Daisy rushed behind the counter. With ease, the waitress balanced a pot of coffee in one hand and a solid white mug and teaspoon in the next. Placing them before her, Daisy knew Katie’s regular.
“Didn’t go to school again today,” Daisy observed. Reaching into her apron, she popped down three creamers. “Decided to take the rest of the week off, huh?”
“I’m sick of school.” Katie reached for the sugar jar. Pouring in a heaping mound full, she stirred the brew until the sugar dissolved.
“You’re a senior. You don’t have much longer. By the time you’re my age, it will feel like school flew by.”
Katie smirked.
She always acts like she’s ancient. She can’t be much older than I am.
“I know. My mother tells me that all the time.”
Daisy fussed with her headband. The ears had slid sideways.
“How is your mom these days?”
Rolling her eyes, Katie knew the question didn’t warrant a reply. Small towns liked to talk, especially in diners. From what she had gathered, Marge Finch was a fun topic.
Wiping the counter down with a rag, Daisy kept moving.
“Is she still seeing the preacher?”
“Unfortunately,” Katie said, in between sips. “I think she’s wasting her time.”
“He’s a pervert, that one. Hopefully she’ll wake up.”
Katie recalled her mother’s strange mood last night. After Davey left, she peeked in to see if Marge needed to talk about what happened with Brian. But, her mother was sleeping soundlessly like a child dreaming of sugar plums and Santa.
She’s hooked on that creep.
“I hope so, but I doubt it. Do you think everyone knows about them two?”
“I’ve only heard it from you, but it won’t be long,” Daisy replied with a shake of her head.
Katie’s coffee was delicious. The combination of sweet and bitter flavors warmed her, leaving a pleasurable aftertaste. As she nursed the mug, taking long, slow sips, Daisy studied her with an inquisitive expression.
“Do you want to order something to eat? Everyone’s ordering the pancakes, but my favorite is the apple cider donuts. Loo is frying them on the grill in butter and then rolls them in sugar. They melt in your mouth.”
“No,” Katie said, licking her lips. “I can’t afford treating myself today.”
“Well, you look hungry.” Turning from her, Daisy bent down behind the counter, and popped up with a sandwich covered in cling wrap. “I’ve been trying to stick to my Weight Watchers by bringing in my own lunch. If you eat this for me, I’ll have an excuse to get some of those fried donuts later.”
Raising one eyebrow, Katie wasn’t sure how to respond. Other than eating at Darla’s, no one had ever given her a free meal before. The sandwich was huge and even through the plastic wrap, Katie could see it held lettuce and tomatoes – maybe even a bit of turkey. It looked absolutely amazing.
“You don’t need to diet. You’re beautiful.”
Daisy smiled. With a tilt of her head, the warm highlights in her hair shone under the restaurant’s florescent lighting. “You are too, Katie.”
Hustling past her, and out onto the floor, Katie watched as Daisy took each customer’s order. The waitress worked hard and deserved a better job than serving burgers at a small town diner.
That’s all I’ll be able to do unless I start going to school.
Watching Daisy work the floor, an idea for Halloween night came to mind. Taking a small bite of the sandwich, she chewed slowly while thinking up her plan. October 31st was meant for tricks and treats and the opportunity to escape into someone else’s life. Katie couldn’t wait to dress the part.
26
RACHEL
Friday 10:30 AM
Stepping out of the barn, Rachel eyed the maroon Nissan parked on the street. Taking a moment to adjust to the bright sun, she scanned the front yard for her parents. Jason motioned that the coast was clear, so she hustled down the driveway. With her backpack clutched under her arm, she tried smiling as her boyfriend opened the truck’s cab door. A guy with shoulder length blonde hair was fixed behind the wheel. Pale eyes stared from a face coated with a layer of acne and a sparse goatee.
With a nod, he mumbled, “Hey.”
The interior of the truck smelled like cigarettes and armpits, but Rachel pretended not to notice. She tried giving the stranger a polite smile before turning her gaze back to Jason.
“You’re going to come for me, right?” she begged.
“As soon as I know your parents don’t have the police watching me,” he assured. Reaching for her face, he ran his thumb along her jawline. Nestling her chin into his palm, she kissed his skin.
Knowing their intimate moment was being observed, Rachel tried pulling herself together. Sitting back, she studied her boyfriend for any sign of alarm. In the early hours of the morning, he had come up with a plan for getting her out of town by cashing in an old favor. She was hesitant about agreeing, but insisted she would be fine.
“You’ll call me?”
“Don’t worry. Ernie’s a good guy – he’ll keep you out of trouble.” His brown eyes were encouraging. He would take her himself if he could.
“I’ll try,” the gardener muttered. “As long as she isn’t high maintenance, we’ll get along.”
Rachel swallowed. Jason had told her Ernie had an apartment in Torrington, a small city only half an hour away. Although he wasn’t the brightest guy Jason had ever met, he was nice enough. The twenty-something-year-old had been doing landscaping for the Thompson’s for years. When Jason had discovered Ernie smoking weed behind his parents’ house, he could have had him fired, but instead the two became friends. Rachel knew taking off with the pothead wasn’t an ideal situation, but it beat the alternative of going home or having Jason’s family get in trouble.
What were her parents trying to prove by sending her away?
Her first inkling was that they wanted Jason out of her life, but now she wasn’t so sure. They were having relationship troubles and she was in the way. She wished she could sit down with them and have a rational conversation. Maybe she could help by doing more around the house so they could focus on their marriage, but Rachel knew there was no debating with Mr. and Mrs. Jones. They made it clear a long time ago that they were her guardians and not her friend. Neither had an interest in fostering a closer relationship.
No more controlling me. I can’t take it.
The engine turned over and the truck rumbled to life. Jason pulled off his leather jacket and tucked it around her shoulders.
“Here, take this with you. You might need it.” He kissed her cheek before closing the door between them. With two knocks, he tapped the window and waved goodbye.
A sinking feeling settled in Rachel’s gut. Holding her sole bag to her chest, the bench seat rattled beneath her. With a few jerky movements, Ernie shifted the truck into gear until it was rolling down the street. As she watched her boyfriend growing smaller in the side view mirror, she wished she could jump out of the truck and back to the security of Jason’s loft.
The closeness the two shared the night before wasn’t planned, but she didn’t regret it. In all of her fantasies about making love for the first time, the scenarios involved her and Jason on a canopy bed sprinkled with rose petals in a room with dozens of lit candles and champagne. She would have also loved to be wearing something sexy from Victoria’s Secret while feeling confidant and uninhibited, but that didn’t happen either. Instead, she and Jason gave each other their virginity on an old couch in a barn. It was slightly awkward and a bit uncomfortable – not the epic first time experience she had dreamed about. But, it had a sweetness she would not forget.
She had been raised to believe that sex was only for those who were married, but after witnessing Marge Finch’s bold play for her father, Rachel wondered if Brian even believed in the values he preached. If a pastor didn’t honor God, should she? Was the life they were leading all talk? Ra
chel had always believed the Lord had a special path for her to follow, she never anticipated it would leave her feeling abandoned.
Leaning against the driver’s side door, Rachel felt wrong about comparing what she and Jason had shared to her father and his exploits. She couldn’t help but feel like there was nothing dirty or wrong about giving herself fully to the boy she had pledged her heart to for so long. She loved Jason and doubted either of her parents could understand that.
“Your stomach is growling,” Ernie said. “I don’t have lots of food at my place.”
Rachel looked down at her belly. She hadn’t even noticed the protest it was making about her lack of nourishment, but now that he had mentioned it, she was starving.
“I have some money. Maybe we can stop and I can buy some groceries?” she asked. She wasn’t an experienced cook, but knew how to make the basics like pasta and chicken. She wanted to be welcomed in his home. If cooking him dinner would show her appreciation, she would be happy to do it.
Ernie gave her a side long look before returning his stare back to the road.
“I think we can do that.” Scratching his head, an instant smile spread across his face. “How much you got?”
27
ANGELA
Friday 1:30 PM
By the time noon had come and gone without a word from her daughter, Angela could no longer wait idly. Sliding on linen trousers and a cream blouse, she pulled her hair into a bun in an attempt at looking presentable. Having spent the night and early morning waiting for news about Rachel, she never slept. At dawn, she called Rachel’s friends but none of them admitted to seeing her. She even spoke to Jason’s parents, but they insisted he was home alone all night.
There was only one other person her daughter might turn to. Angela looked at the phone. She knew she had to place the call, but the thought of admitting what was happening to her mother made the situation worse. In her mind, she could imagine Sylvia’s disapproving tone. The woman had mastered the art of being cold a long time ago.
Grasping for an alternative, Angela placed her cell phone back in her hobo bag and reached for her keys. Brian had left early and she hadn’t heard anything from Officer Barry despite leaving two messages. How either man could pass off a seventeen-year-old girl being out all night as an act of hormones infuriated her. Small towns could be dangerous and if anyone thought otherwise, they were damn fools.
If they won’t search for her, I will.
Removing a school picture of Rachel from its silver frame on the mantle, she stuffed the 5 by 7 into her purse and began devising a list of places the teen might be. If she couldn’t find her, she would call her mother and seek Sylvia’s help.
After cruising through town and running out of ideas as to where Rachel might go, Angela checked the grocery store, Lucinda’s Diner, McDonald’s and the library. The only place left was Big Wally’s, the small coffee shop by the bank. It wasn’t a hangout for her daughter’s crowd, but a blue collar joint to get a hot drink and a breakfast sandwich. Entering, the smell of grease assaulted her senses, adding to the nausea that had been building there all morning. Other than a few men who worked at the town garage chatting together at a booth, the place was quiet.
Scanning the seating area, Angela noticed an overweight black woman at the end of the counter. It was becoming more common to see minorities in the area. Brian was constantly harping about the demographics changing due to the gangs moving up from Hartford, but Angela knew he was a bigot. She believed the Latino and African American populations were growing. Nervously, she stepped towards the woman.
Dressed in a light blue parka with beautiful braids pulled into a pony tail, the woman was about her age. One look at her hands and Angela knew she was a laborer. Her chapped skin and short nails were only adorned with a simple wedding band. Perhaps she worked as a housekeeper at the local nursing home. Her father, Ralph, had large, weathered hands. Hands that could work at a desk all day, but still go home and use a shovel, unafraid to get scratched and dirty, lifting large stones to build a patio in the backyard. Not Brian, his were smooth with wiry hair on the back of his knuckles. No callouses, no scars, just an aversion to work.
Pulling the photo from her purse, she asked. “I’m looking for my daughter. I was wondering if you’ve seen her?”
Turning her round face to meet Angela’s, the woman smiled. Her eyes were kind as she reached for the photo. “She’s a pretty girl. I would have spotted her if she had been by here. Has she been gone long?”
“Since last night.” Angela placed Rachel’s picture back in her leather purse.
The woman patted the stool next to her at the counter, “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee with me. I bet by the time you get back home this morning, your girl will have come home and be sleeping off a long night with her friends. Kids are like that these days.”
Angela nodded. She wished it was as simple as Rachel staying out past curfew, too tired to make it home. “I don’t think I can drink any more coffee today. But thank you for the invitation.”
The woman reached for her hand and gave Angela a gentle squeeze. “Hang in there, honey. Things will work out.”
Angela could feel the corners of her mouth tremble. It was odd how the one person she would have avoided any other time was the kindest person she spoke to all morning. The support the woman offered her was almost painful. It had been a long time since anyone had shown such warmth.
“Okay,” she whispered. Turning to leave, she wanted to express how thankful she was, but knew she couldn’t possibly find the words.
Once in her car, Angela flipped down the visor and dried the tears that were welling in the corner of her eyes. She had to pull herself together and make the call. If there was a chance that Rachel hitched a ride to Sylvia Bennett’s house, then Angela knew she had to turn to her mother for help.
The two women weren’t close. Her mother preferred males. Angela’s brother Perry had been the pride and joy of Sylvia and Ralph Bennett. She had often wondered why they bothered to have a second child since they were so invested in their first born. No matter what she accomplished, it never stood up to Perry’s pursuits. Even after her brother rebelled and joined the armed forces instead of going to college to become an investment banker like Ralph, Angela’s existence in the home remained seen, but not heard. News that Perry died in the Gulf War cemented her fate as the child who could never live up to her brother’s memory. When she married Brian, he fell into the same trap of being compared to Perry and always found lacking.
It stunned Angela when her mother began doting on Rachel after Ralph died. Although she was happy one of her parents finally thought she did something right, Angela couldn’t help but feel jealous of the bond her mother and daughter shared. Angela approached the conversation once. Sylvia suggested that Rachel had a part of Perry’s spirit in her. Hurt that her mother found yet another way to wedge her dead brother between them, she vowed to never ask again.
Holding the phone to her ear, Angela’s heart raced as the line rang on the other end.
28
BRIAN
Friday 2:00 PM
After ensuring Marge’s car was finally out of the parking lot, Brian sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. Scrolling through his documents, he found what he wanted and hit print. His sermon was now prepared for Sunday. In fact, all of his sermons for the next few years were prepared thanks to having purchased a backlog of forty-five minute lectures from Pastor Carpenter before he retired to Louisiana. Over his thirty years of preaching, the old man kept meticulous notes in bullet form that Brian could review before taking his place behind the podium. Brian felt his timed use of metaphors and old antidotes gave his congregation lessons with a certain appeal, even if he wasn’t the one to pour hours of research in to them. It was plagiarism for the greater good.
With his office leaving him feeling claustrophobic, Brian decided to head out for the rest of the afternoon. He thought of Rachel and wondered if she had final
ly dragged her ass home.
I suppose Angela would have called if she had…anything to point out my failure as a father.
He hoped his daughter wasn’t so stupid to have gotten herself hurt. Hell, she could have broken her neck climbing down from her second story window. Worse would be her being found drunk at a party or in the back of some guy’s car. He wondered how he would spin that tale if she ended up arrested or something.
The actions of a preacher’s kid always reflected back on the parent. He had drilled into her head the importance of representing him. He had thought she understood that, but her antics last night proved that she was as headstrong as her mother.
Another damn woman to make my life hell.
Maybe he should have been more like his old man. Brian would never have considered pulling a stunt like that. When he was a child, each time he misbehaved, whether it was moving too slow, too fast, rolling his eyes, or back talking – his father dealt a heavy hand. The delivery was the same. Jim Jones wore a heavy brown leather belt. As he removed it from his waist, he would quote scripture, before forcing Brian, pants down, over his knee.
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