A Time of Change

by Aimée Thurlo

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Melvin never asked her any personal questions beyond what she volunteered and was willing to share. Their friendship had limits, and that’s precisely what made it safe.

  “Last time we spoke, you mentioned that your sister was coming to live with you,” he said.

  “Rachel offered to move in with me after she found out that I was looking for a boarder, and I took her up on it. The rent I’m charging is modest and far more affordable than the exorbitant one she was paying in Farmington. But now that she’s moved in, I’m not sure Rachel’s the right choice for me. We’ve never been close.”

  “Give it a try for a month or two. Just make sure there are rules, like with a stranger. If it isn’t going to work out, you’ll both know before too much longer.”

  “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” she said.

  After going over the details of their business transaction one more time, Leigh Ann stood. “I wish I could stay. I love visiting you.”

  “Then don’t go yet. Tell your boss that I was being difficult. Considering my rep, no one’s going to question it.”

  She chuckled. “Good point, but I should get back. I’m needed at the trading post.”

  “I’ve heard stories that there’s a fight brewing over ownership of The Outpost. Word is that Tom Stuart’s son thinks Jo Buck conned his dad into putting her in his will. I have to say that doesn’t sound anything like the woman I’ve dealt with.”

  “Jo didn’t con anyone. That’s just nonsense. The problem between those two goes all the way back to high school. They dated back then and it ended badly. That was a while ago, but hard feelings can linger for a long time,” she said, speaking from experience. “Tell me something, Melvin. How on earth do you keep up with the latest gossip all the way out here?”

  “I hear things down at the Laundromat. Almost everyone this side of the highway goes there to do their wash. Water’s scarce and laundry soap and softener can clog up the septic tank drain field. Then you have to call the chaa-man and he charges extra for having to drive way out into the county. I usually take a seat by the washing machines, make myself comfortable, and listen. People sometimes forget that blind and deaf aren’t the same thing. You’d be surprised at all the things I overhear,” he said, laughing.

  As they passed through the living room heading to the door, she saw the ever-present bottle of whiskey on the table next to his chair. It was always half full. She wasn’t sure if that was because he got drunk every night and she somehow always managed to catch the bottle halfway down, or if it was the same bottle, there for another reason entirely.

  She glanced back at him, but resisted the impulse to ask. That was part of the line that stood between them, the one neither would cross.

  Respecting his privacy, she walked outside, said good-bye, and got into her Jeep.

  “Come back soon, Leigh Ann,” he said, stepping out onto the porch.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said. “And whenever you have an errand to run, give me a call. I’ll be glad to help.”

  “I know,” he said softly, then went back inside.

  As Leigh Ann drove back toward the highway, Melvin remained in her thoughts. Although the rest of the world would probably define them both as damaged goods, around him she felt whole—and maybe even desired. It was all part of the special magic Melvin Littlewater had brought into her life.

  NINE

  A noise outside stirred Jo awake. She opened her eyes slowly, forcing them to focus. She wasn’t expecting visitors. What time was it, anyway?

  She glanced at the clock and gasped. She’d worked late last night with Leigh Ann and had come home even later. This morning she never even heard the alarm. It was nine thirty in the morning! Sure, it was Saturday, but she hadn’t slept this late in years. At least they didn’t normally open on Saturday until nine. Jo jumped out of bed and hurried to the window. There, parked beneath the old cottonwood, was Tom’s familiar Chevy pickup. As she watched, Ben got out and walked to her front door.

  Jo glanced down at herself. She’d slept in jeans and a T-shirt, so at least she was dressed. Jo used her hands to brush her hair away from her face. Loose, it cascaded past her waist in a tangled mess. She smoothed it out as best she could and went to open the door.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” she asked Ben.

  “Esther asked me to come check on you. She called but you didn’t answer. Since bad things have been happening, she got scared. She’s opened up for business. She knows the code and has a key to let herself into the trading post, but there’s no one else there. Leigh Ann hasn’t come in yet either, and Regina called to say she’d be late. Her baby’s sick.”

  “Leigh Ann and I worked till well after midnight, so I told her coming in late was okay. But I overslept. I have an alarm clock that sounds like reveille on steroids, but I never even heard it. And the phone, what can I say?”

  “You weren’t just tired—you were exhausted. When I’m that way, I can sleep through artillery fire—literally—as long as it’s not incoming.”

  “I’m sorry you had to drive out here, Ben. On your way back, call Esther and tell her I’m fine. I’ll see you at the trading post in twenty minutes.” She started to yawn, then managed to turn it into a smile—kind of.

  “What? Not even a cup of coffee before I get the boot?” he asked, inching his way into the living room.

  “Sorry. I should have been at The Outpost hours ago! We’ll both get coffee at the store.”

  “That’s something that hasn’t changed, I see. You’d almost never invited me over to your place when we were kids either. You always insisted we go to my house.”

  She remembered the reason and her throat tightened as memories crowded her mind. She’d never been able to predict her father’s actions. He would go without alcohol for months on end, then fall off the wagon for no apparent reason and drink for several days straight. Every time that happened, her mother and she would do everything in their power to cover for him. The instinct to protect a family member had been too strong for them to do otherwise. Yet, in retrospect, she now realized that they’d simply enabled him, and the incidents continued for years.

  As she thought back to those days, she felt a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach. Keeping her father’s secret had created a barrier between her family and the community. It had trapped them all behind a curtain of lies. To make matters worse, back then she’d always been quick to blame herself, at least partially, for her father’s drinking problem.

  “You’re welcome to stay while I get ready for work, but I can’t sit and chat.”

  “How about we celebrate that invitation, such as it is, with a cup of coffee?” he said, stepping closer to her, then with a grin added, “Instant is fine, or even yesterday’s leftovers. I could use something to keep me alert on the way back.”

  Something about that confident smile made a pleasant rush of warmth and awareness course through her. She remembered the last time she’d stood this close to him. They’d been walking back to the bus after a basketball state tournament in Albuquerque. He’d pulled her into the shadows and, as she looked up into his eyes, she felt as if her entire life had been leading up to just that moment. His touch had been gentle and everything … so perfect. Temptation now urged her to find out if the feelings—that magic—would still be there.

  “I can hear your heart beating. You want me to stay,” he murmured.

  “You’re delusional,” she said, moving quickly away from him. “If you want to do something for me, go back to the trading post right now. Esther shouldn’t be there alone, especially after the robbery. And if you get restless and want something to do, it would sure be nice to find some fresh coffee waiting,” she added, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Moments later, Jo went to the window and watched Ben’s pickup disappear from view. She was quickly becoming her own worst enemy. Despite ev
erything, she still had strong feelings for Ben, and that was bound to complicate an already impossible situation.

  * * *

  Ben made it a point to watch ahead, check passing drivers, and glance in the mirrors as often as possible. Unlike it was with his unit, he was working solo here, and considering what had happened to his dad, and the potential danger to The Outpost still unresolved, he knew he’d have to watch his own back.

  To make matters worse, seeing Jo again was scrambling his thinking. As hard as he tried to look at her as his enemy, someone who’d taken away what should have been his, he couldn’t do it. For some crazy reason he felt compelled to protect Jo, not bring her down.

  For a while back there he’d wanted nothing more than to carry her back to bed and sink into her softness, to see and touch her the way he’d wanted to since he turned sixteen. Being around the girl who’d been his first real love tugged at him, filling him with crazy ideas.

  Sometime later Ben arrived at The Outpost and went inside. Esther was standing near the front register, sweeping the tile floor with a dust mop.

  He gave her a quick smile. “Jo’s fine. She and Leigh Ann worked late yesterday, and Jo overslept. I’d have called you on my cell phone, but it cut out on me.”

  “Leigh Ann called not long after you left. She’ll be in shortly.”

  He took the mop from her hands and began cleaning the floor. “You like working here, don’t you, ma’am? You always have a smile on your face.”

  “I love my job. It’s not just because of the money either, though that’s important too. My husband’s home all the time these days—he’s retired—so we’re together a lot. We both enjoy that, but I like knowing that I can still get along on my own if need be.”

  “What was Dad like here at work? At home he was a bear to live with,” he said with a grin. “Everything had to be done his way.”

  “Your father was always a gentleman,” she said after a pause. “As an employer, he expected all of us to work hard, and didn’t tolerate excuses, but he was just as hard on himself. The important thing about Tom is that he always treated everyone with respect. That’s one of the reasons our customers loved him.”

  “People say that he hadn’t been himself lately,” Ben said, deliberately leaving it open for discussion.

  The elderly Navajo woman took a deep breath and nodded. “Something was bothering him, and he was edgier than usual, but I have no idea why that was. The only time he seemed to shake off his mood was when someone spoke of you. That always brought a big smile to his face. He was really looking forward to seeing you again, Ben.”

  “I felt the same about him.”

  Esther paused and grew somber again. “Trouble has an iron grip on this trading post right now. We need to work hard to reverse that. If The Outpost is forced to close its doors, our community will never be the same.”

  Before he could ask her if that was her way of warning him not to contest his father’s trust, Jo walked in, followed by Leigh Ann.

  “Ladies, about time. Some work ethic, coming in just shy of noon,” Ben teased.

  “Quit your howling, youngster,” Leigh Ann said with a smile. “I put in twelve hours yesterday, then started up again this morning at sunrise. Some of us have been burning the candle at both ends lately, trying to kick-start this trading post’s business.”

  “Has it been slow this morning?” Jo asked Esther.

  Esther nodded. “I was thinking of putting a table out on the porch with some eye-catching merchandise, like that big Two Grey Hills rug,” Esther said, gesturing to the one on the display table. The rug was beautifully made, its pattern based on a central diamond shape and geometric borders. It was woven in subtle shades of white, black, and brown wool. “I’d like to take some pottery, too, and maybe hang up a few of those broomstick skirts, something that’ll catch the eye of people driving by on their way to the Indian Market in Santa Fe or the Rio Grande pueblos.”

  “That’s an excellent idea.” Jo glanced at Leigh Ann, then at Del, who’d just come in through the back. “Let’s move the table and chairs and put out a sign.”

  While they set out the display table, Leigh Ann put up a second table with soft drinks and ice in a big cooler, then began to gather the magnetic letters needed to spell out the message on the sign over by the turnoff.

  “If you guys can take care of things out here, I’m going back inside to start inventory,” Jo said.

  “Let me give you a hand,” Ben said. “Maybe we can figure out what, if anything, the robber took—besides the cash.”

  “Hope you’re right,” Jo said, wishing that the threat hanging over them—over her—would go away.

  “Once I get the sign ready, I’ll handle the register, so don’t worry,” Leigh Ann called out.

  Jo smiled and gave her a nod, then went back inside, heading for the inventory supplies.

  “They’re loyal to you,” Ben said, quietly following. “That’s why they give you their best effort.”

  She looked up at him, clearly surprised. “This isn’t about me. Everyone at the trading post has a common goal, to keep things going, and that’s what binds us.” She paused, looked away for a moment, then continued. “The Navajo people believe that everything’s connected. No one person exists outside the whole. What you’re seeing here is that connectedness in action.”

  He didn’t answer, wondering if this was all part of her plan to get him to give up any claims to the business.

  “You don’t trust me at all, do you?” she asked, handing him a box with folders, lists, and labels. When he hesitated, she added, “But why? You’re the one with the track record for unreliability.”

  “I think you’re suffering from selective memory. You walked out on me, remember? When I got arrested for joyriding, my entire world unraveled. I needed you more than ever, but you turned your back on me and walked away.”

  “What you needed—wanted—was someone to validate your actions, to tell you that your reasons justified your behavior. I couldn’t go along with that, and you knew it. Think back. You were purposely getting in trouble to rattle your dad. You told me so yourself, remember?”

  “I wanted him to look at me, not through me,” he said quietly, remembering how miserable and desperate he’d been. “After Mom died, he shut me out and buried himself in the trading post. The only time he ever paid attention to me was when I got in trouble.”

  “You were on a downward spiral, and out of control. I couldn’t stop you, but I also couldn’t let you take me with you. I had no other choice, but walking away from you was the hardest thing I’d ever done.”

  Her answer took him by surprise. It sounded like the truth, but maybe that was just because he wanted to believe her.

  “Let’s get started on inventory,” she said, all business again. “Leigh Ann and I made up stick-on labels with bar codes. We’ll need to place the codes on the right items, then hand-scan everything once we’re done with a category.”

  “My dad never did that?” It seemed odd, considering how compulsive his dad had been. He’d even grouped his shirts by color in the closet.

  “Your father was one of the most organized men I’ve ever known. He used bar codes and electronic bookkeeping on the merchandise that came from our regular suppliers. The problem’s mainly with the consignment pieces created by area artisans. He never officially cataloged those. He kept track of them in his head. He’d put a label on them with a short item name and price, then enter that on a ledger under the artist’s name. When the item sold, it went into the computer as miscellaneous merchandise—along with the cost and sale price.”

  “Every penny counts, doesn’t it?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “I never realized how close the trading post’s profit margin was. I always thought we were rich.”

  “You were, in comparison to a lot of others around here, but now that you’re an adult, you’re seeing things in a different light,” she said. “The impressions and judgments we make as kids
, however lasting, aren’t always accurate.”

  As they worked on inventory, business in the store slowly began picking up. The sign out by the road, along with the activity outside, made weekend passersby curious enough to stop. At least half the customers eventually came inside to browse, too, heading for the sections of merchandise spotlighted outside. For the first time in a week, Leigh Ann was really busy at the front register.

  While Jo continued entering the codes, this time ones corresponding to a collection of Zuni squash blossom necklaces, Ben took a break, bought a cold Pepsi, and placed a dollar bill on the counter. Leigh Ann nodded, not even slowing down her conversation with a retired schoolteacher from Cortez. The woman had just settled on the purchase of a hand-painted, hand-etched pot.

  Ben leaned back against the wall, watching an attractive Hispanic woman wearing sunglasses and tight jeans. She was now walking up the aisle showcasing their Navajo rugs, looking at everything she passed.

  “You’ve been checking out that tall brunette since she came in,” Jo whispered, joining him. “Get back to work, soldier, before she complains.”

  “Or she hits on me?” He grinned. “I admit she’s easy on the eyes, but that’s not what’s holding my attention. Don’t make eye contact, but watch casually out of the corner of your eye. I think she’s up to something. Notice the way she’s using her cell phone. She holds it away from her for a second or two, then brings it back up to her ear. She’s taking photos, not making conversation, and certainly not texting.”

  Jo glanced in the woman’s general direction and saw her looking into the store’s convex mirrors, placed in key locations to discourage shoplifting by reducing blind spots. The woman noticed she was being watched and beamed Jo an easy smile. She then picked up the closest item, a brightly colored ceramic paperweight of a roadrunner, paid in cash, then left the store.

  “You’ll never make it as a spy, Jo,” Ben said, heading to the window. Spotting the car, a light blue SUV, he took down the New Mexico plates.