3

I blacked out for only a few seconds. Someone was patting and rubbing my hand. I heard a voice. I blinked my eyes open and shook my head, trying to make sense of the words.

“Are you all right?” Blue eyes filled with concern peered at me from under a worried, wrinkled brow. “Would you like me to get a doctor or take you to the ER?”

Reality returned. Oh yeah, I was down the Washout Exit, and I’d just thoroughly humiliated myself in front of this guy.

“Uh, no, I’m fine.” I sat up too quickly and my head swooned.

“Quite a bump. Let me get you some ice.”

Steve? Sam? No, Scott.

He bounded out of the room to the kitchen and returned with several ice cubes wrapped in a plaid dishcloth. He sat on the bed beside me and cradled the ice to my head.

I relaxed a bit and leaned into him for a moment. How nice to be tended to after all I’d experienced.

Footsteps shuffled up behind us and a voice rang out.

“What, what, what?”

Ice cubes crashed to the floor as I flew to my feet.

Scott stood. “Nothing, Dad, we had a little accident, bumped heads.”

“Yes, I’m fine now. It’s all right. Thank you.”

A trickle of blood trailed down Scott’s forehead.

I reached into my purse for tissue and mopped at it. “Sit down a minute and let me get a good look at that. You probably need some ice yourself.”

“It’s nothing. Just glad it wasn’t more serious.” His cheeks blushed, but he sat on the bed anyway and let me finish cleaning up a little cut.

Mr. West left the room, muttering in threes under his breath.

Scott stood looking at me for a few seconds. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

His tender eyes tempted me to tell him everything.

“Sure, it’s just been a long day. I’m looking forward to catching some sleep.”

“OK, then. Have a good night. My cook makes a mean omelet at the diner, if you’re interested come morning.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my number if you need anything.”

I followed him to the front door. His father cracked a toothless smile and waved as they drove away. I hoped that meant he forgave me for acting like the Queen o’ Sheba.

Suddenly what little energy I had drained out completely. A rummage in the honeymoon room’s closet produced an extra blanket and pillow, so I settled myself on the couch in the living room.

Questions began to swim in my mind again. How long was I going to stay here? What would I do when I went home? Why couldn’t I hold on to Darryl? Wasn’t I good enough? Why did Phoebe have to show up and ruin everything?

Hate wanted to take over, but deep down I knew Phoebe couldn’t be blamed for what I lacked. Darryl might be shallow, but didn’t most of the world prefer beauty queens? If so, I didn’t have a chance. I’d smiled my way through life, trying to be the best at everything. Still, Daddy left us because I wasn’t good enough, and Mom was alone because of me.

The truth remained: Bailey Brown was not enough.

~*~

Morning dawned with the chirping of birds. I peeked out from under the blanket. The rose-print wallpaper of the living room came to life with the swaying shadows of the trees outside the windows. Birds played from branch to branch. This peace comforted me for half an hour.

The sun should have been up by then, but dark clouds gathered. Trees began to sway violently, and the screen door blew open and closed again with a slam. An East Texas rain pelted the windows. I sat up on the couch and swaddled the blanket around me to watch the storm. I remembered what had brought me to this place, and my mood melded with the weather. Images and emotions of the last twenty-four hours churned like a tornado in my soul.

It didn’t make any sense. Just weeks ago Darryl and I had shared such a tender moment.

“You’re my only family, Bailey. All I have in the world.” He’d clasped both my hands to his chest and pierced my heart with his pleading eyes as he’d begged to let him give me power of attorney. “Let me have this legal bond now, darling. Of course we won’t need it after we’re married. But if anything happens before the wedding…”

I raised my hand to his mouth. “Shhh. Nothing’s going to happen, but if it means that much to you, I’ll sign it.” I read every word of the straightforward document. It was so simple, I couldn’t understand why it even meant so much to Darryl, but the day we signed it became the happiest day of my life.

As I put pen to paper in front of the notary, Darryl surprised me. “Hurry, Bailey, I have something for you.” He pulled his suit coat aside and patted the shape of a small box in his dress shirt pocket.

“My ring!” I quickly signed the document, and then Darryl signed and handed it across the desk to the notary. I hardly registered the guy signing and stamping the document; my focus was on that little box in Darryl’s pocket, my mind on thoughts of our future together.

Moments later, we stepped out of the office. He put the ring on my finger and embraced me, right there on the sidewalk. “Mine, all mine,” he whispered as he held me.

How could he have been so tender and loving and mere weeks later kick me to the curb?

Bailey, girl, snap out of it. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Get up and do something. Gran’s voice came so easily into my heart.

But what, Gran? What do I do?

The scent of mulberry potpourri wafted around me, the aroma soothing, but not enough to surrender my anxiety.

Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I got up to search for coffee.

The scent of fresh ground coffee beans braced me, and I began to come alive. The pot brewed as I looked out the kitchen window.

A good half acre stretched out behind the house—more secret garden than backyard. Pine trees stood in beds of ivy lining the left side of the property. Yellow jasmine tangled with the ivy, shooting tendrils into the air. Another half-acre of pasture flanked the left side of the property. Three huge magnolia trees seemed evenly spaced on an imaginary line between the yard and the pasture. Round benches completely encircled the trees.

A garden mural graced the walls of a small well house. Had Scott’s mother painted it? Lawn chairs met around a barbeque grill next to the well house. A whitewashed barn rested at the far end of the yard. To the left of the barn a gate opened to the thick woods. Lush green grass carpeted the entire scene. The rain subsided.

As I finished my first cup of coffee, Paul West came hobbling through the gate from the woods. He sat on a bench, leaned his cane next to him and put his head in his hands.

How frustrating it must be to deal with physical challenges and grieve the death of his wife at the same time. I wanted to go to him, but was sure the “Queen o’ Sheba” could be no help.

I didn’t have to worry long because Scott came into the backyard from the garage. He took one look at his dad and broke into a run. He sat next to him, hands on his own knees, and leaned forward looking into his dad’s face. They conversed a little, and then Scott put his arm around Paul. The men bowed their heads and appeared to be praying aloud. After a few minutes, Paul smiled. They stood and embraced one another and then walked toward the house.

In panic mode, I ran to get dressed and brush my hair. I needn’t have rushed because they never came to the door.

My stomach growled. The omelet Scott suggested the night before sounded pretty good.

I walked into West House to find Scott and his father eating a big stack of pancakes. I scooted over to say hello, but Paul grimaced.

“Queen o’ Sheba, Queen o’ Sheba, Queen o’ Sheba!” He grumbled, reaching for his cane. I guess I wasn’t forgiven, after all.

“Dad, Miss Brown is our guest. It’s OK.” Scott rose and faced me, his cheeks now flushed. “I’m sorry, Miss Brown. He’ll get over it.”

“No problem, and please call me Bailey. I wanted to tell you that the house is wonderful. Is there any way I could have just a couple more days? No maintenance required. I’m quite fine there the way things are.”

“I guess so. If my mom was here, you’d be treated like the Queen o’…I mean you’d be given the royal treatment.”

“Like the Queen o’ Sheba?” I tilted my head and grinned.

His cheeks colored and he grinned back, nodding. “Order anything you want as part of your stay. Toppy is a great cook.”

“Did I hear my name?” The cook stuck his head through the kitchen door.

My eyes must have looked like saucers when I saw his flaming red hair. “Toppy” must’ve been short for Carrot Top. If anyone ever deserved that name, the cook did. I willed myself to look him in the eye and smile. His green eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled back.

“Toppy, this is Bailey Brown. She’s staying at Shelley’s Heart for a few days,” Scott said.

“Howdy do, miss. Nice ta meet cha.” He tipped an imaginary hat and went back into the kitchen.

Tracy, the waitress I met the day before, was eating breakfast at another table with an older woman. They motioned me over.

“Miss Brown, this is my mom, Liz Salas. I see you’re still hanging out on good ol’ Exit 477.

Liz stood and shook my hand. “Are you staying at the inn?”

I nodded. Her kind eyes put me at ease.

“How do you like Shelley’s Heart?” She pulled out a chair for me and we both sat.

“It’s wonderful. So much love put into it. I never expected to feel such peace the same day as—” Cough; nearly spilled it. I didn’t need to announce my personal troubles.

“Same day as what?” Tracy asked. Liz touched her daughter’s arm to stop her. Tracy looked slightly confused but did not pursue it.

“Please, everyone, call me Bailey.”

“Well, I’m done. What do you want for breakfast, Bailey?” Tracy pulled her order pad from her uniform pocket.

“Those pancakes the Wests are eating look great. I think I’d like an order of those. And a cup of coffee would be nice.”

“I’ll go and tell Toppy.” Tracy gathered her breakfast dishes and bounced off to the kitchen, ponytail swaying.

After she disappeared into the kitchen, Liz let out a big sigh.

“Anything wrong?” I asked.

“I have to give her some bad news. We’re trying to buy a cute little bungalow in town. We’re so tired of putting all our money into rent with nothing to show for it. I got pre-approved for a loan, but”—her frowning lips quivered a bit—”the house we want is out of our range, and the owner won’t come down. Even just by two thousand dollars.”

“That stinks.” At least my experience in real estate could do one of us some good. “You know, if the owner doesn’t get another buyer, he might come down yet.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But the man is rude. Plus, I only get ninety days to seal a deal under this pre-approval. Guess I’ll have to get serious about my second choice.”

I reached across the table and touched her arm. “If you don’t mind my asking, who is the owner?”

“Graham Properties. That Darryl Graham is a jerk.” Liz picked up her fork and stabbed a couple more bites of her breakfast.

Did she see me flinch? My stomach flipped at the mention of Darryl’s name.

Tracy came back with my coffee and pancakes. Her mother looked in her direction and sighed heavily.

“Sit down for a minute, Tracy,” Liz said. “I need to tell you something.”

I excused myself, took my breakfast, and sat a few tables away.

Tracy pulled a napkin from the dispenser and dabbed at her eyes as she listened to her mother.

New customers arrived. Tracy reached for her mother’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She put on a brave smile and got up to do her job.

Liz motioned me back over to her table.

“She seemed to take it well,” I said. “Are you all right?”

“Of course she’s disappointed, but we’ve weathered a lot of that over the years.” She took a sip of her coffee and shook her head. “We’ll just have to put in an offer on that house on Grove.” Liz set down her cup with a thud.

“He may have had to turn us down, but he didn’t have to make me feel like a second-class citizen.” She crossed her arms and turned her head to the diner windows. “He actually suggested I try to buy the trailer we’re renting, and he said trailer as if it was dirty word. Maybe he only sells to the upper class. Or maybe the neighbors didn’t want a single mom living there. Ugh, it makes me tired to think about it. Good riddance.” Liz unfolded her arms and pretended to wash her hands.

I wished I could wash my hands of Darryl Graham the way Liz did. I’d known he was a hard bargainer, but now I saw it from another side.

“Oh, my gosh!” Tracy looked toward the front windows in a panic.

At least thirty kids and a dozen adults piled out of a yellow school bus. Scott met them at the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

“Hello, I’m Pastor Havers from Marshall Bible Church.” He shook Scott’s hand. “We’ve been on the road all night returning from camp. I promised these kids some breakfast.” A line of middle-schoolers bumped into his back.

“I’m not prepared for this many, but…” Scott started but then stopped for a moment. “If you don’t mind a bit of a wait, I think we can accommodate you. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great. Thanks.” Pastor Havers took off his baseball cap and gave a thumbs-up to his students.

“Hooray!”

“Come on in and have a seat,” Scott said. “We’ll get some menus out to you right away.” He looked at his wide-eyed waitress. “Menus, Tracy, and get ready to take orders.”

She shook off her surprise. “On it, boss.”

He rushed for the kitchen.

“What?” Toppy’s voice rose above the voices in the full diner. Nevertheless, breakfast orders started coming out of the kitchen two and three plates at a time.

Liz joined Tracy, serving milk, juice, and coffee.

Scott came out of the kitchen and called to Liz. “We’re out of eggs, would you…?”

“I’m on it,” I said and grabbed my purse. Useless no longer.

He blinked and his mouth dropped open. “Oh, well, OK. There’s a convenience store up the road a few miles.”

I returned about ten minutes later, hoping that six dozen from the Stop and Shop would be enough. Tracy took them and handed me an apron.

“Would you pour coffee and juice? Scott took his dad upstairs to their apartment to rest. He’ll be right back, but this is crazy.” She went into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

I put on the apron, happy to have something to occupy my mind.

I located the coffee machine and fixed more. I refilled coffee cups then made a round with chocolate milk and orange juice.

Scott returned. He looked in my direction and then at the busy dining room. His gaze returned to me quickly, and, with wide eyes, he made his way to me. “You don’t have…”

Chairs scraped on the restaurant floor, and kids stood. Some stretched. Some poked or playfully punched their friends. Others headed out the door.

“Thank you, sir.” The pastor shook Scott’s hand. “I appreciate the way you and your staff worked to accommodate such a large, unannounced party.” He walked to the cash register where Tracy stood ready to take his payment.

Scott followed, took the pastor’s bill and scribbled something on it.

I pitched in with the dishes and enjoyed listening to the banter between the Exit 477 friends.

“Did you see that one kid put away about twenty-five pancakes? I hope they make it home before he gets sick.” Liz shuddered and held her nose.

“I saw one actually eating just the syrup with a spoon. I hope he’s not sitting next to that kid.” Tracy mock-gagged. “That was a pretty deep discount you gave that man today, Scott.”

Scott just shrugged.

“Well, I hadn’t planned on working this hard today.” Toppy popped Scott on the arm with a dishtowel. “’Bout time I got a raise, don’t cha think, boss?”

“When you learn to cook something besides pancakes and burgers we’ll talk about it, Uncle Tops.” Scott pretended a poke at Toppy’s stomach and then turned to face me.

“Thanks so much for helping me today. We don’t usually get that kind of traffic on this exit. I really appreciate it. You ever work as a waitress? Looked like you were doing just fine.”

My cheeks warmed at the compliment. “My mom did when I was younger. She used to let me help her out. Fun, really.” I dropped my dishtowel. And yes, we both bent over to pick it up and bumped heads again. At least I didn’t pass out this time.