Tucked Away

by Jennie Marts

  A young Asian man was visible in the kitchen behind her, running a grill and slamming pink plates piled high with burgers and fries on the pickup counter. She was surprised to realize that this was the first non-Caucasian that she’d seen since arriving in Montana. Charlie was so used to the melting pot of colors and nationalities in New York that the cook stood out amidst a room full of white faces.

  “Be right with ya, honey,” the waitress called. She poured a refill for an older man seated at the counter, wearing a faded green John Deere cap and overalls. “You want a booth or a spot at the counter?”

  “A booth is fine.”

  “Right this way.” The waitress, still holding the coffeepot, stuffed a menu under her arm, and Charlie followed her ample figure to a booth in front of a large plate-glass window. The window sported giant red letters, and Charlie slid into the seat, her head directly below the -ER in CHERRY’S DINER.

  “You want coffee, sugar?” the waitress, whose nametag read Cherry, asked. Charlie had to respect the woman who must be the owner and pitched in wherever needed in her own establishment.

  The waitress, true to her name, sported cherry-red fingernails and stacks of bright red hair piled atop her head. The woman exuded sexuality, and Charlie envied the tousled hairdo that gave her that fresh out-of-bed look.

  Strawberry curls spilled from her loose top-knot, and Charlie could see at least a couple of pens stuck in her hair, sprouting from her head like two alien antennae. But, with the abundance of cleavage spilling out of her snug top, who noticed what was tucked into her hair?

  She held her hand over the chipped white cup set on the table. “Can I get a diet soda, instead? And I’ll just take a cheeseburger and fries. It smells delicious.”

  “Sure thing. My name’s Cherry. Just yell if you need something.” She tipped the coffee cup upside down and slid it to the back of the table. “You new around here or just passing through?”

  “I guess that is yet to be determined. I’m Charlie Ryan.”

  Cherry’s eyes went wide.

  She took a little pleasure in being able to surprise a woman who looked as if not much could throw her.

  “Are you now?” Cherry gave her an appraising look, as if she were sizing up the five-foot-seven-inch city-girl, wearing pink boots with Wrangler jeans and carrying a designer purse. “Well, I loved Gigi as if she were my own mother, so I’m pleased to meet you, and hope you will count me as a friend in this town.”

  Charlie smiled, and her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you for that. I could use a few friends.”

  Cherry’s eyes scanned the diner. “We might as well get this over with.”

  Charlie jumped as her new friend slammed her fist on the table, causing the silverware to shake and rattle.

  “Listen up, y’all.” Cherry spoke loudly to the entire diner. The restaurant went quiet as the good folks of Broken Falls turned their attention to the red-haired waitress. “This here is Charlie Ryan, Gigi’s grandbaby.” She paused, apparently for dramatic effect, which she was getting as the diners gaped at Charlie.

  One older man wearing overalls leaned into the similarly dressed old man next to him. “I thought Gigi’s grandbaby was a man.”

  Maybe this mass introduction wasn’t such a bad idea. If the small town rumor mill could spread the word that she was actually a woman, maybe she wouldn’t have to hear that particular sentiment again.

  “So,” Cherry continued, not quite finished with her grand-standing. “Let’s all make her feel welcome. Show her how nice the folks of Broken Falls can be.”

  Cherry turned to the man in the overalls, with the not-so-subtle whisper. “Well, except for you, Carl. But Charlie will just have to ignore you and not judge the rest of us by your obnoxious behavior.”

  A ripple of laughter moved through the diner, and several people tipped their hats, waved, or murmured “Hey”.

  “I’ll get this burger right out to you, honey.” Cherry headed back to the counter, with a swish of her pink-covered fanny.

  Twenty minutes later, Charlie dragged the last crispy fry through a puddle of ketchup and popped it into her mouth. She leaned back and patted her full stomach just as a dark-haired man slid into the booth across from her.

  “Mind if I join you?” Wayne Roberts wore the same wrinkled suit he’d had on when he stopped by the farm, and she was tempted to check under the table to see if he’d had the macaroni salad stain removed.

  “What if I do mind?”

  “Look, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  “The wrong foot? Like the foot where you’re trying to steal my family’s farm?”

  Wayne eyed her questionably. “Really? That property has been your family farm for less than a month now, so don’t get all sanctimonious on me.”

  She squirmed in her seat. “Touché.”

  “And I’m not trying to steal anything. L & C is putting up a very generous offer for some crappy fields and an old farmhouse.”

  “Careful. It is my family farm now.”

  “All right. Whatever.” He picked up the overturned coffee cup from the back of the table and waved it at Cherry.

  She gave him a look of disdain before slowly sauntering over with the coffee pot. She looked down at Charlie with disappointment in her eyes. “This guy a friend of yours?”

  “He’s no friend of mine. I don’t even know him.”

  She turned to Wayne, and Charlie waited for actual fire to come out of her eyes the way Cherry burned him with her gaze. “Want me to get rid of him?”

  Having no doubt that the waitress could indeed take care of him, she held up her hand. “No, I’m good. I should at least hear him out. I don’t think he’s going to leave me alone ’til I do.”

  Cherry filled the empty coffee cup, sloshing a little over the side. “Well, holler if you need me.”

  “Will do.” She smiled at the waitress, not entirely sure she knew how to “holler”. Was it not quite as loud as a yell, but more than a whisper?

  Wayne dragged a napkin through the spilled coffee before he picked up the cup and took a loud sip. “Geez. Friendly town.”

  “Look, just tell me what you’ve got to say so I can say no and we can both get on with our lives.”

  “Easy for you to say; I can’t get on with my life until you say yes,” he said, not quite under his breath. “What makes you so sure you’re going to say no? You haven’t even seen the offer yet.” He wrote a number on an extra napkin, then turned it to her. “Sure you couldn’t use this?”

  She stared in shock at the exorbitant number on the napkin.

  “Like you said yourself, it’s your farm now. You can take this money and retire on a beach in the Caribbean. You don’t even know these people. You wouldn’t have to ever see them again. You don’t owe them anything.”

  She looked at the number on the napkin and thought about those people he was describing. She thought about the letter Gigi had left for her with the lawyer, calling her “my darling, Charlie”. She pictured Sophie sneaking a hug or another bite of cookie dough, Cash standing by the grill grinning at her, and Buckshot rubbing the head of her baby calf. And even Zack, whose stethoscope sat on the front seat of her rental car, waiting to be returned to its owner.

  “Yes, actually I do. I think I owe them a lot.” She slid from the booth, leaving the napkin on the table, its corner now brown as it absorbed the leftover spilled coffee. “So, my answer is still no. Thanks, anyway.”

  Grabbing her bag, she turned from the booth and walked to the door, stopping to lay some cash on the counter for Cherry. “It was nice meeting you. He can buy his own coffee.”

  Cherry winked at her in approval. “You take care, sugar.”

  …

  Charlie crossed the street to her car and eyed the three women squished into the park bench on the sidewalk. She’d dubbed them the matrons of Main Street and guessed they were on top of all the happenings in Broken Falls.

  They’d probably seen her eating
lunch with the railroad guy, and she knew the best defense was a good offense. Best to head this rumor off at the pass.

  She waved and approached their bench. “Hi, ladies. Remember me? We met the other day. I’m Charlie, Geraldine Tucker’s granddaughter.”

  “Oh, we know who you are,” the woman on the end replied with an appraising glance. She gestured to the other women on the bench. “I’m Millie, and this is my sister, Willie May, and our neighbor Etta James. We all knew your grandma and thought real highly of her.”

  “Thank you.” Charlie grasped for a safe conversation starter. “It’s a gorgeous summer day, don’t you think?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Millie answered. “Good day for a casual lunch meeting.”

  Wow. Subtle. She was sure these three were quite adept at reading body language, and she tried to appear casual.

  “I don’t think it’s so gorgeous. I hate this heat.” Etta James squirmed as if trying to find a more comfortable position on the crowded bench. “And my pantyhose are making my thighs sweat.”

  “Oh, quit your complaining. Nobody wants to hear about your sweaty thighs,” Willie May said, digging through the cavernous handbag in her lap. She extracted a gold-wrapped butterscotch, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. “So did you have a nice meeting? At your lunch?”

  Charlie could hear the candy click against Willie’s teeth as she asked her the seemingly innocent question. “Oh, it wasn’t a meeting. I was just having a cheeseburger and this guy sat down at my table.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Millie said again, her lips pursed in a thin line.

  “I thought you looked surprised to see him,” Willie May said, then pointed to her sisters. “Didn’t I tell you she looked surprised to see him?”

  “He didn’t look very happy with you, so I hope you gave him what-for.” Etta fanned herself with what looked like an old church bulletin.

  Charlie nodded. “Yep. I sure did. I really gave him the old what-for.” What in the heck was she even talking about? “He sure won’t be bothering me again after I gave him that whole what-for business.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Boy, that Millie was sure a real conversationalist.

  “You looked like you were laughing there for a little bit. Acting a little too-friendly, if you ask me.” Willie eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not secretly doing it.”

  She let out a surprised laugh. “Doing it? With Wayne. Gross. No way.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Willie May. You think everybody is secretly doing it.” Etta James swatted at her leg.

  “Well, they probably are.”

  “She has a point,” Charlie said, earning an approving smile from Willie May. “They probably are. But I can assure that I am not. Doing it. With Wayne or, unfortunately, anyone else.”

  “Yes, well that does sound unfortunate.”

  …

  Zack hung up the phone and rubbed a hand across his face. He’d placed a quick call to check in on a horse he’d looked at earlier in the week and ended up listening to the old farmer shoot the bull for the past twenty minutes.

  He’d tried to listen, but his mind kept wandering to images of Charlie. How she’d laughed as she held the new kitten. How her hair had fallen across her eye as she looked at the photo album and how he’d ached to touch it, to push it back behind her ear. To fill his hands with the thick, curly mass of it.

  He thought of how she’d felt that morning when she’d trembled in his arms over the fear of a mouse and imagined other ways he could make her tremble. His thoughts went to the vision of her walking naked into her bedroom, then wearing that silly towel that covered just enough to send his mind reeling with fantasies of what the terry cloth hid.

  Geez, get ahold of yourself, man. He shifted uncomfortably in his desk chair. What was wrong with him? Why was he letting this woman get under his skin?

  Maybe because she’d surprised him. Her behavior the last week had challenged his notion of what she would be like. He hadn’t thought she would take so easily to life on the farm. He’d expected her to be more squeamish about feeding the baby calf and worried about getting a mess on her clothes.

  Instead, she’d jumped in with both feet, taking on the chores he’d given her and asking for more. It was obvious that she hadn’t had a lot of experience with animals, but she took his guidance on how to feed the little calf and hadn’t balked at the slobbery mess of goo it had left in her lap as she bottle-fed him. He could tell she was making an effort as he’d watched her tentatively reach out a hand to brush the velvet neck of Gigi’s favorite mare.

  But it was easy now. A few weeks of farm life was almost like a vacation. A barnyard field trip. Pet a few cows and then go back to your cushy life in the city. She had yet to prove that she had what it took to really stick it out. To stay when things got tough.

  He imagined it wouldn’t be long before the novelty of it all wore off and she would find herself yearning for the city lights.

  So if he was so sure she was going to leave, why did he keep thinking about her? Why waste his time on something he knew he couldn’t have.

  That was a good question.

  …

  The cool comfort of air-conditioning met Charlie as she opened the door to the vet clinic. She was still laughing at the conversation with the three old women when she stepped into a pleasant reception area.

  Green linoleum covered the floors, and the faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air. The walls were painted a soft khaki color and held informational posters urging folks to get their pet spayed or neutered and to take a dog’s dental hygiene seriously.

  Expecting to walk into a cacophony of pets and their owners, she was surprised to find the waiting room and receptionist desk empty. A small sign that sat on the counter claimed, “Gone to find some chow—back in an hour.”

  Turning back to the door, she was surprised at the level of disappointment she felt in missing the good-looking vet. She was a little embarrassed that she’d been so excited to see him. She knew he was married, and so she had no expectations of them getting together, but something about him made her feel good. Feel okay.

  Was he crazy-cute, and did he make her feel a little giggly? Yes. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t still be friends. She liked him. She liked being around him and talking to him. She firmly believed that men and women could be friends, and she needed all the friends she could get right now.

  Cocking her head, she thought she heard faint humming from down the hallway behind the receptionist desk. Her face broke into a grin as she recognized the deep baritone that now sang the familiar lyrics to a popular Kenny Chesney song.

  She followed the music to the last room on the left and peeked in to see Dr. Handsome standing next to an examining table, crooning to a muddy black and white dog, while he pulled stitches through its ear.

  Zack saw her standing in the doorway, and a smile lit up his face. Her stomach did a little flip at the fact that smile was all for her. He beckoned her into the room, with a nod of his head, and spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “Well, hey Charlie. Why don’t you come in and meet my new friend.”

  The dog’s head strained to look at her, and it let out a tiny whimper at the movement.

  Zack stroked the dog’s crusted fur and murmured calming noises before continuing his surgery. He pulled a silky thread through a tear in the dog’s ear, stitching the torn pieces together. “Come on over to this side of the table so she can see you without moving her head,” he instructed. “She’s a little jittery, but she responds well to affection…and country music. You can pet her side while I finish stitchin’ her up.”

  She moved to his side and gently patted the dog’s neck. “What happened to her?”

  “Don’t really know. She’s pretty thin, so she probably hasn’t eaten in a while. Someone most likely abandoned her on the side of the highway. She may have been hit by a car.”

  He tied off another stitch as he spoke.

  “A guy saw her
lying on the side of the road and brought her in. The clinic had just emptied for the noon hour, so I brought her back here to try to get her stitched up.”

  “Poor baby.” She watched Zack’s hand as he nimbly stitched the cut, using his fingers and a funny-shaped set of surgical scissors. She’d never had a pet and the last few weeks, on the farm, she’d had more dealings with animals than in her whole life.

  “What’s that grin about?” Zack asked, in obvious response to her goofy smile.

  “I was just thinking about all the interactions I’ve had with animals since I’ve been here. I never even had a goldfish growing up.”

  “Well, you’re about to interact some more.” He tied a final knot with the funny scissors, then clipped the thread close to the dog’s ear. “I need to get her cleaned up. You think you can help me give her a bath? My assistant, Mavis, usually would take care of this, but she’s at lunch.”

  “Um, sure.” She looked down at her ten dollar machine-washable tank top and thought about the hundred dollar dry-clean-only silk blouses she favored in New York. “What do you need me to do?”

  He nodded to the large stainless steel sink against the wall. “Just get some warm water going in the sink, and I’ll bring her over.”

  She crossed the room and turned on the faucet. The water flowed through the nozzle, causing the sprayer hose coiled in the sink to move and slither like a jointed metal snake. Taking hold of the sprayer, she adjusted the temperature until warm water flowed against her fingertips. “Okay, it’s good.”

  Zack cradled the injured dog in his arms and carried her to the sink. He gently laid her in the basin, and, putting his hand over hers, he guided the warm water over the dog’s body.

  “We gotta get this mud and gunk all loosened up and get her cleaned up so I can see if she’s hurt anywhere else.” He reached across her for a plastic bottle of shampoo sitting on the side of the sink. Charlie’s brain went numb watching the corded muscles in his forearms flex as he squirted two rows of soap along the dog’s back.