West of Nowhere

by KG MacGregor

  “Is everything okay?” Joy asked, her voice anxious.

  “Yes.” Except it wasn’t. “No, not really. Your pop’s fine, but I went to pick up some stuff he needed for his exercises and now I’m lost…and out of gas.”

  Amber could practically hear her seething as she went through a series of questions to determine where she was. Then Joy gave explicit directions to what she thought was the nearest gas station—about half a mile away.

  That’s when Amber let the other shoe drop. “I don’t think I can walk that far. I was just going out on this one little errand and I…I didn’t wear any shoes.”

  “Oh, for God’s sakes!” Joy sighed heavily and went stone quiet for several seconds. “Just stay where you are. I have to find somebody to cover for me.”

  Amber had no choice. It could be twenty minutes or two hours, but one thing was certain—Joy would be hopping mad when she got there.

  * * *

  Joy trudged through the back door, later than usual because she’d stayed to help Punch with his lost baggage logs. That was her payback for him giving up his lunch break to supervise her crew while she ran out to deliver a gallon of gas to Amber. What kind of idiot drove past a half dozen gas stations on her way to running out of gas? Apparently, it was the same kind who went to the store without shoes.

  Amber was in her room with the door closed. That was the safest place for everyone concerned, Joy thought. She’d been so angry when she got to the car that she spoke only to give Amber directions home—left at High Street all the way to Garfield. A blind mouse could find it.

  “Heard you had a little adventure,” her father said, not bothering to hide his amusement.

  “It wasn’t funny. My whole crew’s under the microscope and instead of being there to supervise them, I have to play babysitter to somebody who wouldn’t even have enough sense to come in out of the rain.”

  Joy shuddered to realize her father, his eyes wide and his forehead wrinkled, was looking past her in the direction of Amber’s door. Sure enough, footsteps crossed the room behind her into the kitchen, and she turned to see Amber rinse a glass and put it in the dishwasher.

  Exasperated, Joy stalked out to the back deck, where she planted both hands on the rail and drew a deep breath. An apology was in order, but it would only be for saying something insensitive, not for thinking it. Amber would see through it, and it would probably make matters worse.

  She’d already wasted enough time today worrying about Amber. There was no amount of instructing, demonstrating or reminding that could train someone to do even the most basic of tasks when she was just too lazy or careless to follow through.

  Joy wanted to like her. Clearly her pop did, and he had to find her ineptitude just as annoying as she did. That probably meant it was up to Joy to change her attitude, not Amber to change her behavior.

  Not yet ready to go back inside and apologize, Joy went into the camper and changed from her work clothes to gray sweatpants and a black tank top. A good workout at the gym was just what she needed to dump her frustration. She left through the back gate, yelling to no one in particular that she’d pick up dinner…something that wouldn’t dirty any more dishes.

  * * *

  Amber leaned against the bathroom door, staring up at the towel she’d thrown over the shower rod this morning. There was only one bar in the tiny bathroom and that was for a hand towel she shared with Joy, so it wasn’t as if she had any choice but to hang it up there. That said, it was dry now so she took it down and folded it along with her washcloth.

  Back in the bedroom, she cleared a drawer in the bureau for all her bathroom items, and neatly lined them up. Next she returned to the kitchen and wiped down all the counters and swept the floor. Then she carried out the trash, making a special effort to police the yard for anything Skippy might have left.

  “Hey, kid. Come in here and sit down a minute,” Shep said. He muted the TV, picked up one of the dumbbells and began a series of slow bicep curls with his injured arm.

  Forgoing her usual seat on the couch, Amber dragged a stool beside Shep’s recliner so she could support his arm like the therapist had shown her as he raised the weight.

  “Joy’s dealing with some trouble at work right now. One of her crew had an accident while she was gone and they wrote him up. That’s a pretty big deal in her line of work, and she feels responsible because it was her guy. That’s what’s under her skin right now, not you.”

  “Do you really believe all that bullshit that comes out of your mouth?”

  Shep laughed and, with his good hand, tousled her hair until it came loose and fell from its tie all around her face. “Let me put it this way,” he said. “You’re only part of the problem, and right now she’s off somewhere feeling bad about what she said. I know her. She’s gone to take it out on a bunch of weight machines, and by the time she gets back, it’ll all be over.”

  Until next time, Amber thought. She had only herself to blame. Joy had made it clear from the first day they met that she was a perfectionist, and while Amber had sort of tried to keep the house and yard neat, she hadn’t tried hard enough. It was always clear her primary job was taking care of Shep, and she focused on that while sloughing off the rest. That was how she operated in every job—doing the very least that would get her by.

  “No, she’s right, Shep. If I’d done what she asked me to do, she wouldn’t have gotten so pissed over what happened today. I don’t blame her. She gave me a chance and I let her down. All that’s going to change…starting right now.”

  * * *

  Sweat-soaked and rank from her workout, Joy entered through the back door and deposited chicken, potato salad, coleslaw and biscuits on the pristine counter. Her father was watching TV with Skippy in his lap, and she could hear the water running back in his bathroom.

  “Dinner’s here. I’m going to grab a shower. You and Amber go ahead and start without me if you’re hungry.”

  She collected fresh clothes and toiletries from the camper, and returned to find the bathroom scrubbed from top to bottom, and Amber’s personal items gone. A toothbrush hanging in the caddy was the only sign she hadn’t packed up to move.

  Joy wasn’t unhappy at all to find the bathroom clean for a change, but she regretted how it had come about. She never meant for Amber to feel like a house slave.

  When she emerged, two places were set at the table—hers and her father’s. Amber’s bedroom door was closed.

  “What’s going on, Pop?”

  “Looks like somebody’s trying not to poke the bear.”

  She’d hoped to sweep the day’s events under the rug just by being polite and upbeat at dinner, but apparently it would take a full-fledged apology to mend this fence. After a few seconds of dancing from one foot to the other outside Amber’s door, she knocked and waited for a response.

  “Hey…I got enough chicken for everybody. Come on and join us.”

  Amber was on her bed with a magazine, and her room was as clean and neat as the rest of the house. “Thanks, but I thought I’d give your pop a break. He has to put up with me all day.”

  A full-fledged apology. “Amber, I’m really sorry. I could make excuses about having a lousy day, but that wouldn’t make what I said okay. It was rude…and it was wrong.”

  “I don’t know, Joy. It’s true I’ve been caught standing out in the rain before.”

  Joy laughed softly, grateful to get a lighthearted response, but still unsure if her apology was accepted. “I bet if you asked around among my navy buddies, you’d probably find out I have too.”

  Amber finally smiled but made no move to get up.

  “Please come join us. Pop really wants you there.” That was her stupid, stubborn pride talking, and it was unraveling her intended apology. “And I want you there too.”

  It was a wrenching few seconds before Amber finally answered. “Okay.”

  Joy set another place at the table while Amber helped her pop into his wheelchair and rolled him to th
e table.

  “Did you two kiss and make up?”

  Of all the words he might have chosen, that was at the bottom of Joy’s wish list, and she answered it with a vicious glare.

  “It was just a figure of speech,” he said, smirking like a mischievous imp.

  Chapter Eleven

  A wet kiss took Amber by surprise as she stretched out on her bedroom floor.

  “What’s up with you, Skippy? I was beginning to think you didn’t love me anymore.” She knew better, since he still slept with her every night, but this time of day he was usually out sharing Shep’s recliner.

  She was experimenting with the dark cherry bureau, on the lower part of the leg near the wall, which she’d intentionally wet with a damp cloth until a small white spot appeared. Using a soft dry T-shirt as a buffer to the wood, she pressed a warm iron against it for several minutes until the stain vanished. Then she tiptoed into the living room past a napping Shep and applied the same technique to the two marks she’d made on the credenza.

  Enormously proud of herself, she rewarded her good deeds with a cigarette while Skippy wandered around the backyard. The last three days had been the most industrious of her life. In addition to her normal routine of helping Shep in and out of his wheelchair, and with his therapy, she’d taken on the monumental tasks of washing all the windows in the house and cleaning his car inside and out. She’d have done the same for Joy, except Joy never let things get dirty in the first place. Besides, even though she’d ridden across the country in the camper, that was Joy’s bedroom now, and it felt wrong to go in there when she wasn’t home.

  What fascinated Amber most about her transformation was the feeling of satisfaction she got from seeing the fruits of her labor, and from knowing Joy and Shep were impressed. It wasn’t as if she’d never worked hard before, but she’d usually done so grudgingly under the watchful eye of a demanding boss. Once she started taking responsibility for the duties Joy had assigned, the urge to go above and beyond was all hers. For that, she couldn’t help but feel proud.

  Her cell phone, which she hardly used, rang from her back pocket. It could only be one person on the other end, but she double-checked just to be sure. Joy normally called on the house phone, but since their blowup the other day she had started sending friendly text messages just to check in and see if there was anything she could pick up on her way home. Amber appreciated the gesture, particularly because it eased the anxiety she felt about having screwed up so much.

  “Hey, Joy. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I was just calling to let you guys know I’d be a little late today. I have a union meeting after work and then I have to take my Jeep in for service. I ought to be home by six. You want me to pick up dinner?”

  “Nah, we have stuff here. I can throw something together.”

  Joy made a sound that was almost a chuckle, but then seemed to think better of it. “I guess I’ll see you then. What’s Pop doing? You guys watching your soaps?”

  “He’s snoring like a chain saw right now but I’m taping them for later. He’ll be upset if he misses any good dirt.”

  “You guys crack me up.” There was a garbled noise in the background, like an intercom announcement. “Okay, got to go. Text me if you change your mind about dinner.”

  Amber smiled to herself as she tucked her phone back into her hip pocket. As bad as she had felt the other day when she overheard Joy’s cruel words to her father, the result was worth it. For the first time since leaving Kentucky, the air between them was clear, and she actually began to think they could be friends.

  * * *

  Joy drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for her chance to slide over into the exit lane. If there was one advantage to starting her workday at five a.m., it was missing all this crazy rush-hour traffic. She was glad Amber had declined her offer to pick up dinner since it would have meant waiting in another line.

  Still, she smiled to think of Amber’s offer to fix dinner. According to her pop, she’d finally mastered the art of the grilled cheese sandwich but had shown little aptitude for much else. Regardless, Joy would go out of her way to show her appreciation for whatever she fixed if only for the fact that Amber had tried.

  The last couple of days had been interesting, to say the least. Still feeling guilty about the hurtful words Amber had overheard, she’d gone out of her way to be friendlier. As a result, there was a lot less tension in the house, so much that she’d hung out with everyone the night before to watch a talent show on TV and cheer for Amber’s favorite, the country music singer.

  Amber also had responded to the shift, or so it seemed. Not only had she stepped up and taken charge of all the household duties, she’d done it with a dose of humor, berating them during last night’s show for spilling popcorn on her floor after she’d worked her fingers to the bone to clean it. The whole incident had led to a hilarious popcorn fight, after which Joy had graciously swept up.

  Traffic thinned out when she pulled off the freeway, and she was glad to find the gate open so she could drive all the way through to the carport. The next thing she noticed was the shine on her father’s sedan. A peek inside revealed that it had been vacuumed and wiped down as well. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful or guilty. It was nice that Amber was doing a few jobs that needed to be done, but Joy had never meant to make her feel that all those extras were expected.

  At the kitchen door, she was greeted by the savory smell of dinner, and she caught herself hoping Barbara had brought pot roast over for everyone. The table was set for three but there was no one in sight.

  “Anyone home?”

  Her father’s wheels thumped along the wooden floor as he emerged from his room with Amber pushing his chair. “Madison called,” he said gruffly. “She’s in some kind of trouble at school.”

  “What?” Joy looked at her watch—a quarter after six, which was nine fifteen on the East Coast, past Madison’s bedtime. “Why didn’t she call me on my cell phone?”

  “Wouldn’t have made any difference. You were in that union meeting.”

  “What kind of trouble is it?”

  “Homework. She says it’s too hard and her teacher’s mean.”

  Madison had grumbled last week that Syd hardly ever helped her with her homework anymore now that Mitch was there all the time. “God, I wish I could talk to Syd about this. She needs to give Madison more help at home.”

  “Why can’t you?” Amber asked.

  Joy sighed. “Because I have to walk on eggshells around her. If I make waves, she might not let Madison come out to visit.”

  “What a bitch!”

  That summed it up perfectly as far as Joy was concerned, but she didn’t have the luxury of getting worked up like that. The last time she’d called Syd out—over letting Madison watch an R-rated movie that gave her nightmares—the poor girl had lost her phone privileges for two weeks. Syd never said it was because of Joy complaining, but she knew it had to be more than coincidence.

  “I’ll call her in the morning. If she’s having trouble with her schoolwork, maybe I can help her in the afternoons when I get home.”

  “Wow, look at this!” her pop said, licking his lips as Amber set a steaming bowl on the table.

  Joy lunged toward the kitchen counter for a trivet and slid it underneath the hot dish, which appeared to be a concoction of ground beef, rice and peas. “Looks great! What is it?”

  “I did what you said,” Amber answered proudly. “Took the recipe right off the side of the mushroom soup can. It was easy.”

  “Good for you.” Joy bit down on something crunchy…the rice, unfortunately. On her second bite, she realized the peas were still cold, and looked up to find her father eyeing her warily from across the table.

  “What do you think?” Amber asked. She had yet to taste it.

  “These ingredients…they go together really well.”

  “Yep, tasty,” her pop said, setting down his fork to take a gulp of water.

>   Amber took a bite, paused mid-chew and pronounced, “It’s not done. My peas are still frozen.”

  Joy guessed she missed the part where it said thaw before cooking. She may also have overlooked the line that instructed her to cook the rice before stirring it into the pot. She sprang to her feet and collected her father’s plate. “I know how to fix this.”

  By stirring in water and zapping the mixture in the microwave, she made dinner edible.

  “I probably should be barred from future dinner details,” Amber said sullenly.

  Joy bit her tongue, and so did her pop, which caused all three to burst out laughing.

  “You should have seen Joy the first time she made pancakes.”

  “Oh, give me a break. I was ten years old!”

  He held up his hand in the shape of a C. “They were like giant round sponges, burned to a crisp but soupy on the inside. And this one”—he pointed to Joy—“was covered with flour from head to toe, and she tracked it all through the house.”

  Joy huffed with feigned annoyance. “That’s what you get for leaving a ten-year-old unsupervised.”

  “Like it would have made any difference. You always did whatever the hell you wanted. Your mother too. I’ve been at the mercy of one or the other for almost forty years.”

  Joy looked at Amber and rolled her eyes. “Do you believe any of that?”

  “Not a word.”

  Her pop had a treasure trove of stories, mostly lies and exaggerations about how she and her mother had persecuted him his whole life, and he launched into one after another while she cleaned up the kitchen and Amber listened. The laughter and silliness was reminiscent of their times with Madison, so much that it made her wish she were there too. Tonight, Amber’s laugh was the one that was infectious.

  * * *

  Amber held the screen door so that it closed quietly behind her and whispered to Skippy to be still while she fastened his leash. It was almost ten o’clock, which meant Joy was probably sound asleep.