Henry and his wife had invited Gideon over for meals, and when the trucker Bruce was in town for any length of time, Gideon enjoyed conversing with him. He wasn’t a recluse. Even so, he wondered why he felt so lonely.
Gideon stood at the open garage door as a flock of geese soared into the shimmering autumn sky. He inhaled the fresh air and let it expand into his lungs. He loved living in North Carolina. What could be finer than the serenity and beauty of the Smokies?
A blue Toyota with a maroon bicycle strapped on the trunk turned into the lot. The bike looked familiar and so did the two inside. The passenger door swung open, and Kiki jumped out. Mari parked the car and emerged from the driver’s seat.
Then it dawned on Gideon. Kiki must be Mari’s daughter.
“I came home from school and had to go to the doctor, Dr. Conner.” Kiki took her bike from the trunk rack and wheeled it inside the garage. “Dr. Conner made me late getting here.”
Mari smiled at Gideon. “She says you are going to let her work here?”
“She says she wants to.”
“I’m sure she does. She likes tools.”
Gideon nodded. “She impressed us all.”
“I have to get back to the tearoom. Tell Kiki to ride her bike straight home when she is done with her work here.”
“I will.” Gideon waved to Mari, then turned to where Kiki had put her bike in his bay. He told her to bring it into the shop, out of the way of cars he and Luke—and perhaps Amos—would be repairing.
“But where will I get tools?” she said. “For the sakes of Pete, Mr. Miller, I need tools so I can work.”
“Gideon,” he said. “If you are going to work here, you need to call me Gideon.”
“Gideon.” She said the name as though it was a foreign word.
“None of this Mr. Miller stuff, okay?” When she nodded, he pulled out an Allen wrench, a Phillips screwdriver, and a flat screwdriver from his work chest. He motioned to the inside of the shop—away from the bays—and she pushed her bike along.
Gideon found a spot for her to work near the storage room, out of the way of the others. He had no idea what she was going to do, but assumed she wanted to tinker with her bike. If that occupied her and kept her out of his hair, it suited him fine.
“I got home and had to go to Conner’s.” Kiki sat on the floor in front of her bike. “I wanted to come here right away, but I had to go to Conner’s.”
“That’s okay.” Gideon reassured her it was all right that she had not been able to come immediately after school.
“I need a towel,” she said as he placed the tools beside her.
He entered the storage room and brought out a few shop towels. “Use only one or two of these each day. They cost a lot.”
Kiki cleaned her bike’s spokes with one of the towels. She seemed different, now that he knew she was connected to Mari. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize the two could be related, since they both looked Asian. Mari must be Kiki’s mother. Mother. The word wasn’t one he wanted to associate with this woman he found so intriguing. He let his thoughts focus on the child, and why she was so intent on being here.
After a while, he shook his head. If she wants a place to hang out and it makes her happy, okay, he thought. But I’m not paying her to tinker with her own bike. Plus, in a month, Amos goes on our payroll. Speaking of Amos, where is that kid? “Where’s Amos?” Gideon asked Ormond and Luke.
“Went home.” Luke checked the pressure in the front tire of the car at his bay. Ormond stood beside him, telling some joke about a banjo and a piano.
“Home?” Gideon looked at the round white clock on the wall behind Luke’s head. “It’s 4:37.”
“My watch says 4:36.” Ormond lifted his hand to glance at his Rolex.
Gideon wasn’t in the mood. “What is he doing heading home this early?” The shop didn’t officially close until 5:00.
No one spoke.
Gideon looked at Luke. “Do you know why he went home before closing time?”
“He said he was tired.”
“Tired? Tired? Who said he could leave?”
Luke looked at Ormond, who looked back at Luke.
Gideon closed his eyes and saw a film of red. When his eyes opened, Kiki had joined them.
“He’s not a hard worker,” she said.
Ormond grinned, and Luke nodded.
“Does anyone want to go over to his apartment and tell him to get back here?” When no one offered, Gideon grabbed his jacket from the wall. He would give Amos a piece of his mind. No. He steadied his breathing. He’d wait. He’d set a good example for the others as co-owner. He’d wait till the shop closed. Then he’d meet with Amos and talk the laziness out of that boy. He’d tell this farm boy that one didn’t walk out early from a job unless given permission. How did he expect to learn anything if he couldn’t even work a full day?
8
Gideon’s walk to work the next morning was heavily seasoned with questions. His first was, why? Why was he interested in someone that he couldn’t have a relationship with? Why did he feel such a longing to get to know Mari when she’d never be the woman he could marry and grow old with? She was divorced. Growing up, his parents spoke of those who got divorced as evil, removed from God, denied of His blessings. A marriage union was supposed to last forever. Amen. If Mari was Kiki’s mother, then she must be either unwed—another unacceptable situation—or divorced. Either way, how could he ever continue being hopeful about a possible future with her? By the time he got to the auto shop, he felt weary, like he needed a nap.
Seeing Ormond at his usual perch with the newspaper, Gideon approached him, standing in front of his desk, his hands in his pockets.
“Uh … Um …” His voice sounded like a faulty muffler, in bad need of replacement. “What do you think about people who get divorced?”
Ormond read a few more lines from the sports section and then laid the paper down by his coffee mug. “What do I think?”
“Yeah.”
“About divorce?”
Gideon clarified. “About what the Bible says and all that.”
“Are you asking me some biblical interpretation about divorce?”
“I think so.”
“At this early hour? I’m only on my first cup.”
“Yes.” Why couldn’t Ormond just answer the question? He attended Valley Baptist each Sunday; he should know these things.
Ormond smoothed his mustache with his thumb. Pensively, he studied his fingernails as though seeing the dirt in them for the first time. “My sister’s husband beat her with a frying pan.”
Gideon gulped. He’d forgotten that horrific incident that happened just a year after he’d arrived in Twin Branches.
“And yes, filing for divorce and running as far as you can away from a monster like that is the only thing to do.” Through clenched jaw, he added, “And pray he gets time locked up.”
Gideon let out a low sigh. Ormond was an easygoing man, calm and humorous, except for when, as he called it, fire rumbled under his skin. Then his soft demeanor turned cold, eerie. Gideon was sorry he’d made Ormond remember the terrifying event of years ago. He knew Ormond’s sister had been in the hospital with broken bones and ribs for a week after that night. Gideon had only been sixteen, but he’d visited her in the hospital with a bouquet of daisies. Daisies and a handmade card were all he could afford.
Ormond took a swallow of coffee. “Some men are monsters. They’ve lost any human resemblance; let themselves be stripped of the light and love bestowed on them by their Creator.”
Gideon’s thoughts rushed to his father. Did that man ever hold any love and light? He was the epitome of beast and monster. The shed, the tree limb, the whack across that lad’s bottom, and then the hard blow against his own backside—these images were not easily dismissed in Gideon’s mind. Every time he saw his scar in the bathroom mirror, he wanted to retaliate with some act of violence. Gideon made his way to his office and, clutching the
edge of his desk, lowered himself to his chair. He breathed in and out, unaware what a toll simple breathing took on him.
A rap on his door caused him to raise his head. There stood Luke. Feebly, Gideon motioned for the young man to enter.
“Customer wants to see you. Something about spark plugs you ordered for him.”
Gideon drew in a breath. “Give me a minute.”
Luke eyed him cautiously and then said, “Do you want me to help him?”
When Gideon didn’t respond, Luke said confidently, “I can do that,” and walked away.
Gideon tried to compose himself. He felt his frustration mount, his veins hot with the thick tar of anger. He would never return to his hometown. He couldn’t, because that would mean he’d have to take the strongest stick he could find, square up to his father, and let his emotions flail. Of course, they’d toss him into jail. They locked up those who beat the tar out of men.
At first Gideon thought the damp, foggy weather contributed to the wariness he felt brooding in the chilly air. But as he rounded the corner, the two sheriff’s cars parked diagonally at Another Cup’s parking lot confirmed it was more than just a feeling. Officers didn’t usually come here, not even for tea. Inside the tiny eatery stood Sheriff Kingston and his deputy, Tomlin, their hands on their hips close to their holsters.
“What’s going on?” Gideon sidled up to his usual spot at the counter.
Henry hiked up his pants. “Got a little trouble going on.” He spoke like he had marbles in his mouth. Gideon once thought it was chewing tobacco, but the sheriff did not chew or spit. “We don’t like this kind of trouble.”
Gideon’s breath caught, and he scanned the room. Mari was taking an order at one of the tables. As long as she was all right, things couldn’t be that bad.
“Things just ain’t like they once was around here,” Deputy Tomlin said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well.” He drew a breath and looked at Henry. “Bad riffraff from across the mountains.” He jerked his thumb toward the door.
Gideon knew he was pointing west toward Gatlinburg. Twin Branches prided itself on being “a quaint mountain town, pretty as a postcard and warm with Southern hospitality.” That phrase was printed in curvy gray lettering on the Welcome to Twin Branches sign.
Henry accepted a Styrofoam cup of coffee from Della, thanked her, and turned to Gideon. “But they’re gone now. And we best be heading back to the station.” He neared Gideon and lowered his voice. “Going to come over to our house for Thanksgiving this year? Mebane wants you to know you’re invited.”
Although it was only October, Gideon figured he could commit to saying yes. He doubted he’d get an invite anywhere else. “Sure, tell her thank you.”
Henry and Tomlin scanned the eatery one last time before wishing everyone a good day.
When they left, Della came out from the kitchen with two plates of bacon, eggs, and grits. She smiled at Gideon on her way to deliver the food to a table behind him. “Be with you in a moment, Sugar.”
“What happened here?”
She stopped and whispered, “Two rednecks trying to get something for nothing. Complaining about the food, refusing to pay their tab. You know how those kids from Gatlinburg can be.”
Gideon spread out the day’s Twin Star on the counter, but he could not concentrate. He watched Mari as she answered the phone and then went into the kitchen, her dark hair swinging over her shoulders. She looked exceptionally pretty this afternoon. He liked the way her makeup accentuated her brown eyes.
You can’t ask her out, a voice inside his head said. She’s been married and divorced from Kiki’s father. Or maybe she never got married, just had a baby and Kiki’s father didn’t hang around.
Before asking what he’d like for lunch, Della spit her chewing gum into the trash can behind her. Every time she did this, she followed the same pattern—she’d give a light cough, then turn her head and shoot the gum into the trash.
Each time Gideon knew what she was doing. Just like when she pretended to be reading a menu with her reading glasses, but she was actually peering over them at any man who entered the restaurant.
“How’s business today?” she asked.
“Pretty good.”
“I need to bring our Ford in. It’s making funny noises.”
“You should. Funny noises are never good when it comes to cars.”
“Look at you,” she said. “You are going to make some woman happy one day.”
“Who?”
“Oh, someone perfect for you.” She winked.
He didn’t really think she had anyone in mind. She was just a romantic at heart; the Lifetime Movie Network was probably a constant at her house.
“Well, I know you’re hungry.” She smiled. “Need a menu?”
“I’ll have a roast beef sandwich with horseradish on the side.”
“Fries?”
“No, thanks.” If he was going to order pie, he had to cut back somewhere. “And green tea, please.”
As Della took the ticket to the kitchen, Mari made her way behind the counter. “You should try something else today. Don’t you think variety is the spice of life?”
He looked at the display of pies and couldn’t see how the apple or pecan would satisfy him like the blackberry did. “I don’t know …”
“We have so many kinds of tea. You should try something besides green.” Behind her a large chalkboard listed the specials of the day in fancy, colorful letters.
He’d ordered a turkey sandwich from it once. It’d come with a cup of broccoli-cheese soup. But she was gesturing at the selection of teas. “Herbal mint?” he read from the board.
“If you like mint.”
He didn’t know about mint in anything except for his toothpaste. When a glob accidentally went down his throat, it was never pleasant. He leaned on the counter and read aloud. “Lemon sassafras. Raspberry apple. Orange and hibiscus?” Were his eyes playing tricks on him? “These all sound like shampoo.”
She laughed. “The blackberry.” She pointed to where it was printed in yellow chalk on the right side of the menu. “That’s what you should try.”
“Blackberry tea?”
“You like the pie, the tea might be your new love.”
He smiled at her. Careful, he thought as she made her way to a table of women asking for more sweet tea. Mari is not the kind of woman you should be pursuing. He burrowed his eyes into the newspaper. Growing up, he’d learned that God did not smile on the divorced—or the pregnant women without husbands. It was best not to get too close to her. And as for the tea, he was a creature of habit. When she returned, he told her he’d decided to stick with the usual. “I know, I’m not adventurous.”
As he finished his sandwich, Mari cut him a large slice of pie and poured a fresh cup of green tea. He noted her long lashes and smooth skin. She not only made delicious pies, she was also beautiful to look at every day.
“Kiki likes coming to your shop,” she said. “I know she can’t do much, but thank you for letting her have a place to do something. In Asheville, there was this after-school program she went to. She loved it there.”
“I’m glad to help.” Gideon almost felt true to his words. “What was going on here earlier?”
“You mean why Henry was here?”
“Yeah.”
“Two thugs from Tennessee thought they could treat this place like a street corner bar.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant.
“You know, coming on to Della and me. Teasing us, then complaining about the food and service. It got loud, so I asked Henry to come by.”
“Looks like he took care of it.” Gideon couldn’t see why men would be interested in poufed-out bleached-blond hair that looked much too fake. But Mari, yes, he could understand the attraction.
“He did a good job.” Mari filled the napkin dispenser with white napkins from a cardboard box. “I called him, and he was here in minutes.”
“Yo
u can always call me. I mean …” He felt his face grow hot. Why did talking to someone like Mari seem so unnatural? In his part of Carlisle, men didn’t know how to flirt with women. Now that he had learned a few tips on how to do it, he felt silly for his attempts. “I mean, if you ever need help, I’m just down the road.”
She smiled. “Yes, but do you have a gun or a badge?”
“I could get one from Walmart if that would help scare hoodlums away.”
“Kiki says that if I just sang one of my Bob Dylan or Beatles songs, no one would ever bother me again.”
Still Life in Shadows Page 5