“And don’t give me that look. I wasn’t the one telling you to shut up.” He could see the brokenness now in the way she stood, the way her gaze flickered away. The dishes rattled. Time to leave her alone. “Are you still going to be here when I get off work?” Oh, God, please. Don’t let her run away again.
She looked up at him then, eyes glassy with tears. “Where could I go that God wouldn’t find me?” Her voice broke.
Joshua wanted to dump the tray, pull her close, and hold her tight, but they were standing in a diner. And Clarice gave them a worried look. It wasn’t the right time or place. “Good.”
She bowed her head. “Please move.”
Joshua gave her room to get around him. He gave her a last look before he went out the door. Lord, let her know how much You love her.
Abra bused the remaining tables, headed back to the motel, and spent the rest of the morning making up beds, cleaning toilets, and vacuuming worn rugs. Her mind churned with a chorus of voices. You don’t have to listen to Joshua, you know. He probably wants to remind you of how many people you hurt back in Haven. He probably wants to find out what happened with Dylan so he can say he told you so. Half a dozen men had hinted they wanted to “get to know” her. She could pick any one and attach herself long enough to get away.
Like a leech, a parasite attached to its unsuspecting host?
Another Franklin?
The fact that she had even considered it filled her with self-loathing.
Joshua. What was she going to say when he came back?
She’d thought about him so many times since she’d left Haven. She couldn’t believe it when she saw him sitting there in that booth, staring at her like she was a ghost. Or a zombie. She gave a mirthless laugh. Did he even know about all that? It was hardly the kind of movie he’d ever pay to see.
Five years and she’d never called anyone back home. What must he think of her? Whatever he had to say, she owed it to him to listen.
Wiping sweat from her forehead, Abra went on scrubbing the bathroom floor. She couldn’t think more than a day ahead. When she finished her shift tonight at the diner, she’d have to wash the uniform and apron in the motel sink. With the desert heat, her clothes would be dry enough to iron by morning.
I have a job and food to eat and a place to sleep. That’s enough right now. Thank You, God, for the roof over my head. It’s more than I deserve. She took freshly laundered towels from a delivery bag and stacked them on the storage room shelves.
She finished making up the motel rooms by two, and went to the five-and-dime. She’d made enough in tips this morning to buy a package of cheap underwear, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. She showered and tried to nap before the evening shift at the diner, but her mind wouldn’t rest.
Pulling the Gideon Bible out of her nightstand, she went to the list of topics in back. She spent the next two hours looking up Scriptures. She remembered many that she and Penny had memorized for Sunday school classes when they were little girls. Pastor Zeke had preached on some. Joshua and Mitzi had often spoken in words like these.
She’d lived in darkness for so long, but now, somewhere deep inside her, light flickered.
Clarice told her there wouldn’t be as many customers for the supper shift. “Most head for the bar and grill. We have steaks, too, but we don’t serve alcohol. Rudy’s got a thing about it. Means less business, but he’s adamant. The special tonight is pot roast, mashed potatoes, and carrots. Fresh apple, peach, and cherry pie.”
“Is there anything I can do right now?”
“Marry the mustard.” Clarice’s eyes lit with amusement at Abra’s expression, and she explained. “Mix the fresh in with what’s left in the dispensers.”
Every time the bell over the door jangled, Abra’s heart jumped. She swooped on customers and offered them quick service in order to keep from thinking about Joshua. Maybe he’d changed his mind about coming back. Maybe he had gone down to the bar and grill. Did he drink now? He never had before. She thought of Franklin pouring Scotch, getting drunk almost every night because it was the only way he could sleep.
Everyone else had begun to leave when Joshua came in the door. His hair was wet and he was wearing clean jeans and a lightweight, short-sleeved blue-checked shirt tucked in at the waist.
He had changed in five years. He was broader, more muscular, his dark hair cropped short. He chatted briefly with Clarice and took a table in Abra’s serving area.
She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. She didn’t know what she expected, but certainly not the look that met hers when she gave him a menu. He smiled the same smile he always had. “I’m glad you stayed.” He’d always been confident. From the time he was a boy, he knew who he was. It didn’t matter what he did as long as he did his best at whatever God had set before him. He liked people. He’d always been warm, friendly, interested in everyone and everything going on around him.
“Nowhere else to go.” What chance was there that they could ever be friends again, let alone anything more? She needed to remind herself. “I’ve burned all my bridges.”
“Do you really think so?”
Hope hurt. Better not to let it grow.
“I know what I want.” He handed the menu back without looking at it.
She felt an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach and took her pad and pencil from her apron pocket. She kept her tone neutral. “What can I get you?” Joshua ordered the special. She brought him water and iced tea, then left him alone until his dinner was ready.
She set the plate in front of him. “Enjoy your dinner.” She refilled his glass of iced tea once, kept busy and at a distance until he finished. She delivered his check and cleared his plate. He paid at the register and handed her a folded bill as a tip. A dollar was far too much. She tucked it in her apron pocket without looking at it.
“I’m not leaving, Abra.”
He looked at her like nothing had changed between them. But everything had. She wasn’t the same girl he’d known in Haven. She’d been naive, innocent, troubled, full of angst, so eager to rebel, to break free. Joshua had watched over her as an infant, played with her when she was a toddler, taken her under his wing when she was a teen, and tried to make her listen to reason when she’d wanted nothing more than to throw herself at a devil who’d end up using her, abusing her, and throwing her away.
How could Joshua have that tender look in his eyes, as though he still cared the same way he always had? “It’d be best if you did leave, Joshua.”
He tilted his head, trying to study her face. “Why?”
She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. “Because I’ve done things you couldn’t even imagine since I left Haven.”
“I was in a war, Abra. Remember?” He spoke gently. “I’ve seen plenty.” His fingers brushed her arm, and she felt her skin tingle, but not the way it had when Dylan touched her. “Let’s talk when you finish your shift.”
She swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Then we’ll start with silence.”
She didn’t want to start crying again. If she confessed, he’d leave her alone. Was that what she wanted? She knew the answer, but knew the truth mattered more.
“What are you thinking?” He spoke so gently.
“What I should tell you.” She pushed a shaking hand through her cropped hair. “For once in my life, I want to be honest.” She saw his quick, questioning frown and pushed her hands into her apron pockets. It took an effort to stand still while he waited. “After I tell you everything, Joshua, then you can decide if you still want to be my friend or not.”
“Nothing you can say will change my feelings for you.”
He would be kind enough to say such a thing. “I won’t hold you to any promise. I have another hour. . . .”
“I’ll be outside on the bench waiting for you.”
She had the feeling he thought she might go out a back door and disappear into the night. Yesterday, she might have done
just that. She washed, dried, and put away dishes. She cleaned the floor and put chairs up in the open seating area while Clarice wiped down the booth seats.
Clarice took up her bucket of soapy water. “Everything is tidy as a pin, Abby.” She nodded toward the front windows. “Is Joshua waiting for you or just watching cars go by?”
“He’s waiting for me.”
“He’s a nice young man. Leave your apron on the counter. I’ll give you a fresh one in the morning.” Clarice smiled. “Enjoy your evening.”
Joshua stood when Abra came outside. She looked across the street. “We can sit over there on that bench.”
“Have you seen Vasquez Rocks?”
“No, but I—”
“My truck is at the motel. It won’t be dark for another hour. And we’ll have a full moon.”
“I don’t have hiking shoes or—”
“It doesn’t matter. Come on.”
She walked beside him without speaking. She recognized the truck, though it had a fresh coat of shiny orange paint. It looked newly washed. Joshua opened the door for her. She watched him walk around the front and slide into the driver’s seat. He grinned as he started the engine. “Bet you’re surprised to see this old clunker.”
“You put a lot of time into fixing it up.” She touched the old leather, supple from Joshua’s tending. He backed up and headed down the road. She smiled, remembering all the rides she’d had in this old hunk of junk. “You were going to teach me to drive.”
“You never learned?”
“Never had a lesson.”
He pulled off the road, turned off the engine. “No better time than the present.”
“What?” When Joshua got out, she called to him. “Are you kidding?”
He opened her door. “Don’t be chicken.” He took her place in the passenger seat as she went around to the driver’s side. Flustered, she tried to concentrate as he gave her step-by-step instructions. It all sounded easy.
“Lesson number one.” He sounded amused. “Turn on the engine.”
She followed his patient prompting, ground the gears as she worked the clutch. The truck lurched forward and died.
She tried again, palms sweaty, jaw clenched, trying to remember everything at once.
“Relax, Abra. You’re gripping the steering wheel like you’re in the ocean clinging to a life preserver.”
She grumbled. “Relax, he says.”
“You’re catching on.” He put his arm on the back of the seat.
“I’m murdering your truck!”
“She’ll rise again. Start her up.”
“We’re going to end up in a ditch, Joshua.”
“Try giving it more gas.”
“More gas?”
“Only if you want to get to Vasquez Rocks before Christmas.”
She laughed and pressed her foot down harder.
“That’s better, but try to stay on the right side of the road.”
“I am on the right!”
“A little more right. Right of the white lines.”
“Oh, God, help,” she prayed aloud. “There’s a car coming!”
“You’re doing fine. Hear the gravel? That means you need to be a little more to the left.”
Why did he have to sound so calm?
One arm still on the seat behind her, he stretched out the other, pointing. “The turn into the park is just ahead. See it?”
“Yes!” She sped up and made the left turn. Gravel pinged beneath the truck. They bounced violently on the dirt road. She jammed on the brakes and the wheels skidded a few feet. Joshua braced himself with a hand on the dash before the truck came to a complete stop. She let out her breath in relief.
Joshua gave her shoulder a pat. “Well done.” He shoved his door open and got out. Raising his hands in the air, he yelled, “I’m alive! Thank You, Jesus!”
She laughed again. “Oh, shut up! What did you expect? It was my first lesson!”
How long since she had laughed—really laughed—and not just pretended? The relief of it made her burst into tears. She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see, wiped her cheeks quickly, and got out of the truck. As she came around, she heard a strange sound.
“Watch out!” Joshua had the snake’s head under the heel of his boot before she knew what was happening. The snake thrashed and wound coils around his ankle. Joshua twisted his heel and the snake went limp. “They aren’t usually right out in the open.”
She stood back, shuddering. “Is it dead?”
“Yep.” Joshua used the toe of his boot to toss it into the nearby brush. “A pity it didn’t stay where it belonged.” He headed for the rock formations.
She followed halfheartedly, eyes darting around. “Maybe we should go back to town. There might be more snakes.”
He looked over his shoulder. “There are always snakes in this world, Abra. We’ll keep our eyes wide open.” He held out his hand.
His hand was warm and strong. It always had been. When they came to an outcropping of smooth stone, he swept her up in his arms, setting her feet on the rock. Bracing his hands on it, he lifted himself up while she was still trying to get her breath. He took her hand again as they walked up the tilted, stacked layers. They stood together, not close enough to the edge to be dangerous, yet close enough that it still took her breath away. If she’d had any lingering thoughts of suicide, this would be a good place to accomplish the goal.
“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Joshua sat, resting his forearms on raised knees.
Wrapping her uniform skirt around her legs, Abra sat carefully, near enough to talk, but not so near she wouldn’t be able to see his face. She stretched out her legs, covering her knees with her skirt. The stone felt hot beneath her.
His mouth tilted in a wistful smile. “Remember how we used to climb the hills on the other side of the bridge so we could look over Haven?”
“Yes.” Memories came rushing back. She’d been able to tell Joshua anything in those days. Could she do the same now?
Joshua didn’t say anything more. He looked out over the land, but she sensed he wasn’t as relaxed as he looked. She waited, not wanting to ruin the moment, but each second increased her inner agitation. Should she confess? Shouldn’t she? Her breath came out tremulous. Everything or nothing, and nothing meant they couldn’t be the friends they had been.
She bowed her head. “You were right about Dylan.” She could feel him looking at her, and started slowly, stopping and starting again when she caught herself in an excuse. She told him about meeting Dylan on the bridge, the ride to San Francisco, that night in the fancy hotel, the next night in a club.
Joshua looked away, and she saw the muscle clenching in his jaw. Haltingly, she told him about the party in Santa Cruz, Kent Fullerton, driving around California, Dylan shoplifting and drinking.
She told him about Lilith Stark, living in the cottage, attending the parties, feeling important among all those movie stars, hearing the gossip, seeing the constant competitiveness.
Franklin, her savior. Franklin, the sculptor. Pygmalion and Galatea. She’d used him. He’d used her. He’d married her, but hadn’t really, as it turned out. Their baby had become the sacrifice on the altar of Lena Scott’s rising star. She’d hated and blamed Franklin for that, before she realized she was equally at fault. She’d hurt him in a thousand ways and then, in the end, stolen what she thought belonged to her and left a note that put a gun to his head. Literally.
“That’s all of it. My life in a nutshell.”
Joshua stared out over the desert.
Her hands kept pleating and unpleating the blue uniform Clarice had given her.
“I know you must despise me now, Joshua.” She didn’t blame him. She hated herself.
“No.” He turned his head and looked at her. “I don’t despise you.”
She was afraid to hope that possible. “How can you not?”
“I’ve always loved you, Abra. You know that. What you don’t get is my love has never been de
pendent on you being perfect.” He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “God knows we’re both human.”
“What have you ever done that you have to apologize for?”
“I thought of a hundred ways to track down Dylan and kill him.”
“It’s not the same thing as murdering someone.” She thought of her child.
“God doesn’t see things the same way we do, Abra. The human heart is deceitful and full of all kinds of evil. I’m no exception.”
She remembered what he’d said to her that night after they’d been to the Swan Theater. “Guard your heart. It affects everything you do in this life.”
Or had it been Mitzi? She couldn’t remember anymore. “I can’t think of anything good I’ve ever done for anyone.” Even being a “good girl” for Peter and Priscilla had been tainted with self-interest and pride.
“We’re all a mess, Abra. You’re not alone.”
She bowed her head and didn’t say anything.
“Ready to go back?”
The sun had set while she talked, and the sky was losing light. She knew he had to get up early. “I think so.”
Joshua straightened and held out his hand. She put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up. When she stumbled, he caught her by the waist, steadying her. “Do you feel any better now that you’ve confessed?”
She knew she’d hurt him deeply. “I’ve been such a fool, Joshua.”
He didn’t deny it. “No one sees with eyes half-shut, Abra. Your eyes are open now.”
So was her heart. She looked at him and realized she had never really seen him before, not in the way she saw him now. Something flickered in his eyes and then disappeared. He took her by the hand as they walked down the slanting rock formation. He let go and jumped to the ground, then reached up. She leaned forward so he could grasp her waist. She put her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down. His manner toward her hadn’t changed—foster brother, companion, her closest friend. But tonight something shifted inside her, as if the very rocks beneath her feet had moved.
They walked in silence to the truck. Joshua jingled his keys, capturing her attention. “You need more practice.” He tossed the keys so she had to react quickly, then grinned. “Good catch.”