The car had been okay when she and Josh left Park Rapids five days ago, but now, in the middle of California, it was the end of the road for the ten-year-old sedan. According to the highway sign she’d just passed, Riverton was over the next rise. The engine labored, then coughed. She shifted into low gear and gritted her teeth, willing life into the car. Please Lord, just a little farther. “Mom, I’m hungry. My tummy hurts.” She glanced over at her son. His sky blue eyes, so much like her own, peered out the window and his pale, pinched face made her heart ache. He hunched over in his seat, hands clasped across his belly. Her heart squeezed. Josh had been so good on the tedious journey out, even though she’d driven ten hours a day since they left Minnesota. He hadn’t questioned her decision to leave, even when they’d slept in the car the last two nights and hadn’t stopped for lunch today. She’d weighed the pros and cons and decided California had what they both needed--it was as far away from Minnesota as they could get and it held the promise of independence and a job with an old college friend, Clarise. She crested the hill, and the oil light flashed on. Damn it anyway! They’d never make it to Santa Barbara and Clarise’s. She’d have to stop in Riverton and have the car fixed. She sucked in a breath and let the vehicle coast downhill into the valley. To the right of the road, gentle slopes descended into a grassy meadow where ten or twelve horses grazed. Straight ahead, the little town backed up against the side of the mountain. False-fronted wooden buildings lined the main road through town and a tiny steeple rose amid redwoods. Smoke spiraled up from a dozen chimneys. Amy caught her breath. Riverton looked just like a movie set. Fifty yards from the town, she crossed a two-lane concrete bridge that spanned the tumbling river. As she approached the traffic signal on the other side, the car belched. The light turned green, and she coasted on through, angled right onto a side street, and pulled her car and its small U-Haul trailer off the road. “Mom, can we please eat now? Please?” Amy switched off the ignition and closed her eyes. She had exactly thirteen dollars and twenty-seven cents. Not enough to get them a motel room for the night, and not enough to get the car fixed. She stole a glance at her son, noted his wide-eyed gaze, and let out her pent up breath. But she sure had enough for a hamburger. They’d eaten mostly cold cereal and sandwiches to extend her meager finances on the trip west. Josh had never complained. If the situation in Park Rapids hadn’t been so unhealthy for the two of them, she might have delayed leaving. As it was, she had to face facts. If she was going to take charge of her life now that Jonathan was dead, build a life for Josh and herself, then she had to leave the senior Wilsons’ household. Josh was her first priority. He didn’t deserve to suffer. She flashed him a smile. “What do you say we find a restaurant?” “I say yes!” She locked the Jetta and marched down the road to the main street, Josh at her side. The town nestled among redwoods and pine trees. A block away from the main street, water gurgled over the river’s rocks. They passed Doyle’s gift shop and the bank, where a round clock hung in the window, its hour hand pointing to three. Next came the hardware store. A red-haired man straightening garbage cans in front of the building stopped and grinned at them. “Afternoon. Nice day.” “Yes, it is,” Amy answered. Despite the car problem it was a beautiful sunny afternoon. Back in Park Rapids they’d be expecting the first snowstorm. Thank God she no longer had to worry about shoveling snow. A Dalmatian on a red leash tugged an elderly woman along. When the dog paused to sniff Josh’s trousers, the woman fell in beside Amy. “Don’t mind Buster, he’s just curious,” she explained with a smile. “He likes kids.” “We’re looking for a restaurant,” Amy said. “You can’t do better than Cassidy’s. Right here.” “Look!” Josh pointed to the weathered wood building directly in front of them. “Bet they have hamburgers in there.” Amy studied the place. Lace curtains hung over the lower half of a picture window; across the upper half was emblazoned Cassidy’s. Beneath the window sill, crimson chrysanthemums cascaded over a green planter box. Amy grinned. “Bet they do, too. C’mon.” She turned to the older woman. “Thank you.” “Enjoy your lunch.” The woman tugged her dog’s leash and set off down the street. Amy watched her disappear around the corner. Friendly sort of place. Small-townish. Certainly a contrast to Park Rapids. Inside, she steered Josh to a table next to the window. On the wall behind him hung an old bridle and a pitchfork. A nice touch, appropriate for a country cafe. A galvanized milk can propped open the back door. A harried-looking man wearing a green canvas apron plopped two menus on the table. “Be with you in a minute.” A Help Wanted sign stuck out from under his arm. He edged around Amy and taped the sign in the window. A moment later, he reappeared with two glasses of water and fumbled for his order book. “Two hamburgers and two fries,” Amy told him. He tramped back to the kitchen and Amy glanced about the room. The spotless cafe appealed to her sense of order. Eight tables filled the small room; each had fresh flowers in tiny ceramic vases. The wooden plank floors shone with a mellow patina. An elderly man sat at a corner table reading his newspaper, a coffee cup beside him. In another corner, a woman ate alone, gazing idly at a notepad between bites. Amy’s throat tightened. So simple, and so peaceful. The waiter brought their hamburgers. Josh tore into his as if it were his last meal. Amy bit into hers more slowly. Delicious. Cooked just right, with tomato, pickle, onion, and lettuce, the fries light and crispy. The Dalmatian lady was right. Food didn’t get much better than this. “Gee, Mom, this place is nice. Why do we have to go to some other town?” From over his half-eaten hamburger, Josh’s blue eyes pleaded. “Couldn’t we just stay in Riverton? I’m tired of driving.” “I’m tired, too, honey. But we have to go where I can find work. I have a job waiting in Santa Barbara.” He pointed to the window. “That sign says they need someone right here. And besides, you said something’s wrong with the car.” Josh was right about the car. The Jetta wasn’t going anywhere without an overhaul, but without money, she couldn’t afford to have the car repaired. She needed a job now. She hadn’t waited tables since college, but so what? The place was inviting, the food good. Maybe Riverton was a fortuitous stop. It certainly beat living with Jonathan’s parents. His death had made them even more demanding. For three years she’d tried to build a life for herself and Josh, but her in-laws made it impossible. They tried to make all the decisions, even what school was best for her son. She looked over the cafe once more and her tension eased. The homey atmosphere exuded a warmth she hadn’t felt in months. Here in tiny Riverton she might find a new start. An instant later, she found herself stepping toward the cash register where their waiter shuffled through receipts. “I’d like to speak to the owner, please.” The fiftyish man gave her a tired sigh and shoved a wisp of silver hair off his forehead. “You’re looking at him.” Amy’s heart thumped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the old man look up from his newspaper. The woman in the corner stared at her with interest. She took a fortifying breath. “I’d like to apply for the waitress job.” The owner adjusted gold wire-framed glasses a fraction higher on his nose and peered at her. “You new in town?” “We arrived today.” The cafe owner rolled his eyes. “Had any experience?” Amy paused. “When I was in school.” “Watcha been doing since?” Goodness, but he was direct! She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I worked in an office.” “Kinda odd, you wanting a waitress job, isn’t it?” Desperation made her pulse pound. Suddenly she wanted this job. Wanted it very much. She squared her shoulders. “I’m dependable and trustworthy. And I need a job.” She swallowed. She needed this job. “That your boy?” the man asked, directing his gaze at Josh. Amy nodded. A band tightened around her heart. Josh needed a safe nest as much as she did. He thought for a minute. “Sure don’t look like transients,” he muttered under his breath. “When can you start?” Amy’s gaze darted to her son and back. “Tomorrow.” If she could find a place to spend the night. “The shift’s ten till four. You get lunch and a salary.” Again he peered across the room at Josh who was sopping the last of his french fries in a pool of ketchup. “Got a place to stay?” Amy gave him a tight smile. “I’ll find one.” “Try the Shady Nook. Cottages by the river...'bout three blocks down. Owner’s Ed Merton. Tell him Dave sent you.” Fifteen minutes later, Amy picked her way along redwood round steps leading to the Shady Nook office, one of a half dozen tiny cottages set back from the road. The door stood ajar. A rusty screen, loose on its hinges, shielded a cluttered office. She knocked. “You the lady Dave sent?” a tenor voice called from inside. A second later, a ruddy-cheeked man of uncertain age appeared. “He called,” he explained. “Said you needed a place to stay.” He grabbed a ring of keys from the wall and pushed the screen door open, then offered a chubby hand. “I’m Dave’s brother-in-law, Ed Merton. I’ll show you what I have.” He took her to the last cottage in the lane. It stood in a thick grove of redwoods, and tree needles and debris covered the yard. Wood shingles hung loose from the siding and rats had gnawed the door frame. Amy’s heart sank. After the comfort of Cassidy’s, the Shady Nook was downright grim. Inside, though, was a cozy bedroom and an alcove off the breakfast area for Josh. An apartment-sized propane stove filled the dingy kitchen, and a stone fireplace covered one wall in the tiny living room. “It’s been vacant for six months,” Ed explained. “But I’d let you have it cheap if you cleaned it up.” He named a price. She barely hid her dismay. The cottage was reasonable enough, but filthy. It would take weeks of work to make it livable. But she’d run out of options. She had no money, but she did have plenty of time. She took a deep breath and faced the owner. “I’ll take it, Mr. Merton. But I can’t pay you until next week.” “I can live with that.” He plodded over to the stove, struck a match and lit the pilot light. “Propane tank’s full.” Thank God for little miracles. At least she could cook. An hour later, Amy and Josh unloaded the small U-Haul. By nightfall she had swept out the mouse droppings, set a trap under the kitchen sink, scrubbed the porcelain, and moved their suitcases inside. Her back ached like a knife was wedged between the vertebrae. After Josh fell asleep, she hung two sheets over the bare windows and pulled on her long flannel nightgown. Then she rummaged in a box of kitchenware for her electric tea kettle, filled it, and brewed herself a cup of Earl Grey. She never dreamed she’d end up in a rat-infested hovel without decent heat. Lowering herself onto a wooden crate in the living room, she inspected the drab walls. The room smelled like it needed a good scrubbing. A fire in the fireplace would help, too. Moonlight filtered through a hole in the roof. She let out a sigh. That would need fixing soon. When it rained.... Hell’s bells! She couldn’t think about it now. For three years she had struggled to be free, to break away from her over-protective parents and her disapproving in-laws. She stared at the gap in the roof, the bleak, unadorned walls. And now that I have, my real struggle is just beginning. “Damn you, Jonathan.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Damn you for dying!” Outside the November wind howled. She rubbed her cold arms, took a swallow of hot tea, and straightened her spine. It could be worse, she thought. She should count her blessings. In one afternoon she’d found a job and a place to stay. She felt like a fish out of water. A strange town, new job, people she didn’t know, and a run-down summer cottage to fix up. She was scared to death. But somehow she would make it work. She had to make it work. .
Amy pressed her foot on the accelerator and a cloud of blue-black smoke spewed from the Jetta’s exhaust. "Oh, no!" she groaned.
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