Halfway to Nowhere

"Hungry?" she asked him.

"I don't expect you to fix meals for me, you know."

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"You didn't take a single bite, Ang."

"I'm not a big breakfast eater. Go ahead or I'll throw it out," she said, pushing the plate toward the opposite end of the table and closer to where he stood.

"You should have something though, even a glass of juice. Unless Jeanette slowed down in the last few years, she'll run you ragged."

She nodded but went into her bedroom instead.

Inside the small store, Jeanette punched a key on the old cash register. When nothing happened, she looked around, hoping to see the young girl who was staying in her castle.

"Having trouble, Jen?" Steve asked from where he lounged against the doorway.

"Not a bit, dear boy. How did you sleep last night?"

"Ah, the castle has excellent beds."

"Beds . . . what . . . did you . . .?"

"I had to check both mattresses to be sure I didn't give your lovely house guest the lumpy one, didn't I?"

"Steven, you're still the same rascal as you were at ten. Are you ever going to grow up?"

"I left a lot of that little boy behind," Steve said, pushing away from the wooden frame. "In fact, you'll be right pleased to know I stopped wetting the bed."

His sense of humor hadn't changed, which was a positive point in the eyes of the older woman. She grabbed a cleaning rag to start her daily chores when she saw Angie leaning over near the back door.

"Something's wrong," she said, hurrying toward the door.

Knowing the woman didn't panic easily, he followed her outside, stopping at the sight of blood on Angie's hands.

"What happened? Steve, get a stack of towels from the storeroom. Honey, what is it? Are you hurt?" Jeanette ran her hand along the young girl's back in soothing circles.

"Ith I no . . ."

Steve struggled to understand the garbled words.

"She has a bloody nose," the woman said, handing the young girl a stack of clean towels. "You all right, honey?"

Angie gave a slight nod confirming the woman's assumption.

"How can she be all right if she's bleeding? You don't just get a bloody nose," Steve said.

"There are tons of reasons, including stress, for a bloody nose."

Jeanette glanced at the young man she thought of as a son. Yet in recent years, living hundreds of miles away as he did, she wasn't sure she knew as much about him as she had in the past.

"So you're implying then that I caused her stress and gave her a bloody nose," Steve said.

"Grow up, Steven. You're not the center of this entire universe anymore."

"Shtoff," Angie mumbled through the towel covering her nose.

"What?"

"Huh?" Steve asked at the same time.

"Shtopf," Angie said in what was an attempt at a yell.

Even though the word didn't sound close to the correct pronunciation, Jeanette understood when she noticed the young girl clenching her fist.

"Well, that's a first," the store owner said with a smile. "But you're right. We shouldn't be having words when you're standing there with a bloody nose. How can I help? Has this happened before? Do you need medical care?"

Angie gave her answers by either nodding or shaking her head. Steve stood back, intrigued at the way the stranger spoke to the woman who practically raised him, even though he found her bravado humorous.

"Steven, watch the trading post while Angie and I go to the house. We'll be back when she's ready."

Jeanette helped the younger woman inside where they washed her face and hands. Noting the pale color of the young girl's skin, she led her to the sofa.

"But, I have to teach—"

"That's nonsense. It can wait. I've managed this many years, I can make it another day," Jeanette said. "But you lost a lot of blood. You should get something in you to replace it all. Did you have breakfast?"

The floral wallpaper in the small living room reminded Angie of her grandmother. She settled back into the assorted throw pillows as images of her family filled her head. A single tear slid down her cheek at the thought of not seeing them again.

"Aw, honey, it's all right. Cry if you need to. Tears are good for the soul."

Jeanette sat on the edge of the sofa and caressed the young girl's arm. She didn't have to ask to know the girl missed someone.

"He might not like it that I'm telling you this, but Steven came to us because his parents didn't want him anymore. A child disrupted their life. They had visions of becoming stars, acting on Broadway, having millions of fans . . . not of chasing after a toddler or seeing that he went to school. Of all the children we raised, he was the hardest one to convince that he was worth loving."

Angie tried imagining the confident man she met the day before as the child Jeanette described. Even though she didn't know the woman sitting next to her very well, she pictured the couple spending endless hours showing the young boy they loved him.

"He was trouble. No matter where he was, he caused, and attracted, trouble. Herman used to say the boy came to us to teach us what patience truly was. None of the other children we had compared to him."

"Did he ever see his parents again?" Angie asked.

"They left town before we had a chance to do any paperwork. I don't know for sure, but I think Steven hired private investigators a few years ago, in hopes of finding them."

"Why would he want to see them again if they didn't want him? I mean, they pretty much gave him away, right? Parents are supposed to love their children, to take care of them, to tell them the truth."

Jeanette sensed the young girl wanted to say more. She spotted a photograph of her late husband and sent a silent plea for help.

"Parents aren't perfect, honey. Making a baby doesn't give two people instant knowledge on what to do in every situation as they raise that baby. Sometimes, a parent might believe that admitting the truth would make that child think less of them at the time, so they tell a lie instead."

Wondering what caused the young girl to leave home, she waited, watching the array of emotions crossing Angie's face.

"When I stopped here, I didn't have much money left. Without a place to stay, I would have had to go back. And . . . and I can't. Not yet. I'm just, I know what you said is probably right, but . . . I'm not ready."

"You have a place here as long as you need it. Now then, how about we get you cleaned up. If you keep getting nose bleeds, I have a dear friend who's a retired physician, and for a home cooked dinner, he'll check you over."

Angie silently thanked whoever sent her to Rolla and the Totem Pole Trading Post.

"Yeah, looking like this isn't a great way to greet customers at the checkout. I think I'll take a quick shower. Then I can soak this shirt while we begin class."

"Oh, my, I haven't been in school in . . . well, never mind how long. You go and I'll sharpen my pencils while I wait."

Angie ran down the path to the castle. She stripped the bloody shirt from her body and walked into the kitchen for a glass of juice.

"My, my, I must admit that I'm enjoying this habit you have of running around topless."

"Steve! I thought you were watching the store."

"When I can be here, watching you?"

Feeling more daring than normal, she walked closer, not stopping until they stood inches apart. His cologne drifted through the air until his scent surrounded her.

"Can you see better now?" she asked, her voice husky.

His blue eyes darkened to black a moment before he cupped her breasts. "A little closer," he whispered.

Her back arched in an automatic move that pushed her nipples against his thumbs. She stared, comparing his golden skin to her pale flesh.

"Angie, I want . . ."

Steve left the desire unspoken. Instead, he swiped each nipple with his tongue before capturing one between his teeth.

"I, oh, please, yes," she hissed.

Angie wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight to her aching breasts. Steve accepted her silent invitation. He devoured her puckered nipples with more passion than the young girl knew existed. He pushed her against the wall, forcing his knee between her legs, never removing his mouth from her body.

"Harder, suck harder," she mumbled between ragged breaths.

He didn't argue. He couldn't have with his body screaming at him to take her the way it was. Yet a tiny portion of his mind told him it was too soon. With one last swipe of his tongue, he backed up.

"Angie, sexy wench that you are, I'm going to stop now. If I take you here, in this room, this way, you'll hate me. I'll hate me. And I don't want that."

His eyes, dark with desire, looked into hers as she digested his words. Unashamed but still sizzling, she traced the corner of his jaw, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the small scar marring the skin.

"Jeanette is waiting. I should shower now," she said.

He waited until he heard the water running before he punched the wall. Angie emerged several minutes later to find the room empty. She put the episode away until she could spend time examining her behavior and went to find Jeanette. The woman stood in front of the old cash register as if studying the keys.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Honey, I'm so nervous I just know I'll forget everything you say."

"Don't be. What would you tell one of your children if you were teaching this to them?" Angie asked, reversing the woman's position in the hope the words would relax her.

"You're a smart one. All right, teach away."

Angie laughed and moved closer to the cash register. "OK, let me show you an easy transaction. Try to remember the steps so you can do the same thing when I'm done."

Jeanette mumbled but did as the young girl instructed. However, when a customer entered the store, she lost her focus.

"Hello, Jeanette."

"Tess, what brings you to town?"

"I can't stop in to see you without a reason now?"

Angie stepped back to avoid the nauseating scent of the woman's cologne. She recognized it as a cheap imitation of a popular name brand. The smell was so strong Angie sneezed several times.

"Excuse me; I think I'll do some cleaning while you visit."

The excuse let her escape but it also kept her from hearing more of the conversation. Angie sneezed again and decided the woman wasn't worth another nose bleed.

Jeanette stared at the woman propped against the counter. At thirty-three, she was on her fourth marriage, a fact she shared with pride.

"Too much for you to handle the place alone, I see," Tess said, nodding in Angie's direction.

"Did you need something, Tess?"

"Where is he?"

"Ah, I wondered how long it would take before you heard he was back. What would your husband—Ralph, is it?—think about you chasing after another man?"

"It's Donny, and what I do is my business, not his," Tess said.

Jeanette heard the hatred in the woman's voice. She smiled as an idea flitted through her mind.

"You might not hold your vows sacred, but I'm sure Steven will."

"Of course I will. I love my fiancée." Steve joined Jeanette behind the counter. "Hello, Tess."

"What fiancée? No one told me. I wouldn't have come all this way . . ." Tess cleared her throat. "Well, do I get to meet the lucky girl? I would love to congratulate her while I'm here."

"Sure, I'll get her," Steve said, winking at Jeanette as he turned away.

He found Angie in the far corner of the trading post. The tears in her eyes startled him.

"What's wrong? You're crying."

"That horrible woman's perfume made me sneeze. Now my eyes are all puffy and dripping. I must be allergic to the stuff."

Steve wanted to laugh with relief. Instead, he went into the small restroom a few feet away and soaked several paper towels with cold water.

"Put this over them to see if it helps."

She moaned as soon as the dampness touched her skin. Steve bit his lip to stop himself from doing anything inappropriate.

"I have a favor to ask . . ."

Angie kept her eyes covered while he explained his idea. When he finished, she removed the paper towels, looking straight at him.

"Oh, Steve, I can't wait to marry you. You make me so incredibly happy!"

Her words weren't real, but he imagined, for just a moment, that they were. His body stirred once again in response to the girl he barely knew. Afraid that she might hear the emotions churning within him if he replied, he kissed her on the cheek, inhaling her fresh scent as he did.

"Oh, her," Tess said when the couple joined Jeanette. "I thought she was the hired help."

"Don't be rude, Tess," Steve said, stepping behind Angie so he could pull her against his chest.

"They're a perfect couple. He lights up when he sees her walk into a room," Jeanette said, adding to the illusion.

"She's amazing," Steve whispered as an image of her half-naked body filled his head.

"Well, she's not exactly your type, is she, Stevie?"

"Tess, I love Angie a great deal. If you can't be respectful, maybe you should go home to . . . Tom, is it?" Steve asked, purposely using the wrong name for the woman's current husband.

"It's Donny. Tom was my second," Tess said.

"Oh, well, you've had so many I can't remember them all anymore. What is this one, the fifth?"

"Insults, Stevie? I remember a time when you had good things to say about me."

"And I remember a time when you were a good person."

"Tess, have you been to see your parents yet? I'm sure they've missed you." Jeanette moved the newcomer away from the counter as she spoke. "Are you staying with them?"

"No, I didn't tell them I was in town."

"I'll give your mom a quick call then. Do they still have the same number? Of course they do. Silly me, I just talked to her after the neighborhood block party. We're on the committee for the church bizarre this year. Oh good, it's ringing," Jeanette said, holding the phone while she continued talking to the woman.

Tess glared for several seconds before walking away. She raised her middle finger at Angie and Steve as she left the trading post. Jeanette smiled when the irritating woman slammed the front door on her way out. The dial tone reminded her she still held the telephone.

"Oh my, I think I forgot to dial."

"You and Herman, you would use that ruse on us kids. Not always with the telephone, but rambling on about something stupid to distract us from whatever trouble we were trying to cause. One of you would always end up getting us to talk about why we thought fighting, or arguing, or misbehaving of any kind, was the right thing to do."

"All parents have their own way of teaching their children lessons. We found what we thought was the best way for our family," Jeanette said, patting his cheek and smiling.

Angie tried to imagine the man at her side as a father. She decided he would be like the woman who raised him, teaching his children lessons without using speeches or boring information.

"My parents didn't do that. They never did things together. I always thought it was strange, until my mom told me . . ."

Steve waited for Angie to finish but she shook her head instead. Angie noticed the yawns Jeanette tried to hide. She figured there had been too much excitement in one day for the woman, considering her age. They walked with her to the small house she called home to be sure she didn't fall. When the trading post owner yawned again, Angie spoke.

"I'll keep an eye on the store and take care of things there."

Steve winked but didn't move. He needed time to think.

"Go help her," Jeanette said.

Without answering, he left the woman alone. Instead of returning to the trading post though, he wandered around the yard, remembering how neat and colorful it had been when he lived there.

Inside, Angie kept busy. She dusted shelves and rearranged displays as a way to keep her mind off everything that happened with Steve. He didn't show up until it was time to lock the door and turn off the main lights.

"Thank you, for going along with that whole fiancée bit earlier," he said as they stood in the darkened room. "That woman is like a vulture. I have no idea how she knew I was even in town, but whenever I am, she shows up."

"Jeanette didn't seem to like her much."

"No one does."

Angie nodded. "I should check on Jeanette. She looked really tired earlier."

"Oh, I'm sure she recovered just fine as soon as we left. She used to do that when I was a kid, too."

His words made Angie think they had more in common than she first thought. His parents hadn't wanted him and hers lied to her. Yet it was all confusing.

"Let's go see what she fixed for dinner. I'm guessing her famous meatloaf with scalloped potatoes."

Dinner was as Steve guessed. Angie enjoyed the conversation and laughed at some of the stories Jeanette told about the children who had been a part of her family. Eventually she noticed how tired the older woman looked and offered to clear the table and do the dishes.

Jeanette nodded. "I think I'll head to bed."

"I guess I'll be sleeping alone tonight," Steve said, giving Angie a sad look. "Since I didn't technically propose, I assume I'm not engaged."

"You could call Tess to cheer you up." Angie turned toward Jeanette. "Didn't you say you had her mother's number?"

"No, no way, absolutely not, never, not while I'm breathing," Steve said, moving to the door.

"But you shouldn't have to be alone when there's someone so willing—"

"Good night, Angie. I was going to walk with you to the castle, but because you were mean to me, you can find your way back yourself."

Angie laughed. She wondered for a moment how it would feel to be his fiancée for real. He seemed to be a caring person. So far, in the short time that she had known him, he had been attentive. Steve stopped in the kitchen, took a beer from the refrigerator, and left through the back door. Jeanette stifled another yawn.

"That boy has a way with words. He's always been able to mix things up to sound silly. Herman and I were never sure what he would come up with next."

"I can tell you're proud of him."

"Steven had me worried for a while. I wasn't sure he would realize how smart he was. Herman and I, we tried to teach him how to use his positive traits, but we didn't always succeed."

Angie thought about what the older woman said. "But if you didn't succeed, when did he figure it out?"

"He played football. The coach pulled him his junior year because his grades were too low. That opened Steven's eyes faster than anything we tried. It took him four weeks to get back onto the team. But he never goofed off in school again."

"I guess we all have something that slaps us awake," Angie said. "Good night, Jeanette."

"Good night, my dear."

The moon lit the path to the castle. Angie took her time, deep in thought, imagining the young boy Steve had been. The castle was quiet when she opened the door. Angie turned the light off and went to bed. She never noticed Steve hiding in the shadows. He finished his beer before following her example and going to bed. Neither fell asleep until close to dawn.

Jeanette followed the instructions Angie had written on the index card next to the cash register. The customer, one of the locals from the neighborhood, kept up a running conversation without any input from the store owner. When she saw the total for the two items the woman intended to purchase, Jeanette swore.

"I'm sorry, Nellie, you know I don't swear that often. But this machine is determined to turn me into an evil monster."

"Oh, I'm sure you're exaggerating," the woman said.

"I kid you not, the thing watches for me, spitting out totals that make me look like an imbecile."

"But Jeanette, you've used this same register for year—"

"Am I ever glad to see you, Angie," Jeanette said, pulling the young girl toward the counter. "Nellie—this is Nellie, one of my neighbors—is so patient, but this darned machine gave me a total of over three hundred dollars! Can you believe it? She's not buying a whole cart of stuff, just two things."