by Vicky Jones
Feeling her cheeks redden, Lucy looked down at the floor. “I wanted to explain at the time. I came here but I just couldn’t face knocking. And since then, I just ain’t been able to find the words…” Lucy’s eyes welled up with frustrated tears, but Dorothy was unmoved.
“Shona ain’t mad at you. It’s not like that.” Stopping herself before she said too much, Dorothy turned back to the counter and pulled out a loaf of bread from the crock.
“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, leaning forward.
“What did you expect? She thought you worked behind the bar. Then she finds you upstairs… giving yourself away for money." Dorothy gripped the bread and sawed off two large slices. “She knows you’re worth better than that. You think she doesn’t care about you? Well, I think how she reacted shows she cares more, don’t you?” She turned around to face Lucy, still brandishing the knife and punctuating every word with it. “She don’t mean to ignore you when you speak to her, Lucy.” The old lady sighed. “The reason she won’t talk to you about it is because she doesn’t know how to.”
Lucy blinked back the tears as she took in what Dorothy was saying. “I know how that feels. Believe me, I do. Sure, I’m going to college every day now, being a good girl and all. But when I’m there… I can’t really talk to anyone. They don’t think like I do. About being a free spirit, you know? They are all college brains, full of textbook quotes and research talk. I ain’t ever met anyone like Shona. She’s…" Lucy paused, trying to find the right word, “different.”
“Yeah, you’re right, she is. And she’s pleased that you’ve got yourself all sorted out now, but maybe… Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s best all round if you two just get on with your lives.” Dorothy looked up at the clock. “Look, she’ll be home soon, and I don’t want you here when she gets in. She’s had enough trouble in her life without you adding to it. If you really want to be her friend, then you’ll give her time and space to figure all this out alone.” The old lady motioned to the door.
“OK. I’ll go. But please, can you do one thing for me?”
“What?” Dorothy snapped.
“Please just tell her I’m sorry. And I miss her friendship. But if she truly wants me to leave her alone, then I will.” Lucy turned and walked back towards the front door, the question she’d come to ask going completely ignored.
“Damn door. I promise I’ll get it fixed this weekend. I got a piece of wood outside that’ll replace the bit that’s broken this time. That other bit ain’t gonna take another nail hammered into it.”
After a minute or so into her greeting, Shona noticed Dorothy still hadn’t even turned around from the stove.
“You had a visitor. Lucy,” she muttered, filling their bowls with soup.
“Again?”
“Again.” Dorothy turned around. “Said she wanted to ask something.”
“What did you tell her?” Shona asked, licking her lips and holding Dorothy’s stare. The second or two it took for her to answer was torture.
“I never gave her the chance to ask,” Dorothy replied, placing the bowls on the table and sitting down.
Feeling sick with anguish, Shona edged down into her seat. “But if she did…?”
“Shona, why did you confide in me?”
“Because I thought I could trust you.”
“Then you don’t need to ask whether or not I told her anything, do you?” Her mouth twitched into a faint smile. Ripping off a piece of bread, she dunked it into her soup. “Now eat.”
Chapter 25
The inevitable influx of strangers to Riverside was playing on Shona’s mind more and more as each day closer to the day of the town fair ticked by. Dropping her wrench on the concrete floor of the garage for the fifth time that Tuesday morning, she let out a huge deep groan along with several expletives.
“Hey there, you OK?” Harry called, popping his head out of the office.
“Yeah,” Shona lied, rubbing the thumb she’d caught on a wheel arch.
“Getting crazy out there, ain’t it?” he said, walking out of the office with his hands in his pockets. He nodded his head towards the street. “Old Jake has been rambling on for days now about how good business is with people getting their ingredients from him for their bake sales. Max Whitfield seems to think that there’ll be people coming in from far and wide which should be good for us with the car wash. Bonuses all round, I reckon.” Harry smiled, hoping the thought of an extra few dollars would cheer Shona up out of her melancholy, but it appeared to have the opposite effect. “Why so glum, Shona? I thought you’d enjoy a bit of fun around here for a change.”
Shona half smiled. “Just not too keen on a lot of fuss is all.”
“Look, how ‘bout on the day I get my guys to wash the cars out front and you stay back here. I got a few jobs you could keep yourself busy with.”
As if by magic, the tension in Shona’s shoulders seemed to be released. “Really? I mean, if you need me to do that then—”
Harry held his palm up to stop her rambling. “No problem. Listen, it’s almost five. Go home. You’ve worked real hard today.”
Shona nodded her thanks and went to grab her jacket. As she was walking over to the truck, Harry called after her.
“Yeah?” Shona hollered back.
“You’re a real asset to this place, girl. You remember that.” He waved as he watched Shona jump into the truck and honk the horn as she roared off.
Lucy had told herself she was going to make a conscious effort to give Shona the time and space that Dorothy had advised her to do. But, unable to fight the urge any longer, she made the mile-long walk over to Dorothy’s house later that Tuesday evening. Not expecting to see Shona in the front yard crouching behind the truck staring at the tailpipe, Lucy breathed deeply to steel herself and think of a good opening line.
“If you find a potato or something in there, I can swear it wasn’t me.” She giggled, waving over to her. Seeing the blank look on Shona’s face as she looked up, Lucy wished she’d gone with a simple “hi” instead.
“What you doing here?”
“I just came over to say hi,” Lucy replied, sweeping a strand of hair from her eyes.
“You not working tonight?” Shona felt a twinge in her gut at the memory.
“No. I told you, I ain’t doing that stuff no more.” She paused. “How was your day?”
“OK. Busy. Everyone going on about this damn fair.” Shona paced her way around the truck from back to front to turn over the engine. Revving it loudly, she completely drowned out Lucy’s next question.
“I asked if you’re going to the fair?” Lucy repeated when Shona had switched the engine off.
“No. I don’t go to those things.”
“You don’t go anywhere. What do you do for fun?”
“I told you before. Ride horses.”
“Don’t sound like fun to me.”
“Well, the last dose of fun you offered me was to meet you in the bar. Then I went upstairs and look what I saw.” Shona leveled her stare at Lucy, who looked down at the ground. “I guess we both have different interpretations of the word fun.” Shona regretted her words the second they crossed her lips. “Hey, look. I’m sorry. That was mean. I shouldn’t have said that.” She wiped her oily hands on a rag, then ran her hand through her bangs.
“No, I deserved it.” With tears welling up in her eyes, Lucy saw no point in continuing the conversation. She nodded her goodbye and left Shona to her repairs.
“You two sorted things out?” A croaky old voice sounded behind Shona as she watched Lucy depart.
“Huh? Oh, no. Ah, damnit. I said something I shouldn’t have. She didn’t deserve that.” She turned around to face Dorothy, who looked at her through her wise old eyes.
“Well then, you need to apologize. Friends are hard to come by, Shona, and if that young girl is adamant that’s what she wants to be then there’s nothing wrong in it, you know what I’m saying?” Dorothy stared long and hard at Shona.
“She asked if I was going to the fair,” Shona said, kicking at the ground.
“And?”
“I said no.”
“Why?”
“Dorothy, are you really that surprised that I wouldn’t wanna go? Knowing what you know about me?” Shona raised her eyebrows.
“I suppose not.”
“How ‘bout you? You wan’ go?” Shona walked round to the driver’s side door, slammed it shut, then placed her wrench back in her tool belt.
“Good God, no. Too much noise. All that hustle and bustle ain’t no place for an ol’ codger like me. Plus, I can’t be bothered with all those people spending money they don’t have on things they don’t need, to impress people they don’t even like. No thank you.”
Shona grinned. “That’s one thing we do have in common, then,” Shona said, sniffing at the air. “Well, along with the love of freshly-baked cornbread.”
Shona held out her arm for Dorothy to take. The two of them headed up the porch steps and into the house, following the mouthwatering aroma floating on the cool evening breeze.
Slipping into the almost see-through lacy material of the dress she’d been told to wear that night, Trish stared at herself in the mirror, yet again hating the sight of what stared back. She applied her mascara, then her scarlet lipstick and plumped up her red curls, sighing as she inspected the result.
“You look so beautiful, honey.” Doria appeared at the bedroom door clutching a glass of water in her trembling hand. “But do you really have to wear that?”
“Mom, all bar staff have to look good, or their customers will go somewhere else to drink and gamble away their wages. Plus, I get better tips,” Trish replied, fixing her hair one last time before finally being satisfied. “I’ll be home around two, OK?”
“Tommy’s so lucky to have a mom like you. You work so hard on your feet all night. You must be tired, darling. I wish I could help more.” Her mother lifted the glass to her lips, her hands shaking so much that the liquid almost dribbled down her chin.
“Mom, you do help me. I couldn’t work at all if you weren’t here. The best thing you can do for all of us is to just promise me that the only thing that goes in that glass is water. You promise? I can’t do this without you.” Trish walked over to her mother and wiped her chin with her handkerchief.
“Thank you. I’m trying real hard and it’s not easy, but I get stronger every day and I have you to thank for that. You and that beautiful lil’ boy up there. I just wish I’d looked after you when you were his age, like you look after him now."
"Mom, listen. I need you to look after yourself too, OK? Who knows, if this fair is a big success and the tips roll in, things might be a bit easier.” She kissed her mother on the cheek and went into Tommy’s room to read him his story.
Her mother stood outside the bedroom door listening to her daughter’s soft reading voice and her grandson giggling in all the usual places. Gripping the glass of water, she wished she could shake the overwhelming urge to put just one drop of something stronger in it. Even after months of fighting it, the need was greater than ever. The thought of her daughter working all night in that seedy, decrepit bar filled her with shame. She was almost certain that her daughter’s job included more than just cleaning up and serving the drinks.
Max Whitfield breathed in the cool evening air as he stood outside Chasers. Receiving a very firm “no” to his last offer to help finance Frank’s renovations, he ran his eyes all over the windows and weatherboarding. Good, but not great, he thought, clenching his teeth before pushing open the door.
At the far end of the bar, Frank saw Whitfield enter, then swaggered over to him. “Mr. Mayor. How d’ya like the new paint job? Shines like the sun, this place now, don’t it just?” he smirked, holding out his hand for Whitfield to shake.
Whitfield shook Frank’s hand, softening his glare when he looked across to Joanie and then Lucy.
“I gotta admit, as much as it pains me to do so, Smith, it looks OK out there. For now. But I think we might still be able to do a bit of business together anyway.” Pulling on his arm, Whitfield switched Frank’s body around to face the bar. “Your girls. How many you got?”
“What? Oh, ‘bout five all together. Some work different shifts so they’re not all here yet. Why d’you ask?” Frank’s eyes narrowed.
Whitfield gestured to Lucy, who was bending over the bar to reach a glass. “That one there. She’s a real peach. And the others, if they’re as stunning as her, I reckon this place could be worth something,” he muttered, half to himself. “I reckon I could bring a lot of my guys in here, for a discount of course.”
“Let’s talk in private,” Frank replied, leading Whitfield across to the back room.
When they were a few feet from the door, Chuck reached out and pulled Frank to one side. “I don’t like him.”
“Who? Max?” Frank replied.
Chuck grimaced. “Yeah. I don’t like the way he looks at Lucy. It’s not right.”
“Yeah well, that’s my business, not yours. Anyway, I’m more concerned with how you’re lookin’ at him. Dial it down a notch, will ya,” Frank hissed.
“You asked me to protect her. So did Lucy. I’m just doin’ my job,” Chuck protested, his shoulders becoming tenser.
“Look, she’ll be OK. I’ll sweet talk her into comin’ outta retirement,” Frank said, winking. “I’ve got a deal to make with Whitfield and I promise I’ll save her for the best ones, OK? And after all, she still comes home to me. So, they can look all they want, they can’t touch her unless I say so. That’s what’ll keep us in business, right? Partner?” He slapped Chuck on the back, knocking the big guy forward. “Just keep it quiet for now, don’t you go tellin’ her nothin’, OK?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Chuck replied.
Chapter 26
“Momma?”
A tiny voice, thick with a heavy wheeze, called out into the air the following afternoon. After a couple of minutes of silence, the little boy peeled his bedsheets back and placed his bare feet on the cold, wooden floor of his room. In the corner he saw Doria leaning at an odd angle in a rocking chair.
“Grandma? Wake up.” Tommy pulled on a fistful of her cardigan, stepping back when she slumped forwards. As she did so, her half-empty mug crashed to the ground, sloshing the remnants of her drink all over the floorboards.
“Mom, you OK?” Trish called from downstairs. Receiving no answer, she put the plate she was washing down on the drying rack. Drying her hands on a towel, she headed up the stairs, climbing each with more haste than the previous one.
“Mom!”
Rushing over to where her mother was hanging out of her chair, she threw her arms around her and sat her upright. She turned her attention to Tommy.
“Baby, you’re too sick to be out of bed, you’ll get cold. Now scoot back under those blankets,” she commanded her son, who obeyed. Keeping one curious eye on his grandma, the little boy climbed back into bed.
“Mom, wake up. Come on, please?” Trish slapped her mother’s face until she groaned and came to.
“Wha-a-a-at? Whasss happening?” she slurred, opening her eyes a crack.
“You tell me.” Trish realized her knees were wet. “Mom, you dropped your water… Let me get you some more, I’ll…” She stopped mid-sentence at the very familiar, unmistakable whiff of something she’d hoped she’d never smell again in her mother’s mug. Blinking the tears back, Trish lifted her gaze up to her mother’s watery, red eyes.
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know what happened. I’ve let you down,” she mumbled.
“Why now, Mom? What’s happened? I can’t leave Tommy alone with you if you can’t stay sober. You know that.” Trish’s heart was breaking having to chastise her own mother, especially seeing the look of sadness and embarrassment in her eyes. “Look, all I need is a bit more time to save up, once that fair brings more business into the bar. Please, Mom, I just need you to fight this.” Trish paused and held her mother�
��s face in her hands. “We can get you back in the program, if that’s what you want?”
Doria wrenched her face away from Trish’s grasp. “I don’t need that stupid program. A load of self-indulgent nobodies all sat in a circle bleating on about how hard they have it. No thank you. I just had a slip-up today is all. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” She nodded her head and straightened her back in her chair.
Trish stood up and thought carefully about leaving her son in her mother’s care when she went to work later. But faced with little choice, she checked on Tommy, then returned to finish the dishes.
“Don’t move!” Lucy yelled, racing across the street.
It was just after four that afternoon when she’d exited the grocery store and, out of habit, looked across to Wreckers where she’d seen Shona trying to pin a flag string to the top corner of the garage doors.
“Fuck, you nearly fell over,” she gasped.
Looking down in surprise, Shona’s panicked face broke into a relieved grin. “Goddamn. That was mighty close, I could feel the ladder slipping but I couldn’t stop it,” she said, her legs shaking as she descended.
“Yeah, I saw. Well, seeing as though I just saved your life and all, you wanna come over to the bar for a cold drink?”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I gotta go and do one last delivery for Harry. Say, if you’re not doing anything you can come keep me company? If you want to, that is?” Shona offered.
“Sure, I’d love to,” Lucy replied, almost before Shona had finished speaking. She walked over to the blue truck and hopped in.
“How’s things been at college?” Shona asked after five minutes of awkward silence passed between them on the journey over to Birchfield.
“It’s been good, actually. I was helping out in this one first grade class for a couple of days. I didn’t think I’d like it, with them being so young and all, but I really did. I think I’d like to teach that class someday.”
