Express Duet Page 6

  “I’m addicted. Those and strawberry limeades from the diner. Trying to stay completely away, but it’s hard.”

  “Is this a collection, or are you just garbage can challenged?”

  “I guess I really ought to throw them away. Every time Dad gets in the truck he says, ‘Mess, mess, mess.’” He laughed.

  “I agree with him.” I wiggled my feet under the little pile of cans causing them to clank together. “Last year I really cut down. I try to drink only water. Still, it’s easy to go through the drive-thru somewhere and get one.” Did I really want to discuss diet and weight loss with Scott? Somehow, I found it easy to talk to him about it.

  “I haven’t even tried to be healthy these past months. Not that I was Mr. Atlas before.” He stared straight ahead with that comment.

  I wanted to tell him that I thought him handsome, but I sat there mute, embarrassed. I should have said something.

  I didn’t.

  We were silent the few remaining minutes that it took to get to West House. We walked in on Toppy cleaning his grill.

  “Tops, I need some steaks and stuff to grill for the guests at Mom’s.” He opened the freezer door.

  “Actually there’s fresh meat right in the cooler.” Toppy didn’t look up but continued cleaning the grill. “I just did the shopping. Don’t forget the rub.”

  “Is anything wrong, Uncle Tops?” Scott put his hand on the older man’s shoulder.

  “Naw. Nothing that can’t wait.” Toppy glanced at me. I took my cue and slipped out of the kitchen into the diner. I took a cup from the cabinet and poured myself a cup of coffee, hoping nothing was seriously wrong. The West men did not need anything else to happen.

  A few minutes later Scott appeared carrying the packages of meat and other groceries. He looked slightly less relaxed.

  Should I ask or keep my mouth shut? It wasn’t my place so I silently prayed.

  The evening was not as hot as usual, so I looked forward to dining outside. Scott prepared the grill and the meat, and I ducked inside to prepare the potatoes, put the baked beans in a pot on the stove, and filled glasses with ice. When I carried napkins and paper plates outside, Scott was sitting in one of the lawn chairs staring into space.

  “Iced tea?” I said.

  “Maybe later.”

  I sat in a chair beside him. “Everything OK?

  His gaze rested on the trees at the edge of the property. “Tops is concerned about the restaurant. Said we didn’t make much profit this quarter.” He turned to look at me. “It’s my fault, you know. Mom used to place ads in the paper offering specials and maybe a percentage off meals. We’ve always had the truckers and her guests, but Mom seemed able to draw in people from town.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “Thanks for telling me. I didn’t want to pry. You know, that Washout Express, Exit 477 sign should say something about the West House Diner. That might help, too.”

  “Used to be a sign, but it blew down in that big spring storm, right as everything was storming for us as well. I never got around to putting it back up.”

  “What about those Pearson boys from the washout? Get them to do a few of those things. And how often do you take large amounts from your customers’ bills, Scott? Very generous of you, although maybe not a great idea just now.”

  “I took my cue from Dad. He always did that. I watched him and Mom give away so much over the years. I guess it’s in me, too. God has always blessed us. I don’t know what’s happening now. It’s hard…” He sighed deeply and then looked directly into my eyes. “You are the only blessing that has brightened this place. I don’t know what brought you here, but I’m so glad you came. Everyone likes you, including me. I like you a lot…” The back door opened and closed, stopping Scott’s words.

  The Wilsons joined us, still looking a bit tired after their naps.

  Mark inspected the steaks on the grill. “Those are beauties. We could smell the good cookin’. Boy, this place is still the greatest.” He beamed.

  “I agree,” Mary said, “but these days I can sleep at the drop of a hat. I’m always tired and always hungry.” She rubbed her tummy where her pregnancy had not begun to show.

  Scott and I listened to Mark and Mary talk about their life in Dallas, how happy they were together, and how excited about the baby.

  But then Mark’s face clouded over. “One of the reasons we wanted to come back here is because we want to spend some time in the prayer garden, to try to hear God apart from all our problems. If Shelley hadn’t offered us the discounted weekend, we wouldn’t have been able to come.” Mark squeezed Mary’s hand.

  “Problems?” I walked right in the door Mark had opened.

  “He lost his job,” Mary said. “Big layoffs at the plant. We’ve about gone through our savings keeping the bills up to date, paying the doctor, and getting ready for the baby.”

  “I’ll find something.” Mark sighed. “But it’s been a slow go. I’ve had several interviews and I’m really hoping I get a call about one of them this weekend.”

  “You will,” Scott said. “Hang in there. I’ll pray for you.”

  “Me, too,” I echoed.

  The young couple looked at each other and smiled. Living on love, as Gran used to say, and weathering their troubles together. Their sweetness touched me, and I longed for the same in my life.

  “Where’d you find this little lady, Scott?” Mark asked. “I’d say she is a prize.”

  My cheeks warmed. It didn’t dawn on me that they would think we were a couple.

  “Bailey is a guest here, to tell you the truth. The first one since Mom died. She volunteered to make this weekend for y’all. We’re all hoping she’ll stay around for a while.” Scott looked at me, asking me that very question with his eyes.

  They wanted me to stay? I hadn’t thought of that until now. I lowered my head and pulled in my bottom lip.

  “It’s OK, Bailey. Just a suggestion. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Scott said, a bit short.

  “No, it’s not that. I hadn’t thought…I do love it here,” I said, regretting that I’d hurt him.

  “Got any more chocolate chip cookies?” Mark asked, breaking the awkward silence that followed.

  We spent another half hour around the grill, but the lighthearted spirit had gone out of Scott. Mark and Mary wandered off to the prayer garden before dark, and Scott and I began to clean up.

  “For the record, Scott, in the truck earlier…I meant to say that I think you’re nice looking. Who wants to look like Mr. Atlas anyway? I’m not exactly Twiggy.”

  His offended expression softened. “Well, thank you, ma’am. And for that matter, who wants a Twiggy? I think you’re beautiful, and I mean it when I say we want you to stay…I want you to stay.” He looked into my eyes.

  “Staying is the easy part, Scott. I could use some time to recoup. I’m kind of at a crossroads just now.” Even mentioning the breakup brought Darryl to this peaceful place, and I didn’t want him there. “I’d need a job.”

  “You’re hired, then. I’ve been thinking about asking you to take over this place. I’m afraid your wages would be just room and board. But you can have free rein, do whatever you want. I don’t have time to deal with the B&B, but there’s no way we can sell it. It’s a part of our hearts. What do you say?”

  My mouth dropped open, and I sat in a lawn chair, staring at Scott. I could tell he meant it. Stay on at Exit 477? I could actually see myself here, at least until Gran’s place was fixed up.

  “Well, think about it,” he said. “Better yet, pray about it.”

  “I will. I’m touched you would let me run this place. I’ll consider it.”

  We whiled away the rest of the evening in pleasant conversation with the Wilsons. I don’t remember much of what was said because I couldn’t stop thinking about the possible change coming in my life.

  It could work. I could run Shelley’s Heart Bed and Breakfast. The inn was only thirty minutes from my mom
and my two best friends. They would enjoy visiting me here. Close enough to Marshall that I could oversee repairs at Pinewood Manor and be a safe distance from Darryl and Phoebe. I’d found a pleasant world with wonderful people whom I might be able to help. I could carry on Shelley West’s legacy—although certainly not as well—for these two men who needed help. It sounded like the solution I needed to get me through until I could get my life together and move back into my home.

  Scott left, and the Wilsons turned in for the night. I’d stashed my things in an upstairs bedroom decorated in an Adirondack theme, with forest wallpaper and bear and moose figurines on the nightstand and dresser. The warm browns and greens relaxed me. I opened the windows for a breeze and then knelt beside the bed.

  I prayed for Mary and Mark’s baby and job situation. My thoughts turned to Scott and Peeps. “Father,” I whispered, “if it’s Your plan for me to stay here, please lead me. I’m just not sure. I would love to stay, but is it the right thing for me now?” I rested my head on the side of the bed, thinking of all that Scott and his father had experienced over the last few months.

  “Help Scott and Peeps get their lives back together—the diner’s business to improve. And please, Father, help Peeps deal with his grief and health problems.”

  My mind turned to all that had brought me to this place. The thought that I could help those two men might make some sense out of my current state of affairs.

  “I wish I’d paid attention to the cautions in my heart when I’d met Darryl. He made me feel attractive, worthy…somehow.” At least at first. The tears came as I remembered how condescending Darryl had become. “So dumb, Father, I know. Just because a handsome and successful man wanted to be with me. I thought that mattered.

  “Only You know how insecure I am. Now I’m in a better place. Still trying to sort things out, but definitely in a better place.”

  The Lord’s love and forgiveness and peace settled over me.

  I felt washed out…in the best possible way.

  ~*~

  The rapping on the door at 5:00 AM woke me from a deep sleep. It took a second to clear my head before I could locate my robe and answer the door.

  “Come, come, come.” Paul West motioned. He hobbled past me and into the house, headed toward kitchen. I breathed a prayer that he hadn’t wakened the Wilsons.

  “Let me put on my shoes.” I looked around and found my flip flops by the couch.

  I hurried out the back door and caught up with him. He was headed straight for the prayer garden. For someone walking with a cane, he made good time.

  When we got to the gazebo, he slowed down a little to negotiate the steps. I held onto his elbow as we ascended and then took a seat on one of the benches.

  He was winded so we sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Son, son, son.” He tapped his cane on the gazebo floor once for each word.

  “Scott. Yes, he’s your son.”

  “Pray, pray, pray.” Again, he tapped the cane as he spoke.

  “Pray for Scott? Sure. Is anything wrong?”

  “Sad, sad, sad.” He dropped his cane and sighed heavily.

  “Well, of course, you’ve both been through a lot,” I said. Not sure how he wanted me to go about it, I bowed my head.

  “Pray, pray, pray!” He raised his voice.

  The last thing I wanted was to upset him. I took his hand in mine and began to pray aloud. “Father, we know that You are aware of everything that goes on in our lives. I ask You to bring comfort and peace to Scott and Mr. West as they grieve the loss of wife and mother. I ask You to continue to restore Mr. West’s health and provide help for Scott as he is carrying the weight of three businesses.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he whispered. Before I could finish praying, he stood and put his hands on my shoulder.

  “Help, help, help.” He had tears in his eyes.

  “I don’t understand…”

  He sat back down with a thump and sighed again.

  “I’m sure the Lord will help you both. I lost my grandmother several years ago. I know that’s not as hard as losing a wife, but I do understand that it takes time.”

  “Help, help, help,” he said again, his eyes watering, and then added, “You, you, you.”

  I didn’t know what I could do to help. They were actually helping me get through my rough time. I had to go back to Marshall and face it eventually, but for now, I was enjoying a blessed reprieve.

  Paul’s plea sealed the deal. I would stay on at Shelley’s Heart.

  He stood to leave, and we started back.

  “How’d you get here?” I asked him as we entered the kitchen.

  “Feet, feet, feet,” he said. He sat down at the kitchen table.

  “How about some coffee?” I didn’t wait for an answer, but put on the pot. “I’m going to get dressed. I’ll be back in a jiffy and we’ll have some.”

  He nodded and propped his cane on the side of the table.

  We certainly had gotten off to a bad start, but now I found him easy to be around. Even with his communication problem, he seemed to be all there. Had he slipped out while Scott slept? I called Scott’s cell, but the call went straight to voice mail.

  I joined Peeps a few minutes later and poured us both a cup of coffee. He pulled pictures from his wallet. He pointed out Scott as a youngster. He was a little chubster but so cute.

  Mr. West gazed with teary eyes at a photo of Shelley. He didn’t seem to need me to say anything. He looked around the room then stood and ambled about the house.

  I followed after him.

  “Nice, nice, nice,” he said, and then headed for the front door.

  “You don’t want to walk all the way back to the diner, do you? Let me run you up there in my car, Mr. West.” I jogged up ahead of him and opened the door to my car.

  He slipped inside, and when I sat in the driver’s seat, he pointed to himself and said, “Peeps, Peeps, Peeps.”

  “You want me to call you Peeps?”

  He nodded. It only took a few minutes to buzz him back up the road.

  Scott ran out of the diner barefooted, shirtless and with hair flying like the place was on fire.

  “I tried to call you. He’s fine,” I said as I pulled up beside him and rolled down the window.

  “Dad,” he said, exasperation and relief washing over his face. “I came out of the shower and you were gone. You had me worried.”

  Peeps didn’t respond. He got out of the car and headed into West House.

  “He came by to take me to the prayer garden,” I said. “We had a nice little prayer time.”

  “He’s never done that before. I usually drop him off if he wants to go to the garden. For months he gets up, looks at the paper until I get ready for work, then goes with me across the street to the washout. I don’t know what possessed him to run off like that—on foot, too.”

  “It’s not that far. I think it did him good, but I did bring him back in case it was too much for him. Everything OK?”

  “Just scared me, that’s all,” he said. “Dad’s health is better than could be expected for a stroke victim. His spirits are better too. Hearing his laughter yesterday really blessed me. He can do for himself, but he is a little weak getting around—and then the speech thing. Still, it’s hard to see him that way. He was so active before.

  “Maybe his speech will improve. My mom is a nurse and tells such amazing stories of people who continue to recover. But, Scott, it’s you he’s worried about. He wanted me to pray for you this morning.”

  “I’m OK. I get a little overwhelmed sometimes. In the course of a few weeks, my mom was gone and Dad’s…” His lips blanched as he fought back emotion. “And now I’m in charge. I’ve worked with Dad for years, but being in charge of the businesses and taking care of Dad is a load. I love him, and I don’t mind. I just feel like I’m juggling Jell-O. Have you thought anymore about…”

  A pickup passed us, and the driver gave a sharp wolf whistle. Scott looked down a
t his half clothed body then turned an appropriate shade of red.

  “Oh, Bailey, I’m sorry,” he said and ran into the diner.

  So, Scott was overwhelmed. Maybe I really could help by staying on at Shelley’s. It seemed he had help enough at West House and the washout. The inn was the only business he didn’t have time to run. But then, who was I to try to help? I’d made a huge mess of my own life. Same song, millionth verse. That old familiar thought didn’t match the hope and expectation growing in my heart.

  Time for a new song.

  8

  My mother had slipped into Shelley’s Heart while I’d driven Peeps back. The aroma of the coffee I’d brewed earlier and the scent of the breakfast casserole she’d already placed in the oven made my mouth water.

  “Up and out already? My, but you seem in better spirits.” She laughed. “This place must be good for you.”

  I fixed a cup of coffee and sat at the table to help her slice fresh fruit and arrange it on a platter.

  “It’s this wonderful place. Scott offered me a job here.” I watched her face for some sign of her opinion.

  “What kind of job? Wait. Don’t tell me; they want you to run the place. What a great idea. It will give you some great experience while Pinewood is updated. What did you tell them?”

  “I said I’d think about it—pray about it actually. And I have. I decided to offer to stay on through the fall, just to see how it goes. Scott says he can’t pay anything but room and board. I think I can make it with what Gran left me and still have money to start repairs at the house. I’m sure Mandy and Macy will understand. They expected I’d move out when Gran’s was ready, anyway.”

  We set the breakfast table with the freshly washed linens and prepared decaf coffee for the Wilsons. We didn’t have to wait long.

  The two sleepyheads padded into the kitchen, surely led by their noses. My mom’s casserole smelled scrumptious. They sat down, eager to partake.

  “Bailey, I can’t tell you how happy I was to find Jan Karon’s newest book on the nightstand. I had to resist so Mark wouldn’t feel ignored. But while he gets some fishing in this afternoon, I’m going to curl up and read.” Mary took a sip of coffee with an expression that made me think she’d found the fountain of youth.