Chapter Five

Darby

As soon as Trex walked away, I ripped open the plasticware and dug into meat. I didn’t care who was watching, or who thought putting so much on my fork at a time before stuffing it in my mouth was disgusting. Easing the growling that had been rumbling in my stomach for the past three hours was my primary concern.

As I chewed quickly and took another bite, I considered Trex’s behavior. He was kind and thoughtful, but I wasn’t sure Trex was pursuing me. Most men at least attempted to flirt with me, even some women. I’d never admitted that aloud, but anyone who thought I was bragging hadn’t experienced a forty-plus-year-old making sexual advances toward her at the tender age of twelve. I certainly hadn’t asked for it. But Trex didn’t look at me like a potential target. He simply acknowledged the human in front of him, and that was refreshing.

“Dear Lord,” Tilde said. “You’re allowed a dinner break, you know. Half an hour. If you were hungry…”

“I need to go to the grocery store. I have nothing in my room.”

“There’s a larger fridge in your room. You’ll have plenty of space to put groceries. Well, more than the other rooms.”

“I can only carry so many bags at a time,” I said, covering my mouth while I chewed.

“Take a cab. Or I can give you a ride for a while. I’m old as dirt, you know; no telling when they’ll revoke my license.”

I giggled with my mouth full.

“Take advantage of the continental breakfast we serve in the mornings. Stavros doesn’t mind.”

“Thank you,” I said, just before I swallowed. I dove into the mashed potatoes and gravy, humming with delight.

Tilde took one bite to my three, watching me attack every morsel in the Styrofoam box. When I dabbed my mouth and sat up to heave a satiated sigh, Tilde’s twin chains swooping down from her glasses shook with her head. “I’m not sure what to think, to be honest.”

“You were right. Lunch wasn’t enough to hold me over. I didn’t realize I’d be working today, or I would have ordered more.”

“Or you don’t have enough money for food,” Tilde said, dubious.

“I’m just on a budget,” I said, taking her empty box, and mine, too. The hotshots at the bar stopped talking when I dumped the contents in my hands in the trash and then used Stavros’s sink to wash my hands.

“Where are you from?” one of them asked. He sat on the stool in front of me, nursing the last half of a blond pint that matched the hair that poked out from his red ball cap, and his scraggly beard. His blue eyes watched me with curiosity more than malintent.

“South,” I said.

He smiled, his teeth contrasting against his tanned skin. “What’s your name?”

“That reminds me. We need to get you a name badge,” Stavros said. “This is Darby. Darby…that’s Zeke and Dalton. They’re the Alpine hotshots out of Estes Park.”

“Nice to meet you, Zeke. I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work.”

Stavros called after me. “It’s a shame you’re rushing off. These boys have been dying to talk to you.”

“Oh,” I said, stopping. I returned, waiting for whatever was next.

“It’s okay,” Zeke said. “No one said anything that wasn’t nice.”

“Depends on what your definition is,” I said, forgetting myself for a moment. I was annoyed that Stavros had put me on the spot to stay, and I tried not to glare at him. By the smirk on his face, I could see he was trying to embarrass the boys more than he was forcing me to be social.

“Rude, crude, or inappropriate,” Zeke said.

I smiled, and all eight men sitting at the bar cheered as if I’d just made a touchdown, so loud the noise startled me.

“Sorry!” Zeke said, holding out his hands and chuckling.

“They were beginning to wonder if you smiled at all unless it was to greet or say good-bye to a guest,” Stavros said, amused.

I thought back to my afternoon and evening, wondering if they were right. “I thought you said it was all nice.”

“They were worried about you, that’s all,” Stavros said. “You’d think these guys were all your big brothers. They’ve been warning the others to be polite for hours.”

I sucked a tiny gasp through my lips. That was the nicest thing anyone had done for me. “Oh,” I said, my tone more appreciative this time.

“You let us know if anyone gives you problems. We’ll set ’em straight,” Zeke said.

Stavros popped the top off a bottle. “Your boss has just informed me it’s last call, boys.”

The hotshots groaned, but to my surprise, instead of ordering another round, they all paid their checks and headed to their rooms. All except Zeke.

“How was your first day?” he asked, leaning his elbow against the bar.

“It was great,” I said, nodding.

Stavros grinned. “She has to say that. I’m her boss.”

“Well. You have sweet dreams, Miss Darby.” Zeke tipped his ball cap and joined the others in the elevator bay.

“You’re going to have to share that magic with me,” Stavros said, wiping down the bar.

“What magic would that be?” I asked.

“Whatever makes people fall all over themselves to talk to you, for you to like them, and to protect you.”

I turned to watch Zeke and his friends step into the elevator.

“That’s not really a thing…with me. I mostly have to protect myself, and I’m not that good at it.”

Several seconds passed before Stavros spoke again. “I don’t know what you left, but you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Especially now that they’ve practically adopted you.”

“That’s sweet,” I said, watching the empty place where they stood.

“I hope you got a good look. Some of them are leaving at first light, and they don’t always come back.”

“That’s…awful.” I swallowed. None of them acted like it could be their last night on earth. I suspected if any of them let that thought cross their mind, they wouldn’t do what they do. Shawn thought he was invincible, too. Untouchable. But these guys were nothing like Shawn. He would have never told another man not to speak about a woman—a stranger—in an inappropriate way. He would’ve joined in. I’d heard it.

I wondered if Shawn’s enormous ego helped him to stop caring when Carly had returned to the church without me and told him I was gone, or if he’d resolved to find me and drag me back. The thought of Shawn looking for me made me shiver, and I tried to push it away as soon as it came.

“You okay, kiddo?” Stavros asked.

“Yes.” I looked at my watch. “Looks like it’s quittin’ time for me.”

Stavros nodded once. “Good work today. Once you’re trained, I’m putting you on nights. Our day guy is covering nights, too. He should be here any minute.”

“Everyone’s working doubles, huh?”

“We do what we must. Your schedule is Sunday nights through Thursday. Friday and Saturdays off. Can you handle that?”

I nodded once. “Absolutely. That’s more than fair. Um…Stavros? If this isn’t okay, I’ll just figure something out. But I was wondering…can I be paid in cash?”

Stavros arched a dark eyebrow, scanning me before speaking. “How much trouble are you in?”

A skinny kid walked through the sliding glass doors, straightening his tie, and Stavros’s smile quickly morphed into a frown.

“You’re late,” Stavros called to him.

He glanced at his watch. “I’m right on time.”

“For the hundredth time, Ander. If you’re not—”

“…early I’m late. Yes, I know.”

“So, you’re late.”

He smiled. His jet-black hair, gray eyes, and square chin probably charmed anyone else but Stavros. “I love you bunches, Stavros.”

Stavros grumbled, watching Ander greet Tilde with a hug.

“Tilde doesn’t seem to mind,” I said.

“He can do no wrong in her eyes. Ander is her grandson. Her favorite grandson.”

“Did she say that? Surely not.”

“I just know.”

“How?” I asked.

“Because I’m her other grandson. Ander is my little brother.”

“Oh,” I said, watching Stavros close the bar.

As I walked off, he called to me. “You say that a lot. Oh.”

“I’ll show you how to close down your shift tomorrow,” Tilde said, using her shirt to cover a deep cough.

“Sounds good, thank you. Good night,” I said, waving.

Walking down the hall, I hugged my middle. Being in Stavros’s hotel around his family wasn’t home, but I felt more welcome there than anywhere. Making friends in school wasn’t easy for me. I usually rubbed people wrong somehow. Stavros saying I had a magic way of making people like me was the nicest thing anyone had said to me in a long time, even if it wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure why the people here liked me so much, but never being able to please people before, no matter how hard I tried, I appreciated it more than they would ever know.

An involuntary yawn took over my body as I trudged down the hall, my feet feeling heavier with each step. Once I stepped inside my room, a shower seemed like too much effort, so I collapsed onto the bed. After the second bounce, I wondered if I should do that because of the baby.

I rolled over, staring at the ceiling. There were things to do, like make a doctor’s appointment. I hated not knowing what was okay and not okay. Until I could figure out how to pay for a doctor, I’d have to find some books. I’d do that in the morning before my next shift, but then what? If I couldn’t afford a doctor, how would I afford a baby? I had no insurance, no savings, and things like the cost of diapers, bottles, clothes, and medicine began to crowd my mind.

My eyes closed tight, pushing out the forming tears. A deep pain ached in my chest at the thought of giving Bean away to adoptive parents. I wasn’t even sure what kind of mother I would be. Most days, I didn’t recognize myself. I’d given so much of myself away to Shawn in just the year we were together that I wasn’t sure what was left. I remembered that girl, but she was so far out of reach. I had to believe that this was God’s plan. For me to be half beaten to death before I finally left, pregnant and alone, didn’t sound much of a plan, but I didn’t have to understand it. There was something else out there for me, and maybe it was in Colorado Springs.

If I could go back, I would change everything. Guilt set in as I regretted wishing away the baby growing inside of me. The baby I wasn’t sure how I would feed, or clothe, or…

I shook my head and covered my face. I have enough on my plate without worrying about things that are the better part of a year away. Stop it, Darby.

I concentrated on my breath, inhaling in fully, and exhaling, slow and controlled, starting over until my body gave in to the exhaustion. One day at a time. That was the only way to get through this. And I would. I’d gotten through worse.

*  *  *

The alarm bleated four times before I scrambled for the off button and then looked next to me, waiting for Shawn to either roll over and fall back asleep or fly into a rage. He wasn’t there. His bed wasn’t beneath me. I touched my stomach with one hand, my forehead with the other, breathing hard. The relief that washed over me was so intense, I cried. He hadn’t found us yet. We were still safe.

After the involuntary shuddering stopped, I let the fear and worry fall away with a sigh. Nothing bad was happening to me—the opposite, actually. Just down the hall was my new job. No one knew me or my past. Bean and I had everything ahead of us.

I slowly pushed up from the bed and trudged to the window, pulling it open. My view consisted of the heat and air-conditioning units and the maintenance shed, but beyond that was Pikes Peak. I was far away from Shawn and Fort Hood, the heat, the humidity, the fear. My stomach was still flat under my fingertips, but Bean was there somewhere, growing and at peace. A sudden nausea overwhelmed me. My mouth began to water, and bile rose in my throat. I covered my mouth and ran for the bathroom, crouching in front of the toilet and hugging the porcelain, expelling the small amount of meatloaf and mashed potatoes that hadn’t digested. After the last heave, I sat back against the wall, feeling the warm tile on my backside contrast with the cold wall against my back.

Most of the pregnant women on base were barely eighteen. I would’ve been one of the older wives, certainly the oldest without a child. I’d seen all the symptoms: the morning sickness, the tiredness, the heartburn, the swollen feet. But I was an only child; I had no idea what to do with a baby. The Pikes Peak library was on the same road as the hotel, but at least an hour’s walk one-way. I could get a card and check out some pregnancy books. Maybe even find out my due date and how to get prenatal care with no way to pay. My stomach lurched, and I covered my mouth. Toast first, then a walk to the library.

I hoped Tilde was right, that Stavros wouldn’t mind me getting a piece of toast from the continental breakfast bar. The front desk was unmanned, and when I rounded the divider that separated the lobby from the dining area, I realized why: The hotshots were swarming the food, and poor Ander was the only one on duty.

“Need help?” I asked him.

Ander smiled. “I got it. Are you here for breakfast?”

I nodded. “Tilde said it was okay.”

“Of course it’s okay. Help yourself.”

I couldn’t help the grin stretching wide across my face. “Thank you.”

“Toast?” Zeke said, handing me a Styrofoam plate with buttered toasted bread.

“How did you know?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Wanna sit with me?”

I followed him to a table, and he placed his plate in front of him, a fork already in his hand, hovering about the mountain of food on his plate. “You can have anything you want. I’m going back, anyway. Did you see they have a waffle maker? I’m in heaven.”

“Don’t they feed you between fires?” I teased.

He grinned. “Carb loading. We hike miles up into the mountains. We don’t eat a lot up there, so I stuff it in when I can. I try to stay under a certain weight, though, so I only eat like this just before I go up.”

“To fit into your uniform?”

Zeke burst into laughter. “No. No, because if we take a helo in, there are weight limits. If you’re bumping the max, you can’t take anything with you. Not a blanket, not playing cards, nothing. They’re pretty strict, so I like to stay plenty under, even though it’s not hard with all the trekking we do.”

I bit into the toast, chewing slowly and hoping it stayed put. I would have to tell Stavros about the baby sometime, but not until I had to, and I didn’t want him to hear it from someone else. He didn’t seem like the type to fire me so he didn’t have to deal with maternity leave, but I didn’t know him that well, and couldn’t take the chance.

After every bite, the nausea subsided. Zeke chatted about Estes Park and his older sister’s upcoming wedding. While he spoke, I wondered when he would go out, and if what Stavros said about some of them not coming back crossed his mind. He had plans and loved ones. It didn’t seem right.

“When are you going up?” I asked.

“Usually, it’s fourteen on, two off, but this is a political fire. Alpines are second in the rotation. We relieve the current crew every seventy-two hours,” he said, chewing.

“For how long?”

“Another seventy-two hours.”

“You be careful up there, okay?”

He stopped chewing to smile and then to swallow before he spoke. “I will. At least we’re not helitack. They work fourteen on, two off, no matter what. Not as many of them, but they get paid more. Think when I get back we can see that space movie? I’ve been dying to see it, but the guys think it’s a chick flick.”

I tripped over my words, my upbringing to be polite sword fighting with my new superpower. “I can’t. Thank you, though.”

“Oh,” Zeke said, embarrassed. “You have a boyfriend. Of course you do. That was stupid.”

“No, I’m just not…”

“Oh,” he said, a glint of recognition in his eye. “A girlfriend.”

“No, I just got out of a relationship,” I said, trying to get the words out quick before he interrupted me again.

He nodded slowly, trying to process what that meant. “Well…what if it’s just to go? We don’t even have to sit together. There’s always a seat between when I go with one of the guys.”

“That’s…weird.”

He shrugged. “I know. The only one that doesn’t do it is Taylor. He doesn’t care if anyone thinks he’s on a date with a dude.” He took another bite.

“Just as friends?” I asked. He stopped chewing to wait for my answer. “I mean, yeah, if it’s just a movie. How much is it?”

Zeke waved me away. “I got it. It’s like eight bucks.”

I shook my head. “I’d better not. I’m trying to save money.”

He chuckled. “I got it, silly.”

I pressed my lips together. That would mean I’d owe that Trex guy and now Zeke. “I’d better not.”

“You won’t go with me over eight bucks?” He seemed disappointed instead of indignant.

I breathed out a laugh. He was right. It was ridiculous. “Okay. But I’m paying you back.”

He nodded once. “Deal.” He used his thumbnail to pick something out of his teeth quickly before standing for another round. He pointed to the buffet with his plastic fork. “Want anything?”

“Actually,” I said, standing, too, “I have to go pick up a few things downtown. Thanks for the toast.”

Zeke waved at me with his fork, and I squeezed the leather loop of my wristlet in my palm.

I used a map from the stack we had at the front desk to find my way to the Pikes Peak library. The walk wasn’t as long as I’d thought, less than half an hour, and the doors were open by the time I arrived. A tiny, gray-haired woman pushed up her glasses with her free hand as she held open the door for me with the other. I peered around the room, then headed for the Pregnancy and Childbirth section. Even though it was just the librarian and me, the urge to peek over my shoulder became too intense to ignore. In a book with a pink cover, I found a due date wheel. Moving the bottom section to the first day of my last period, the top part showed me an approximate due date. I wasn’t even six weeks pregnant. I remembered the night Bean was conceived, with Shawn’s hand around my neck, squeezing it so tight I could barely breathe.

My knees felt weak as I stared at the month and day Bean might come into the world. Suddenly, it was real. On February 1, everything would change.

The small stack of books fit into the thrift-store backpack hanging from my shoulders, and I followed the map back to the Colorado Springs Hotel, thinking about who to call to help me find prenatal care, worried Shawn would be able to find me if I signed up for assistance and was logged into the system. I would need to pay cash, and I didn’t have anywhere close to the amount I would need.

What am I going to do?

Adoption was the only option, but as the thought entered my mind, an overwhelming sadness came over me. I imagined holding the tiny baby that I’d carried for months, then giving that precious bundle to the nurse and the silent pain burning through my body as I watched my son or daughter being handed over to strangers. It would be selfish to keep Bean just because the alternatives would hurt, but the images made me sob all the way home.

A group of hotshots, dirty and covered in soot, trudged from their interagency trucks to the front doors with me. They looked exhausted but happy, some of them already with room keys in hand, ready to wash the wilderness off and crash into their beds.

Stavros waved to me as I passed, and Tilde had already replaced Ander, standing behind the front desk with a bright smile on her face.

“Good morning, Darby,” she said, her voice sounding like she’d scrubbed the inside of her throat with sandpaper. Her smile faded. “You okay?”

“Morning,” I said. “I’m fine, thank you. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know. All right. You’re out and about early.”

“Walked to the library,” I said in passing.

Hotshots waited for the elevator, filling the hall with the thick stench of smoke. I could still smell them when the stairwell door opened and Taylor stepped out.

“We’ve got to quit running into each other like this,” he said. He looked happy, his buzz cut and clean-shaven face a contrast from the other hotshots. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “Are you going up today?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a date with a waitress.”

“You’re still chasing her?” I asked.

“Still chasing her,” he said with a grin.

“Good luck,” I called over my shoulder. When I reached my door, I was sure to unlock and close it quickly behind me to try to keep the lingering smoke from seeping into my room.

By the time I reached my bed, I was already tired and wondering how I would make it through an evening behind the check-in desk. A nap was necessary, but I wanted to crack open at least one book before I fell asleep. I wanted to see what Bean looked like, and one of the books I’d borrowed from the library was full of in-color pictures of babies in utero.

I flipped to the first chapter and squinted. Bean, five weeks and four days, looked more like a lizard than a baby. I turned the book to one side and then the other, trying to make out features even though the caption of the picture was A Face Emerges.

I stared at the lizard baby until my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and just as I drifted off, jerked awake. A mental check scrolled through my mind, that everything in the house was in place, the dishes clean, the laundry folded, ironed, and put away, and dinner was planned for the following night. Just a second later, my muscles relaxed against the mattress. Shawn wouldn’t be home to yank me out of bed if something set him off, he wouldn’t spit in my face while he turned red and the veins in his neck bulged. The panic I’d felt every night for more than half a year was just a knee-jerk reaction, but as I remembered where I was, and that Shawn was more than eight hundred miles away, the fear subsided, and I drifted away, at peace knowing Bean and I were safely alone in the dark.