“Lucy, I’m very sorry to hear about Zoey. Is there anything we can do?”
Lucy sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Reverend. We’ve done just about everything we could do over the past few days. Charlie and I have both been driving around, looking everywhere. I even posted flyers in the village and other towns nearby, asking if anyone’s seen her. And I took an ad out in the local newspapers, with a reward. Maybe we’ll get some calls. The police are looking, too, but they have so many other things to do. Looking for a runaway is probably not a big priority.”
“Why did she leave, Lucy? Do you have any idea? Did she leave any sort of note?”
“Oh, we know why she left.” Lucy told him about Kurt, and Zoey being asked to give the police a statement. “Zoey was afraid that he wouldn’t go to jail, that he would find her and hurt her. We tried to convince her that we’d protect her, but she didn’t believe us, I guess,” Lucy finished.
“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” Ben reached out and patted her hand. “I can see that you had a deep attachment to Zoey. I’m sure this is very painful for you.”
“It is,” Lucy admitted in a shaky voice. “We’re all pretty upset. Even Charlie is, though he hates to admit it. He says that it was bound to happen, and she was just probably using us. But I know, deep in his heart, he liked her and he’s worried. It’s just easier for him to turn his back and write her off.”
“And you’re just the opposite,” Reverend Ben said. It was hard for him to find the right words to comfort her. “Don’t give up. Let’s pray for her safety and God’s help in finding her. Maybe she’ll have a change of heart and come back on her own.”
“That’s what I’ve been praying for,” Lucy replied. “Charlie has sort of given up looking. He says she’s a smart girl and we won’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found. I’m starting to think he’s right,” she admitted.
Though Charlie had a talent for seeing the glass half-empty, Reverend Ben had to acknowledge that this time, Lucy’s husband had a point. “Well, let’s just hope that if she’s smart enough not to be found, she’s smart enough to keep herself safe,” he said. That thought seemed to make Lucy feel a little better, he noticed.
Her son Jamie suddenly appeared beside them, eating what appeared to be a large apple muffin. Jamie had already been into the coffee hour spread and back, Reverend Ben realized.
“Jamie, no eating outside the Fellowship Hall, you know that,” Lucy reminded him.
Jamie complied by popping the rest of the muffin into his mouth and just about swallowing it whole. “Sorry, Mom, I forgot,” he mumbled.
Lucy finally had to smile as her son gulped the cake down in one lump. “Boys, they are something else.”
Reverend Ben laughingly agreed. He only hoped that her own sons would be some consolation for Lucy if there was an unhappy ending to Zoey’s story.
IT WAS THE FIRST MONDAY MORNING OF THE NEW YEAR, AND THE DINER was a madhouse, just as Charlie had expected. Except that he was down one waitress, and Trudy, who would never win any prizes for speedy service, seemed to be moving even slower than usual. Charlie had to practically bite his tongue to keep from yelling at her every five minutes. The only thing that kept him from losing his temper entirely was the thought that if she quit, he might as well shut the door and put up the GONE CLAMMING sign. For good.
He’d called Jimmy, the other cook, about two hours ago and woke the man out of a sound sleep. If Jimmy handled the kitchen, Charlie figured he could go out into the dining room as needed and pick up the slack from Trudy.
Jimmy had happily agreed to come in; he needed the extra hours. But he also moved like an arthritic turtle, and Charlie kept checking the clock, waiting for the man to arrive while running between the grill and serving the most annoyed of Trudy’s customers in the dining room.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’ve only got two hands and two feet,” Trudy grumbled as she rushed by, breakfast orders for her tables in each hand.
“Yeah, so I’ve noticed.”
“Why don’t you call Lucy? Maybe she’ll come over and help out.”
Charlie answered her with a dark look. “Lucy can’t come to the rescue today. So let’s just try to keep this place running, shall we?”
More like, he couldn’t ask Lucy for the favor. Every since Zoey ran off, he had been feeling as if Lucy blamed him, as if it were all his fault. Which, of course, it wasn’t. So he had not taken an instant liking to the girl, had not jumped at the chance to sign on as her guardian. Would any of that have changed the unhappy ending of this story? He doubted it.
But try to tell Lucy that. She just wouldn’t listen to reason where this girl was concerned. Charlie was tired of trying to talk any sense into her. Now it was just a case of wait and see. Sure, he cared about the kid and hoped she would land on her feet. But she was one smart cookie. He had a feeling Zoey could watch out for herself. Though the world wasn’t a very nice place, and she was a young girl, on her own. . . .
Charlie swept his dark thoughts aside. Zoey had done this to herself. He wasn’t going to feel guilty over the situation. He had a business to run. He couldn’t worry about this stuff all day.
The dining room seemed under control. At least for the moment. Charlie stomped back into the kitchen and got back to work. He was making the Monday night dinner special, meat loaf, and had already dumped most of the ingredients into the big mixer.
He flipped on the switch, wondering again about Jimmy’s arrival, when he heard a hideous grinding sound—the sound of machinery going completely out of whack—along with the distinct smell of hot metal and burning rubber.
He quickly flipped the switch off, then tossed his rubber spatula across the room in a fit of rage. It hit a hanging pot and struck it like a gong.
“For pity’s sake!” he screamed. “What else is going to go wrong today? Huh? Is the place going to blow up on me or something?” Charlie yanked the plug, pulled out the bowl of ground beef and fixings, and attacked it with a long metal spoon. “Why is my life so miserable? Can anyone tell me that?”
“Hey, boss . . . something wrong?”
Charlie looked over at the back door and saw Jimmy coming in.
“Finally. What did you do, walk here from Rockport?”
“Why would I walk, Charlie? It’s cold out. I have a car.” Jimmy gazed at Charlie curiously as he put on his apron. Jimmy did not get sarcasm. Lucky thing, Charlie realized, or else he might have quit long ago.
“Never mind.” Charlie sighed. He looked down at the meat and tossed aside the spoon. “You finish that up when you get a chance. It’s tonight’s special, the meat loaf.”
“Sure. No problem,” Jimmy said amiably.
Charlie pulled off his apron and washed his hands. “I’m going out. The mixer broke down again, and I can’t fix it. I already tried twice. I’m going to bring it over to Needham, to the restaurant equipment place.”
“When will you be back?” Charlie heard the note of anxiety in Jimmy’s voice but chose to ignore it. It was definitely unusual for him to leave during the day like this.
“I don’t know. Later,” Charlie said curtly, taking his jacket from a hook by the back door. Then he wrapped the cord around the machine and grabbed it off the counter. “I’ll call you later, Jim,” he added in a kinder tone. “You’ll be all right. Tell Trudy I’m going, will you? And try to watch that all the customers don’t walk out on us. She’s slow as molasses today.”
“Okay, Charlie. Will do,” Jimmy said loyally.
Charlie glanced at him. He was a good guy. The place would probably burn to the ground . . . but Jimmy was all right.
Charlie lugged the machine outside and hoisted it into the truck bed, wedging it between boxes of canned goods, so it wouldn’t slide around. Then he jumped into the driver’s seat and headed out of town, toward the highway. He felt as if he had been driving all weekend, looking for Zoey, up and down the same roads, cruising around the same towns, feeling like a total f
ool when he showed that picture of her around.
Now here he was, on the road again. At least this time he had a destination and a purpose, and something productive would come of his trouble. It felt good to get out of the diner, into the fresh air. Sometimes the place just seemed to suffocate him, though it was also so much his environment that he couldn’t survive very long away from it. Lucy teased him about his needing the diner the way a fish needed water. He couldn’t deny it.
Charlie drove along for nearly an hour, listening to sports talk radio. He noticed the needle on his gas gauge getting low and felt a grumbling in his stomach. He hated to eat at truck stops, but figured he could gas up and find something to eat that wouldn’t kill him.
He spotted the sign for fuel and made the turnoff, then searched the big lot for a parking spot. He left the truck, figuring no one would walk off with a big piece of kitchen equipment.
Good riddance if they did. Maybe his insurance would cover the loss and he could buy a brand-new machine.
The food service area looked like a big family restaurant with tables and booths and stools at a counter. Charlie noticed a sign for take-out orders at the end of the counter and walked over.
“Can I help you, sir?” a waitress asked.
“Just a coffee, to go,” he said. “Milk and one sugar, that’s all.”
“Okay, sir. I’ll be right back.” She smiled, scrawled the order, and disappeared.
He stepped back and stuck his hands in his pockets. A revolving glass cabinet, filled with cakes and pies, stood nearby and he turned to check it out, half-tempted by the cherry pie.
He suddenly stopped and blinked. Then he leaned over to peer around the cake display. A teenage girl sat at the far end of the counter. He couldn’t see her face but something about her build and just the way she sat, reading a magazine and sipping a mug of tea, seemed painfully familiar. Her dark hair was bunched up at the back of her head and when he squinted his eyes and focused on the hairdo, he found telltale streaks of blue and red.
It was her all right. Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, Charlie swore silently. He felt his hands go all clammy, and his heart pounded in his chest, as if he had just chugged down an entire pot of coffee.
His first impulse was to call out her name. But somehow, he couldn’t quite get the words out. He felt sort of choked up, he realized. He started to walk over to confront her. Then suddenly, he stopped, hearing a familiar little voice inside him.
Slow down, Charlie. Think about what you’re doing for a minute here.
Look at her, she’s okay. Sitting around, reading a magazine. Fine as you please. She’s not some fragile flower. She doesn’t need you and Lucy to survive. It was a lucky break for you when she ran off. Now you aren’t stuck with this kid and all her baggage. Who’s ever going to know you saw her here? No one. Not if you don’t tell.
Just let her go. Let her disappear forever.
Charlie let out a long breath and slipped behind the cake display, so Zoey wouldn’t see him. Where was that waitress with his coffee?
He ought to just go. Forget the darned coffee. No sense in lingering here, he decided.
Charlie headed for the exit, walking slowly and quietly. But still, he couldn’t help glancing back just one last time. Maybe just to make sure his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him and that the girl he’d spotted was really Zoey. Or maybe, just because he wanted one last look at her.
Just as he turned for that last look he noticed a guy about his age sidling up to Zoey. The guy was probably a trucker, from the looks of his jacket with an emblem on the sleeve. Charlie saw him look Zoey over, as if checking out the revolving cake cabinet. Then he sat down right next to her, even though the entire row of seats stood empty.
Charlie hung back, waiting to see what would happen. Though he had a good idea already.
The stranger didn’t take long starting a conversation. First, asking her to pass the sugar and then the milk container. Then talking about the weather and asking her where she was headed. Charlie felt himself starting to steam up. He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a long breath. He walked a few steps closer again, listening intently.
“I’m going in that direction if you want a ride. That’s right on my way. No trouble for me at all,” he heard the truck driver say. The waitress came by and dropped Zoey’s check. The stranger beside her quickly picked it up. “This is on me,” he told her.
Charlie could see Zoey looked confused and even scared. “Don’t do that. I can pay it,” she said.
“That’s all right, sweetie. Hey, if you ride with me, I’ll pay for all the food. Whatever you like.”
“That’s okay. I can pay,” Zoey insisted. She stood up and tried to take the check from his hand, but he pulled it just out of her reach and laughed. “You’re cute,” he said. “Come on. Let me give you a lift. We could have fun.”
Zoey didn’t answer. But she didn’t walk away either, Charlie noticed. She just stood there and stared at the stranger, hugging her backpack to her chest.
Charlie couldn’t take it anymore. He suddenly stepped forward, standing right between the two of them. “How about me? Am I cute?” he asked the trucker.
The man gave Charlie a puzzled look.
Zoey stared at him, too. “Charlie . . . what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know this guy?” the trucker asked.
“Yeah, I do,” she answered, her gaze fixed on Charlie.
“Yeah, she does, you jerk,” Charlie shouted back. “I’m her—” He realized he was about to say “father.” But at the last second, he stopped himself. He actually did feel like her father, he realized with a jolt.
“What’s it to you, buddy?” he asked the trucker instead. “You should be ashamed of yourself—sitting here, flirting with a girl half your age. She’s only fifteen years old. Did you know that? Why I could have you arrested—”
“Hey, mister, slow down. I was just offering the girl a ride. She said she’d been hitchhiking. That’s dangerous—”
“Yeah, it’s dangerous. That’s why I’m taking her home. Right now,” Charlie shouted back.
“Taking me home? What are you talking about?” Zoey suddenly whirled on Charlie. “Is that a joke? I don’t have a home.”
“You come with me and stop talking back so much,” Charlie grumbled, taking a firm hold of her arm.
As he led her out of the restaurant, a waitress called after him. “Sir . . . ? What about your coffee?”
Charlie looked over his shoulder. “What about it? It’s probably ice-cold by now. What did you do, go down to Brazil to pick the beans?”
Zoey looked at him with shock, then laughed out loud.
“Well, I’m glad one of us is laughing,” he said once they were outside the restaurant. “What were you thinking, talking to a man like that? Couldn’t you see he was up to no good? I thought you had more common sense than that.”
Zoey lifted her chin and stared right back him. “Okay, Charlie. You did your good deed for the day. Now just let me go. I’ll go on my way, you go on yours. Just pretend you never saw me. I’ll do the same.”
She’d read his mind, he thought. Pretty good. He had to hand her that.
“I’d love to, Sassy Mouth. As a matter of fact, that was my first idea when I saw you,” he confessed. “But it doesn’t work like that. You’ve been living under our roof for over a month. Then you take off without a word. We were worried sick about you. We drove all over the county, looking for you, putting up flyers, handing out your photograph. ...”
He could see Zoey’s expression slowly changing, her narrowed eyes growing wider and wider with surprise. He could see that she couldn’t quite believe anyone had made such an effort for her.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’ve been wearing down my tires, looking for you. Lucy is beside herself. She’s sick over it.”
That last sentence hit a nerve. Zoey stared down at the ground, suddenly looking contrite. “I’m sorry I hurt Lucy’s fe
elings. She’s so nice . . . she’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”
“You’re darned right she is. I don’t even deserve to be married to her,” he added candidly.
“No, you don’t,” Zoey agreed.
Charlie gave her a look. “Lucy has a heart of gold. She’ll go the limit for a person who needs her help, no questions asked. People take advantage of her. I’ve seen it before. Are you one of those? Is that what you are?”
Zoey bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I like Lucy . . . I miss her,” she admitted.
“Well, she’s taken a liking to you. She loves you like her own child. Do you deserve that kind of love? Or are you going to just answer all that goodness by hurting her feelings and disappointing her? She trusted you. But you didn’t trust her,” he pointed out.
Zoey stared at him and sighed. He could see that she was torn, trying to choose between the freedom she had in hand or the promise of security—and its limitations.
“I didn’t want to have to testify against Kurt. It didn’t have anything to do with Lucy. Or even you, for that matter,” Zoey said finally.
“We know that. We know you’re afraid of that punk, and we’re going to keep him away from you. You’ve got to believe us about that, Zoey.” He paused and met her gaze. “You’ve got a place in our family—if you want it. But you have to trust us to take care of you. And we have to be able to trust you.”
He watched and waited for some sign. She stood very still, hugging the pathetic little pack to her chest. She bit her lip again, but didn’t answer, and Charlie thought he might scream with frustration.
“Hey, I can’t drag you back by that ponytail. You’ve got to come willingly. I know you’re scared. But if you stay with us, we’re going to keep you safe. Heck, this is the second time I’ve protected you, you realize that? I’m turning into a regular, personal bodyguard.” Charlie was surprised at the realization himself.
Zoey suddenly looked curious. “Do you just like to be a tough guy, Charlie? Or do you like me more than you let on?”
On Christmas Eve Page 32
