03 The Long Road Home

by Geeta Kakade

  Margaret looked back at the pair and noticed the moisture in the woman's eyes. "Don't worry," she said softly.

  The woman looked away from her, holding her child closer, and Margaret got to her feet slowly. They both looked cold in their thin cotton clothing. Going to the truck, she picked up the blanket and the hamper and walked back to the mother and child.

  Shaking the blanket out Margaret placed it around their shoulders, then opened the hamper and took out the packet of cookies. The little boy's eyes grew large as she offered them to him, but he looked at his mother for permission before taking one. Margaret poured coffee from the thermos into the cup for the woman, adding a packet of sugar to it. Something hot and sweet would combat shock.

  "It's going to be a while," said Matt behind her, and Margaret got to her feet.

  "What's wrong?"

  "The load's too big which explains why the driver was using side roads at this hour. He has to avoid the weigh stations that check loads. The winds have picked up, and he says the truck almost went over at the last curve. If it had, he and his family might have been killed, not to mention the danger to any other vehicles and passengers." She had never seen Matt so angry. "It's going to take a while to secure the load again. I hope you don't mind waiting."

  "I'm fine," Margaret said. "Go ahead and do what you have to."

  As Matt nodded and turned away Margaret heard a sharp yipping from the truck. The little boy looked in the direction of the sound, his eyes rounded in wonder. Fetching Sandy, Margaret put the puppy beside the boy. He looked at her, and then hesitantly raised a hand to pat the puppy, his solemn face creasing in an enormous smile.

  "Sandy," said Margaret pointing to the puppy and the little boy repeated the word. "Sandy."

  Margaret nodded and the little boy's face lit up. He pointed to himself, "Juan," he said shyly.

  "Hi, Juan!" said Margaret.

  The pleased giggle the boy gave coaxed a hesitant smile to the mother's face. Margaret sat down beside them, pouring another cup of coffee for the woman, watching Juan play with the puppy.

  It took an hour before Matt and the father stopped working and came towards them.

  "Senor, thank you very much," Margaret heard the man say twice.

  "It's all right," said Matt briefly, and Margaret could still hear the lingering anger in his voice.

  He stopped beside her and looked at the little boy who held the puppy in his arms, while the man spoke to his wife in Spanish.

  "Margaret, this is Ramon," said Matt in introduction.

  "We have not been here long in this country," said Ramon. "My wife and son do not know English, but my wife, she says your kindness can be understood in any language, senora. We all thank you."

  Ramon said something to his son, and the boy's face lengthened as he looked at the sleeping puppy in his arms. They saw his mouth quiver as he gave the puppy one last hug. Margaret met Matt's gaze, and as he raised a brow questioningly, she nodded.

  "If your son would like the puppy, and you can take good care of it," Matt said, "I would like him to have it."

  Margaret watched the little boy's face light up as his father translated what Matt had said. The child nodded eagerly, and the woman smiled as Ramon turned to them. "Thank you senor. My son is lonely since we left Mexico. Maybe the puppy will make him happy again. He has much love to give it."

  He helped his wife and child into the cab as Matt got the puppy’s things and handed then over. Margaret stood beside Matt, and they watched the rig pull out into the freeway with a final toot of thanks.

  Matt turned to Margaret. "Tired?"

  She shook her head. "I'm glad we could help."

  Recalling the worry in the wife's face, the fear in the child's, she hoped life would be kind to the immigrants. Glancing at Matt, she noted the tightness around his mouth.

  "Why are you angry?" she asked.

  "I'm angry with the type of employer Ramon has," Matt said. "A man who risks lives just to transport a bigger load and get more money should be reported. He's the kind who forces his employees to drive longer hours and falsify the logs they keep. Drivers like Ramon are too new and scared to report him to the proper authorities. I bet Ramon isn't even paid the regular wage."

  "What can you do about it?" asked Margaret.

  "I got the man's name from Ramon," said Matt. "I'm going to call him and tell him my drivers are going to keep a look out for his trucks. If he doesn't start complying with safety regulations immediately, I'm going to report him. He's a black mark on the industry."

  Margaret stared out of the window at the reflectors gleaming on the surface of the road. She thought of one of the first things Matt had said to her.

  I care about you and Timmy the way any decent human being cares about another.

  Caring, for Matt, didn't stop with the people he knew. It extended to every human being, no matter what his race or color. It was a rare quality, Margaret realized, in a day and age where people rarely thought of anything but themselves.

  Margaret rocked Mikki in her chair while Gina folded the laundry.

  "How are things with you and Jack?" Margaret asked. Gina had been unusually quiet today.

  "All he talks about is freight and deliveries," said Gina. "I know we need the money, but Jack's working as if the President's made him personally responsible for the national debt."

  As Margaret walked back to the Inner Man, she wondered if his job was responsible for Gina and Jack's problems. She recalled Matt's words.

  I'm seventy five percent trucker, twenty five percent a society figure.

  Matt hadn't only pointed out her own fears; he had acknowledged his own as well. Margaret wondered what it would be like to be married to Matt. Imagination provided her with pictures of Matt coming home to her, playing with their children, loving her. Hot color rose to her cheeks as she thought of that warm mouth against her skin.

  Margaret spent the evening cutting out a dress, and then she went downstairs to the garden. She’d found the material in her aunt’s fabric bag and the pattern was one she had used before. Timmy was out and Aunt Jan was talking to some of her customers in the restaurant.

  Margaret was flipping through a magazine when a movement by the gate caught her eye. Margaret lifted her head just in time to see Timmy retreat hurriedly. She swallowed. Her brother seemed determined to avoid her. With her foot Margaret set the swing in slow motion oblivious to the beauty of the perfect summer evening. All she was aware of was the fear wedged in her heart that Timmy and she were growing further apart each day. Her mind challenged her to look at the situation from both sides.

  How can I take care of him if he won't let me.

  It wasn't a life-long position, though you thought it would be. Timmy's old enough to take charge of his own life.

  What if he fails?

  He has to learn to pick himself up, dust himself off and get on with the business of living. It goes with the adult territory.

  The creak of the garden gate brought her head up.

  "Matt."

  "Hello Margaret."

  She wore a pale cream sundress. Narrow straps drew attention to her beautiful shoulders. With the setting sun turning her hair to flame, she looked very tempting. Matt wanted to move the hair from her shoulders aside, place his mouth against the slender column of her neck, let feeling drown his thoughts out for once.

  "Aunt Jan's in the restaurant," Margaret said.

  "I came to see you." Matt handed her the single rosebud he had picked from the garden by his office. Its fragile beauty reminded him of Margaret. Soft, delicate, shy.

  None of the women he'd known had ever been shy. She looked at the rosebud and then at him, color staining her cheeks. "Thank you Matt. Would you like to sit down?"

  Ignoring the two redwood chairs, Matt nodded and sat on the swing next to Margaret.

  "So, what have you been doing with yourself today?" he asked lightly.

  "Nothing much. I spent the afternoon with Gina and Mikki
. Have you noticed anything different about Gina and Jack?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Gina's worried that Jack may not care for her anymore."

  "That's ridiculous," Matt dismissed. "Why, he's working his tail off to make sure she and the baby have all they need."

  "Matt, he barely speaks to her."

  "Just because he's not around to fall in with her wishes, Gina is feeling insecure. Women hate to lose control."

  "Don't you dare compare Gina to the women you knew," snapped Margaret. "She is not trying to control Jack."

  "What is she trying to do then?"

  "She just wants him to work less, spend more time with her and the baby."

  The light in Margaret's eyes warned Matt he was in trouble. He tried to change the subject. "The man's probably tired when he comes in and doesn't feel like talking."

  "How much energy does it take to say `I love you'?" Margaret demanded.

  Matt looked at her sparkling eyes and angry mouth and asked, "Has anyone said them to you, Margaret?"

  "N...no."

  Matt wondered what it would be like to say them to her. He couldn't say them though, till the words would signify a love that would last them for the rest of their days.

  "There you are," Aunt Jan said, coming out into the garden. "Why, Matt, how nice to see you. As hard as you work, it’s good to know you're taking time to relax as well. Mac tells me though you pay for a room in his motel you really live at the truck stop."

  "Relaxing is only possible in the right surroundings and with the right company," Matt said glancing at Margaret.

  "True," Janet beamed at him. "I suppose that's why Margaret insists on us making a trip to Yosemite National Park. It's the only place I sit around and do absolutely nothing."

  "It's hard to imagine you doing nothing," Matt said. “Is she taking enough rope to tie you down?”

  "Would you like to come with us to Yosemite?" Janet asked suddenly. "Timmy's going to stay here, but the cabin Margaret's rented sleeps four easily."

  Matt couldn't make out Margaret's expression. Her head was bowed over the rose she held.

  "When are you going?" he asked.

  "We're leaving Monday after next, and we'll be there for a couple of weeks."

  "I'm afraid I won't be able to get away then. There are a couple of conventions I have to attend in L.A. during that period."

  "That’s too bad.” Aunt Jan frowned. “Matt, Joe told me you've bought some land here. Are you planning to expand your truck stop?"

  "No," said Matt, aware of Margaret's surprised gaze on him. "I'm planning on building a house."

  "You sound as if you've decided to stay around Inchwater, Matt." Aunt Jan said.

  He hesitated. "Inchwater kind of grows on you. Everyone tells me there's nothing much here and yet it seems to have everything I want. A slower pace, a way of life where people have time for each other."

  Aunt Jan got to her feet. "Eight o'clock. It's time for my show. Excuse me, won't you?"

  She was gone before either of them could say anything. Matt smiled at Margaret. "She's never run off like that before."

  "It's her favorite show and she doesn't like missing any of it." Margaret's mind wasn't on Aunt Jan's hasty retreat. It was on Matt's decision to settle in Inchwater.

  "Have you heard from Dr. Edwards?"

  Margaret shook her head. "He won't rush into a decision."

  "An Institute here would change things in Inchwater. More jobs would bring in more people; maybe even attract a developer or two. Does the thought of Inchwater changing bother you?" Matt asked.

  Margaret shook her head. "I don't think we will ever become a big city, but the Institute will provide jobs and pave the way for facilities we've had to do without all this time. It will be nice to have an elementary school and a medical clinic here."

  "You won't blame me, then, for Inchwater changing?"

  Margaret wasn't sure if she imagined the hint of watchfulness in Matt's eyes.

  "Like I blamed you about Timmy working at the truck stop? Aunt Jan told me yesterday how worried she was about the boy Timmy had started hanging out with in Dan's Donuts."

  "Have you had a chance to talk to Timmy and tell him what you told me on the beach?" asked Matt. "That after he gets a degree, you won't object to any career he chooses?"

  Margaret shook her head. "Not yet. I don't want to risk wording it wrong and upsetting Timmy more."

  Matt placed an arm around Margaret's shoulders and it seemed natural to move closer and rest her head against his shoulder. There was comfort in his warmth, in the tenuous peace between them.

  Janet Hooper peeped out a little later from an upstairs window and smiled. She wondered how long it was going to take those two to realize they were made for each other.

  Busy peeling shrimp at the sink, Margaret didn't look up when the telephone rang at eleven the next morning.

  "Margaret!" The tone made her spin around. Aunt Jan stood by the kitchen telephone, her face white. Her gaze went blankly to the pie crust she had been rolling, then at the peaches simmering on the top of the stove, as if she wasn't quite sure where she was.

  "What's wrong, Aunt Jan?" Margaret quickly washed her hands and went to her side. "Where does it hurt?""

  "It's Timmy," Aunt Jan said blankly.

  "What about Timmy?" Margaret asked over the sledgehammer strokes of her heart.

  "That was the Las Vegas police. Timmy has been admitted to Las Vegas General Hospital with minor injuries. He is with one of Matt's drivers, Brett someone-or -other." Aunt Jan sank into a chair, removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't bear it if anything happens to Timmy."

  Margaret knew Aunt Jan loved her as much as she did Timmy, but Timmy had been Aunt Jan's baby.

  Automatically, Margaret put an arm around Aunt Jan's shoulders, and steered her to a chair. "Don't worry. If it was really serious, the police would have told you. We'll leave for Las Vegas immediately."

  Aunt Jan looked at her and said, "I can't go with you. I just can't. I'll wait by the phone."

  The words made Margaret realize Aunt Jan feared the worst. The last few minutes had drained her of all her normal vitality. She looked just like the time she had heard of her sister and brother-in-law's death. Margaret's own mind replayed a similar scenario.

  "Oh, Timmy." Aunt Jan closed her eyes as if to block out the thoughts.

  A fierce tide of protective love rose in Margaret. "Timmy will be fine," she said firmly, "I'll call as soon as I see him."

  Aunt Jan nodded vaguely as Margaret looked around for the bag she had dropped on the counter when she had returned from the store that morning. Spying it under the newspaper, Margaret picked it up. Bending to kiss Aunt Jan's cheek, she said, "I'll call you as soon as I get there. Try not to worry too much."

  Going into the restaurant, Margaret told Stacey O'Hara, one of the new employees, what had happened.

  "Don't you worry about your aunt," Stacey said immediately. "I'll stay with her till we hear something."

  "Thanks," said Margaret, heading for the door. Hurrying out to where Beelzebub was parked, she flung her bag into the back seat and got into the car.

  Margaret rested her head against the steering wheel for a minute, willing herself to stop shaking. She saw herself standing by her parents' grave with Aunt Jan and Timmy. Aunt Jan's face as it had been a few minutes ago popped into her mind. Frantic, desolate, withered.

  Please don't let anything happen to Timmy.

  It took exactly four minutes to get to the truck stop. As Margaret got out of the car, Matt came down the steps of the front office toward her.

  "Have you heard anything?" she demanded.

  "Timmy's injuries aren't serious. I spoke to a doctor in Las Vegas General and the police. It seems Timmy surprised the burglar as he was attempting to remove a box from the trailer."

  All Margaret's mind saw was Timmy lying in a bed, in a body cast.

  "How could you deliberately let Tim
my go on that run when you knew it was dangerous?" she asked bitterly.

  Matt put his hands on her shoulder. "Listen to me, Margaret."

  She moved away from him. "No, you listen to me, Matt. You had no business sending Timmy to Vegas."

  "Margaret, I didn't even know he was on that run till I got the call from Brett Hancock, the driver of the rig, a while back."

  Tears blurred her vision, and she turned away to her car. Recriminations weren't any use now. She had to get to Timmy.

  "Margaret, come with me. I am leaving for Vegas immediately."

  "You've done enough," she flung at him. "Just stay away from us in the future, Matt. I should never have listened to you in the first place. I knew no good would come of Timmy getting involved with trucking." Angrily, Margaret turned the key in the ignition. Beelzebub refused to start. Trying again and again, Margaret finally got out of the car and slammed the door.

  "Margaret, come with me," Matt repeated.

  It was better than wasting time persuading someone else to take her in to Vegas. On her way here, she had passed Joe, lying under his jacked up car. Waiting for him to put the wheels back on would take too long. She really had no choice except to go with Matt.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Heading for Matt’s car in silence, Margaret got in brushing her tears aside. Timmy couldn't die now. She wouldn't let him.

  "The bump on Timmy's head is the size of an egg," she heard Matt say quietly. "An x-ray has revealed no internal injuries"

  What did he know? There were cases where a person with head injuries went into a coma years later for no apparent reason. There were cases....

  Stop it. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. If Timmy wasn't all right, Matt would say so.

  Margaret swallowed. Matt had never lied to her about anything. As some of her fear receded, she recalled something Matt had said earlier. He hadn't known that Timmy was on this run.

  Margaret moved restlessly on her seat, stealing a glance at Matt's profile. Why had she blamed him for Timmy's mishap without waiting to check her facts out?