Reviving Jules

by Peggy Trotter

  A half smile crossed Collin’s thin face. “Oh, yeah. The kid. I forgot. Sure, I’ll let you go. Just thought I’d suggest it.”

  “See you Monday.” Rhett positioned his body behind the man to urge him out and locked the door.

  “Right. If you change yer mind, holler.”

  Rhett compressed his lips and took a breath. It proved easier to agree. “Sure.”

  Once outside, he jogged to the parking garage across the road and unlocked the truck’s door with the clicker while he was still a piece away. After validating his ticket, he pealed out into the street like threading a needle. Thankful he’d caught the light at the end of the block, his cheerfulness didn’t last. Five minutes later, he brought his sport utility vehicle to a stop behind a line of cars.

  He’d never get to the Lloyd Expressway at this rate. School let out at 3:15. Even if the traffic broke this very instant, he’d be twenty minutes late. Constant construction ruled downtown, delaying motorists on a daily basis. He slapped the steering wheel. Confronting Andi’s reproachful eyes for the second time this week wouldn’t be fun.

  And what about the trip in April? Andi couldn’t come along. He’d have to ask Julie to watch her again. This summer posed a problem too, with the sitter transferring colleges for the final semesters. He’d be left without a babysitter―again.

  The situation occupied his mind until he turned into an empty parking lot at the school. Great. Andi would be the last student here, as usual. He parked and strode to the glass door and swung it open. Mr. Gufford, the custodian, ran the vacuum up and down the carpet. Rhett dodged the noisy machine as the two men greeted one another over the noise.

  Rhett walked down the east wing to the last door on the left and peeked in. Andi, backpack on her shoulders, sat at her desk drawing a picture with crayons. Mrs. Steeler erased the white boards at the front of the room. The child glanced toward the door, and a flash of happiness lit her face. Then she settled back, gripped the chair seat with her hands while disappointment elongated her features.

  “You’re late, Daddy.”

  He couldn’t stem the smile that tugged at his mouth. “Yep. I guess I am.

  “Daddy, you were late on Tuesday.”

  Mrs. Steeler turned and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Carsen.”

  “Hello. Sorry about the delayed pick-up. I’ll send the fee on Monday.”

  The bespectacled woman in her late forties straightened a desk before answering. “I understand this happens occasionally.”

  A laugh escaped Rhett. “Well, as my daughter has so accurately pointed out, this is the second time this week. Come on, Peaches. I’m sure your teacher has plenty to do.”

  Andi took great care returning her fat crayons to the box and placed it into her desk. She rose and pushed in her chair. “Remember we were going to bake cookies tonight?”

  Rhett drew in a deep breath. He’d hoped she’d forgotten. No such luck. “I recall. Get your sweater.”

  She scurried back to her seat and pulled the sweater from the back of the chair.

  “Bye, Andi, Mr. Carson.”

  Andi bounced to her father, and Rhett smiled and waved at the teacher, thanking her again.

  “Bye, Mrs. Steeler.” They walked through the door and down the hall. Andi slipped her hand into her father’s. “How come you’re late?”

  Rhett scratched the bristle on his face. Her faithful same question. “You know why. Work.”

  Andi sighed with her head down. “I’m always the last one here.”

  “Not always.”

  She tipped her wide face to his. “But hardly anyone has to stay late like me.”

  He pulled her to a stop and squatted down in front of her, taking her small shoulders in his hands. “I know, honey, and I’m sorry. I’m trying real hard not to be late, but sometimes it happens. Will you forgive me?”

  The dejection in her brown eyes tugged at his heart.

  “Of course. Seventy times seven, Daddy.”

  A lump rose in his throat, and he clutched the child to him. He stood with his arms full of his beautiful daughter and made for the door. Sometimes, Andi seemed more spiritually mature than he did. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  She leaned back and gave a sweet smile, patting his cheek. “Ouch. You’re prickly.”

  Delight rushed over him as he carried her. How precious she was. She brought such joy to his life. “Cookies, huh? What kind are we making?”

  She giggled. “Peanut buttery-chocolaty ones.”

  “Oh, boy. And you have the recipe, I suppose?”

  She squirmed out of his arms and ran ahead a few paces before turning and setting her hands on her hips as if she were a matron straight from Mayberry. “Uh, Daddy. We’ll get it off the internet.”

  He reared back and laughed. Of course. Andi had it all planned. Why had he doubted? She ran to the truck singing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,” and he followed her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  * * *

  Rhett tucked the blankets around his daughter in the white canopy bed. After brushing aside the pink netting, he leaned down and kissed her warm cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of her freshly washed hair. Her eyelids fluttered. She’d fallen asleep on the couch after filling her belly with peanut butter and chocolate cookies. He ran a hand over his face and glanced at the digits on the princess clock. Midnight. Man, he was bushed.

  He stumbled to the corner chair covered with a fleece unicorn throw. The rejected recliner engulfed him like an old friend. Would it get any easier? Raising Andi was the most challenging yet rewarding thing he’d ever done. But he’d vowed to do it alone. He let out a long breath and leaned his head back. He needed a nanny. However, the thought of an absolute stranger coming into the house set his nerves on edge. How did one find a dependable person whose personality melded with theirs? Plus, could he afford the cost of such a venture?

  His eyes drifted closed. The kitchen remained a mess. The cooking project had been a complete success in Andi’s eyes, and that’s what counted. Still, he hadn’t done any cleanup. Flour, sugar, and utensils covered the counter, and doughy bowls and pans filled the sink. Tomorrow, Andi had soccer practice, and he’d hoped to till the garden. Somehow he’d have to find time. Worse come to worse, his part-time cleaning woman would deal with it on Monday. His body began to relax. He’d forgotten how comfortable this chair was. Pushing his concerns aside, he fell asleep.

  * * *

  “Hey, man.” Gary Dicen saluted him with one finger. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sup?” Rhett rubbed his fingers over the course stubble on his face, his attention fixed on Andi, her lower legs encased in thick shin guards, sprinting across the field.

  “First game is next week. You got someone to fill the concession stand?”

  “What?” Rhett shook his head and blinked.

  Gary adjusted the Cincinnati Red’s hat on his nearly balding pate and turned his beady dark eyes on Rhett. “I thought sure my wife had nabbed you. Yeah, everyone has to work at least once. Most of the times it’s the wife, but, well, you know.”

  Rhett cleared his throat and twisted off the lid of the cola in his hand. Yeah. He knew. “I’m sure I can swing my shift.”

  Gary nodded and stared at him. “I’m just wondering why you don’t let me set you up with Melanie Cannon. She’s asked about you several times.”

  Rhett shifted his feet. Not this subject again. “Not a good time for me.”

  Gary continued to stare, and Rhett kept his eyes on his daughter as she passed the ball to a teammate.

  “Yeah, so you said. Still, it can’t be easy for Andi, always being the one without a woman in her life.”

  Ire rose in Rhett’s gut. Why hadn’t he chosen the other side of the field? “We’re doing fine.”

  Gary’s gaze never wavered. “Kinda hard being an only child, too.”

  Enough. Rhett crossed his arms, his shoulders swelling in defense as he turned to face him. “Gary. I was an only child, and somehow
I managed to escape any deep emotional scarring. Now I appreciate the offer. But I told you, no.”

  Gary nodded, curling his lips thoughtfully while his hand scrubbed his chin. “All right, buddy. Just trying to help you out.”

  Help, my eye. Time to change the subject. He motioned towards Gary’s daughter. “Katherine’s got the ball.”

  Gary’s wife came over with her clipboard, and Rhett made short work of signing his name on an empty slot for the concession stand. He excused himself as soon as he could and headed for a different location. Pete Grayson stood near the far edge of the field, and Rhett sidled up to him.

  “What’s up?”

  Rhett chuckled. “The usual.”

  “Gary after you again?”

  “Yep.”

  “That guy doesn’t give up.” Pete sipped his cola. “Has he picked out a new one for you, or is he still pressing Melanie?”

  “No, he’s pretty focused on her.”

  Pete grinned. “Well, she’s not too hard to look at. I mean once you get past all the make-up.”

  “Uh-huh. You date her then.” Rhett took a swig of his soft drink and glanced Gary’s way.

  Pete laughed. “No, no, my friend. I’m happily married.”

  Rhett shook his head. “Some people just can’t take no for an answer.”

  “I guess not.” Pete stuck his hand into his grey hoodie’s pocket. “Hey, you see who the Cardinals picked up?”

  Rhett snorted. “That’s a worthless trade.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. They’ve already have a center fielder, why the need for another one?”

  The discussion of spring baseball kept the both of them busy until practice ended. Andi ran up to Rhett with Pete’s daughter, Goldie, close behind. The girls were bright-eyed and pink-cheeked from exertion in the crisp weather.

  “Can we get ice cream, Daddy? Goldie wants to go too.”

  Pete shook his head and took the shin guards from his daughter. “Sorry. We’ve got a family function, and I received strict orders from the boss to get back immediately.”

  Goldie grinned as long blond fly-away hairs floated around her face. “The boss is Mommy.”

  The girls dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  Pete’s expression twisted good-naturedly. “Ain’t that the truth?”

  “From the mouth of babes.” Rhett ran his hand down Andi’s back and glanced down. “We’ll do it another time. Besides, it’s warming up. The new swing set is calling your name.”

  A scowl crossed her features, and she huffed. “You’re just saying that ’cause you’re gonna play in the garden.”

  Rhett laughed and pulled a wry face at Pete. “Definitely a couple of valedictorians here, you know?”

  Grinning, Pete nodded, his brows creasing in mock thought. “Well, they say you learn everything you need to know in kindergarten, my friend.”

  “Hey, I’m all for that. Save me a bundle on education costs. We better go, Andi. See ya, Pete. Bye, Goldie.”

  “Yeah, back atcha.”

  Andi waved and pranced after her father as they walked to the truck. Rhett opened the door and helped her get situated in the back seat.

  “You know what, Daddy? I need a little sister.”

  Just as he snapped her seatbelt, Rhett’s hands stilled. Tiredness washed over him. He pulled away and fixed her with a firm stare.

  “You understand that’s not going to happen, right, Andi?”

  She blinked her innocent eyes. “Mrs. Steeler told me the Bible says, ‘Ask and ye will receive.’”

  Saliva gathered in his mouth. He cleared his throat. “That’s true. I’m glad you were listening.”

  “So I’m gonna ask and ask and ask.”

  He nodded and backed out of the doorway. “You do that.”

  With a grunt, he shut the door and walked around the backside of the pickup. Pausing at the tailgate, he reached out and gripped it. Lord, take this thought from her mind because You know it can’t happen. His heart ached. And please don’t let my daughter be too disappointed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  5:02. Jules glared at the clock on the floor near the mattress. The battery-operated digital box mocked her. She groaned and rolled over. 5:02. Did she have to wake up at 5:02 every day? It was like a horror movie. Could she not for once open her eyes at, say 5:03? It used to be humorous. Something she laughed at, told jokes about, back in happier days. She’d done it for years. Now, it cursed her.

  She blinked in the silence of the room. No friends calling, no mindless agendas, or schedules to meet, no household mementos tearing her soul. The hours stretched out before her, and she sighed, pressing her head against the pillow. The whole day. Just like the one before. And the day before that. And the two weeks previous. She exhaled a shuddering breath.

  What occupied her time before? Her teaching job. She closed her eyes. The mere thought of that profession seared her like a hot brand. Thinking about it would only serve to expose the wound once more. But a job? Her eyes snapped open, and she glared at the discolored ceiling. Perhaps…

  She rose, pulled on her tennis shoes, and wrestled the front door open. Jules yanked the heavy monstrosity shut and went north, turning left toward town. She studied the mediocre houses and their weedy landscaping as she headed for Main Street.

  Once there, it was just as she remembered from her first drive through. Downtown consisted of three blocks of Ma and Pa businesses that probably barely made ends meet. She groaned. Why had she stopped at this small burb? Here, in Southern Indiana?

  What commerce existed in Oaktown? A pizza place? No, two. Did this town eat that much pizza? No, wait. Another pizzeria on the highway sold pizzas. That’d be three, and by her calculations, two too many. A broken-down hardware store occupied the northeast corner with dusty, forgotten merchandise spilling over in the front window. Across the street, an exercise place gleamed with new paint and a quirky sign. Several empty buildings displayed ‘for lease,’ signs. Yeah, right, who’d invest their money in this deadbeat town?

  Then, a brick bank, fairly new, with a drive-up came next to an eye doctor’s place with somewhat up-to-date façade, sporting urban upholstered chairs lined up on fashionable carpet through the huge paned window. She pictured the landscaped library down two streets, and the grocery three more blocks farther south. One store for food. Only one. The post office was located behind the empty building on the northwest corner, and opposite from where she walked, a new fire station had its doors open. Three white-shirted firemen tipped back chairs in front of two shiny red engines.

  She sighed, tripping yet again on the sidewalk. The old sidewalk. It’d probably been here a hundred and fifty years. The front part of the concrete slab lifted three inches. Her gaze traveled down the walk, noting the unevenness. Weeds grew in between in spiked tufts as if she were in a third world country. What am I doing here?

  Biting her lip to keep from crying, she blinked at a place of business that had escaped her notice. An eatery…well, a greasy spoon. Fodder for roaches. But in the window hung a “help wanted, apply inside,” sign scribbled in barely legible handwriting.

  She paused and exhaled through pursed lips. Waitressing? Or worse, cook? Bile gathered. She’d waitressed in high school. Such hard work. These days, her feet would ache like after a particularly long school day. She was thirty-nine, possessed a four-year degree, and she contemplated being a waitress. Yes, with her hard-earned master’s in education, she entertained the thought of bringing people coffee, food, and whatsoever else they desired. Stomping the rest of her pride into the uneven sidewalk, she pulled her weary body up the three steps and entered.

  The diner was a madhouse. Jules glanced at the huge Coca-Cola clock as antique as the concrete outside. A lovely layer of grease clung to its protective plastic cover, yellowed with age, and dust littered the top. Lunchtime. Several people stared at her.

  She spun toward the large clock and sat on the last stool at the counter. Waitresses hurri
ed back and forth, slinging coffee and iced tea at an amazing rate. Through the crowd, Jules eyeballed eight booths, nine tables, all full, and ten stools at the long green-flecked counter, almost filled. The place buzzed.

  An older waitress approached. Her puffy hair led with claw-like bangs. Sweat streaks marked her foundation, and blue eye shadow encircled her eyes like clown make-up.

  “Be with ya in a minute, hon,” she announced as she flew by, clutching a piece of apple pie over her head to avoid running into other workers.

  The space behind the counter left little room for the waitresses to maneuver. Near the floor, Jules noticed the old-fashioned stainless steel freezers with the lock-handled pulls and above, silver ice cream-topping lids slanted for easy access. The new appliance on the far left was the soft ice cream maker next to a double sink, filled with soiled glasses. They still had the old soda fountain spouts with porcelain handles. Had she just stepped back in time fifty years? Who utilized such ancient equipment?

  The bleach-blonde waitress returned, pulling the stub pencil from behind her ear with one hand while removing an order pad from the front pockets of her apron. Jules blinked. Apron? They were all wearing them. White ones, decorated with grease and grime. The waitress chewed her gum as she glared at Jules.

  “Now, what can I gitcha?”

  The gum popped. Her hair floated around her head like cotton candy. Yellow cotton candy. She was thin, tall, but she snagged Jules with shrewd eyes. Faded blue.

  “I came in about the job.”

  The woman’s left brow rose, and the gum chewing ceased in mid-motion, her bottom jaw slightly opened and cocked to the right. Then she shut her mouth, leaned forward, and dropped her brows till her eyes squinted. Thick doubt clouded those pupils. “You ever waitress?”

  Jules took a deep breath and straightened “I have. It’s been a few years, but I know the basics.”

  The woman chawed her gum slowly as she studied her. “You got a clean background, no funny stuff, no drugs, no drinkin’, no federal offenses, things like that? Be sure I’ll be checkin you out.”