by Nicola Adams
Chapter 7
“How are you going to find your dad?” Shelley asked after they had gone for some time without talking.
She startled him, as he thought she was dozing.
“I’m hoping he’ll know enough of where he is to show me,” Jake said. “All I know so far is that he’s somewhere in Nevada.”
“That’s a big state. You could be looking for a long time,” Shelley said.
“Yeah, thanks. As if I didn’t know that.” Irritation dripped from Jake’s voice.
“I’m just sayin’, you’re going to need more than your mental link to find him.”
“You got a better idea?” Jake accelerated and moved to pass the little car in front, which seemed to have trouble reaching the posted speed limit. Overly cautious driver, no doubt.
“Not yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.” Shelley smiled smugly at herself in the visor mirror.
Jake shook his head. “Whatever,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
They drove past Spokane and up into Idaho with the sun now comfortably up in the sky. Jake pulled into a gas station and filled up the tank while Shelley headed for the restrooms and then, with some of Jake’s money, went into the convenience store and bought sandwiches and chips and water.
With all the throwing up Jake had been doing, he felt hungry all the time now, and he knew for a fact it wasn’t a growth spurt coming on. He hadn’t grown at all in over six months; he was done growing. Not that he would have minded another inch or two of height, but he was satisfied with where he was.
He rushed to the restroom as well, the usual barely clean roadside restroom, reeking of disinfectant. He washed his hands and let the hot water run over them to warm them. He wiped his hands on his jeans rather than the damp towel and got back into the car. Shelley was already making herself comfortable in the passenger seat.
She looked so natural there that for a moment Jake wondered if he had known her all his life. But the insidious imagery of how she had come by her money kept him from fully liking her. He told himself she only did what she had to do to survive, but it didn’t change the fact of what she’d done. He hoped she was finished with all that. It would have been easier to take if she had been a stripper.
“You want the ham and cheese on white bread or the roast beef on rye?” Shelley held out the two packets of sandwiches for him to choose from.
“I’ll take roast beef,” he said, turning the packet over to peel off the tape seal. “Hopefully I can keep it down.” He yawned and asked, “Do they have any coffee there?” He nodded toward the little shop.
“I think so, but I don’t know how good it is. Want me to get a cup for you?” Shelley already had her hand on the door. “Say, when was the last time you slept? You look terrible.”
“Thanks, I’m sure. Just get some coffee, strong and black…wait…add some sugar.”
Shelley put her sandwich on the dash and hopped out of the car.
She seemed eager to please, Jake thought, and immediately regretted the thought, because of the image it conjured up again.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. His eyelids felt like lead now that his fatigue had been pointed out to him. He could feel himself sinking into sleep and was rudely pulled out of that warm fog by the car door opening.
He could smell the coffee before the girl even got into the car. Reluctantly he kept his eyes open and blinked hard a few times to push the sleep back again.
“Here you go, freshly brewed, strong Starbucks,” Shelley said, handing him a tall paper cup with the ubiquitous cardboard sleeve. Even out here in the sticks, you could find the city coffee.
“Thanks,” Jake said, warming his hands on the cup and carefully taking a sip through the hole in the plastic lid. He recoiled and pressed his lips together.
“Told you it was hot,” Shelley said.
“No, you didn’t,” Jake sighed, not wanting to start an argument, but also wanting the record straight. “By the way, where’s my change?”
“Change?” Shelley tried to look innocent, while taking a bite out of her sandwich. She held the coffee in her other hand, the lid removed and the coffee swaying dangerously as she moved her hands.
“Yes, change from my twenty dollars. These sandwiches and chips and coffee don’t cost that much. Did you get a receipt?” Jake glared at her.
“Sheesh, keep your pants on,” she said, which caused Jake to shudder at the imagery again. “Oh what was that? You were imagining again, weren’t you? Well, you can stop judging me anytime now, Jake Hanson. Portia has retired and Shelley Meiers doesn’t do that sort of thing. And if you’re so good at reading minds and all that stuff, you should be able to figure out how much change is left from a twenty after the stuff I bought. Oh, and I also bought a packet of gum. She tossed her sandwich onto the dash again, splattering it with mayonnaise, and pulled the packet of gum out of her pocket.
“See,” she said, waving the gum under his nose.
The spearmint made his nose tickle, and he sneezed all over her, making her spill coffee on her pants.
“Oh, gross!”
“Sorry!” Jake grabbed a napkin and loudly blew his nose. Girls…they were so easily grossed out.
“Here’s your change,” Shelley said, smoothing the creases out of the crumpled handful of dollars she had pulled out of her pocket. She handed the bills and a few coins to Jake who merely nodded and stuffed them into the ashtray. One small corner of a dollar stuck out after he closed the little ashtray.
Shelley reached for it to fix it, but thought better of it. She could tell Jake was irritated, and besides, she wanted to have her sandwich and coffee and not be bothered by him.
Jake put the coffee cup between his legs and took a big bite of his sandwich before starting the car.
He carefully pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway. He still felt so tired.
“When was the last time you slept?” Shelley asked again after seeing Jake rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“Yesterday…the day before, I don’t know,” he snapped irritably.
“Pull over at the next rest stop,” Shelley ordered.
“Can’t. I have to keep going,” Jake snapped.
“You won’t do your dad any good if you crash the car and die,” Shelley said. “And, seriously, I want to get to college in one piece.”
“So, find someone else to take you. You don’t have to stay in my car, you know.” Jake was getting more and more angry, mostly because he knew she was right, but he couldn’t stop; he had to find his dad.
“I don’t want to be in anybody else’s car,” the girl said. “You might need my help at some point. Actually, you need my help right now. There’s a rest stop coming up in a mile, I want you to pull into it and get some sleep.” Her tone was quite firm and Jake’s resolve started to waver.
Without another word he pulled into the rest stop, found a secluded parking space and parked the car. He took the key out of the ignition and rolled the seatback down to a reclining position.
With one last bite he finished his sandwich, glared at Shelley and lay down. Before he even got comfortable, he was asleep.
“I thought so,” Shelley whispered to herself. Rather than sleep, she got out of the car and went for a short walk to stretch her legs. Once back in the car, she pulled out a school book and started studying. She was quite serious about her studies and wanted to major in economics with a focus on finance. She was determined not to be poor ever again. She wanted to live life on her terms.
She would even forgo true love, like the kind that had dumped her mother into extreme poverty.
Shelley flipped to the right page in a dog-eared copy of Economics, a primer in money politics. She would show the world a real rags-to-riches story. That was her goal. But first she needed to sort out this boy who lay snoring and drooling in the next seat. It was obvious he needed her help. Anyone could see that.
Chapter 8
The sun disappeared behind t
he tops of the tall pine trees and Shelley started to feel the chill of early twilight. Jake had been asleep for four hours now, but she felt he needed it and did not want to wake him up. Not yet.
She had long since put her book back in the bag, unable to concentrate on economics. Her thoughts kept going back to what Jake had told her, however briefly, about his mental connection with his father. She knew it was possible. Melvin had told her when he taught her some of his conjuring tricks and she had always thought that belonged to the realm of Vegas showmanship, but now she wasn’t so sure. If she could have that kind of connection with her mother…but no, that relationship had suffered too much from the ill effects of staggering poverty.
A car pulled in two spaces away from them, its engine idling rough and white smoke coming from the tail pipe. It was an old Cutlass Supreme, very old. The paint was peeled off in areas, exposing considerable rust on the body. No doubt the engine was not in much better shape.
The driver got out and stood looking forlorn. He was an older man; Shelley judged him to be in his late fifties, maybe even older. His hair was a salt-and-pepper gray and his figure, though trim, was starting to show the effects of age and gravity. He was surprisingly well dressed in woolen slacks, a turtleneck sweater and sports coat. He pulled a cell phone from his inside pocket and waved it around to see if he could get reception.
When he spotted Shelley looking at him he smiled and nodded kindly. Shelley gave a nearly imperceptible nod back, but she had a strange feeling about this man. Nothing fearful, just odd. Her mother would have called it her “radar,”, which had helped Shelley on more than one occasion to avoid men who might do her harm while she worked.
But this did not feel like someone who would do her harm.
“Jake? Jake?” She shook the sleeping boy awake.
“Wha…” Jake seemed unaware of where he was, but suddenly it all came back to him and he sat bolt upright. “How long have I been asleep? You shouldn’t have let me sleep that long.” Jake looked around and noted the time by the slant of the sunlight.
He groaned. “I should have been heading south already. I wanted to make it to Coeur d’ Alene and start down. Dad, I’m sorry.” He leaned against the window, which felt cold against his forehead. He shivered and zipped his hoodie all the way up.
“Jake, I wonder if we should help that guy,” Shelley asked, pointing at the man who still did not seem to have any cell phone reception.
“Why? He’s not dying is he? I only help dying people,” Jake said sarcastically.
“I wasn’t dying and you helped me,” Shelley said sternly. Without waiting for Jake’s answer, she opened the door and stepped out.
Jake looked over, rolled his eyes and got out too. He really did need to help her; she was incapable of keeping herself safe, he reasoned. He was keeping her from getting killed; he was sure of that.
“Hi, what seems to be the trouble?” he heard her say as he closed his door.
“I’m all thumbs with cars and this one’s my brother-in-law’s and, well, I guess he loaned me a lemon,” the man said, chuckling sheepishly.
Jake came over and looked at the man. Jake had the distinct feeling he had met him somewhere before. Perhaps he had even seen him at the truck stop diner. Or had he? Jake pushed the thoughts back and joined Shelley.
“Car trouble?” he said, and gave his most winning smile, the one Ramon said would keep him in business for the next ten years.
“Yes, I was just telling your girlfriend,” the man said when Shelley and Jake simultaneously said, “No girlfriend.”
The man laughed. “Okay, doesn’t matter. But I seem to have a car that’s puffing smoke like a dragon and can’t keep an even speed.”
“Pop the hood. I know a bit about cars,” Jake said. He knew not to say he was a mechanic because then the man would expect him to fix it.
The man obliged and soon Jake was peering at an engine block covered in grime with wisps of smoke escaping here and there. He reached out his hand toward the distributor cap but could feel the heat coming off it and thought better of it.
“Can you start it up for me?” Jake said.
As the man did, there was some ominous clicking before the engine roared into life with a loud bang from the tailpipe. Smoke poured off the engine as the grime heated up again.
Jake quickly came out from underneath the hood and made a slashing motion across his throat. He could not have made himself heard over the noise of the car.
“Don’t think you’ll be going far in that car. Might as well scrap it. It would need a complete rebuild. I think there might even be a crack in the block,” Jake explained. “Where are you going? We can probably take you as far as Coeur d’Alene, but decide quickly because I want to get back on the road.”
The man cocked his head to one side and gave Jake a quizzical look.
“You look familiar,” he said after a moment’s thought.
“Whatever,” Jake said. “Do you want a lift or not?”
“Yes, I do. I doubt I’ll be able to get much help out here, especially since my cell phone doesn’t seem to get any reception.”
Jake nodded and opened the trunk on the Pontiac so the man could put his bag in there. He pulled out his own cell phone to see if he had missed any messages and also to verify the lack of reception. His phone showed no trouble, and he felt a faint stirring of suspicion. It nagged at him that he could not remember where he had seen this man before.
“The name’s Paul Thomson,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I do very much appreciate this offer of help. It must have been fate.”
For some reason that word started unlocking a memory in Jake’s mind. He didn’t know what it was yet, but something opened up. He would have to try and “read” this man later. He caught Shelley staring at him and gave her an exaggerated look of What do you want?. Shelley stuck out her tongue and climbed into the back seat.
Jake pulled onto the highway again, very aware of Paul in the passenger seat. Something about the man’s energy spilled over and tried to get into Jake’s head. He could feel it, but didn’t believe it. What possible reason could this man have for trying to poke around in Jake’s head?
Jake shielded his mind by imagining steel shutters all around it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now he felt better and more at ease, though he noticed that the man had felt it. He had moved slightly away from Jake and instead had turned toward the back to talk to Shelley.
“Shouldn’t you kids be in school? Or is there another holiday they forgot to tell me about?” He chuckled.
“Homeschooled,” Shelley said. Jake figured it was the truth in her case, from what she had told him. She had gotten one hell of an education from her mother, he thought. “But Jake’s driving me to college. We’re very close friends and since I don’t have a dad anymore, my mom felt better if Jake drove me instead of me trying to hitchhike or something.” Jake had trouble keeping up with her glib storytelling.
“Hitchhike?” Paul exclaimed. “Surely not. You’d fly or maybe take a bus, but not hitchhike.”
“We’re poor. My mother couldn’t afford even a bus ticket into town, let alone one to Arizona for me,” Shelley said in a very breezy way, as if it was no big deal, but to Paul it was a big deal.
“If I had a daughter I wouldn’t want her hitchhiking either. Good thing you have Jake,” he said.
“Yes, good thing she has Jake,” Jake said, with only a little sarcasm. Another pang. “Aghhh…” Jake would have lost control of the wheel if Paul hadn’t acted quickly, grabbing the wheel and steering the car in a straight line.
Jake took the wheel back and barked a gruff, “Thank you.”
“Are you all right?” Shelley asked. She leaned forward and put her hand on Jake’s shoulder, but he roughly shook it off. He didn’t want sympathy, he just wanted to get to Nevada.
“Oh, tough guy eh? Fine, you figure it out,” Shelley said, and slumped back into the seat.
“Does this happe
n often?” Paul asked. He turned to Shelley, sensing he would probably not get any information out of Jake, who sat with his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead at the road. He was oblivious to the beauty of the landscape in the setting sun. The streaks of red and gold painted the mountains, already clad deeply in snow. He didn’t see the fields shimmering in the golden light, or even the other cars on the road. He just focused on keeping control of the car and sorting out the images he had just seen. His father was now being treated to harsh conditions—extreme cold, followed by sweltering heat, and no water to drink. What were they trying to do, and why?
“He sees his dad being tortured…sees it in his mind. They have like a mental link or something,” Shelley said in an offhand manner. Jake would have yelled at her to shut up if his head hadn’t hurt so much.
He had expected Paul to ask further questions, but the man just turned to face the front and got very quiet.
“He’s not some kind of fruitcake, you know, just ’cause he can see stuff,” Shelley added, hoping to redeem herself somehow, as she had seen the tightening of the hands on the steering wheel when she told Paul what Jake had said.
“No, no, of course not. I fully understand,” Paul replied. “Say, can I buy you kids some dinner? You’re being so nice in helping me out and I’m sure you could do with a solid meal before heading down route 95.”
“How do you know we’re going to take route 95?” Jake managed to say over the searing pain in his head.
“I didn’t, I just assumed, since Shelley said she was going to Arizona, that you would take 95 down through Nevada.” Paul seemed to realize that Jake was suspicious of him and did his best to soothe the boy. He needed to gain his trust. It was important.
Chapter 9
Jake relented now that his headache had subsided to a dull throb. He knew he needed food to keep going, and he also knew he was pushing himself too hard, but he had to. Things were getting desperate for his father.
Once they hit the outskirts of Coeur d’Alene he let Paul pick a restaurant along the road and they had gone in. Shelley seemed happy to be out among people, and that this meal wouldn’t cost her anything. She guarded her stash of money very carefully. It was all that she had in this world to safeguard herself against a life of poverty and all-out prostitution.
