“What did you even find in there that you could feed a dog?” Roland Sr. asked.
Owen came over to the table and started unloading his bounty. There was a jar of peanut butter, two cans of tuna fish, a bag of pretzels, and a package of beef jerky.
“The pretzels are for me,” he explained.
His mom sighed. “Why are you even in here pilfering my food? I thought you were helping your dad.”
“I was. Until I knocked his tool rack over and he told me to go away.”
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” Jimi asked, a sly smile on her face.
“Of course. I had to get in here and feed Gimli.”
Claudette sighed again, louder this time. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
Owen smiled. “You love me.”
“Against my better judgment, yes, I do.”
For some reason, her comment hit me in the chest in a way I hadn’t expected. I’d heard parents tell their kids they loved them without it causing an ache to bloom within me, but something about the casual way they joked about it—like their love was such a given they could tease each other about it—threw me. I couldn’t ever remember hearing those words from my mom when I was growing up. The first time I did hear them, they had been from my foster mom, Melissa.
And maybe it was a case of my having forgotten. Maybe my mom had whispered it in my ear each night before she’d put me to bed. But I doubted that was the case, and she’d never done much to deserve the benefit of the doubt.
RJ came in, wiping his hands with a rag and interrupting my emotional spiral. “Well, you want the good news or the bad news?”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Bad news, I guess.”
“The sound you heard is called rod knock. One of your piston rods is damaged. It’s gonna take me probably a week to repair it, especially since I got other jobs at my garage in town. But the good news is, I can fix it. And since you were kind enough to bring Owen all the way home, I’ll just charge you for parts.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m happy to pay you for the labor.” Happy was a large overstatement, but I didn’t want to take advantage of anyone.
But RJ waved me off. “I’ll make Owen help me. It’ll be some good bonding time. Especially once he figures out he doesn’t have to pretend to be a klutz just to get back to his new dog.” RJ turned a knowing eye on Owen, who had the sense to look abashed.
“I’m so transparent,” he muttered. Then he looked at me. “What are you guys going to do about your thingy this weekend?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. Without my truck, we don’t have any way of getting there, so I’ll probably just call my mom and tell her we’ll have to meet up with her another time.”
“We’re a ways away from the nearest airport, but we do have a bus station in town,” Jimi said. “I’m not sure what your financial situation is like, but if you could afford it, you could look into when the next bus leaves.”
The thought of spending hours on a bus wasn’t particularly appealing, but neither was canceling the trip. As disastrous as it had been so far, there was an air of adventure associated with it that I was beginning to feel exhilarated by. And since we’d have to face reality when we got home, I wasn’t willing to give up on our trip just yet.
“And I could drive your truck up to school when it’s done so you don’t have to come back through here afterward,” Owen offered. “I’m not coming back to school until next weekend.”
And while my initial reaction was to balk at Owen driving my truck, no one in his family looked alarmed by the offer, which put me at ease. If I’d learned nothing from my short time with the Parrishes, it was that they were brutally honest. If Owen were a danger behind the wheel, they’d say so.
“That would be great. All of it…would be great. Thank you all, very much. For being so helpful and welcoming. I truly appreciate it.”
They all waved off my thanks, but I’d meant every word. I’d learned more about the kind of family I might want to have in the future—if kids were ever a possibility I warmed up to—during one afternoon with them than I had in my previous twenty-six years. And I’d be eternally grateful for it.
Chapter Nine
R A N S O M
We arrived at the bus station a little after five in the evening. Owen wished us good luck, promised us he and his dad would take good care of my truck, and said that he’d see us when we got back. I grabbed our bags out of the trunk and set them on the sidewalk by a bench outside the bus station as we watched Owen and his dad drive away.
“Do you wanna wait here with our bags while I go get our tickets? Then maybe we can see if there’s something we can grab to eat. We won’t get to Georgia until morning at the earliest.”
“Eleven forty-two to be exact,” Taylor said, looking pleased with herself. “I already got our tickets.” It was good to see her looking like her old self again. When she’d first woken up from her stupor, she’d still been a little tipsy. But Jimi had mixed up some kind of concoction, told Taylor to drink it without asking any questions, and then gave her some crackers. Fifteen minutes later, Taylor was more alert and said she’d felt remarkably well.
“Seriously? Thanks! How much were they?”
“Don’t worry about it. You already have to pay for your truck to get fixed. Besides, I have a credit card I barely ever use. When I went to look at the departure times, I decided just to get them. My dad doesn’t even check the statements.”
I sat down next to her on the bench and leaned forward with my forearms on my thighs. Even though we’d be sitting for hours, I couldn’t help wanting to be next to her.
“Thank you.” I leaned over to give her a small kiss, which she seemed to enjoy, because when I pulled back, her eyes were closed.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked, her eyelids lifting but still appearing heavy.
“Because we’re sitting on a bench in front of a Greyhound station, and I just put my hand in something unidentifiable.”
“That’s…so gross.”
I brought my hand away from the bench and eyed the sticky brown substance. “I think it’s Coke, so I guess it could be worse.”
“Did you smell it?”
“No! Why would I smell it? I’m not trying to contract a disease before the bus leaves.” Craning my neck, I searched through the window for a restroom sign. “I’m gonna go wash my hands. I’ll be right back.” I didn’t want to point out that there was a man about twenty yards away licking the back of his hands like a cat cleaning himself, so I just hurried off to scrub what I hoped was soda from my own hand.
When I returned, Taylor was on the map app of her phone. “There isn’t much of a selection in terms of food that’s close enough to walk to.”
“I’m not really surprised by that. What time does the bus leave again?”
“Not for another hour and a half. I can keep looking. We could always call for an Uber to take us somewhere.”
I glanced around the area—there were a few stores in the distance that probably made the bulk of their profits selling cigarettes and lottery tickets. I knew towns like this one well, and though I didn’t want to stick around for longer than I had to, I was heading to the town where my mother lived, so I was aware I’d be trading one nowhere town for another. I felt a little guilty for having that thought, but I’d tried so hard to make something of myself—to leave a life I’d been given for one that I chose. Being back in a place like the one that reminded me so much of my childhood caused my nerves to react in a way that I hadn’t expected them to.
“I’m not sure how many Ubers come out here,” I said. “We might be waiting a while.”
“Excuse me,” a gruff voice cut in, and I startled at his words but did my best to appear unaffected. I didn’t think I truly had any reason to be nervous at the moment, but I’d allowed myself to let my guard down. I turned to face the man who couldn’t have been any taller than Taylor. He had a gray beard and the skin of a man who�
��d spent most of his life working in the sun. “I heard you talkin’ about findin’ a place to eat?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Ain’t much around here, but there’s a small farm up the road. They run a little restaurant there. Nothin’ fancy, but the food’s good. It’s kinda a town favorite around here.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe we’ll check it out.”
“We appreciate the recommendation,” Taylor said. “Where exactly is this place?”
He pointed away from the direction we’d come from. “Maybe ’bout a quarter mile or so down the road. Just past the traffic light up ’ere. Just knock on the door. They don’t do much advertisin’ since it’s mostly locals who go.”
We both thanked him again, and once he was a safe distance off, I looked toward Taylor. “Thoughts?” It did seem kind of strange, but I knew from experience that towns like this one had their own way of doing things.
Taylor shrugged. “It’s either that or starve until lunchtime tomorrow.”
T A Y L O R
We walked the quarter mile toward the farm like the man said, passing a convenience store and then a gas station that I didn’t think sold anything else besides gas. And sure enough, just past the traffic light, there was a farmhouse. It was a cute white home with a front porch that spanned the width of the house. In need of a paint job, it wasn’t in perfect condition by any means, but I didn’t expect it to be. And the fact that it was a bit weathered made it slightly more charming somehow.
I could see some horses toward the back of the house and a few goats a bit farther away.
“Should we just go knock?” Ransom asked, stopping at the end of the driveway.
“That’s what he said to do.”
“It doesn’t look like they have a restaurant here.”
“I didn’t think it would. They probably don’t want tourists bothering them all the time,” I told him.
Ransom raised an eyebrow. “I’d doubt many people are in a hurry to tour this town.”
“Let’s just go knock. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I’m thinking the Virginia equivalent of the Manson family.”
I rolled my eyes at him, already starting to walk up the driveway because I knew he wouldn’t let me go up there alone. When I got to the porch, I rang the bell, and when I didn’t hear anything, I knocked.
We could hear voices inside, and it sounded like a teenage girl was yelling for someone else to open the door, and then we heard someone else yell for her to open it. A few moments later, the wood door pulled open and a tall, lean girl who looked to be about eighteen or nineteen stood behind the screen door.
“Can I help you?” she asked, but her tone didn’t match her words, because she looked like the last thing she wanted to do was help us.
Despite the cooler weather, she wore cutoff shorts and a tank top that revealed most of her stomach.
“Hi,” Ransom said, and I could tell he was trying to sound pleasant, even though I knew he was a bit skeptical about eating here. “We were hoping to get something to eat.”
The girl narrowed her already thin eyes at us. “Who do you work for?”
“What? No one,” Ransom told her. “We’re catching a bus in a little while, and a guy at the station told us you guys serve food.”
Without a word, the girl turned away and yelled, “Mom, two strangers are here asking for food.” Then she disappeared out of sight.
“See,” I whispered. “They think we’re tourists.”
“They have guns hanging on the wall,” Ransom pointed out as he peered into their house.
“If they’re on the wall, I doubt they’re loaded. They’re probably just for show. And people around here are probably used to that sort of thing.” I was beginning to think Sophia’s suggestion of bringing a gun along wasn’t the worst idea, but I didn’t bring it up to Ransom.
“If you say so.” He laughed, but it sounded empty.
When someone came to the door again, it was a woman I assumed was the girl’s mother, though she appeared older than what I would’ve imagined she’d look like. Her gray hair was neatly tucked into a bun on the top of her head, and she wore an apron that said Be nice or I’ll poison your food.
It was a strange choice of sayings for a restaurant, but I wasn’t about to point that out. “We just wanted to get something to eat before our bus comes in a little while,” I told her. “Do you have any tables available? Is this even the right door? Someone told us there was a restaurant here, but we didn’t see a separate entrance or anything.”
The woman turned back toward the inside of her house, mumbling for us to give her a minute. Ransom and I had a nonverbal conversation with each other that consisted of widened eyes, sideways glances, and shrugs.
We didn’t even notice when the woman returned.
“Restaurant’s in the barn out back, but we’re fixin’ it up, so it’s not open right now. All we can offer ya is a seat at our kitchen table, but we’re happy to do that if it suits you all right. Unfortunately that’ll mean you won’t get to order off a menu, but I promise ya everything I cook is good.”
I looked at Ransom and tried to gauge his reaction. Both of us seemed a little hesitant but figured we didn’t have any better options.
“That’d be fine,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t mind havin’ us?”
“Not at all.”
We started to enter the home, but she positioned herself in the entranceway. “It’ll be twenty each for the meal. Just a flat fee since you aren’t choosin’ yer food.”
Ransom pulled out his wallet and handed the woman three twenties. “Consider it an advance tip.”
She gave us a stern nod. “Now that that’s settled, let me introduce ya to everyone.”
She brought us into the living room, told us that her name was Mae and we could call her what everyone else called her, which was Mama. “Some of the little ones call me Mama Mae, but it strikes me as a little formal.”
I wondered if she was the mother of all the children that were running around the house, but after about ten minutes, several of them had gotten picked up, and I realized that Mama Mae ran a home daycare. I wondered what kind of regulations allowed childcare facilities to display guns on the walls of the play areas, but I doubted Mama Mae had gotten her center approved by any state agencies.
Mae instructed us to sit at the large oval table that took up most of her kitchen, and soon the rest of the family joined us. It felt a bit odd to be seated at the table with strangers, but they probably felt the same way about having us here.
I could tell her oldest son, Todd, who looked to be about twelve, thought his mother shouldn’t have invited us in because he ate with his head down and his eyes directed right at us from across the table. He didn’t say anything, but his stare said everything he was thinking: he didn’t trust us one bit.
The two younger boys, who Mama introduced as seven-year-old twins Trenton and Tripp, were the complete opposite. They hadn’t stopped talking since they’d sat down. Their sister, Samantha, who we’d first seen when she answered the door, was clearly getting annoyed by their chatter, but I thought the dark-haired boys were cute. They talked about their teacher, Ms. Miles, and fed parts of their dinner to the two dogs who’d planted themselves on either side of the boys.
Mae and her husband, Clint, were either oblivious to the dogs helping the boys finish their dinner or they just didn’t care. Though I wasn’t sure if Clint even realized Ransom and I were at the table, so I doubted he’d noticed his sons feeding their vegetables to the dogs. He was too focused on his meatloaf and trying to see the score of the game on the TV in the other room.
“This is really good, Mama Mae,” I said. “It’s been years since I’ve had a home-cooked meal as good as this one.”
“Mama Mae?” Samantha said, her voice radiating the type of disgust only a teenage girl could produce. “Is that what she told you to call her?”
“Yeah,”
Ransom answered, obviously as confused as I was.
“That’s my name,” Mama Mae snapped at her daughter.
“It’s not her name,” Clint cut in. “No one calls her that.”
I looked around at the other kids and then back at Mama Mae…or whatever her name was. “I’m confused.”
“Her name’s Mae,” Todd explained. “But no one calls her Mama. We just call her Mom.”
“She’s been trying to get that Mama thing to stick since I was born,” Samantha said. “She needs to give it up.”
“And you need to be quiet, little girl, or I’ll rip that piercing right out of your tongue so you can’t use it anymore.”
Samantha ripped off a piece of a roll she’d been holding and stuck out her tongue at her mother. Sure enough, there was a silver bar through it.
“Can I get my tongue pierced too?” one of the twins asked.
“No, Tripp,” Mae said. “Samantha’s in high school, and she doesn’t listen to rules.”
“There was never a rule that I couldn’t get my tongue pierced.”
“There was,” Clint said. “You just never knew about it because you didn’t ask before you put a hole through your body.”
“Everyone has holes in their body. What’s one more?”
“Pleeease,” Tripp begged. “I can stick my tongue out at show-and-tell, and Ms. Miles can’t yell at me.”
“Can I be excused?” Todd asked.
“Go ’head,” Clint told him. “Just put your plate in the sink before you go.”
Todd got up without another word and headed upstairs.
“So when are the renovations expected to be finished?” Ransom asked.
“What renovations?” Clint looked up from where he’d been buttering his corn.
“In the restaurant.”
“Oh, yeah. It’ll probably be a while before that’s up and runnin’ again,” Clint said.
Samantha laughed. “Yeah. Like never.”
I would’ve assumed Clint was taking care of the renovations himself and his daughter’s comment had been a shot at him, but he’d seemed confused when Ransom had brought it up. Maybe he’d been slacking so much he’d forgotten about them completely.
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