no money and no plan... It didn’t take a genius...
He wet a cloth with warm water and handed it to Devon in case she wanted to wipe the grime of the road from her hands and face, and she did so. Then wiped off her daughter’s hands and face, muttering a very soft “thank you” as she put down the cloth.
Rawley got started with the food. He put out a fruit plate, a box of Frosted Flakes, two bowls, utensils, a carton of milk, a couple of small glasses. Then he pulled two egg sandwiches out of the cooler and popped them in the microwave.
Devon served her little girl, sharing everything. When the egg sandwiches arrived she gave voice to her thoughts—“So much food.”
“Traveling makes a person hungry,” Rawley said. And then he poured himself a cup of coffee. While they tucked into their breakfast he wandered out to the deck to think. He wanted to see where Cooper and Sarah were, and give Devon and her little girl time to get some food in their stomachs. If he watched them eat, they’d try not to eat too much—a man who’d been hungry and had taken charity knew this.
Hamlet, the Great Dane, was tied to the dock while Sarah paddled out to join Cooper on the bay. Rawley propped open the doors to the deck so Cooper would know he was on duty and that the place was open for business. A few moments later as he stood on the deck with his cup of coffee, Cooper waved. Rawley lifted a hand back. Then he watched them glide over the calm water, chasing the fog out of the bay.
By the time he went back inside, Devon and her little girl had put away a good deal of food and that made him smile. He went back behind the bar with his coffee. “Fill you up?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” she said, giving her mouth a pat. “If you’ll write down your name and address for me, I’ll try to repay the kindness when I’m able.”
“I’d rather you pass it on, Devon,” he said. “That’s what I try to do when I can.”
“Of course. I’ll do that, too.”
“So. Looking for a larger town? One with a shelter?”
“That seems a good place for me to start,” she said.
“Mind if I ask? What put you in these straits?”
She took a breath and stroked her daughter’s back. “It’s not complicated. I lost my job and couldn’t find another. I got some benefits and food stamps, but it wasn’t enough to pay the rent and I didn’t have family to take me in. So, here I am.”
“What kind of work you lookin’ for?” Rawley asked.
Devon laughed a little bit. “I’ve been working since I was fifteen, I can do a lot of things. Office work, waitress work, worked in a nursing home for a while. I even worked on a farm. I cleaned, cooked, worked in child care a lot—once I was a teaching assistant in a preschool. I went to college. But none of those things paid enough to keep me and Mercy comfortable. I had a boyfriend, but he left. See?” she finished, tilting her head to one side. “Pretty simple. Just rotten timing. Bad luck.”
Rawley leaned on the bar. “You know, there’s this place on the river. Some kind of religious group. They call themselves The Fellowship. I could drive you out there, see if they’d take you in for a while, fix you up with some—”
“No!” she said hotly. “Please, no! If you could just give me a lift to the highway.”
He held up a callused hand. “Shh,” he said. “Devon, I know you’re from there. I don’t know why and you don’t have to tell me, but it’s pretty clear you needed to be out of the place if you’d drag your kid out in the dark of night and walk over a mountain.” He frowned. “She is your kid, ain’t she?”
“Of course!” She looked down. “I got a ride over the mountain. I should just get going....”
The child looked like her mother. Rawley was just checking. “Just sit. I can help you out here. You and the little one would be safe while you figure things out. You don’t have to be out on the highway, takin’ your chances.”
She just looked at him with those big blue eyes, her peachy lips parted. Her daughter continued to move Frosted Flakes around in her bowl, apparently oblivious to the conversation. “Why?” she whispered.
“I told you why. You need details? There was this war you’re too young to even know about and I came home a mess and no one wanted any part of me, of any of us. A lot of us wandered, just trying to forget or get the noise in our heads to stop. We had the VA but folks didn’t even know how to help Vietnam vets. Like I said, I took a lot of charity. I worked some here and there, slept on the street some, helped out at the VA some. Now—I got a house and a job. That’s my story. You keep yours till you feel safe. But, girl—we’re gonna have to make some changes ’cause I knew where you came from the second I seen you walkin’ down the road.”
Her eyes got pretty round at that, but she remained mute.
“The overalls, the braid... Once Cooper—the boss—gets in here and decides to start work for the day, I’ll take you somewhere to get clothes that don’t just holler commune-for-Christ or whatever that is you come from.”
“The Fellowship,” she reminded him quietly.
“And, if you are trying to keep a low profile around here it wouldn’t hurt to cut off that braid or something. You think that’s a good idea?”
She chewed her lip a little bit, thinking this over. When she did speak she said, “I know about Vietnam.”
“Be glad you don’t remember it.”
Thinking again she said, “Maybe I’m not far enough away. From the compound.”
“You think some of them might come lookin’ for you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, not really. They’re not bad people. But...”
Rawley let that hang a minute. “But?” he prompted.
“They didn’t want me to leave. And I did anyway. And we’re not going back,” she added vehemently.
He cleared his throat. “Then we play it safe. If you see any of ’em snoopin’ around, you better sound the alarm. I’ve been in this town almost every day for over four years and no one from that place ever came here. My house is in Elmore, a thirty-minute drive from here and I ain’t never seen any of ’em there, either. I guess there’s a chance some folks from around here have been to that produce stand, or what you call the compound, so I reckon getting yourself a new look makes sense. There’s just one thing you’re gonna have to do to make it work.”
“What’s that, Mr. Goode?”
She remembered his name. Sharp for someone who’d been up all night and was probably worn to a nub.
“Gonna have to trust a stranger, miss. That’s what.”
Again she dropped her gaze. “Last time I did that...”
“I can figure that much out without the whole story,” he said. “I thought that place was safe. A refuge. Bent on charity and good works. But if it was a good and decent place, you’d have left in daylight with money in your pocket.
