West of Nowhere

by KG MacGregor

  “If I hadn’t asked her about lunch, I think she would have let me starve. Didn’t you say she was going to handle all the cooking and cleaning? She left all that crap piled up in the sink. It would still be there if Barbara hadn’t come over and cleaned up.”

  It was painfully clear Joy had done a poor job of communicating her expectations. Amber wasn’t the sort of person who could take the initiative to do whatever needed to be done. Joy would have to spell out every single task. It was little wonder the girl hadn’t been able to hold a job.

  “I’ll talk to her. Anything else?”

  He sighed. “Don’t be too hard on her, but jeez…five hundred bucks a week to tug on my shorts a few times a day, and that’s only if I can get her attention.”

  When Joy stepped out onto the deck, Amber quickly stood and closed her Country Update magazine, a ragged one she’d been reading off and on since they’d met.

  “I didn’t know you were home.”

  “Yeah, the gate was closed. I got you something.” Joy presented her with a small shopping bag. “Your own cell phone. For now, you’re on my plan…unlimited talk and text.”

  “Wow!” Her excitement was tempered when she saw it was a basic flip phone, not a fancy one with games, pictures and web surfing.

  “I figured you might be out running errands for Pop and need a phone for emergencies. I had the guy at the store program the house phone and my cell, and I put in a few other numbers you might need, like the therapist and Pop’s doctor at the VA.”

  “Okay…cool.”

  Joy asked, “So how did it go today?”

  “Kind of sucky, if you want to know the truth.” She slumped back in her chair and gazed grimly out at the backyard. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

  Joy wasn’t so sure either, but at least the two of them had survived the first day together. She’d wanted this to be a good experience for Amber, a chance to learn responsibility and prepare for a steady job that would allow her to take care of herself. But what mattered most was taking care of her father. If Amber wasn’t up to it, Joy needed to find someone else right away.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I feel like I can’t do anything right. I’m not saying your pop’s being critical or anything like that…just that I’m not very good at stuff…like cooking. And I think I get on his nerves. I’ve been out here almost all day trying to stay out of his way.”

  So that was it. Amber was feeling intimidated, and instead of sticking close to her father and helping him, she was avoiding him.

  “Look, I know Pop can be difficult. That’s mostly the navy talking. He was always sort of a tough guy, and Mom said his accident made him act even tougher. But that’s just it. Most of it is an act.” When he cared about someone, he was one of the softest, gentlest people she knew. “You should see him with Madison. Those two—gosh, they worship each other. You shouldn’t be afraid of him, not as long as you’re working hard and doing what needs to be done. He’ll respect that.”

  She nodded. “At least he likes Skippy.”

  “That reminds me.” Joy reached into her other bag and produced a roll of blue plastic bags, specifically designed for pet waste. “I’d appreciate it if you kept the yard cleaned up. I got a rude surprise this morning when I walked out.”

  “Sorry.”

  As much as she hated to pile on, she took the opportunity to ask Amber to keep the bathroom and kitchen clean, and to check on her father regularly. Breakfast at eight, lunch at noon.

  “I worry that Pop will try to do things by himself, and he’ll hurt his shoulder. I don’t want him to look around and see little jobs that need to be done. You think you can stay in front of all that?”

  “Sure.” Amber leaned over the rail of the deck to drop her makeshift ashtray into the trash can. “I’ll clean up the yard and the dishes. Would it be all right if I walked over to the store after that?”

  More smokes. Amber sounded just like Madison, bargaining for privileges in exchange for doing chores and homework. How on earth she’d gotten by for the last few years was a mystery. Thank goodness she’d been smart enough to realize she wasn’t ready to be a parent. Pity the poor child she might have raised.

  * * *

  Amber washed the last of the dishes after supper, careful not to make too much noise. Joy and Shep were a few feet away at the dining table using the laptop to video chat with Madison before she went to bed. From the story Joy had told about knowing her since she was born, it was easy to understand her affection. Shep was the one who fascinated her—no relation at all and yet it was obvious he loved the little girl like a granddaughter.

  It was rare that she thought of the baby she’d given up, but when she did, it was to imagine his adoptive family loving him the way Joy and Shep loved Madison. If she’d had a sympathetic grandparent or aunt and uncle, she might have been able to get away from her parents before their relationship got so bad. Maybe she could have weathered the storm.

  But then she wouldn’t be here, and while “here” wasn’t exactly paradise, it was interesting. There was something mystical about California, a whole other world from places like Kentucky and Tennessee. Here they didn’t wave the Bible in your face like it was a razor strap, or make you feel like an outcast if you didn’t think like everybody else. At least Joy and Shep didn’t do that.

  When they finished their call, she brought the towel to the table and spread it out. “One more time, Shep.”

  “Oh, Christ,” he grumbled.

  “Sounds like she’s got your number, Pop.”

  Amber counted off the repetitions and helped Shep back into his recliner so he could watch the baseball game. The moment he got settled, Skippy was in the chair with him.

  “You’ve stolen my dog.”

  “He’s my little buddy,” he answered, petting Skippy as he curled up in his lap. “I think he likes that I don’t move around much, and I don’t blow smoke in his face.”

  She huffed. “I don’t blow smoke in his face either. Besides, I’m going to quit soon.”

  “I smoked for about twenty years…started when I was a punk teenager because I thought it made me look cool. Cindy—that was my wife—she didn’t like it much, but she put up with me.”

  “How’d you quit?” Not that Amber was planning to quit anytime soon, but one of these days, she would.

  “Stupid old VA had a No Smoking policy. I spent eight weeks there after I lost my legs.”

  Both Joy and Shep talked about his injury in an offhanded way, almost as if it weren’t that big a deal. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with such a trauma day in and day out. At the very least, she’d be bitter—certainly toward the navy, if not everyone else.

  “Can I ask what happened?”

  “Joy didn’t tell you?”

  She shook her head, glad she’d finally gotten the nerve to bring it up. It was curious that Joy hadn’t told her any details. Maybe it was too awful to talk about.

  “You know anything about aircraft carriers?”

  “Just that they’re really big and flat on top so planes can land on them. Oh, and I’m not supposed to call them boats.”

  “Joy pinned your ears back on that one, didn’t she?” He laughed. “I was a green shirt on the Carl Vinson. That means I worked on the catapult and arresting gear. Hand me that book over there.”

  She fetched the coffee table book on aircraft carriers and followed along with the pictures of planes being launched by the catapult and then caught by cables when they landed.

  “See, there we are—the green shirts. Purple shirts did the fuel…red shirts were bombs and bullets. The yellow shirts were the plane handlers.”

  “Joy was a plane handler.” Now it made sense why she was so attached to her yellow T-shirt.

  “That’s right. Our homeport used to be right here in Alameda at the Naval Air Station, but they shut it down back in ninety-seven.” He closed the book and managed a weak smile. “I remember the day it happ
ened like it was yesterday, but only up to the accident. Everything after that’s a big blur, and I hope it stays that way. Some of the guys who were there say it still gives them nightmares.”

  Amber had already heard the story of how Barbara’s husband Hank had burned to death in a fire in the engine room. It was hard to imagine anything more horrible than that.

  “We were on training maneuvers with the Marine Corps off San Diego. It was after sunset and the last man out was an F-14 Tomcat. He came in hot and caught the third cable, first time all day. It pulled taut and slowed him down but then all of a sudden it snapped. He took a nosedive right off the end of the deck.”

  From the pictures he’d shown her and the way his hand glided along the arm of his chair, she could picture it as though it were happening before her eyes.

  “The pilot’s seat blew before he ever hit the water, so everybody knew he was okay. But we were staring out at the bow when that broken cable all of a sudden whipped back on all of us there on the deck…like a steel snake coming at you at a hundred miles an hour. And it was nearly dark, so we could hear it better than we could see it. Believe it or not, I was the lucky one. Two of the yellow shirts were killed.”

  Amber was stunned, not only at the horror of Shep’s accident, but at the realization the same thing could have happened to Joy. No wonder she was so regimented. On the ship, it was a matter of life and death.

  “How could you stand having your daughter join the navy and then take a dangerous job like that? Weren’t you scared?”

  “Sure, but I was proud too. I always knew what kind of person Joy was, and that’s who I’d want out there if I was bringing one of those planes in.”

  She knew what kind of person Joy was too. For the first time since arriving in California, she thought of the night Joy had confronted her attackers with a gun. Though it had nearly ended in disaster, at least she had known what to do and had the courage to do it.

  When Shep closed the book and turned his attention to the ballgame, Amber slipped out for another cigarette. Seeing the light on in the camper, she was tempted to knock on the door to see if Joy wanted a beer, or maybe just some company.

  Her opinion of Joy—and in fact, all her thoughts about Joy—had come full circle since the moment almost a week ago when she picked her up in Louisville. She’d been grateful at first, then increasingly wary as she took in all the meticulous habits and routines. She’d secretly laughed at her quirks, even tossing cigarette butts on the ground to watch how it bothered her. It all began to shift when Joy pulled out of the parking lot at Limon, her compassion outshining her eccentricities. From there, she’d become a gallant protector, and then the dashing figure of her photo in uniform.

  A woman like that had to be a powerful lover.

  Chapter Ten

  Joy released the latch beneath the 737’s cockpit and fastened the power cable, allowing the jet to power down its engines. Then she uncoiled the air conditioner tube from its caddy and dragged it along the underbelly of the plane to its socket. With each step, she counted under her breath to calm her flaring temper.

  Robbie Pascal, who hired on at StarWest two years before she did, parked the baggage conveyor at the rear compartment and swung the heavy door upward. Though he’d bristled a bit last year when she got promoted to crew chief over him, he was a conscientious worker and proud to be part of the team that got the highest performance marks nearly every quarter. He also was fun to work with.

  Too much fun today, Joy thought. Since they had only twenty-five minutes to turn this plane around, she climbed up into the cargo hold instead of calling him out onto the tarmac.

  “Look, Robbie. I don’t know what you and Freddie were playing today, but a wing-walker has one job, and that’s to see the plane in and out of the gate without clipping something. You can’t do that when you’re horsing around.”

  By his look of astonishment, her scolding was unexpected. “Joy…we were just—”

  “I don’t care what you were doing. I care what you weren’t doing. These planes cost millions of dollars and these passengers have better ways to spend their time than sit around and wait on us to fix a mess that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

  She didn’t wait for a comeback, jumping out onto the tarmac to load the bags Robbie had already sent down the belt. When the other baggage handler arrived, she returned to the front of the plane to ready the tow bar for pushback.

  Freddie worked under another crew chief at the next gate, and it was all she could do to hold back from reporting him. Even after a week, she was still smarting from learning about Thomas’s incident. Reports like that drew attention from upstairs, which meant her whole crew would be under heightened scrutiny by StarWest brass and airport authorities until they were satisfied she had a handle on discipline.

  The ridiculous part was that she trusted Robbie to do his job, even as he joked around from time to time with his co-workers. Every single member of her crew was careful, efficient and dependable. They had all the discipline of the TR air wing.

  The person she’d lost confidence in was Joy Shepard and it had nothing to do with her ground crew, or her job at StarWest for that matter. It was that her mind wandered all day long.

  Amber Halliday was the one who couldn’t handle her job, no matter how many times Joy had tried to train her. It took daily reminders to get her to scoop up Skippy’s business in the yard, keep the kitchen clean and hang up her towels in the bathroom. If that weren’t enough, she’d bleached her father’s dark blue sheets and set another ice-cold drink on the credenza to leave a ruinous ring.

  Taken together, the mishaps and jobs undone were so frustrating that she even wondered if Amber was intentionally trying to push her buttons. Joy didn’t want to think she’d do that, but she’d all but admitted to a history of intentionally riling her bosses. Her saving grace was that she seemed to genuinely like her father, and the feeling was clearly mutual. He’d taught her to play backgammon and she’d introduced him to a couple of her favorite soap operas. As silly as that was, at least they were diligent about the physical therapy and he was distracted from actions that might injure his shoulder.

  Joy considered the irony that she’d just chewed out Robbie for not concentrating on his job, and here she was mired in thoughts of Amber. She needed to knock it off and focus.

  And she needed to apologize to Robbie for coming down so hard.

  * * *

  Amber craned her neck to see the front bumper of the big sedan as it cleared the parking space. She wasn’t used to driving a vehicle this size, since Corey hardly ever let anyone else behind the wheel of his “baby,” a black and chrome Chevy Silverado.

  She still had the schedule Gus Holley’s road manager had handed out. The band was working its way down the East Coast, playing in Baltimore tonight and Raleigh two nights later. They weren’t due in California until mid-November. Shep told her she ought to get tickets in the front row so she could hold up a sign telling Corey to kiss her ass.

  After a week of worrying the whole time about getting fired, she was finally feeling comfortable and secure in her new job. If only she got along with Joy as well as she did with Shep. Shep didn’t nag her over trivial stuff the way Joy did. He actually treated her like a person instead of just the hired help, taking the time to tell stories about the navy and what Joy was like growing up, as well as asking about her life back in Kentucky and Nashville. Joy came into the house for a couple of hours around dinner, but then disappeared into her cave for the rest of the night. Practically the only time she said anything to her was to point out something Amber hadn’t done right.

  This was Amber’s third trip out in Shep’s car. The other two had been for groceries and dog food, but this was a special errand to the sporting goods store to pick up the dumbbells and stretch bands Shep needed for his next phase of physical therapy.

  She’d had no trouble finding the place, since it was on the opposite end of the shopping center from the S
afeway where she went for groceries. The tricky part was getting out of the parking lot. She found herself in a Right Turn Only lane, knowing she needed to be going the other direction. A swarm of traffic kept her from getting over to where she could turn around, and before she knew it she was on a road called the Nimitz Freeway heading toward Oakland International Airport and San Jose.

  “Crap!”

  She wasn’t that far from home, because Joy said it took her only ten minutes to get home from the airport. But then the airport exit looped her all the way through baggage claim and back out to the freeway, where she had no idea which ramp to take to get back to the neighborhood.

  When she saw the big arena in her rearview mirror—the one where Gus Holley would play in November—she realized she had guessed wrong. At the next exit, she asked a gas station owner to direct her toward the Safeway.

  “Which one?”

  “Alameda.”

  He didn’t know about the Alameda Safeway but he got her back on the freeway in what she hoped was the right direction. An exit sign pointed her to Alameda, but when the exit forked, there was no indication as to which way she should turn. Nothing looked familiar, or even remotely like a residential area.

  A horn blasted behind her and she inched forward, turning right because it seemed the less seedy of the two. She’d gone only a few yards when the car began to sputter. It was the first time all day she’d noticed the gas gauge. It was on WWPE, as Molly used to say—way, way past empty.

  There wasn’t a gas station in sight, only industrial buildings and warehouses covered with graffiti. Cars were parked on both sides of the street but the only way to get to any of the buildings was through gates that were locked.

  It was no use to call Shep. Even if he could help her find her way home, she couldn’t get there without gas, and there was nothing he could do about that.

  She got out and waved down a passing car, two men who appeared to be Mexican and didn’t speak English.

  She dreaded calling Joy, but she was out of options.