The front door of Creekside Printing chimed the march of the last customer’s exit. Julia eyed the large clock on the wall. It ticked down the last five minutes until she’d be able to head to Riverbend. To the nursing interview. To a new life.
Mr. Watermore, the owner of the printing shop, returned from his back office and approached the counter. “Mrs. Cramer, you know better than to have your heels off. We’ve spoken about this. You need to remain in your professional attire until the doors are locked and operating hours are over.” A slow smile crept across his mouth. “Besides, with your legs, you should always wear heels.”
A sick feeling stamped her stomach with warning. “I understand, but we shouldn’t have any more customers, and my back’s aching from standing all day.”
Mr. Watermore shook his head, his orange comb-over falling into his eyes. “Why didn’t you say so?” He placed his hands on the small of her back.
She froze then took a step to the side and retrieved her heels. “I’m fine. Don’t trouble yourself.”
Undeterred, he stepped closer and rotated his thumbs in small, creepy circles. “I don’t mind. We don’t want you to have to lose this job because of some physical issue. Not when you have that adorable little guy to care for.”
Her back muscles tightened. It had been over a year since her husband’s death, but any touch by another man inked a mark of betrayal on her heart. She scooted further to the side and plastered an I’m-gonna-appease-you-so-I-don’t-lose-my-job smile on her face. “Better. Thanks. No need to worry. I won’t be calling in any time soon. I can manage.”
One of the machines beeped in the back, indicating it needed toner. She slipped her aching feet back into her shoes and moved to the storage closet to get another cartridge but Mr. Watermore squeezed her elbow, stopping her.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. You have an interview today, right?”
She fought the desire to elbow him in the chin. To tell him it wasn’t okay to touch her, even if it appeared innocent. When her husband was alive, she had no problem establishing boundaries with men, but now it was different. She couldn’t deck her boss because he touched her back or elbow. A paycheck meant more than her self-esteem, it paid for a roof and food for Ryan. And something told her if she directly forbade Mr. Watermore from touching her, she’d be out of a job. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She tugged her elbow from his hand and retrieved her purse.
“You know, people in this town care for you,” he said. “All this hard work and more school isn’t necessary. If you had a man to take care of you, all your troubles would be over. You’d have more time for your son. After all, a mother should be home with her children.”
His chauvinistic, parental advice pressed into her resolve, she wasn’t about to put her son in the care of a man like him. She swallowed the lump of anxiety welling in her throat and slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “Yes. Becca, Rusty, the Benjamins and of course, Cathy West have been amazing to me. Especially Cathy. People say she can ruin a person with her gossip, but I always found her charming.”
“You’re close to Cathy?” Mr. Watermore asked.
“Yes. She’s tight with Becca so I see her all the time. She’s amazing with Ryan, too.”
His oversized bottom lip rolled over the top one in an ape-like pout. The air-conditioning cut on. Air swooshed from a vent overhead, flapping his hair up into an orangutan fluff. “You should be careful around that woman. When I opened this shop seven years ago, she made a huge fuss over my little sign out front.”
That eyesore? The large neon Creekside Printing sign looked better suited to be advertising a strip club and blocked the scenic view from the top of the hill of downtown Creekside. She could imagine Cathy’s matching purple complexion when she discovered the monstrosity. Maybe that was why Cathy barked her concern at Julia working here.
“I’ll be careful.” She slid around the counter, her heels echoing through the small, empty store, accentuating the fact she worked alone with a man she didn’t trust. “I’ll be here to open in the morning, so you can sleep in.”
Mr. Watermore rocked back on his heels, his hands on his hips, chest pressed out, chin high. He was only missing the red hat and he’d be the spitting image of a garden gnome. “That’s awfully sweet of you but I couldn’t miss seeing your smiling face first thing in the morning. It’s what I dream about all night.”
His words sent her system into red alert, flushing her skin with anger. Anger at being trapped in a dead end job with a handsy boss, but knowing she couldn’t do anything about it if she wanted to keep food on the table. What was worse was that he knew it, too. Jobs were too scarce in Sweetwater County, but she wouldn’t give up the home she’d bought with Henry three years ago before he was deployed. Their dream was to raise Ryan in a small, family-friendly town, where neighbors cared for one another. Now she just felt trapped.
Julia dropped into her car and slammed the door, her skin still crawling with disgust and frustration. On the drive back into the heart of town, her skin slowly returned to normal, or as close to normal as the ninety-degree heat and a hundred percent humidity would allow. Luckily, her car’s AC still worked, blowing icy air from the vents. She didn’t want to think about what she’d do if that failed, too. As an uneducated widow and single mother, she couldn’t afford even one more bill, however small, especially if it meant working for men like Mr. Watermore.
The long drive to the recreation center gave her time to calm herself. Ryan had enough to deal with without worrying about her and she refused to burden him anymore than she already had. Even though Henry was dead, he deserved a stronger wife, someone who could care for his son. Ryan deserved a better life, with a mom who held it together and handled whatever came without complaint. And she deserved a life with a future. One that included less work and more time with Ryan, and not by marrying some man to take care of her. No, she’d manage to get into nursing school, earn her degree, and provide the life Henry and she had always wanted for Ryan.
She pulled into a parking spot, slung her purse over her shoulder, and headed inside to find Ryan. Hearing a faint vibration rumbling in her purse, she stopped in the lobby and retrieved her cell phone. A missed call. She wiped the humidity from the phone and recognized Mrs. Fletcher’s number. Julia dialed voice mail and listened, a prickle of anticipation dotting the back of her neck.
“Hi, darling. I’m so sorry to do this, but I have a family emergency. I won’t be able to watch Ryan this evening. I’m truly sorry. I hope you get this message in time—”
Julia didn’t need to listen to the rest. The message was clear. She didn’t have anyone to watch Ryan. Without a babysitter, she couldn’t go to the interview for nursing school. If she missed the interview, she couldn’t get in. And if she didn’t get in, she was stuck working for Mr. Watermore, stuck with a leaky roof, and stuck with no hope of a brighter future. Just stuck.
Evening light faded over the hilltops, the golden hue highlighting the wheat fields surrounding the Benjamin farm. Maverick veered onto the dirt cut-through road leading to the other side of the field where the abandoned government hanger sat.
Miles of wheat fields gave way to broken asphalt. His truck bounced over potholes and long crevices until he spotted the storage facility. It looked like a replica of some hidden nuclear experimental facility from World War II. What did James think he was going to do with it?
James stood outside the building in jeans, work boots, and a cap with a piece of wheat between his teeth, looking nothing like the psychiatrist he’d met at the VA in Miami over a year ago. He looked more like an old farmer.
Maverick pulled to a stop outside some side buildings resembling army barracks and shoved his door open. The evening air brought some relief from the hot summer day and he took a moment to let it wash over him. Then he yanked his wheelchair from behind his seat and lowered it to the ground.
James leaned against the driver door. “Hey, thanks for meeting me out here.”
Maverick maneuvered down into his chair and wheeled around the front end of his Ford F-150. His left wheel caught on some rubble and jerked him to a halt. Dust and dirt spun, but his wheel didn’t move. Glancing up, he spotted James’s judgmental gaze. “Don’t start.”
James shrugged and gave him a push. “Start what?”
“Telling me that if I used the prosthetic legs this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. It would give me more freedom and accessibility.”
A gust of wind rattled a metal shingle on the roof of the large storage building, producing an eerie moan that echoed over the open land.
James walked to the door and held it open. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you brought it up… You know you’ll need them if you’re going to work construction again.”
Maverick wheeled toward him but stopped shy of the doorway. “Who said anything about going back to construction? I don’t need to work right now. I still have plenty of money to live off of from the sale of my business. Besides, I don’t have the time. I volunteer at Rusty’s delivery business to homebound people in Sweetwater County, and at the senior service center that Trianna Mason runs.”
“It may not be paid work but you did agree to help with the construction of the Veterans project. And you’ll be making Rusty’s life a little easier. Not to mention you’ll be working on your survivor’s guilt at the same time.”
“Subtle isn’t one of your gifts, is it, shrinker?”
James kicked some bottles out of the way and waved Maverick inside. His wheelchair bumped over the threshold into a huge room. A room with beer bottles, graffitied walls, trash and an odor of bile and urine.
“Um, this needs more than construction. It needs a wrecking ball.” He held his knuckles to his nose and examined the structure. It had solid wood beams and a strong metal roof that had survived numerous strong storms, but it needed drywall repair. Not to mention updates to the electrical and plumbing to bring it to current code requirements. That, and a good cleaning.
James climbed the side stairs and rattled the ironwork. “I think it’s solid, but you’re the expert.”
“What are you hoping to do with this place?”
James stomped back to the floor. “Ah, that’s an excellent question. I’m hoping to create a facility for our veterans, their family members. Anyone who’s suffered in defense of our country’s freedom.”
Maverick fought the alluring call of country and duty. “This is where you want to have it?” He shook his head. “You trying to give those vets more nightmares? Besides, isn’t helping Veterans and their families what the VA is for? You know, the place where you work?”
Wind blew the door shut and it bounced open again, startling them both. James sat on the second step so he was eye level with Maverick, a technique to make him feel like they were on the same level. James had used it numerous times since he’d returned from combat.
Maverick rolled to his side near the broken window, welcoming the fresh air.
James rested his elbows on his knees. “I only work there part-time. It was a favor from when they opened the PTSD clinic in Riverbend. They wanted me to help start it. I have, and now I’m ready to do something here in Creekside. There’s a need for it here. Right now, anyone in this town and two towns to the east has to drive to Riverbend for help.”
“You want to open a VA here?” Maverick shook his head. The man needed some head shrinking himself. Not only was that an impossible undertaking, Maverick didn’t think there were enough veterans in all three towns to fill even a third of this building.
“No, nothing like that. I’m looking at offering more support services, counseling to returning veterans, widows, and families, and transition services for wounded soldiers returning home. You told me once that it was tough returning home and having to travel two hours from where you lived for rehab. If we can fix up the outer buildings, we can house people who are convalescing. I’ve already spoken with the VA and they are willing to provide transportation to and from Riverbend for Veterans that need medical attention.”
“Do you really think there’s a need for something like this here?”
James’s right brow saluted. “Don’t you?”
Maverick scanned the area once more, eyeing the outer buildings through the window. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Listen son. I know you’re still struggling and you don’t want to talk about it, but you need to move on with your life. You made it home. You have the right to live and move on.”
The too-familiar gut-twisting sense of remorse burrowed through his gut. “Do I?” James opened his mouth, but Maverick held up his hand. “Listen, shrinker. I don’t have night sweats. I don’t want to kill anyone, nor do I suffer from anger issues. I’m fine. I don’t need PTSD therapy.”
“No, you don’t,” James agreed.
“Good, then find another contractor.” Maverick turned his back on James and wheeled toward the door. These men returning home from war needed someone right for the job, someone who made the right decisions and took care of them. And no amount of care and attention to these men would help him atone for the men he’d failed.
“You don’t have PTSD but you do suffer from survivor’s guilt. And this is your chance to help the men who suffered the way your men had suffered. Men who need your help, your qualifications, your abilities.”
Maverick pushed his wheels faster. “Then they’re screwed.”
“Don’t run away from this. You’ve been running long enough. Or should I say rolling.”
Maverick swung around. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s easier in the chair, so stop thinking this so-called project is going to fix everything I’ve done. Trust me, there’s no project big enough to repair the damage I caused my men and their families. They didn’t get to come home, because of me.”
“And because of you, new men will be able to live on with their families. All you have to do is choose to walk the path of healing.”
Maverick squeezed the wheels of his chair. They squealed under his grip, warning they’d pop if he continued. “Funny play on words, but it won’t work. There’s no way I could do a project like this. I can’t reach high enough, I don’t have the balance, and I certainly don’t trust that I’d do it right.”
Before he could make his escape, gravel crunched under car tires, drawing both of their attention to the asphalt runway outside.
Maverick released his protesting tires. “Bring reinforcements?”
“No,” James said, heading outside. “No one knows I’m out here, except for Judy.”
Maverick followed him out the door to find Judy, with little Ryan by her side.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” James kissed Judy’s cheek.
“Julia had her big interview at Riverbend and Mrs. Fletcher had an emergency. So, I offered to hang with Ryan for a few hours. This was on our way home, so we thought we’d stop and check it out.
Ryan ran over to Maverick. “Hi! You gonna rebuild this place? Can I help?” The little boy shuffled between his feet, a light shining in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier, a light of hope. “Mrs. B says you’re gonna fix it up and I might have a place to go while my Mama’s at school. When she’s done with school she won’t have to work two jobs and I can see her more.” He ran past and stood on tiptoes to spy through the window. “That’s so cool. Can I go inside?”
Maverick didn’t know what to say. How would a kid understand why he didn’t want to work on this place?
Judy gave him a sheepish look. “I might have told him that we were thinking of providing childcare to help our military wives be able to work to better their lives. Julia says she knows many women in her position. They try to help each other, but none of them can afford the time or money to help. They’re all fighting to survive.”
James slipped his arm around Judy’s waist and guided her to Ryan. “That’s an excellent idea. I think this place is going to change lives.”
“I think it’s going to save them,” Judy said. Her hand slid onto Maverick’s shoulder and squeezed the resistance from his body.
He watched Ryan run around the side of the building. “Be careful. There could be jagged metal,” he called, but Ryan disappeared around the corner, Maverick huffed. “You two play dirty.”