen. I'll figure out how to clean the mattress better tomorrow."

She didn't wait for his reply. Ten minutes was all she needed to undress and fall asleep. Steve stood on the patio, nursing a beer, imagining he was in the pink room with her.

Angie woke the next morning excited to start what she saw as an easy task. Operating a cash register wasn't difficult. Teaching Jeanette shouldn't be, either. After a quick shower, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and dressed in denim shorts, a halter-top, and sneakers. Streaks of sunlight burst through the windows to brighten the small rooms. Angie ignored the soft snoring coming from the second bedroom as she went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Whatever you're making, it woke me." Steve yawned before filling a mug with coffee. "You always get up this early on vacation?"

"Technically, I'm not on vacation. I'm teaching Jeanette—"

"You didn't come to Rolla to teach her how to use the damn cash register. I'm not a fool you can win over with your big blue eyes and sexy body."

Angie heard the hardness in his voice but didn't understand why it was there. She decided to ignore him as long as she could. Steve regretted his outburst the moment he saw Angie's smile disappear. Her image had kept him awake a good part of the night. It confused him that she didn't seem aware of the impact she had on him.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, softening his tone with the topic change.

"Yes," she said, not adding to the single word reply as she lost focus on the scrambled eggs in front of her.

"I haven't been home for a while. I forgot how relaxing it is here."

Angie listened but didn't ask him for more information. She wanted to know about his past. What brought him to Jeanette and Herman? The sizzling eggs penetrated her thoughts in time to save them from burning. A moment later, as if synchronized, the bread popped up from the toaster. Although her breakfast was ready, she didn't have the appetite she had when she began preparing the meal.