by J. D. Faver
“So happy to meet you,” he assured her, coming around from behind the massive desk to shake her hand. He was rotund and several inches shorter than Rene. His blue eyes twinkled behind thick glasses.
She glanced down at her hand that was still clasped in his soft, slightly damp grip.
He released her immediately and she resisted the desire to wipe her palm. The banker seated them and bustled back around his desk. He was grinning broadly as he ran his hand over his shiny pink head patting the blond hair wisps into place. He reminded Rene of a leering Kewpie doll.
“Now, Miss---”
“Nichols. I'm the teacher.” Rene was afraid she might not be able to control her quavering voice.
“Oh, yes!” He ran his finger around his tight collar. “We've been expecting you.”
“I want to open an account.” Her eye twitched unexpectedly.
“Of course.” He pulled a folder from the desk. “Just let me fill this out for you.” He wrote in the information she provided and asked for her identification. Rene produced her borrowed identity, willing her hands to be steady.
“You look younger with short hair,” he said, inspecting the driver's license.
Rene reached back to smooth the short cap of curls.
“So, you're single? I am too.” He beamed across the desk at her. “Perhaps I can show you around. We could have dinner sometime.”
“Actually, I, uh, I'm in mourning.” Rene winced as she gave voice to the lie.
“Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss,” he said. “Perhaps at some later date.”
“Yes, perhaps.” She tried not to appear encouraging.
She left the bank feeling greatly relieved to have a book of temporary checks and her own cash in her purse. They walked down the sidewalk looking in shop windows. Past a beauty shop with the name Nadine's emblazoned in ornate lettering across the window and an empty store. The next building was a small grocery store.
Inside, Rene bought fruit juice, soft drinks, coffee and tea. She made a note of the prices, which were significantly higher than Houston. It was a good thing she had plenty of cash in her hands. The clerk handed her a receipt. As she started to file it carefully in her purse, Rene laughed, suddenly buoyed up. “Would you discard this for me?” She crumpled the paper and returned it back across the counter. She would not have to hand it over to Mark. She would not have to explain every purchase. She could spend her money as she wished. Maybe they would eat peanut butter for a week. Her laughter infected the children, sending them scampering out the door.
A cafe and a hardware store were across the street. Rene stowed her purchases in the truck and headed for a building with the words “Pinky's You-Name-It-We-Got-It Store" on the front glass. The interior was crammed with almost everything she could imagine. A clutter of small and large appliances and furniture were stacked with smaller household goods, all of which had not been dusted anytime this century.
“May I help you?” A tall, thin man with red hair approached her.
“I'm looking for a coffee maker. In fact, I've must have one.”
“When you find it, let me know.” The man started laughing at his own joke. “Seriously, I have some. Just let me think where I put them.” He rummaged around on the shelves. “I have so much stuff here, sometimes things get shoved to the back. Why don't you look around while I find them?” He grinned at her displaying prominent rabbity teeth.
Rene and the children walked up and down the narrow aisles. She found teapots, dusted off her selection and then sneezed several times in succession. There were numerous tables of used books, also very dusty. Rene added a couple of volumes of last year’s best sellers, crayons and coloring books and a high intensity flashlight to her cache.
“Success!” the red-haired man called. When Rene joined him, he had pulled several coffee makers from the shelves. All were dusty but appeared to be brand new.
“I'll take this one,” Rene said.
“Wouldn’t you prefer this other one? It’s the same price but this one is twice as big.” He held it up.
“Thank you but it's just for me. That one is fine.”
“You sure, Miss, ah---” He waited for her to supply the name.
“Nichols,” Rene said. “I'm sure.”
“But folks around here are always dropping by and you can make a smaller pot, if you want.”
“Okay, I give up,” Rene said. “I'll take the larger one.”
“I'm Pinky," the man said. “This is my store.” He gestured to the cluttered interior.
“I gathered that.”
“What brings you to Sad Horse?"
“I'm a teacher.”
“Is there a Mr. Nichols?” Rene realized that Pinky was watching her intently.
“No, there is no Mr. Nichols." Rene took the coffee maker from him and asked, “How much do I owe you?”
He led her to a cash register and rang up her purchases. “I don't have any children. In fact, I'm not even married, but we’ve all been wondering when you were going to get here.”
“Here I am.” Rene gathered her purchases and almost fled the dusty shop.
“See you,” he called to her retreating form, a note of wistfulness lingering in the air. Outside, the aroma of fresh baked goods caught her attention. A small bakery sat on the corner next to Pinky's. Seth and Sara were obviously aware of the same scent. She nodded to them and they turned into the bakery. A tiny bell at the door tinkled a warning to someone in the back.
“Just a minute,” a cheery feminine voice called out. A few moments later a woman emerged from the back. She had lovely blue eyes ringed with dark lashes and her hair was a soft chestnut brown. Her fair complexion contrasted with rosy pink cheeks. Rene wondered if this was due to the heat in the kitchen or her high coloring. She appeared to be about Rene's age and was in a late stage of pregnancy.
“You must be the teacher,” she said smiling across the counter.“Yes, I must,” Rene agreed. “I'm Rene N-Nichols.” She stumbled over her new name.
“Cindy McCorkill. I'm so glad to meet you. There are three school age McCorkills who have been driving my mother crazy since the last teacher got fired.”“Got fired?”Cindy pantomimed lifting a bottle.“I'm here now. These are my children, Seth and Sara.” She waved toward them but they were inspecting the display of cookies, pies and tarts. “What do you recommend?”“The chocolate chip and thumbprint cookies were baked today. And I’m famous for my lemon pound cake. I just took some Danish out of the oven. If you can spare a few minutes, I’ll put some glaze on them for you.”
“Sure. We'll have a dozen of each cookie, a loaf of pound cake and three of the Danish. We'll have an easy breakfast tomorrow and I won't have to wash many dishes.”
Cindy returned with the Danish in a bag and quickly wrapped Rene's other selections.
“How about a slice of gingerbread and a cup of coffee on the house?” The children looked eagerly at Rene.
“That would be very nice,” Rene said.
“Go ahead and sit down. I'll bring it over.” Cindy indicated the tables by the window. Rene sat at one table while the children chose the table closest to the shiny glass, watching every vehicle and pedestrian passing with great interest.
Cindy served them and sat with Rene as she tasted the gingerbread with a dollop of whipped cream.
“Delicious,” Rene said. “I haven't had gingerbread since I was little and this coffee is great.”
“I'm also famous for my gingerbread.” Cindy grinned her pleasure “So, how come you decided to teach here? You look normal.”
“I just needed a change,” Rene said between bites. “How about you?”
“My husband works for Brett LeCroix. He let me open this bakery to keep me from going crazy with the kids.”
“You must have a good business. This is great.”
“Pretty good. Are you married?”
“Not you too!” Rene laughed. “I just encountered two of your local businessmen who were very interested in
my marital status.”
“I have no doubt of that. Attractive, single women aren't in great supply. You can expect to be courted from dawn to dusk.”
“I'm not interested,” Rene said firmly.
“Oooh, that sounds like a bad experience to me. Are you going to tell me about it?”
“Maybe another time,” Rene said. “We have groceries in the truck.”
“Stop by whenever you can and welcome to Sad Horse.” Refusing payment for the sweets, she said, “This is a payoff for the gray hairs my son will give you.”
Rene's only other stop was at Westfall's Drugs and Sundries. She got all of the essentials for a first aid kit along with basic over-the-counter medications in adult and child strength. A spritely white-haired woman greeted her cheerily. She introduced herself as Mrs. Westfall. Rene leaned down to shake her hand and judged her to be quite a bit less than five feet tall. There were steps behind the counter leading up to the cash register. The tiny lady rang up Rene's purchases, punching in the numbers with her stubby fingers. She peered at Rene through thick glasses that distorted her shiny dark eyes.
“Aren't you the pretty thing? You're the school teacher? We've all been waiting for you. Papa!” She yelled to the man in the back of the store. “George is the pharmacist here. If you need anything, just get the doc to call in a prescription. Our grandson can deliver if you can't get out.”
“Yes, Mama.” George, a tall, gaunt elderly man came shuffling out of the pharmacy area, as requested. He too, wore thick glasses and Rene hoped he didn't get too many prescriptions mixed up.
“This is the new teacher, Papa,” Mrs. Westfall shouted. It seemed the pharmacist was deaf as well as blind.
“Pleased to meet you, young lady.” He presented her with a huge smile made up of a full set of dentures. A little clicking noise accented his words.
“She moved into the old Franklin place,” Mrs. Westfall screamed at him, then to Rene said, “That's such a cute little cabin. I heard that Ben fixed it up real nice.”
“Yes, it's quite cozy.” Rene finished her transaction, writing her first check using her alias and wondered how many laws she was breaking in doing so.
~*~
Maddy kept glancing over her shoulder. She’d been haunted by the feeling that they were being watched. It started when they left the inn earlier that morning. She looked around, but saw no one other than a few locals working on the grounds. The cars parked along the cobbled street appeared to be unoccupied.
They departed for their next stop, a seaside village called Hearne, where they were to lunch and visit a museum before driving on to a castle with history and complimentary ghosts. The girls giggled and babbled nonstop, their excitement bubbling over.
Ted drove carefully, watching for road signs and trying to keep his speed within the proper limit. He kept experiencing a bit of difficulty converting miles to kilometers.
Maddy informed him he didn’t need to know how many miles per hour they were going because the odometer on their rental vehicle read out in kpm, but Ted felt they were going too fast for the twisting, turning lanes.
“Well, slow down then.” Maddy glanced in the mirror on her visor. “We can pretend to be tourists.”
“Very funny, my dear.” He didn't notice when Maddy turned around to watch the car that appeared to be following several car lengths behind them. When they veered onto a narrow country lane the other vehicle did the same.
Maddy turned back to face the direction in which they were driving. This is silly. We're thousands of miles from anyone who knows us. I'm just being silly. She bit her full lower lip, a nervous habit she had retained from childhood. Flipping down the mirror on her visor, she adjusted it to watch the trailing vehicle. It was a small black squarish car with tinted windows. Maddy was totally unfamiliar with European automobiles, but this one was ominous, almost threatening. When Ted slowed down so did the black car. Never advancing. Never retreating.
Maddy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I hope I'm just being silly.
~*~
CHAPTER SIX
Rene arranged the items from the drug store in the medicine cabinet. She jumped when a heavy hand fell on the back door. Rene peeked out to see Ben Franklin clutching his hat and waving energetically.
“I guess I'm gonna have to fix you up with a doorbell,” he said. “Mister Brett told me to come look at the loft. Is that okay, Miz Nichols?”
“I’m glad you’re here, Ben. Please call me Rene.” She smiled as he blushed in pleasure. “How about a cup of coffee from my new coffee maker?” She served him coffee with pound cake. “Mrs. Jolly said you remodeled the cabin.”
“Yes Ma'am. I done a lotta work here.” He acknowledged the fact modestly. “It was a bad place after my mama died. I tried to change it but there was just too much sadness, so I sold it to Mr. Brett ‘n built my own place. I like havin’ my own place. It’s better with no bad memories.”
“I know how you feel,” Rene said. “This is my first place on my own.” She stopped, fearing she’d said too much.
“I’m glad you like it here.” Ben looked around as though seeing it for the first time.
“Mrs. Jolly said you made the furniture.” Rene saw his slight nod. “I especially like the bed of tree branches.”
“Yes Ma'am. I bound some aspen branches together. It did turn out kinda pretty.”
“I love it. The cabin is delightful except for one thing.”
“Oh, Ma'am, whatever might that be?” Ben put his fork down, gazing at her as steadily as he could.
“It's the loft,” Rene said. “It's not safe. Sara's just four. I'm afraid she’ll fall. Can you make it more secure?”
“I'll have to think on it, Ma'am.” Ben furrowed his brow. “I left it open so the heat could get up there. It's nice and cozy-like in the winter. I'll have to think on it.”
After Ben’s visit, Rene put Sara down for a nap. Seth surprised her when he curled up on the sofa with his pillow. They still hadn't gotten used to the time change. Tucking a quilt around him, she dropped a kiss on his head.
She poured another cup of coffee and opened the used book she purchased from Pinky. She was deeply engrossed when she heard a timid knock at the front door. Steadying her nerves, she wondered if she would always jump when someone knocked. She crept behind the blanket-curtain to peer out the window above her bed. Sara slept peacefully as Rene knelt over her. She held her breath. A strange truck parked beside her borrowed vehicle, much shinier, much newer and much redder. A tall, thin man with long hair held back in a pony tail got out of the truck. The small knock sounded again. Craning her neck, she saw children hovering close to the door. This time, Seth awakened and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“It looks like we have company.” She said as she opened the door.
“Are you the new teacher?” the tallest of the three girls asked.
“Yes,” Rene said as Seth poked his head around the door.
The pony-tailed man had reached the porch and took off a baseball cap of indeterminate color. “Hi,” he said with a friendly smile. “I'm Tink Culver. My wife, Angel and I own the hotel. We want to welcome you to Sad Horse.”
“I’m Rene Nichols. Please come in.” Rene held the door wide. Grabbing the quilt from the sofa, she invited them to be seated. The two smaller girls sat close together, smiling shyly, while the oldest handed her a packet wrapped in a bright square of calico fabric.
“Mama made this for you,” she said.
“Please thank her for me.” Rene accepted the packet and peeked inside, finding plump flaky biscuits. “These look great! We'll enjoy them, I'm sure. This is my son Seth.”
“And our oldest is Lark. She's ten. Skye is seven and Star, our baby, is almost five. Angel’s real sorry she couldn't come but somebody has to stay at the hotel.”
“I didn't see a hotel when I went into town.”
“We're on the street running behind the Post Office and the drug store. You can't miss it.”
/> “We're short of chairs, Mr. Culver. Would you sit with me at the table and have a cup of coffee?”
“We don't drink caffeine, thanks just the same.” He took a seat at the table.
Rene poured juice, serving the girls and Seth on the sofa.
“Angel and I want you and your family to come for lunch at the hotel on Sunday, you know, after church.”
“How nice.” Rene tried to recall how long it had been since she had stepped into a church.
“Angel puts on a big, fine meal. Everybody in town comes.” Tink smiled at her hopefully. “Since school starts up again Monday, we thought this would give you a chance to meet everyone.”
“Thank you. We'll be there. I gather these are my students?” Rene glanced at the girls who were talking to Seth in low voices.
“Yep. Two of your best students, if I do say so myself. We were glad when Brett said you were coming. Angel's been working with them so they won't get behind, but, it’s not like having a real teacher.”
“What grade are they in?”
“Don't know. The last teacher wasn't very good. Didn't learn much of anything.”
“I’ll test to find each students performance level.”
“They can show you where they are in the books.”
“Mr. Culver, going through books is no way to teach. I’ll have to do evaluations to see if they're learning the information being taught.”
“Makes sense to me,” he said pleasantly.
“What time should we come on Sunday?”
“That depends on whether you're Catholic or Protestant. There's only one church and not many people. The Catholic service with Father Paul is at nine and then there's kind of a social hour from ten to eleven. The Catholics stay and the Protestants come early for it. Then the Reverend Goodnight delivers a sermon to the Protestants at eleven. So the Catholics come to lunch after eleven and the Protestants come at twelve. Those who lie abed on the Lord's day come straggling in whenever they wake up. It works out well, because we wouldn't have enough space to seat everyone.”