Express Duet Page 5

  My face warmed at this gesture, but I did not totally dislike it. In fact, I liked it. A lot. I looked away.

  Scott cleared his throat and headed back toward the house. He tipped his hat at me and smiled that whole-face smile.

  I looked after him for a moment and breathed a thank you for a renewed sense of purpose. It wasn’t a full-paying job, but something to do—something I loved to do.

  At that moment the couch inside seemed to call my name. I went inside, took my perch, and picked up my crochet. Plans for the weekend began forming in my head. I went to pull a notepad from my purse to start a list and noticed my cell phone blinking messages at me. Ten missed calls from Darryl.

  Let him stew.

  6

  I woke up Thursday morning in a slight panic. What had I gotten myself into?

  The lawn mower roared in the backyard. Scott must have risen much earlier than I. He finished, put up the machine and left, probably headed for work at the Washout Express. If he could push himself that way, what excuse did I have? Onward, girl!

  I gave Mom a call.

  “Mom, do you have Gran’s breakfast quiche recipe? I’m going to do a little cooking this weekend, and I wanted to try it. It’s my favorite.” I poised my pencil to begin writing it down.

  “Cooking? Am I invited? It’s been quite a while since you’ve entertained. I hope that means you’re feeling better.”

  I told her what I’d gotten myself into and read her my list of things to do.

  “That actually sounds like fun. You know, I’m off today and tomorrow, and then Saturday, too. Why don’t I come and help? I’m aching to see you. How about it?”

  “Why not? Come on over, it’s off Exit 477.” I gave her directions and hung up the phone. Energy and excitement tickled my mood.

  I washed the linens from all the guestrooms, one downstairs and four upstairs, and hung out the comforters to freshen in the sun. The old Bailey seemed to return as I threw myself into sweeping, dusting, mopping, and sanitizing bathrooms and kitchen. All the tablecloths, doilies, and throw pillows needed fluffing, so into the delicate cycle of the dryer with the sheets they went.

  While looking in the kitchen broom closet for a vacuum attachment that I could run up the drapes, I spotted a small, rose-covered hat box. Guilt tweaked my conscience, but I opened it anyway. The box contained just one picture, carefully wrapped in tissue. It stopped me cold.

  Paul, Scott, and it surely must have been Shelley West, posed in a humorous shot. They were on a boat on water somewhere, and they were laughing. Scott was planting a kiss on his mother’s cheek, while Shelley laughed, her eyes wrinkled up in joy. Paul had his arms around both of them. Happier days.

  The gravity of their loss, of the drastic changes for Paul and Scott, choked me. I sat on the floor and cried for them. Suddenly I missed Gran with a passion. I missed the days when she and my mother and I lived in Pinewood Manor together. How lovely and simple things were then. She more than helped us; she made my childhood a magic place and the manor a castle. Only the dragon kept rearing its ugly head. Daddy left us, and the fault rested with me.

  Would I ever have the love and joy that this picture depicted? My stupid choices pretty much ruined that. Might I get a hold on my dreams again, here on Exit 477? Or was I running away? I pulled myself together when I heard the dryer ding.

  Mom arrived in time to help me make the beds. We had them all put together by lunch time. I suggested that we go to the diner for a bite to eat.

  Scott, his father, Tracy, Liz, and Toppy, were all having dinner. No other patrons were there.

  “Pull up a chair, Bailey. And who is this?” Toppy said, greeting my mother.

  “Everyone, this is my mom, Gwen Brown.”

  The crew welcomed her as warmly as they had me. She sat in a chair next to Paul.

  “Hello, hello, hello,” he said.

  She greeted him sweetly.

  “Hi, Mr. West. It is so nice of you to let Bailey hang out here. She has gone on and on about how wonderful you all are.”

  “Me, me, me?” he asked, looking shyly at me.

  “Yes, you too.” I got up from my chair, put my arm around him, and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned up at me.

  We began discussing our plans for the weekend at Shelley’s. Scott brought my mom a cup of coffee and then one for me. Paul hooked his cane on Mom’s arm each time she tried to raise her coffee cup. Everyone laughed at his little joke. Paul’s laugh brightened his whole face.

  Scott’s eyes widened and his lips parted in a caught breath. He tilted his head to one side and smiled at his father.

  ~*~

  Mom and I had a good old gab fest during the night into the wee hours of the morning. I told her everything about Darryl and Phoebe. She was so wonderfully understanding and sympathetic.

  “You know, your gran always said that when you separate yourself from people who know you and love you, it’s because you somehow know the new relationship isn’t right for you. I wondered if I should question you more deeply or leave it alone.” Mom put her arms around me and hugged me tight. “I’ve missed you.”

  I leaned into her hug and let the tears come. “I’ve been ignoring the cautions and my true feelings almost from the very beginning. He really made me feel like a second-class citizen. I fooled myself into thinking he was making me a better person.”

  Mom’s eyes watered over, and she tilted her head a little sideways looking at me.

  “I know I’ve always been a little overweight,” I said, “and I need to keep after it, not give up. But Darryl made me think that my size was connected to my worth, somehow.”

  “My beautiful Bailey. If you haven’t noticed, most people have a struggle with their weight. I want you to be healthy, but I have never wanted you to obsess about it. You have basically good habits. Find something to do that you really love, and food won’t be such a friend anymore.”

  Moms have a way of making it all better. I knew it wasn’t that easy. Still, I was a long way from feeling as though my weight wasn’t in my way.

  “This little neighborhood has begun to open my eyes. They’re so accepting and genuine here.” I smiled, thinking of the amazing community I’d stumbled upon. “I think I will hate to leave after the weekend is over, but there is really no reason to stay.”

  A sense of hopelessness weighed on my heart. “What’s worse, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” A heavy sigh escaped my lungs.

  Mom turned and faced me. “Just give it time.” Her sweet smile and tender care drew my heart closer to her.

  How could someone so loving have been attracted to a man who would say so many hurtful things to a child? Had enough time passed that I could tell her about that day, that being called fat and an embarrassment by my own father had tortured me all my life? No, I wouldn’t remind her of it. That dragon would not ruin this weekend.

  Mom left with a promise to come early Saturday morning to help me get the breakfast ready. I caught myself humming.

  I had nothing to do but wait for the Wilsons. I decided to call them and let them know about Shelley. Best not to wait until they arrived.

  Were there other guests who had booked, but not been notified of Shelley’s death? I found her desk in the craft room off the kitchen. Two beautiful journals sat side by side on the desk. One was labeled “Guests” and was used as a guest register. The other was labeled “Details.” I opened this cloth and lace covered book. Shelley had made notes about her guest’s particular likes and dislikes. I found last year’s notes about the Wilsons.

  Mark—a fisherman. Loves root beer floats and popcorn. Wanted a gift suggestion for new bride. Sent him to Cary’s Jewelry in town. Mary—not into fishing, ha ha. Loves Victorian magazines, fresh ground coffee, and Jan Karon books. Both of them are chocoholics. Spent one afternoon apart—he fished and she shopped.

  Shelley had drawn little hearts all around this paragraph. She must have enjoyed this couple, or maybe she was just a romantic. Eith
er way, I was thrilled to find this treasure trove. I intended to do Shelley proud. She reminded me of Gran and the special care she gave my mom and me when we lived with her.

  This new information gave me something else to do while I waited for the Wilsons’ arrival. Let’s see…Mark liked to fish. Maybe Scott could help me arrange a fishing trip for him one afternoon.

  Marshall had plenty of quaint shops for Mary. I decided to make a run into town for coffee and magazines. I could stop at the Washout Express and talk to Scott about helping me out with Mark.

  I found Peeps leaning on the counter when I walked in. “Is Scott here?” I asked, eyeing the dirty row of chairs across from the counter. Would they get mad if I offered to clean them? They obviously didn’t have time.

  “Minute, minute, minute.” he said. We smiled at each other, and the old tension between us evaporated. He disappeared, and both of them returned in a few seconds.

  “Well, hello!” Scott wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his pocket.

  “Is there any chance you might be going fishing this weekend? Our guest likes to fish, and I wondered if he could tag along.”

  “I don’t know if I can get away from here,” he said, stress rising on his face.

  “Go, go, go,” Peeps said, waving his cane at his son.

  I didn’t want to cause more work for him, but I could guess from Mr. West’s tone that he thought Scott could use a break.

  “Not even for a couple of hours? Bet it would do you good. I think you took Mark fishing last year.”

  “Sure, we had a great time. He and I had a lot in common.”

  “Oh? In what way?”

  “We went through an entire bag of Kit-Kats in one afternoon.” He shot a sheepish grin at me and then to his father. Peeps laughed.

  “Ah, so you’re a chocoholic, too.” Dangerous habit, but I could identify.

  “Yes, that, and then he devoured my mom’s fried chicken like it was his last meal. Tops makes a good chicken fry, but it’s just not like Mom’s.” He looked at his dad and they smiled at each other.

  Peeps rubbed his stomach like he could use some chicken right then.

  “Wow, chicken and chocolate. Sounds like you’d enjoy a few hours with a kindred spirit like that.” I liked to think of this overworked man out on the lake, sharing a bag of candy with a buddy.

  “Well, I guess if you’ll call me when and if he wants to go, I’ll try to get free.” Scott stuffed his rag back into his pocket.

  “That is if Mark wants to go. It’s an anniversary stay, but your mom’s guest journal indicated they spent one afternoon apart on their first trip.” Oops.

  It hadn’t occurred to me until that very moment that they might not have wanted me to be looking through her things. The journals were out in plain sight, but nevertheless, it might have been presumptuous. I bit my bottom lip and searched Scott’s eyes for a clue.

  “Ah, so you found Mom’s guest book.” He leaned on the counter with both hands. His eyes darted over at his father. Peeps tapped the floor with his cane and looked down.

  “Oh dear, you guys. I’m so sorry. The guest books were on her desk out in the open. I did look at them and discovered her notes on the Wilson’s stay last year. I thought it would help me do things the way Shelley would have done. I’m…” Sorry just didn’t seem to cut it. Had I hurt these two men that I so fervently wanted to help?

  “No problem.” Scott hoisted himself up on the counter, swung his legs around and scooted close to where I stood.

  “You can learn a lot about my mom from flipping through those special pages. I…I like the idea of you knowing her that way.” The clear, honest blue of his eyes deepened in an intense gaze.

  For a few seconds, nothing existed but those soft, blue velvet eyes. Giving comfort, and seeking comfort. Telling me something, and asking me something as well.

  The moment broke at the thrice tapping of Peeps’s cane. I looked away from Scott. What just happened?

  Peeps looked from Scott to me and back again. A happy smile spanned his wrinkled face. He pushed himself up from the chair and hobbled out of the lobby. “Heh, heh, heh.” What was he chuckling at?

  “Like I said, give me a call if Mark wants to fish or anything.” He swung back over to the back of the counter and tipped his cap at me.

  “There’s a big bag of Kit-Kats in it for you.” Why did I suddenly feel the need to flee?

  The last thing I needed was a new relationship, and I certainly wasn’t looking for one. I needed friends whose lives inspired me to reach up, not grasp and claw because of a sense of low self-esteem. Friends who accepted me as I am but held confidence that there would be more to come in the Lord. Maybe I had found them down at Exit 477.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t think of Darryl anymore. The more ease and welcome I experienced on Exit 477, the more I realized how trapped, down on myself, and insecure I’d been with him.

  I took my packages back to the inn. I was smiling as I bounded up the steps onto the front porch. I would at least enjoy this weekend, and like Scarlett O’Hara, I would think about it tomorrow.

  7

  Friday at four. Right on time. I heard them drive up so I peeked out the window as the Wilsons got their luggage from the trunk of their red compact car.

  He opened the door for her and reached to carry her bag as well as his. It was good to see him still treat her like a newlywed. When they reached the front door, Mark put down his baggage and picked her up.

  “Oh, Mark.” She giggled. He kissed her until I thought they’d forgotten where they were. He finally lightly tapped on the door with his foot.

  “Well, hello, Wilsons!” I said as I opened the door wide so he could carry her across.

  “Hi, you must be Bailey,” Mary bubbled. “We’re excited to be here.”

  “Me, too. We had a great time last year. We’ll never forget it.” Mark leaned out the door and brought their luggage inside. “Sure will miss Shelley. What a shock.”

  “I never knew her myself, but from all accounts she was pretty special. I hope I’ve made the accommodations as inviting.”

  “Well, the place looks wonderful,” Mary said. “We’re getting the Sweetheart Room, right?”

  “Of course. It’s ready for you. Let me help you with your bags.”

  They joined me in the kitchen after they had unpacked and freshened up. I offered soft drinks or coffee.

  “No caffeine for me.” Mary grinned shyly at her husband. “Have anything clear?”

  I gave her a clear soda and Mark opted for a Coke. I set a plate of fresh baked cookies on the table.

  “This Shelley’s recipe? I nearly made myself sick on them last year.” Mark ate two cookies at once.

  They began reminiscing about their honeymoon. Mary’s brown eyes sparkled as she talked about discovering the prayer garden and the joy she had in sharing it with Mark. Her blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, swayed back and forth as she described how inspired she’d been by Shelley’s handwork.

  “I went home and learned how to crochet. I’ve made several items.” She pulled her work out of a bag that sat at her feet.

  Baby booties.

  “For your baby?” I asked.

  “Yep, we just found out,” Mark said. “It’s what made us decide to go ahead and take this anniversary trip. Things are going to get hectic when that baby comes.”

  “Hectic for whom? I’ll be in labor and delivery and staying up nights,” she joked.

  Mark leaned his forehead against Mary’s, and they chatted about their child.

  Feeling like an interloper, I stepped to the refrigerator, pretending to busy myself rearranging shelves. The excitement of having a child was something I’d never experienced, nor was I likely to have that joy in my life.

  I straightened my shoulders. I’d placed my trust in Christ. I would not worry.

  Scott knocked on the door and let himself in. He greeted Mary Wilson with a hug and Mark with a handshake. “Glad to see you g
uys again. Has it really been a year? I can’t believe it.”

  “Yes, and, Scott, we’re so sorry about Shelley. She was a lovely woman, and we really liked her.” Mary put her hand on Scott’s shoulder.

  “I appreciate that.” Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the word. So much to deal with at the time.”

  “Oh, don’t even worry about that. We understand.” Mark reached for another handshake. He broke the brief silence that followed. “We have some good news.” Mark put his arm around Mary. “We’re having a baby.”

  “Well, I’ll be. Congratulations. We have to celebrate. Why don’t we grill out tonight? Save you from having to find a place in town.”

  “Sounds great.” Mary leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Mind if we rest up a bit before dinner?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Scott said. “I’ll be back with some steaks after a while and get them started. The smell of the meat cooking will rouse you from your nap.”

  The couple walked hand in hand to their room and closed the door. I hadn’t planned on a cookout. Scott was so sweet taking time out of his busy schedule to provide new memories of Shelley’s Heart for the Wilsons.

  “Scott,” I said, “what can I do to help you with that?”

  “Not a thing. I’ll get some steaks and potatoes for the grill. I think Toppy has some cans of baked beans that we can heat up. Looks like you’ve made enough dessert.” He looked at me for a long moment. I thought he might say something else, but he didn’t. He wore a nice polo shirt and slacks. The tan shirt brought out the sky color of his eyes. His thick, black hair tousled up into a bit of a spike.

  “Why don’t I go to the diner and help you gather the supplies. That way the house will be quiet.”

  “Sure, let’s go.” He popped a cookie into his mouth.

  His truck was parked behind mine so we went in it. A definitive work truck and none too clean inside.

  “That’s a lot of cans,” I teased, referring to a dozen or more soda cans in the floorboard.