Only When I Sleep

by E V Lind

  Ryan watched as the woman tugged the bag up and over her head. As she did so, her hair was pulled away from her face, exposing the dual tracks that scored one cheek—in parts still scabbed over, in others the livid pink of newly healing skin. He cast a glance at his mom, warning her with a look not to say a word about what they’d just seen. To her credit, his mom bit back the concern he could see painted clear on her face and turned back to the stove.

  “Have you got a name, hon?” she asked.

  “B-Beth.”

  “That’s a lovely name. Short for Elizabeth?”

  “Yes.”

  Beth had answered without thinking but he saw the moment she caught herself, realizing she’d said more than she meant to. He had to hand it to his mom, she could probe for answers like the best interrogators in the business, and all without shedding a single drop of blood.

  “Visiting with anyone around here?”

  “Um, no. Just looking for work.”

  “Really? What sort of experience have you got?”

  “Restaurant work. Waiting tables, mostly.”

  Ryan felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. The deal was to have given Beth a ride, feed her and send her on her way, but he knew his mom. She could never turn away a soul. Especially not one who looked in such desperate need of rescue. He knew his mom hadn’t missed the poorly fitting clothes Beth wore, nor the haunted look in her eyes.

  “Well, now. Isn’t that a coincidence? One of my girls is leaving at the end of next week. Meals are included in your shifts. Would you be interested?”

  “Mom—” Ryan started in warning but swallowed his words as his mom delivered him a look that told him quite firmly to butt the hell out.

  Beth lifted her head and looked at Ryan, too. It was the first time she’d made eye contact, with either of them, and he met her hazel eyes with a challenge of his own. The connection was a mere second or two, but she got the message.

  “No, really,” she said in that raspy tone of hers. “I need to get going. Thanks for the soup and bread. Please don’t go to any more bother on my behalf.”

  “It’s no bother, I’m cooking for lug head and myself here, anyway.”

  Beth shook her head. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?”

  Mary-Ann forced a smile on her face. “Sure, hon. It’s just at the end there, first door on your left.”

  The moment Beth was out of sight Mary-Ann slapped both hands on the counter top in front of him.

  “I don’t know what you did or why you did it, but you had better undo it right now and convince that poor girl to stay.”

  “I can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to.”

  “She doesn’t know what she wants,” his mother hissed back, not holding back an inch of her irritation with him.

  “She’s an adult, isn’t she? Besides, I don’t trust her.”

  “Stop scaring her. She needs help. Even you can see that. Not every stranger is packed with explosives!”

  Her words hit him like the air shock of a detonating IED and stole the air from his lungs. She could be. After all, he hadn’t noticed it the last time someone was. Not until it was too late.

  “I’m sorry, son, that was uncalled for. I’m asking you, as one caring individual to another, to get her to stay. She needs someone, I just know it.”

  “Look, I’ll go. Then you can feed her up all you like.”

  “Now I’ve gone and upset you,” his mother pouted in genuine dismay.

  Ryan got off his stool and went around into the kitchen to hug her. “No, Ma. I’m not upset. You look after your little lost chick, but take care, okay? I’ll come see you for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “You make sure you do, my boy. You’re still far too thin for my liking.”

  Ryan pressed a kiss on her cheek and headed for the door. The bathroom was right there and Beth was exiting as he came through. She recoiled as he loomed upon her. Shit. He knew he was a big guy but he wasn’t that scary, was he?

  “It’s okay,” he said, holding his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m leaving. Stay. Let Ma feed you up.”

  To his surprise Beth lifted her chin, as if in challenge. “I don’t need charity.”

  He sighed and briefly closed his eyes—he doubted he’d met anyone Stateside who needed charity more. “Please. I don’t care whether you remain or you go, but my mother does. She just wants to help. It makes her happy and I like to see my mom happy, okay?”

  Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked out the front door of the building. He’d find out soon enough if Beth hung around.

  NINE

  Riverbend, OR, September 1941

  Dear Diary,

  He came to the house today. When Mamma saw him approaching she sent me to my room but I peeped at him through the balustrade upstairs. I was so frightened Mamma would see me hiding on the landing. I didn't dare move, for doing so would make the wooden planking creak. I thought I'd never take another breath, such was the pain in my chest and the excitement that bubbled deep in my belly. His voice is deep and pure. Just the sound of it sends tingles along my spine and makes me want to imagine what it would be like to hear him speak only to me. It sounds perfect, just like him.

  He saw me hiding there but he never let on. Instead, he talked to Mamma. They need help up at the big house. A housekeeper's position, no less, as his mother is poorly and in need of assistance. He said that Mamma may need additional help from time to time and that if she wanted she could bring her daughter with her to assist. Her daughter? That's me, for sure, because Aggie is of little help beyond collecting a few eggs when her attention doesn't wander away to something else. But then who would mind Aggie if I was at the big house with Mamma. They don't want her at the local school—they say she's too disruptive—and she certainly can't be left alone.

  I was frightened she'd tell him to leave without even thinking of what such a job might bring us but I should have known better. Mamma might be prideful but she's not foolish and since Daddy left we are in dire need of money to help us make ends meet. With no credit at the mercantile anymore we can only shop with what we make from the sale of eggs and Mamma's preserves from the garden. We have sold so much now, I wonder how we will put food on our own table come winter, especially with talk of rationing next year.

  She said yes.

  I cannot sleep tonight for excitement.

  TEN

  Beth hovered in the entrance and watched as Mary-Ann’s son limped toward his truck and climbed in. He didn’t so much as spare her another glance as he drove away. The tension that had bound her shoulders into tight knots began to ease.

  “Everything okay, hon?”

  Mary-Ann came through from the dining room and held the door open for Beth to return inside to its warmth.

  “How about those eggs and bacon?” the older woman said with an encouraging smile.

  Beth was about to protest when her stomach rumbled. It seemed the soup and toast hadn’t been sufficient after all. She glanced outside. It was growing dark out and the rain had rolled in even heavier than before. Both would make it harder for her to find some shelter to sleep under.

  “Beth?” Mary-Ann prompted again.

  She looked so concerned, so caring, it was all Beth could do not to give in to tears.

  “Okay,” she said in resignation and belatedly added, “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Once you’re fed, we’ll make you up a bed and you can get a decent night’s rest. Then we’ll see about some clothes for you in the morning. I think I have some things of my daughter’s that should just about fit you.”

  “Oh, no! Please, don’t go to any bother. I don’t—”

  “You don’t have anywhere to stay and please don’t insult me by lying. My apartment is upstairs, over the café. It’s small but it’s warm and comfortable. Besides, I’ll be glad of the company.”

  “Your son—” Beth started, only to be cut off again.

  “Doesn’t rule my life. He
also doesn’t live with me, if you were worrying about that.”

  Beth felt all her protests crumble. Truth be told, she was so tired right now she lacked the energy to argue another word. Instead, she nodded and allowed Mary-Ann to lead her back into the café. She barely managed to keep her eyes open as she ate her way through the meal that was set in front of her and made no further protest when Mary-Ann left their dirty dishes in the voluminous kitchen sink and took her upstairs and pushed her in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Help yourself to a towel and have a bath or a shower, I’ll leave some dry nightwear outside the door for you.”

  “Mary-Ann?” Beth said as the older woman turned away.

  “Yes, hon?”

  “Thank you.”

  The words were simple but heartfelt and Beth could see that Mary-Ann understood by the warmth reflected in her friendly eyes.

  “You’re welcome. Now, go get cleaned up and I’ll get those things and sort out your bed.”

  Worried she’d fall asleep in a bath, Beth opted for a hot shower instead. When she stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom there was a brief knock at the door.

  “There’s a nightgown, robe and some socks here for you,” Mary-Ann said through the door.

  She was gone by the time Beth cautiously opened the door and retrieved the items. The faded and well-washed nightgown was voluminous on her spare frame but the flannelette was soft and comfortable and the knitted woolen socks were welcome on her cold feet. She felt around in her coat pocket and retrieved the toothbrush and toothpaste she’d bought at the hostel the night before and cleaned her teeth, all the while trying to push past the weariness that slowed her every move. When she opened the door again Mary-Ann was entering the small hallway from another room.

  “I’ve made up your bed and put a hot water bottle in there. I hope you’ll be comfortable. Now, don’t worry about what time you wake in the morning. I’m always up before the birds, starting the day’s baking—once a farmer’s wife and all that. Just come on downstairs when you’re ready. Oh, and give me those,” Mary-Ann said, stepping forward to take Beth’s still damp clothes from her. “I’ll run them through the washer and dryer for you.”

  Feeling as if she’d been run over by a very determined steam roller, Beth took her few belongings from her pockets, including her precious envelope of money, and did as Mary-Ann suggested. She felt a deep sense of embarrassment that her possessions were so meager, but her hostess seemed to take it all in stride and carried on talking as if she did this kind of thing every day. And maybe she did. She had that air about her, as if she’d mother anything that came in her path, whether it wanted her care or not. Beth fought back a yawn.

  “Oh, look at you,” Mary-Ann clucked. “And here’s me, rabbiting on when you’re dead on your feet. I know it’s still early, but go on to bed, hon. Have a good sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Thank you, again,” Beth responded, her voice stilted. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re doing me a favor. I like to feel useful. Now, off you go to bed. Second door on the right there.”

  The room was small and sparsely furnished, and the window at the end of one wall was high and narrow, but the bed looked more inviting than anything Beth had seen in a long time. She closed the door behind her, her fingers automatically searching for a lock, but there wasn’t one. Despite the fact she knew she probably didn’t need one, she didn’t feel safe without some way of ensuring no one else could enter the room unless she was ready for them.

  As quietly as she could, she eased the chest of drawers from its place against the wall and slid it across the polished floorboards to cover the door. Only when she was certain the door wouldn’t open without warning did she lay down on the crisp, clean sheets. As she put her head down, Beth pulled the covers over her and inch by slow inch she felt her body begin to relax. It was a few minutes more before she allowed her eyes to close.

  Bitch! Whore! You think you're good enough?

  She sat bolt upright, her eyes wide open again and her heart pounding as if it was trying to escape the confines of her chest. Dan’s words echoed in her head as she scooted her back against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes fixed on the door. She dared not rest until she was somewhere completely safe. But how would she know where or when that was? After an hour or so, she lay back down again and listened to the sounds of Mary-Ann moving around the apartment and the distant hum of the dryer running.

  It was much later when she realized that she must have dozed off for a bit. Mary-Ann had clearly gone to bed, too, because the only sounds Beth could hear now were the river current swooshing past the piles beneath the café and the creaks and groans of old timber. Beth knew she’d need to get moving again tomorrow, but for now she could rest. Surely Dan wouldn’t—couldn’t—find her here. Even she didn’t know where she was.

  *

  “You let her stay the night?”

  Ryan Jones’s voice was unmistakable in both tone and volume as it drifted up the stairwell to the apartment where Beth hovered—uncomfortable in the jeans and sweatshirt that had been left folded for her at her bedroom door. She’d slept later than she’d planned and now there was no way for her to simply slip away quietly.

  “Ma, don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

  “What was I supposed to do, son? Tell me that. The poor girl was dropping with exhaustion. She was hardly a threat. Besides, she pulled your Gran’s old tallboy across the door last night so it’s not like I wouldn’t have heard her if she took it into her head to help herself to the knives in my kitchen and murder me in my sleep.” Mary-Ann’s voice dripped with a sarcasm that Beth knew was at total odds with the woman’s warm and caring nature.

  “She what?”

  “Obviously she didn’t feel safe. Makes you wonder what she’s running from and why.”

  “No, it makes me wonder why on earth I left you alone with her yesterday. She needs to go. Now.”

  “She’s my guest, Ryan, and that’s my last word on it so you can stop badgering me. As if I haven’t got enough on my plate with Lester not showing up this morning and not answering his phone. Who’s going to be my dishwasher today? You?”

  “Don’t try and change the subject on me, Ma,” Ryan growled in response.

  “Hush and drink your coffee. I heard her shift that tallboy back again just before you got here, so I imagine she’ll be through any minute now.”

  Guessing that was her cue to appear, Beth continued down the stairs and ventured into the café. Mary-Ann and Ryan sat at a table by the open door at the bottom of the stairs.

  Ryan shot her a glare. There was no mistaking the look of warning in his eyes. He didn’t want her here and he wasn’t afraid to make any bones about it. That was fine with her. She didn’t want to hang around, either.

  “There you are. I see you found the clothes I left out for you this morning,” Mary-Ann said with a smile.

  Beth smoothed her hands self-consciously over the pale pink angora sweater and soft faded blue jeans that she’d found outside her room when she’d cautiously opened the door. “Yes, thank you. But if you could tell me where you put my things I’ll change back into them and be on my way.”

  “Honey, those rags barely held together in the washer last night. I had to throw them out. They weren’t fit for anything, let alone someone as pretty as you. Besides, those fit you so much better.”

  In response to her words, Beth ducked her head. She knew she wasn’t pretty. Maybe she had been, once, but not anymore. And, if she hadn’t known it herself the expression on Ryan Jones’s face made it patently clear that the very sight of her was enough to sour a man’s stomach.

  “And my coat?” she asked with a note of desperation in her voice.

  Surely Mary-Ann hadn’t thrown that out, too? Her clothes might not have been much, but they were all she owned and if she was going to hit the road again she needed
that coat or she’d be hypothermic by afternoon.

  “It dried nicely and it’s on the hook by the door, upstairs,” Mary-Ann answered breezily.

  Beth felt her entire body sag on a flood of relief.

  “I have a little money. Let me pay you for these clothes and for your hospitality.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. They belonged to my daughter and she doesn’t want them anymore. I just keep them for emergencies.”

  Emergencies? Like lost people that she rescued from cold, wet roadsides? Beth struggled to come to terms with the older woman’s unconditional generosity. In her experience you always ended up paying for everything one way or another.

  “Then let me work them off,” she insisted. “I overheard you say your dishwasher wouldn’t be in today. Please, I owe you—for last night’s dinner, the bed, these clothes.”

  Ryan and his mother exchanged a look before he turned to face her. Beth forced herself to meet his steely gray gaze with her own.

  “It’s heavy work. You don’t look as if you’d be up to it,” he commented disparagingly.

  “I’m used to hard work and I’m stronger than I look.”

  Stronger, yes, but weaker, too. More vulnerable than she’d ever been before. She was the first to avert her eyes.

  “Are you sure, honey?” Mary-Ann chimed in. “I hate to say it, but Ryan’s right. It is heavy work lifting the racks for the dishwasher not to mention hand washing the pots and pans.”

  “Please, let me repay you. Since you won’t accept money...” Beth’s voice petered out hopelessly.

  Mary-Ann nodded once. “Okay, fine. Just the morning, okay?”

  Beth blinked with the relief. Just the morning would work out fine. Then she could be out of here by lunchtime and dissolve back into anonymity on the road to somewhere else. She already felt as if she’d been here too long. As if it would be all too easy for Dan to come marching in through the front door of the café with that terrifyingly charismatic smile on his face—and the look of murder in his eyes.