by Tiffany King
He followed my gaze. “I see,” he said. “Well, let’s see what I can do.”
I sighed in relief as he let the subject go and let him lead me to his stool so I could perch there while he worked on my head.
“I’m going to have to shave a little of your hair away from the cut so we can get the bleeding to stop,” he said, waiting to get my permission.
I nodded, cringing slightly at the thought of having a bald spot.
“Don’t go worrying your pretty head. All your other hair will cover it up just fine.”
He worked without talking after that, deftly trimming the hair that surrounded my cut and then set to work on closing it up. I almost lost my nerve when I saw him pull out a bottle of super glue.
“Trust me dear, if you were at the hospital they’d use the same thing,” he said, patting my shoulder.
“Oh sweet Katelyn, he’s gluing your head,” Kevin said, laughing like it was the most hysterical thing he had ever heard.
“Can you use it on his mouth?” I asked Old Man Wither sweetly.
“Sure can,” he winked, advancing on Kevin who slapped his hands over his mouth as his body shook with suppressed laughter.
Mr. Wither chuckled, turning back to me. “Okay, looks good. I guess it’s a blessing your water is out since you need to keep the injury relatively dry. Why don’t you go take a look at it?”
“Okay,” I said, heading for the bathroom.
Entering the small, surprisingly clean gas station bathroom, I flipped the light switch, making the fluorescent bulbs hum above my head. I relieved my bladder before turning to the mirror to study Old Man Wither’s handiwork. Parting my hair, I studied the wound critically and could see why he had suggested stitches. The cut was easily over an inch long. The glue gave it a grotesque appearance, but I was grateful he was able to close it up without making a fuss about it needing stitches.
Once I was satisfied my wound couldn’t be seen, I dipped my fingers in the warm tap water and combed them through my hair trying to remove the last traces of dried blood. It was tedious work, but finally after several minutes, I was satisfied that the majority of it was gone. I stripped my jacket and hoodie off and stood shivering in the bathroom as I used the washcloth I had brought along to wash my face, arms and neck. Feeling slightly cleaner, I pulled my jacket back on to ward off the chills and brushed my teeth vigorously before returning all my items back to the toiletry bag.
“Hey, Kevin, come brush your teeth,” I said, opening the bathroom door only to discover Kevin in the middle of munching on a hotdog.
“Look at what Mr. Wither gave me,” he said between bites.
“That’s great, bud, now hurry and eat it so you can brush your teeth.”
“Done,” he said, finishing off the last bite in one gulp. He snagged the bag from my hand before trotting happily off to the bathroom, leaving Mr. Wither and me alone.
“Um, thanks for giving him a hotdog. I’ll pay you as soon as we have the money,” I said, flushing in embarrassment.
He held up his hand to stop my tirade. “It’s my treat,” he said as I tried to protest. “Now you listen here, since my dear Marge decided it was time to meet our maker, I haven’t had a single moment as entertaining as the one I spent with you young’ns this morning. My Marge and I were never blessed with kids, but I would like to hope if we had been, they would have been like you two.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked curiously.
“Let’s just say I can tell about people, and my door here is always open if you and your brother there need anything. Got me? Lord knows I can always use the company if you ever want to chat.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
He patted my shoulder. “Trust me when I say this is just a small part of your life, so you keep your chin up,” he said, offering words of wisdom.
“I know,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We better head out,” I added as Kevin joined me.
“Ready to brave the elements again, bud?” I said as I zipped up Kevin’s jacket.
“Not really,” Kevin answered, grimacing as the wind continued to swirl outside.
The trek to the store was tougher than the one to the gas station since we had to cross the icy roads twice to get to the far corner. We both sighed with pleasure when we stumbled inside the store, allowing the warmth to defrost our frozen bodies. My sighs of relief were cut short when I spotted Max chatting with his father near the registers.
Ours eyes met as he hungrily took in my appearance. I slid my hoodie up over my head self-consciously, worried that my hair wasn’t properly covering my injury. After a moment, I finally pulled my eyes away, dragging Kevin along on our hunt for a plunger. After finding what we needed, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what would be a long awkward walk up to the nearly-deserted front area of the store. As my rotten luck would have it, Kevin and I were the only customers here. Obviously, no one else in town was foolish enough to venture outside with conditions so dismal.
Max’s dad scanned the plunger through while Max bagged it for us.
“Plumbing problems?” his dad asked conversationally.
“Pipes are frozen,” Kevin piped in.
“That sucks,” Max said as I handed a five over to his dad.
“Yeah, it does. We…” Kevin started to say as I clamped a hand down on his shoulder before he could embarrass me further.
“Dad, you think Harold could go take a look at it?” Max asked as he handed me my bag.
“Not until the weather warms up a bit.”
“That’s okay, I’m sure the owner has someone he can send out,” I said, edging toward the door.
“You two didn’t walk over here, did you?” his dad asked, his brows coming together in concern.
“Yep, we did, and it’s freeeeeezing out there,” Kevin said, exaggerating the word before I could stop him.
“Max, go pull up the truck. There’s no way I’m letting you two walk back home,” he said sternly as I started to protest.
“No arguments, please. The only reason we ventured out today is so I could send the staff home and lock up the building. We’re under a severe storm advisory. Looks like schools will be closed the last few days before winter break was supposed to begin anyway.”
“Woohoo, really?” Kevin asked, pumping his fist in the air enthusiastically.
Max’s dad chuckled. “Spoken like a true kid,” he said, shooting me a smile. “Looks like Max is ready,” he added, indicating the vehicle idling outside the front doors. “You two have a nice holiday,” he said kindly.
“You too,” I said, before herding Kevin out the door.
Max had the heat cranked up all the way when Kevin and I climbed up into the vehicle.
“Yes, it’s so nice and warm in here,” Kevin said, slumping back in the seat. “I’m never getting out,” he added, closing his eyes.
“What if we run out of gas,” Max said, laughing easily.
“I’d just make you park it over at Old Man Wither’s,” Kevin countered.
“Yeah, but you’d be sad when you got hungry, wouldn’t you?”
“Nah, Old Man Wither has the best hotdogs ever.”
Max roared with laughter over Kevin’s logic. “I guess you’ve got a point, bud,” he said, obviously enjoying the easy comradeship they shared.
Listening to them banter back and forth didn't help my broken heart. It was pure bliss and agony at the same time to be so close to him after I had carefully kept myself distanced from him over the last few months.
Max pulled up in front of our trailer and Kevin jumped out, obviously forgetting his resolve to stay in the vehicle forever.
I reached for my own door handle. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I started to climb out of the vehicle. Max reached over and grasped my arm. “Don’t,” I whispered, looking down at his hand that seemed to burn through my multiple layers of clothing.
“Why? Does my touch disgust you?” he asked in the husky voice that sent my heart int
o overdrive.
I shook my head no.
“Then why?” he asked earnestly as I pulled my arm from his grasp.
“Because it makes me forget everything else,” I said quietly, climbing from the vehicle. I looked back for an instant, watching him study me intently before closing the trailer door.
Chapter 11
School was closed the following day as the storm outside continued to rage. The gusting winds caused the trailer to shimmy and shake like an amusement park ride. Kevin and I stayed bundled up together in my room reading, only venturing out once to use the bathroom at Mr. Wither’s place. He greeted us enthusiastically, making us each a cup of hot chocolate before we trekked back home. Lucinda spent the majority of the day on the phone swearing as she tried in vain to get Jim released. It appeared that Jim’s boss didn’t take kindly to being stolen from and had decided to press charges. Lucinda was distraught when she found out that he was being moved to the county jail where he would most likely get six months to a year for his crime. I kept Kevin away from her as she raged through the house, breaking things in her frustration until she finally dissolved into a pile of tears.
Kevin watched me wide-eyed as I made us sandwiches for dinner. I worked to keep his mind off her loud crying by declaring we would be having an indoor picnic on my bed. He picked at his food solemnly before finally pushing the barely eaten sandwich away.
“Not hungry, bud?” I asked, picking at my own sandwich.
“No, my tummy hurts,” he said, lying back against my pillows.
“Oh, I’m sorry, bud. Everything's going to be fine,” I said, trying to comfort him.
He nodded his head, but I could tell the weight of Lucinda’s outburst throughout the day had worn on him.
He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep with one hand resting against his flat stomach. I brushed my hand across his forehead to make sure he didn’t have a fever and was relieved that it felt cool to the touch.
I carried our leftover dinner to the kitchen and dumped the plates into the trash. Once I returned to my room, I shut off my light and carefully climbed into the bed beside Kevin so I wouldn’t disturb him. I felt like I had just shut my eyes when Kevin shook me awake.
“Katelyn, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay, I’ll let you pee outside,” I said groggily rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“No, I have to go to the bathroom,” he said plaintively as I switched on the light.
“Oh no,” I said, taking in his pinched pale face. “Okay, let me get your jacket,” I said, rushing into his room.
I hastily stuffed Kevin into his jacket, watching his face continue to pale even further. After dragging his stocking hat onto his head, I shrugged into my own jacket and helped him down the hall.
I gasped when I opened the front door and the wind whipped viciously around us. Kevin seemed oblivious to it, walking hunched over from what must have been severe stomach cramps. We were halfway across the street when he started vomiting. I rubbed his back trying to comfort him as he expelled all the contents from his belly.
“Do you still need the bathroom?” I asked anxiously, keeping an eye out for any approaching vehicles.
He nodded his head miserably.
“Okay, we’re almost there,” I said, herding him the rest of the way across the street.
It was only after we were standing directly in front of the gas station did the lack of lighting inside the building finally sink in. I groaned in dismay. I hadn’t even bothered to check the time before we had headed out.
“Katelyn,” Kevin moaned, looking at the dark building.
I felt hopeless as we stood in front of the empty building, shivering uncontrollably in our pajamas. After a moment of indecisiveness, I grabbed Kevin’s gloved hand and dragged him around the side of the building to the back where Old Man Wither’s small house was located. Not knowing what else to do, I knocked loudly on the front door. I felt incredibly guilty for waking him, but the pained look on Kevin’s face prompted me to knock again even louder.
The door pulled open abruptly before I could knock a third time and a blurry-eyed Mr. Wither stared bewildered at us.
“I’m sooooooo sorry to disturb you sir, but my brother is sick and your gas station is closed. Can he please use yours?” The words tumbled out of my lips in a rush. “I’m sorry,” I repeated as he stared at us for a moment blankly until Kevin moaned again.
“Yes, yes, come in,” he said, moving aside so we could step into his warm house.
He ushered Kevin to the bathroom, leaving me to stand awkwardly in the entryway. After a moment, he joined me.
“Come on in and have a seat,” he said, settling into a large mocha-colored leather recliner.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Wither,” I said, sitting on the edge of the sofa that matched the recliner. “I didn’t know what else to do,” I added.
“That’s fine, dear. Anytime you need it, you let me know. My Marge would have had my head for not offering it sooner. That goes for the shower too.”
I looked down at the floor uncomfortably, suddenly leery about seeking out the help of a man, no matter how kind he seemed.
“Katelyn, I mean while I’m working in the store,” he added, sensing my unease.
“Sorry,” I said as relief flowed through me. I hated that I was always initially skeptical of other people and often wondered if I would have turned out differently if I would have had a normal childhood. “That’s kind of you to offer,” I added.
“Anytime, my dear. Like I said, my Marge would have had my head for not offering sooner. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you two. You don’t even have to stop through the station if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Thanks,” I said again, overwhelmed at his generosity.
“Your mama, though, ain’t welcome as far as I'm concerned, crackin’ your head and all,” he said seriously.
I nodded my head, not bothering to deny it. I had known when he took care of me that he had seen through my lie.
“You could report her. Nowadays the law doesn’t take kindly to child beaters.”
“They would separate Kevin and me,” I replied, making my point clear.
“I reckon you’re right. They always seem to have the best of intentions, but don’t know how to pull their heads out of their butts long enough to do it right.”
His words cracked me up. “That’s true,” I said, glad he understood.
“So, what’s your plan?”
“I just need to turn eighteen, and then I'll fight her for him,” I said, confiding in him.
“That could be tough without money and such.”
“I’m a hard worker, and I know how to survive,” I said defensively.
“Oh, I’m sure you are, dear. I’m just saying it’s going to be tough, trust me,” he said earnestly.
“Did you do it?” I asked.
“Yup, I raised my two younger brothers. My dad’s belt seemed to be a permanent fixture to his hand. I suffered many beatings being the oldest. I pulled up stakes when he started using the belt freely on my youngest brother.”
“And you guys made it okay?” I asked, intrigued about his story.
“It was tough at first, but then I met Marge and she helped me raise up my brothers until they went off to college.”
“Wow, where are they now?”
“One’s a doctor over in Bozeman, and the other is a wildlife specialist in Yellowstone,” he said proudly.
“Wow,” I repeated, impressed that his brothers had turned out so well. My worst fear was that Kevin would fall through the cracks and never find his true potential.
“I’ll tell you what, when your moment comes, you look me up. My Marge and I set money aside for such a situation.”
“Oh no, I could never take your money,” I protested.
“It’s not my money, sweetheart, it’s yours. That’s what Marge would have wanted. It broke her heart when she found out she couldn’t bear her own childre
n, so she threw herself into showering all her love onto those less unfortunate. You ask my brothers Hank and Tommy and they’d claim she was a saint,” he said with bright eyes as he looked at the picture on the table beside his chair.
“Can I see?” I asked
“Sure, this is my Marge on our wedding day,” he said, handing over a picture of a couple standing at the alter with two teenage boys next to them. The woman in the picture had rich auburn hair that seemed to float around her. The dress she wore was simple, but her poise made it very elegant.
“She was beautiful,” I said sincerely.
“That she was. What she saw in a ragamuffin like me, I'll never know.”
“I’m sure she saw something,” I said, studying the picture of him that was easily more than thirty years old. Strangely enough, he wore the same look on his face that I often had on mine, and I came to realize it was the look of someone who had the weight of the world on their shoulders. He and I were two peas in a pod.
“Katelyn, can we go home?” Kevin asked, joining us.
“Sure bud, are you feeling better?”
“A little, I threw up again too.”
“I’m sorry bud,” I said, standing up.
Old Man Wither held up a hand. “Now you just sit here for a moment. I’m going to go warm up my pickup truck and I'll drive you two home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tried to protest.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Your mother should be tarred and feathered for letting you two come out on a night like this.”
Kevin joined me on the couch and laid his head in my lap as Mr. Wither headed out the front door to warm up his truck.
I brushed Kevin’s hair back off his forehead, grimacing at how pale and clammy his complexion was.
“What’s tar and feather mean?” he asked weakly, keeping his eyes shut.
“It’s just a phrase from a long time ago,” I said, skirting around its real origin.
Mr. Wither joined us, shaking snow from his head.
“Is it snowing?” I asked.
“Nah, the wind is just blowin’ the snowdrifts around something fierce,” he said, reaching out a hand to help Kevin up.
