by Sharon Sala
From New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala, a reader-favorite story of romance, second chances and a love that conquers the odds
Marilee Cash waits tables at an anything-but-glamorous truck stop near Amarillo, Texas, and for six months she’s gradually been falling for one of her regular customers, Justin Wheeler. Not that she’d ever let him know. Although he’s kind and charming, he barely knows her. So when a blizzard strands Justin at the diner, Marilee feels as if she must be dreaming when their pleasant evening becomes a night of passion. But the next morning, Justin is gone—no note, no explanation, no apology.
Justin can’t stop thinking about Marilee, but he’s too embarrassed by his behavior to try and contact her. Finally, six months later, he finds himself back at the diner—only to find Marilee pregnant with his child. Determined to do the right thing this time, Justin brings Marilee home to meet his parents, but they do not approve of their wealthy rancher son bringing home a truck-stop waitress. And when Justin’s mother starting digging into Marilee’s past, she uncovers a truth that could threaten Justin and Marliee’s love forever…
SYMPATHY PAINS
Sharon Sala
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
CHAPTER 1
It had been snowing since daybreak. The flakes, some the size of small feathers, were falling so thick and fast that it was difficult for Marilee Cash to see the Texaco sign at the gas station across the street. The city streets in Amarillo were becoming impassable and the traffic on Interstate 27 was almost nonexistent. Interstate 40, which intersected with Interstate 27 a couple of miles north of the Roadrunner Truck Stop, where she worked, was already closed due to drifting snow. One trucker, who’d just made it through as they were closing the roads, had come into the Roadrunner talking about the six-foot-high drifts and the abandoned cars that were being buried under the snow at the sides of the road.
“Hey, honey! How about a refill?”
Marilee turned away from the window. It was the trucker who’d come in from the storm.
“Coming up,” she said, and went to get the coffeepot to refill her customer’s cup.
An hour came and went and still the storm showed no signs of abating. Except for Calvin, the man who owned and cooked for the Roadrunner, and three waitresses, including Marilee, the diner was empty.
Calvin came out of the kitchen, scratching his balding head as he looked out the window.
“You girls might as well go on home while you can still make it.”
Marilee hesitated. “Are you sure? What if you get a diner full of stranded travelers?”
“Living in this danged old panhandle, it sure wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Then he grinned. “If I do, we’ll have ourselves a party. Now, you girls go on. I mean it.”
The other two waitresses didn’t need any more urging. They were anxious to get home to their husbands and children. Marilee, on the other hand, had no one but herself.
No one in Amarillo knew anything about her background except that she’d grown up in East Texas and that her parents were dead. There was no need for them to know that her mother was dead because her father had killed her, and that her father had been executed by the state of Texas for the murder. It wasn’t something she often dwelled on anymore, but it was part of her past, whether she liked it or not.
She’d been almost nineteen when it happened and twenty-three when her father had been put to death. She’d gone to her mother’s funeral and her father’s trial. After that, she had considered herself an orphan, even though it had taken four more years for that to be a fact. So, being snowbound in the diner would not have posed a hardship for Marilee, and she would have rather stayed on the job.
The other two waitresses were already gone before Marilee had her snow boots on. By the time she came out of the break room, Calvin had turned the television channel to his favorite soap opera and was settled in the corner booth with a bottle of beer.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you,” she said. She had started out the door when a black extend-a-cab pickup truck pulled off the highway and into the parking lot.
She didn’t have to look twice to know who it was. It was Justin Wheeler, the man of her dreams. For six months this man had been a weekly regular at the Roadrunner. And every time he came, he sat at one of Marilee’s tables, laughing and teasing with her. For him, she knew it was only casual conversation, but not for her. She liked everything about him, from the way he wore his Stetson cocked a little to one side, to the set of his shoulders when he stood. And when he smiled, his eyes crinkled up at the corners and a hint of a dimple appeared in his left cheek.
Yes, Justin Wheeler had been the fodder for many a sweet dream, yet all she really knew about him was that he was the only child of a couple who’d made their money in cattle and oil, that he was single and that he loved Calvin’s chicken-fried steak and Dutch apple pie.
“Looks like you’ve got one straggler,” she said, pointing to the man getting out of the truck.
Calvin turned. “Lawsy mercy, it’s that cowboy...what’s his name?”
“Wheeler. Justin Wheeler,” Marilee said, and then blushed when Calvin grinned and winked.
“Know his name, do you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’ve waited on him before.” Then she stepped back to one side, pretending great interest in buttoning up her coat as Justin bolted through the door.
“Boy, what in hell are you doin’ out on these roads?” Calvin yelled. “Don’t you know it’s snowin’?”
“I do now,” Justin said, as he took off his Stetson and gently tapped it against his leg to knock off the snow. “If you don’t mind, I need to use your phone. My cell phone’s out and I need to find a room here in town for the night. There’s no way I’ll get home in this.”
“I heard about an hour ago that all the rooms were taken,” Marilee said.
Justin turned and then grinned. “Hey, honey. I didn’t see you standing there.”
She smiled, reminding herself that he didn’t mean anything by calling her honey. It was just a Texas, good-old-boy word for girl, but it made her feel good—almost special.
“I was just leaving,” she said. “But if you’re hungry, I can get you something before I leave.”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but all I want is a room for the night.”
“I don’t know about that,” Marilee said. “The local radio station has been broadcasting that every motel is full up between here and Lubbock.”
“She’s right,” Calvin said. “I doubt there’s any rooms to be had, but you’re welcome to the phone just the same.”
Marilee showed him the phone, handed him a local phone book and then lingered near Calvin’s booth. Both watched as Justin made one call after another, and listened as he struck out.
When he hung the phone up for the last time, he was frowning. “Well, you were right. They are all full. I don’t suppose you happen to know anyone who might rent me a room for the night?”
Calvin frowned. “No, can’t say as I do,” he said. “’Course, you’re more than welcome to stay in the Roadrunner with me. I reckon I’ll be spending the night right here in this booth.”
“You could come to my house,” Marilee said, and then couldn’t believe she’d said it.
The moment it was out of her mouth, she was wishing she could take it back. Just because he’d been in her dreams, didn’t mean he would want to be in her life.
Justin was as surprised by her invitation as she was. For the first time, he caught himself thinking of her as more than the tall, lanky waitress with that bun of brow
n hair who worked the north end of the room.
A little embarrassed, Marilee tried to be casual about the invitation, hoping that he would turn her down.
“I don’t have an extra bedroom, just a really big couch. And it’s sure nothing fancy. You probably don’t want to—”
“I’ll take it,” he said, and then wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt.
“You will?”
He waved his hand toward the snow.
“Honey, your invitation is the best news I’ve had all day. Do you need a ride or—”
“No. I have my car in the parking lot out back. Just follow me, okay?”
He glanced outside, eyeing the condition of the streets.
“The streets are getting pretty slick. Maybe it would be better if I—”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for nine years,” she said quietly. “I got myself here. I can get myself home.” Then she turned to Calvin. “If you get in a bind, you’ve got my number.”
Calvin nodded, a little unsure of what he thought about the offer she’d made. But she was a grown woman, and from the little he knew about her, a good woman. He figured she knew what she was doing.
“You be careful,” he said.
She smiled, aware that he meant more than careful driving.
“I will. See you tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother coming in until they plow the roads, okay?”
She nodded and waved a goodbye, then glanced at Justin before going out the door.
“Ready?”
“Yep. I’m right behind you.”
As he followed her outside and into the storm, it occurred to him that he probably should have called home just to let his family know he was all right. He decided he’d do it later, after he got settled.
To his surprise, Marilee navigated the snowy streets with skill, maneuvering her Oldsmobile around corners as if she’d been driving in snow all her life. Once, she started to slide toward a stranded car and Justin found himself holding his breath, expecting her to crash into it. Instead, she calmly steered into the skid and then straightened the wheels before driving on past with room to spare.
He found himself smiling an approval. “Way to go,” he muttered, and then followed her around another curve in the road. All of a sudden, he saw her left turn signal blinking. He began to slow down, hoping to take the turn without skidding. Moments later they were pulling into a driveway. The house beside it was tiny—a white clapboard house almost invisible against the snowfall, with a long, narrow porch that ran the length of the front.
As Marilee got out of the car, he saw her clutch at the collar of her coat, then lower her head against the snow. As Justin followed, it occurred to him that he should have offered to carry her through the snow or at least break a path, but she was already on the porch before he could stop her.
She stomped her feet to remove excess snow, and he did the same. When she fumbled with her keys, dropping them on the porch, he assumed it was because her bare fingers were cold. He didn’t know that she was starting to panic.
As he followed her inside, the warmth of the small house enveloped him. He gazed around the living room, comparing it to his ranch house, and felt a brief shaft of guilt regarding the luxuries of life he took for granted. It wasn’t as though she was sitting on crates and eating from the floor, but the furniture was old and worn-out, and the rugs, clean though they were, were threadbare.
Marilee saw him looking at her home and knew that he was used to much better, but she refused to apologize for what she lacked. She glanced sideways at him, hoping her nervousness didn’t show, and then pointed toward a small closet.
“You can hang your coat in there,” she said. “I’m going to change out of my uniform and then fix us something to eat, okay?”
Justin was feeling just as awkward as she looked. He smiled and nodded as she left the room, then looked around for her phone. It was on a table near the couch. That, he supposed, was going to be his bed. It was about a cushion too short for his length, but it still beat sleeping in his truck in the cold.
“Mind if I use your phone?” he called out. “I need to let my folks know I’m all right.”
“Help yourself,” he heard her answer, then settled down near the phone to make his call. A few moments later, the phone at his home began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Dad, it’s me, Justin.”
“Justin! Thank God you called. Your mother and I have been worried sick. Are you all right? Where are you?”
“Yes, Dad, I’m fine. I knew you’d be worried. I got as far as Amarillo before they closed the roads. I’m in for the night and as soon as they get the snowplows out tomorrow, I’ll be heading on home.”
“That’s just fine. You stay until it’s safe to drive.” Then he added, “I figured the motels would be full of stranded travelers. You’re lucky you found one.”
He glanced around the room, eyeing the cheery flames in the gas-heating stove.
“Yeah, Dad, you’re right. I am pretty lucky. Tell the hands to put out extra hay for the cattle and make sure they have my horse in the barn.”
“Already done.”
Justin grinned. “Sounds like you have everything under control. Tell Mother I said hello and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hung up just as Marilee came back into the room, and it was just as well he was through with his call, because he wasn’t so sure he would have been able to talk. Somewhere between the front door and now, Marilee the waitress had turned into a walking, talking centerfold. That appalling bun was now a cascade of chocolate-brown hair, hanging long and loose past her shoulders in abundant waves. She had on a pair of old moccasins and some Levi’s that had been washed so many times, they clung to her hips as if they’d been knit to fit. The ancient Texas A&M sweat-shirt she was wearing should have disguised the fullness of her breasts but did not.
“Did your call go through?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Good thing you called now. If this storm doesn’t let up, we’re going to wind up in the dark.”
Justin nodded, but he was already wondering what would happen if the house did go dark.
“Are you hungry?” Marilee asked.
He nodded again.
She arched an eyebrow, telling herself that his noncommittal state surely had nothing to do with his brainpower. She’d talked to him plenty of times before and he’d never seemed slow or dull-witted. Maybe he was just cold.
“The bathroom is down the hall...first door on your left. When you’re ready, come on into the kitchen. There’s fresh coffee brewing and the remote for the TV is over there on the shelf below the set. Knock yourself out, okay?”
He nodded again and then finally found his voice enough to squeak out an answer. “Okay.”
He watched her walk out of the room and knew that he’d just accepted and moved into a higher level of faith. Only God could have made something as structurally perfect as Marilee.
A few minutes later he wandered into the kitchen and then stopped in his tracks. The radio was on and turned down low, but he could still hear enough of the music to know that the slight but constant sway of her lower body was moving to the rhythm. He closed his eyes and then shook his head, making himself focus on something besides her hips. The aroma of the coffee she’d promised settled somewhere between his brain and his lust, reminding him of why he’d come in.
“That coffee does smell good,” he said.
Marilee turned, a half-peeled potato in one hand, a paring knife in the other. She pointed the potato toward a cabinet.
“Cups are in there,” she said. “Help yourself.”
Justin poured the coffee and then stepped aside as she began to wash the vegetables she’d been peeling.
“I’d be glad to help,” he said.
“Can you cook?” she asked.
He took a sip of the coffee and then grinned. “Uh...I can pour milk over cereal.”
She rolled
her eyes. “Typical male. Offers to do something he knows good and well he can’t do to insure himself against having to do anything at all.”
He laughed. “You have a pretty poor opinion of men.”
She thought of her father. “So far I haven’t met any that would give me a reason to change it, either.” Then she grinned. “Except maybe for Calvin. He’s a good boss. Best I’ve ever had.”
Justin leaned against the counter, drinking the coffee as he watched her work. With little wasted motion, she chopped and stirred, sliced and steamed, and the scents of down-home cooking filled the tiny little room. As he watched, it occurred to him that, although he’d seen her plenty off and on during the last six months, he didn’t know a thing about her but her first name.
“Marilee?”
“Hmmm?”
The fact that she hadn’t bothered even to look up struck him somewhere between amused and piqued. He wasn’t used to being ignored, especially by pretty women.
“It has occurred to me that I do not know your last name, and since you have been kind enough to offer me shelter from the storm...”
She paused in her stirring, and he thought he saw her flinch, as if bracing herself for something, but when she looked up and smiled, he decided he’d been imagining things.
“Cash. My last name is Cash, and before you ask, no, I’m not related to Johnny.”
“Had a lot of that, have you?”
“More than you can imagine.”
He refilled his coffee cup and then moved to the kitchen table to get out of her way. Pulling a chair from the table, he turned it around backward and then straddled it as if he was mounting a horse, leaning his forearms on the chair’s back.
“Did you grow up here in Amarillo?” he asked.
Again he thought he saw a hesitation before she answered.
“No. I grew up in East Texas. I fried up some ham slices. Would you prefer cream, or red-eye gravy?”
She’d changed the subject. He let it slide.
“Since you’re asking, honey, then I’d say cream.”
She strode to the refrigerator and took out a gallon of milk. He watched her as she dropped a large dollop of flour into the skillet where she’d cooked the ham, then started to stir.
