No Direction Home (Sweet Home Colorado)

by Jude Willhoff

  Once Jamie was in dry clothes, he held her to his chest and wondered through the house. Tears burned his eyes as he read the note taped to the bathroom mirror.

  I can’t take that screaming brat another day. I’m out of here. Don’t come after me. It’s OVER! Enid.

  Anger consumed him while he forced himself to calm down for Jamie’s sake. He rocked the child in his arms as pain ripped through his heart. How could any mother walk out and leave a nine-month-old baby alone? Leaving him was okay but for her to desert her child was unforgivable. His heart hardened to stone. But Jamie snuggled against the small of his neck, completely exhausted, and fell asleep in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and promised, "Daddy will never leave you."

  The years had flown by and he’d made good on that promise. Jamie was his life. They had been through hard times together. Now, she was in first grade, doing good in school, a well-adjusted little girl. Enid hadn’t bothered to keep in contact, except to divorce him and call to ask for money from time to time when she was high. Eventually, he heard from his aunt that Enid had died of a drug overdose. Such a waste.

  Why hadn’t he married someone like Grace? She was a lady, the kind of woman a man could get serious about, settle down and have a good life with. Jamie needed a mother...someday.

  He shook his head. Where had that come from? He didn’t need another woman. There was no room for a woman in his life—he had to be protect Jamie. They were fine. No one was going to come into his child’s life and desert her again.

  With a simple twist of fate, things could have been different, but his path had been chosen. He’d have to keep his distance and his feelings in check. Reality check. He had nothing to offer. He was living in this house only by the grace of Nana and wouldn’t compromise it. The attraction for Grace could go no further.

  He’d do whatever it took to keep things stable for his daughter—the one true love of his life. He smacked the table with his fist. Enough daydreaming, it was time to get back to work.

  Chapter Three

  A silver bell hanging over the polished glass door tinkled as Grace walked into the Haircraft Salon. The subtle scent of permanent wave solution hung in the air. Noise from blow dryers and conversation between stylists working on customers at antique oak barber chairs felt familiar. Grace smiled at the receptionist who had a cute spiked hairstyle.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, would Cindy Dawson have time for a shampoo, cut and style sometime today?”

  “Grace Sanders, as I live and breathe, you’re back, sooner than you said you’d be.”

  Grace turned to see Cindy rushing toward her. “I got in last night.” Cindy looked the same, wearing her jet black hair in a sassy short bob and just as full of energy as ever.

  Cindy hugged Grace to her and whispered in her ear. “God, it’s so good to see you.” Friends since first grade, Cindy had always kept in touch with Grace.

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll work you in. Have a seat." Cindy waved her into a chair then spoke to Gloria, the receptionist. "Please get her a cup of coffee with cream." She glanced back to Grace. "I can do you after Mrs. Watson. There’s so much I want to talk to ask you.”

  “Okay, I’m not in a hurry.” Grace didn’t mind waiting. She was thrilled to be sitting in the salon. Just listening to the buzz of the stylists as they worked to bring out the best in their clients, it made Grace feel better, too.

  Gloria handed Grace a china cup painted white with tiny pink roses. It was filled to the rim with coffee. Cindy went back to teasing Mrs. Watson’s hair. The last thing Grace wanted was another cup of coffee but she didn’t want to be rude. She murmured her thanks, took a sip and set the cup down on the glass table next to her chair. The waiting area was pleasant and she liked being around the action in the salon.

  Cindy’s client’s hair currently resembled a rat’s nest. Grace wasn’t surprised. A lot of older women still wore their hair with heavy backcombing. She grinned. Blow-dry styles had come to Cedar Falls but there would always be the hold outs. Cindy always fussed about the backcombing she had to do to keep her customers happy and said she had overdeveloped muscles in her arms from teasing hair. Funny thing was...she was right.

  "So, how do you know Cindy?" Gloria straightened magazines on a nearby table, glancing over at Grace.

  "Cindy and I went to the Vocational Beauty College together. I left for California afterward but she stayed here." Grace liked the beauty industry, but had wanted to do more than work in a small town salon. Not that there was anything wrong with it. At the time, it just wasn’t for her.

  "Oh, you're that friend. Cindy talks about you all the time." She sat down beside Grace. "What was it like to work with famous people, real movie stars?"

  "A lot of fun." Grace smiled at the friendly receptionist. She had always wanted to do make-up for movies and commercials and ended up moving to LA with Lee. There, she was able to work as an apprentice make-up artist to the stars at Universal Studios, earning her own credentials. Since her diagnosis, it grieved her to think she couldn’t do the work she loved.

  "What were they like? Did they give you a hard time? I can't imagine working on someone who's in a movie. Why, that work, whatever you did, will live on forever." Gloria stared at Grace in awe.

  Grace laughed. "Well, I never thought about it quite that way, but you're right. Most of the people I worked with were nice...folks just like you and me. I had a few who were picky, but they knew what they liked and that was what I did for them. It was part of the job."

  The phone rang and Gloria grimaced. "Oh, darn, there's so much I want to ask you." Gloria left to answer it.

  As Grace watched Cindy work, obviously enjoying what she did, a pinprick of jealousy stabbed at her, making her sad. Because of her back problems, she couldn’t stand long enough to style hair or do make-up anymore. She missed not being able to go on location and create. Funny, Cindy had always said how she’d envied Grace’s “glamorous” life. Today, Grace envied her friend.

  Now, Grace’s dreams had died. Maybe, someday, when it didn’t hurt so much, she’d write a book and call it Stage Make-up for Dummies. Everything you needed to know from glamour make-up to the recipe for blood and special effects for Halloween.

  Lost in thought, she jumped when Cindy called to her. “I’m ready for you. Come over to my chair.”

  Grace sat in the oak barber chair, excited about having her hair done by her old friend.

  “Okay, it’s just you and me now,” Cindy reminded her with a no-nonsense look. “Level with me. Are you okay?”

  Grace met Cindy’s green eyes in the mirror ready for the hands-on interrogation. “I’m doing better. Thanks for the cards and letters. They were life-savers.” Grace had kept them all. Many pain-filled nights, reading those cards and letters had kept her sane.

  “The least I could do. I’m glad you’re back home. I really missed you.” Cindy fastened the shampoo cape around Grace’s neck. “What are we going to do with this?” She pulled the brush through the silky length of Grace’s long blond hair and regarded it with a critical eye.

  “I’m considering cutting it short. What do you think?” Grace had worn it much shorter when she was thinner, but had just let it grow for the past few months, not having the energy to deal with it.

  “Maybe next time, you know it’s a psychological shock to go from long to short hair. Let’s take it slow—you’ve had enough drama lately.” When Grace nodded, Cindy continued. “Today, we’ll do a trim, taking about an inch off to give it some body and style. Okay?”

  “Fine by me, I don’t know what I want, but I know it needs the split ends trimmed and a good shaping. The line of the cut has grown out.”

  “Let’s go to the shampoo bowl.”

  Grace followed Cindy around the corner and leaned back in the chair. “Wait, I have to turn off my spinal cord implant. When I lie back, it increases the stimulation.” Embarrassed, she sat up and took the hand-held monitor out of her purse and
placed it against the right side of her hip. Damn. I hate this. The monitor sounded three short beeps and most everyone in the room turned to stare at a blushing Grace. Why couldn’t they make these things silent? Grace sighed. The old way-too familiar feeling of shooting, burning pain washed down her hips and legs as she took a deep breath and lay against the shampoo bowl.

  Cindy glanced at the monitor. “It looks like a garage door opener. Can you really control the pain with that gadget?”

  “Yes, it works wonders.” Thankful for it, Grace placed it in her purse and lay back in the shampoo chair, controlling her breathing to minimize the pain, wishing she could be normal. She didn’t mind talking about it—the more people understood, the less they treated her like a freak.

  Cindy wet Grace’s hair with the spray nozzle and applied a generous amount of shampoo. “How does it work? Nana tried to tell me, but I was lost.”

  “It’s quite simple. The implant is in my right hip. It’s sort of like a microchip that lets me control the amount of stimulation I receive. The lead wire goes from my hip up my spine. Then there are four wires coming from it that go into my central nervous system. I use the monitor to increase or decrease the pulse rates. Instead of hot burning pain, I feel electrical pulses, kind of a tingling sensation. Believe me, it’s a miracle.”

  “Wow, you’re kind of like a super hero. Who would’ve thought our own little Gracie Bell would be bionic?”

  Grace groaned—she should’ve known Cindy would come up with that comparison. “Not me, but I’m thankful they created it. The Medtronic technology saved my life.” The unending debilitating pain had started to lead Grace to thoughts of ending it all.

  “That’s incredible. I’m glad you’re doing well. Nana and I have been worried about you.” Cindy skillfully worked the shampoo into her hair.

  “I know.” Grace closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle pressure of Cindy’s fingertips on her scalp. “Have you noticed how much weight Nana has lost?”

  “Yeah, but she’s always been small. Except for her concern about you, I think she’s doing great for her age.”

  “I thought she looked thin,” Grace said and relaxed under Cindy’s capable hands, enjoying the scalp massage. “That feels sinful. Don’t stop.” The tension left her head as Cindy kneaded the back of her neck and worked pure magic. “I think I’ll come in every week just for the scalp massage. You have wonderful hands.”

  “Yeah, right.” Cindy sighed. “It’s been a long time since I styled your hair.”

  “Too long, if you ask me.” Grace smiled. “Why do you think I haven’t had it cut?”

  “You were always picky about your hair. I guess you have every right to be since Linda Smith almost scalped you in beauty school.” Cindy snickered. “A person never forgets being nearly bald.”

  Grace laughed while Cindy rinsed out the shampoo and wrapped her head in a towel. She followed Cindy back to the styling station. “Yeah, thank goodness you rescued me from her clutches.” Grace sat and turned her implant back on ignoring the beep before she turned to Cindy.

  “Yep, those were the days, weren’t they?” Cindy’s eyes twinkled when she caught Grace’s gaze in the mirror. “How is the good-looking cowboy Nana hired doing?”

  “He’s okay...I guess. I have to admit I was surprised Nana moved him and his daughter into the house.” Grace watched her friend closely for a reaction. Time to get the information she had come for. “Tell me, what do you know about Seth?”

  Grace knew small towns. If you wanted to find out information about someone, you went to the beauty salon, the barber shop, or a bar, always the hotbed for gossip. People told their stylist just about anything and everything while they were getting their hair done. Maybe the touching or the scalp massages put them at ease. If anyone, Cindy would know the juicy details.

  “What do you need to know? Look at him. The man is a hunk.” Cindy grinned. “I cut his hair, but he doesn’t talk much. Seems to be pretty much a loner. He comes in for a haircut about every six weeks. Always brings Jamie with him and lets us do her hair, too. The girls flirt with him, but he doesn’t pay much attention. And of course his little girl is an angel.”

  Cindy pushed Grace’s head forward as she started trimming the back of her hair. “Uncross your legs or this cut will be as crooked as the one you got in beauty school.”

  Grace obediently sat up straighter with her feet flat on the chair rail. “Come on, you know more than you’re saying. I recognize that gleam in your eyes.” She knew it...something wasn’t right with Nana’s houseguest. “When you have some really good dirt, you always get that look on your face. You can tell me. I need to know. I’m living in the same house with the man.”

  “I suppose you do.” Cindy frowned. “Let me see. He’s a nice guy. He’s always great with Nana especially when she was so ill.” She ran her comb down the length of Grace’s hair, separating it into small sections. “I’d go out and check on her and he would have everything done. He took her to Doc Kruger, picked up her medicine, did laundry, cooked and cleaned and kept her company. He was there for her.” Cindy let down another strand of hair, clipping the ends. “When I’d get to the ranch after work, there was nothing for me to do except her hair. He kept her spirits up. He cares.”

  “Cares about her? How do you mean?” Were her original suspicions correct? Was he trying to get close to Nana, worm his way into her heart in order to get the ranch?

  “Not that way,” Cindy chided. “I mean like a grandmother or mom. As far as I can tell, he’s always been the perfect gentleman. He's not like that.”

  Grace glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I have this feeling he’s not what he seems to be. He’s too good to be true, too nice, too handsome...just too everything. And Nana thinks he's a saint.”

  Cindy eased her head down again. “You and your feelings. Remember when we thought you were psychic?” She laughed again, then sobered. “The man can’t help the way he looks. But I can see where it’d be hard for you to trust any man, after what Lee put you through.”

  “There’s something else you’re not saying. You’re trying to change the subject. Come on, Cindy, what is it? I need to know.”

  “You’re like a dog chasing a cat. You won’t let up.” Cindy paused and reluctantly continued, “I know how you worry about everything, but why are you so suspicious about Seth? He hasn't given you any reason to worry, has he?”

  “No...I don’t know, maybe because people like you never tell me the whole story. Now, spill it.” Uneasiness settled in the pit of Grace’s stomach. “Tell me what you know.”

  “If you insist. Like Nana, I think he’s a good man.” Cindy sighed. “Promise me you’re not going to take what I say the wrong way?”

  There was something. Grace knew it. “I’ll take it the way it’s meant to be taken. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Well, I don’t know much, but he and the boys from the ranch go to the Starlight Inn on weekends, Charlie's bar. You remember Charlie Thompson from high school?”

  “Sure, I remember him, come on Cindy, spit it out.”

  Cindy leaned down and whispered into Grace’s ear. “Charlie told me that Seth is an ex-con. He served time in a prison in Texas.”

  The air whooshed from Grace's lungs as she sank further into the chair. Her pain level jumped and she gripped the arms of the chair. Oh, my goodness.

  She needed time to think about this new aspect to the situation. This she hadn’t anticipated. I’m right. The man is up to no good. Her deepest worry had come to fruition. She and Nana were living on a secluded ranch with an ex-con.

  Chapter Four

  “Grace, you’re pale. Are you all right? Can I get you some water or something?”

  Grace could hear Cindy’s voice from a distance and composed herself, taking deep breaths, trying to manage this new stress that was increasing her pain level. "I’m fine. I need to turn my implant up." She sat straighter
in the styling chair and pressed the hand held monitor to her hip, hearing the short beeps increasing the stimulation. "I'm not surprised at this news. So he’s an ex-con?”

  “Before I tell you anything else I want to make sure you're okay." She handed Grace a bottle of water. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Cindy watched her in concern.

  With the thought of Seth being an ex-con frozen in her brain Grace sipped the water. "I'm fine. Tell me what you know."

  "Well, I don't know much, that's just what I heard. Don’t go crazy on me. So what? He made a mistake. Now he’s a changed man, an upstanding citizen. I know for a fact he's a father who takes good care of his daughter. Give him a break.”

  Grace stared at Cindy in the mirror. “What did he do?”

  “Don’t know. I never found out. Charlie said Seth didn’t like to talk about his past and because he likes Seth he wouldn't push it.”

  “I need to figure out what he did.” Somehow she had to find out what she and Nana were up against. The man was a manipulator of the worst kind, using his precious daughter to get in good with Nana. He was probably in prison for being a con-artist.

  “Don't worry so much. I bet Nana knows. I’m sure she’s heard the same rumors. Don’t you think she would’ve talked to him about this before she let him move into the house?”

  The thought alone set alarm bells ringing in her head. “No, not really, she’s blinded by her love for the child. I asked her about doing a background check on him and she was huffy with me.” Grace frowned. “Now I know why.” Her hands, hidden from sight under the shampoo cape, twisted nervously in her lap. “I wonder if he’d tell me if I confronted him.”

  “Don’t do that. If he was going to do anything he would’ve done it by now, especially when Nana was sick.” She laughed. “He's okay. I’d take him in a New York minute if he’d have me.” She looked over Grace’s head and smiled into the mirror. “He’s a cutie who’s been hurt...."