Woman on the Run (new version)

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Whenever Julia asked for something they didn’t keep in stock—special wholegrain breads, Greek yogurt, pasta made from durum wheat—they would take note of it, and order it for her from a Rupert wholesaler.

  “…yogurt, milk, eggs, bread—say, ever since you started ordering that oatmeal bread, I’ve got more and more people asking for it.” Loren smiled at Julia and turned to his wife. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

  “You bet. We’re going to try the supplier’s bran-nut bread next week. And we sold out of that Greek yogurt you ordered, too. You’re not our best customer—you don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive, Sally—but you’re sure our smartest customer.” Beth Jensen smiled at her. “You sure you got everything you need?” She narrowed her eyes and tapped her lip as her eyes swept around the store.

  Julia wondered if she was actually seeing the store for what it was, or if she’d been there so long it was invisible to her, like women who couldn’t see their living rooms any longer—the faded drapes, scratched furniture and worn upholstery of a house where a young bride had watched her kids grow up and couldn’t see that the house had aged right along as well.

  The store was small, wider than it was deep, mainly storefront, with sun-faded displays Julia hadn’t seen changed in the time she’d been in Simpson. As a matter of fact, the store looked as if nothing much had changed since the Eisenhower Administration.

  There was a tinkle from behind and Julia turned. The mayor and owner of Kellogg’s Hardware walked in. Glenn Kellogg was middle-aged and paunchy. He usually had a big smile and loud greeting for everyone. He was especially boisterous when he met Julia. Beth said it was because she was the first person to move to Simpson in five years and Glenn liked to think she was the first trickle of a flood of new arrivals. Julia enjoyed his blustering friendliness. He was essentially harmless, if you didn’t count his bottomless store of truly awful jokes. She braced herself for one, then saw that he was looking pale and drawn.

  “Hello, Glenn,” she said.

  Glenn nodded, lips compressed. Julia had the feeling that he barely recognized her.

  Loren was writing down Julia’s new orders for pita bread and plum tomatoes. He looked up with a smile. “Hey, Glenn.”

  “Hey, Loren.” Glenn sketched a smile in return, but his voice was dull, with none of his usual ebullience.

  “You okay?” Loren asked.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just fine.” Glenn didn’t look fine. Julia could see his hand shake as he pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and slowly unfolded it. Even when he had opened it up, he continued to stare at it blankly, as if forgetting what he was reading.

  “How’s business?” Loren was looking at him curiously.

  “Fine.” Glenn let the paper drop onto the counter and looked around him, as if surprised to be where he was.

  “And the kids? They doing okay in college?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Glenn said hollowly. “They’re doin’ just fine.”

  “Idaho State, right?”

  “Mmm.” He absently rubbed his stomach.

  “And your ulcer?”

  “Fine.” Glen pushed his hand through his hair, leaving it standing up. “Just fine.”

  Loren looked mystified, then bit his lip. “Well, then…you want to show me that list?”

  “List?” Glenn looked down, surprised, at the paper curling on the linoleum counter. “Oh, yeah. Here.” He thrust it at Loren.

  “How’s Maisie doing, Glenn?” Beth asked, her voice gentle.

  “Oh…fine,” Glenn answered. “She’s—no.” He blinked at Beth helplessly. “No. She’s not fine. She’s not fine at all. She can’t…she won’t—hell!” Glenn blew a breath in frustration and his eyes turned glossy.

  “It’s okay, Glenn. Just calm down now.” Beth walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “She can’t what?”

  “Anything.” Glenn turned to Beth in misery. “She can’t do anything anymore. Or won’t. I can’t tell which. All I know is half the time she won’t even get out of bed in the morning. And if she does, she won’t get dressed. She’s been like that since our youngest started college this September. All she does is stare at the wall and say that nothing makes any difference anymore.”

  “I was pretty depressed when our Karen got married.” Beth put her hand on his shoulder. “It was awful. It was as if my life had just…stopped. Then I was put on anti-depression medication and it was a little better, but only because I was so zonked all the time. I didn’t really care if I was sad or not.”

  “Depressed?” Glenn looked uneasily at Beth, then at Loren for help. “Is that what this is? Depression? But what does she have to be depressed about?” He included Julia in his gaze, his pale Simpson-blue eyes watery and pained. “What?” He spread his hands—blunt and calloused, the hands of a man who’d worked hard with them all his life—in supplication. “We have a wonderful marriage. I love Maisie; I’ve always loved her. We have two great kids. We’re healthy, the kids are healthy. What else does she want? What else could she want?” He turned to Loren, then Beth, then Julia. “Huh?”

  Loren shrugged his shoulders and evaded Glenn’s eyes, clearly ill at ease with the questions and with the emotions coming off Glenn in waves.

  Julia met Beth’s gaze and the message that passed between them was as old as womankind. Men. They haven’t a clue.

  Julia moved back a step, letting Beth know that dealing with Glenn came well before serving her. Glenn looked as if he’d been blindsided by life.

  Julia had met Maisie Kellogg several times. Now that she thought of it, it had been at least a week since she’d last seen Maisie around.

  “Well, Glenn.” Beth pursed her lips. “I’m not too sure life works that way.”

  “What way?” Glenn asked.

  “Yeah.” Loren looked at his wife curiously. “What way?”

  “Here, honey. Take care of this, will you? I think Glenn needs a little talking to.” Beth pushed Julia’s groceries towards Loren. “You see, Glenn, the fact that you’re fine and the kids are fine doesn’t necessarily mean that Maisie’s got to be fine.”

  “But—but there’s nothing wrong.” Glenn spread his hands, baffled.

  “Glenn.” Beth drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Do you remember back in ‘94 when your store burned down and Maisie was pregnant with Rosie?”

  “Sure do,” Glenn said, smiling faintly. “And Maisie was a rock. She set up a field kitchen and fed the firefighters, then the men who worked on rebuilding the store. And she just refused to go into labor until the store was finished.” He shook his head in admiration. “Rosie was born twelve hours after the last nail was hammered.”

  “And that time you thought you were having a heart attack and the doctors found out it was only a hiatal hernia?”

  “Sure.” Glenn frowned. “And Maisie drove me to Boise through a snowstorm and didn’t leave my side until the doctors told us I’d be fine.” He blew out his breath in frustration. “But that’s my point, Beth. Maisie and I have been through a lot together. Some bad times, some really rough patches. And she’s always come through. What’s wrong now?”

  “I think,” Beth said softly, “I think the problem is that no one needs her any more. The kids are grown. Word has it that you’re planning on selling the business…” She looked at him quizzically

  “That’s right.” Glenn looked guiltily at Beth, then Loren. The only hardware store in town closing would make life even harder for the citizens of Simpson. “Town seems to be shrinking and each year our revenue drops. It’s a real shame. Kellogg’s Hardware has been around since 1948. My granddad founded it. I’ll keep going another year, maybe two, then if things don’t pick up, I’ll have to close.” He shrugged. “Guess that’s life.”

  “But in the meantime, you have your business. And your Rotary. Hunting in the fall.” Beth looked disapprovingly at Glenn and Loren. “Friday night poker.”

  Both men shuffled uneasily.

  “But what does
Maisie have?” she continued. “Up until now, she had to look after you, ‘cause you had the store. And the kids. But now—”

  “I need her,” Glenn protested. “I still need her.”

  “No, you don’t.” Beth’s voice was soft. “You and the kids needed her before. But not now. Now she needs—needs to do something for herself.”

  “Like help me in the shop?” Glenn fingered his chin thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Nah. Maisie hates hardware.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really have to be hardware,” Beth said. “Could be anything. What does she like to do?”

  “I don’t know, really. She never…” Glenn began. Then he brightened. “Cook. She likes to cook. She’s a fantastic cook. Knows all about food and things. How about you and Loren--”

  “Sorry, Glenn.” Loren had finished filling a paper bag with the items on the list. “We’re barely making ends meet ourselves. You know what the local economy’s been like for the past couple of years. We might end up closing too. Neither of our kids has any interest in running the business.” He sighed. “Or staying in Simpson. None of the kids want to stay. Simpson’s going be a ghost town in ten years, you mark my words. You’ll just have to find Maisie a job somewhere else.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Glenn’s shoulders slumped. “As if there were any of those going around.” He paid for his purchases and hefted the bag. “Thanks a lot for listening. Beth. Loren.” He nodded to Julia. “Miss Andersen.”

  Beth accompanied him out the door and gave his shoulder a consolatory pat. “Give Maisie my love. Tell her to call me if she wants to talk.” She watched him walk out then lifted her shoulders and turned around with a well-that’s-done air.

  “Thanks for being so patient,” she said to Julia. “I’ll ring up your things right away.”

  “That’s okay,” Julia said softly. “My mom had bad depression when I was a teenager. It scared me.” Julia didn’t even know she was going to say that until she opened her mouth.

  “That so?” Beth looked at her sympathetically. “My kids were scared, too, when I had mine, but I just couldn’t help myself. And how did you mom finally get out of it?”

  It had been when her father had suddenly been transferred from Paris to Riyadh. Her mother had loved Paris and had hated Saudi Arabia. She hated the demeaning restrictions on women, the dour, cultureless, male-dominated society. Then, one Saturday, Julia had come across her mother, the Ambassador’s wife, the wife of the cultural attaché, and the wife of the rumored CIA officer driving around the huge Embassy compound since they weren’t allowed to drive anywhere else, tipsy from drinking too much of the port the Ambassador’s wife had smuggled into the country in the diplomatic pouch, singing “There is Nothing Like a Dame” at the top of their voices.

  After that, Alexandra Devaux had settled down to make the best life she could for herself and her family in Riyadh. As she’d managed to do everywhere they had lived.

  Julia blinked back tears. She wished she could tell Beth the story. She was sure Beth would love it. But Beth thought she was Sally Andersen, who had never been outside the country and whose mother was alive and living in Bend.

  “Sally?” Beth was watching her, head cocked to one side. “What happened to your mom?”

  Julia surreptitiously wiped her eye, her mind racing. “Oh, she—she signed up as a volunteer to help migrant workers’ children learn to read English. Then she became an after-school tutor. She’s still doing it.” As lies went, it wasn’t too bad. Particularly since it was a spur-of-the-moment one. And it was probably what her mother would have done if she’d been Laverne Andersen instead of Alexandra Devaux.

  Beth sighed. “That’s what Maisie needs too. You know what I think? I think she’d be a great cook. But who’s going to hire a cook in Simpson?” Beth shook her head sadly and moved behind the counter. She started ticking off Julia’s items. “Box of rice, canned tomato sauce, decaffeinated coffee. Well, that seems to be it. Oh!” She reached out and placed a six-pack of beer on top of Julia’s groceries. “Almost forgot this.”

  “But—but—I don’t want beer,” Julia protested. She preferred wine, though one sip of Loren’s jug wine had left what felt like a permanent hole in her stomach. She’d steered clear of it ever since. “I don’t particularly like beer.”

  “It’s not for you, dear,” Beth said easily. “It’s for Coop. His favorite brand.”

  “I…” Julia felt her face flame. “Oh, it’s…um…” Words defeated her. Her tongue disconnected completely from her brain and flapped around uselessly in her mouth. “Okay, um, just…just add it to the bill.”

  “Nah,” Loren said. “I owe Coop. He loaned me one of his pickups when our delivery van broke down. Tell him it’s on the house.”

  “Well…thank you, then.”

  “Our pleasure.” Loren handed over the two bags of groceries and put his arm around his wife’s ample shoulders.

  Beth beamed, rosy little apple cheeks gleaming. “We’re just so glad Coop’s finally getting laid,” she said.

  Chapter Ten

  “Well?” Alice watched Julia expectantly Saturday morning, pale blue eyes unblinking.

  Julia put another bite of the lemon tart in her mouth, just to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.

  “What do you think?” Alice asked expectantly.

  Wonderful, Julia thought. If you like diabetic comas. “Um, Alice,” Julia began, not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings, “did you follow my recipe exactly?”

  “Sure.” Alice frowned. “I mean, I thought it was a little skimpy on the sugar, so I added some.”

  “Well, maybe it would be better to just stick to the original recipe,” Julia said diplomatically.

  “You bet.” Alice grinned at her. “I’m going to follow your advice right down the line from now on. I’ve had three repeat customers for the tea and Karen Lindberger said that she was going to try to convince some of her friends in the Rupert Ladies’ Association to have some meetings here. Can you imagine? Karen said she’d told the president of the Ladies’ Association that she’d talk to the manager about it. She meant me.” Alice splayed a hand across her chest and beamed. “The manager.”

  Julia winced and made a conscious effort not to look around her, at dingy walls and scuffed flooring. Manager. Warden was more like it.

  “That’s nice,” she said, trying to be enthusiastic for Alice’s sake. “I’ll give you some more pie and cake recipes next week.”

  “Thanks.” Alice poured Julia some tea and watched her face. “So what do you think about the tea?”

  “This is excellent,” Julia said between sips, and it was. “Congratulations.”

  Alice sat back, pleased. They had the diner to themselves. Contrary to Alice’s rising expectations, it was still empty on a Saturday morning. Julia was there because it was Saturday and Saturday was coffee shop time. She was also there sort of waiting for Cooper who’d sort of offered to drive her to Rupert today.

  But that had been a week ago and he hadn’t mentioned it since. They hadn’t actually…talked much since. Her evenings and nights had fallen into a pattern. Cooper came over in the late afternoon, and while she brought Rafael up to speed with his homework, Cooper worked on her house in silence. The boiler ran like a dream, nothing in the house leaked, the porch step didn’t creak and above all, she seemed to have every security device known to man.

  He’d suddenly become obsessed with her safety, so each door had a gleaming new lock and safety chain, her doors and windows were alarmed and linked to the sheriff’s office, there were peepholes front and back, and what Cooper called “security lighting” outdoors but was actually floodlights fit for theater so she could see who was outside the house.

  It was all a little over the top for Simpson but Julia had to admit it did make her feel very secure. Short of an axe cutting through her doors, she was protected.

  Not to mention the fact that the greatest security system of all was in her bed all night—Sam Cooper.
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  After working on her house and driving Rafael home, Cooper came right back, herded her into the bedroom, stripped her, stripped himself, dropped her on the bed and dropped right on top of her. A second after that, they were making love. Hard and fast.

  It wasn’t the stuff of romantic novels, but it was exciting as hell. Julia had had ten times more orgasms this past week than in her entire lifetime. They didn’t stop to talk, they didn’t stop to eat, they didn’t stop to sleep. Before Cooper, she had had no idea that it was physically possible to make love for hours, night after night.

  Sometimes Cooper was still erect when he pulled out of her before dawn. He’d get dressed, leave with a kiss and Julia would sleep like the dead until seven-thirty. Though she was about fifty-two hours behind on sleep, she was revved, not tired at all. And between school, Rafael, Fred and Cooper, she was kept busy all the time. No time to think. There had been no nightmares. How could there be? Her nights were filled with heat and sex.

  Maybe she should tell the guys at the Witness Security Program about hot sex to keep their protectees in line.

  “So,” said Alice casually. “You going to Rupert with Coop?”

  Julia stared. “How on earth did you know—” Then she broke off. The small-town bush telegraph. “I don’t know,” she told Alice truthfully. “I mean Cooper mentioned it last Saturday, just sort of casually, but he hasn’t spoken of it since.” She shrugged. “So…I don’t know. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe he’s busy.”

  “Oh, if Coop said he’d do something, he’ll do it,” Alice assured her earnestly. “Coop’s a man of his word.”

  “When he talks,” Julia said. She could feel herself turning bright red. Talking was not what Cooper did best.

  “Well, yeah.” Alice was studying her face and Julia wondered what she was reading there. “Coop’s not much of a talker. But he’s a good man, y’know?”

  “Yes.” Julia blushed brighter.

  “I mean he’s, he’s…kinda quiet. It sort of makes it easy to—well, to underestimate him. His wife sure did.”