Guarding Miranda (12 page)

Shortly after the station was her turn and soon she was reading a sign marked:
Waterhen
. 

“Here we are!” She told her rental car.

Her stomach fluttered with nervous, excited little butterflies.

She couldn’t wait to crack open the paperbacks she had purchased at WalMart. Two of her favorite authors had released new titles for summer reading and she was itching to crack those spines!

Miranda turned the rental car right, passing a small park, only to cross a bridge, a small school on her right side, a closed restaurant on her left and finally, slowed and pulled into the Tyson Prairie Emporium on her right.

The store was smaller than she had been expecting.

She found herself hitting the brakes, hard, not to miss the turn. 

She wasn’t surprised to see the parking lot empty of all but one vehicle as she pulled in.

It really was a quiet little town. 

The blue half ton truck likely belonged to the proprietor.

She checked the gas gauge of her car.

She had nearly three quarters of a tank of gas left, so she did not worry about fueling up.  Instead, she parked the burgundy Ford Focus and left it, curious to see if the residents of Waterhen would be as nice as her Uncle had foretold.

She learned very quickly just how friendly they could be.

“Hi,” said the auburn haired woman behind the counter, as soon as she walked in. “Nice enough for you?”

Miranda assumed she was talking about the weather.

“Lovely,” she replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable beneath the woman’s intense blue eyed stare.

“You’re Russ Gundy’s niece, aren’t you?” She asked, adjusting her thick rimmed glasses.

“I am.”

“He called, said you’d be coming.” The woman smiled and it was a pleasant sort of smile. “I’m Betty, Betty Tyson.  My husband and I own this store.”

“It’s a nice store,” said Miranda, unsure of what else to say.

“Your uncle said you’d need quite a few provisions.  That you’re staying out all summer?”

“If I like it here,” she replied and was quick to add, “I’m sure that I will.  Like it here, that is.”

“Hmm. You weren’t sure what to expect, were you?” Betty asked, a grin on her lips. “Well, we’re a pleasant lot, us Waterheners.  Very few of us are genuine hicks.”

Miranda felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Oh, I didn’t think that you were-“

“I’m joking, girl, joking!” Betty laughed. “We’re mostly ranchers, teachers, retirees for the most part.  Fishermen and hunters by hobby, with a few artists thrown in the mix.” She paused. “We even have a novelist living out at one of the cabins.”

“Anyone I might know?” Miranda was interested to know.

“Alex Harrison.” Betty replied. “You probably wouldn’t know his work unless you have children. He does kids books.”

Miranda put her purse in the shopping cart and was ready to begin her search for groceries. “I don’t suppose you could direct me to the frozen foods section?”

Betty crooked her arm around the corner, behind the cash register. “Down there, at the end of the hallway.  The fresh fruits, vegetables and dairy are down that way too.”

“Thanks.” Mostly with the use of her right arm, Miranda wheeled the cart down the hallway and nearly plowed over a young auburn haired man who had popped out from behind an adjoining aisle. “Sorry.”

“No worries, miss,” said the boy, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years of age. “Need help finding anything?”

“You work here?”

 “Of course!” He grinned at her. “My parents and I run the place!”

Miranda offered him with a grin. “Do you carry any chicken breast?”

“As a matter of fact, we do.” He stepped past her and reached for one of the nearest freezers. “They’re from a free range farm down the way. Butchered and packed local, sorry they’re frozen instead of fresh, we don’t sell enough to keep a consistent supply of fresh.” He indicated two sizes. “Come in packs of six or twelve.” He slid open the door and held out two. “Which would you prefer?”

“I may as well get twelve,” she supposed, rolling the cart nearer.

He set the larger of the containers into her cart with a smile.

“Need help finding anything else?”

“Some ground beef, maybe?”

“Lean or extra lean?” He consulted the freezer again and rummaged around for the packages.

“Extra lean.” She replied.

“One or two pounds?”

“Two.”

“Hey, you’re Russ Gundy’s niece, aren’t you?” He asked suddenly, a big grin on his freckled face.

“Funny how everyone seems to know that,” she said with an awkward laugh. “What did he do, call up everyone I might bump into?”

“The people around here are real fond of your uncle.  He’s a nice man, good hunter, avid fisherman.  Everyone knows he’s stinking rich but he sure doesn’t act like it, treats everyone the same.” He glanced up at her suddenly, a blush in his cheeks, his ears reddening. “You don’t mind that I called him stinking rich, do you?”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” She challenged, in good nature.

“Need help with anything else?” He asked, seeming ready and willing to help her, if needed.

She looked around her, at the fresh vegetables and dairy. “I think I’ll be all right.  But if you tell me your name, I’ll track you down if I need you.”

“Tommy.  Tommy Tyson.” He grinned. “Betty’s my mom.”

“Well, thank you very much for your help, Tommy.”

“No problem,” said the boy, who then dashed away.

Consulting the list she had made, Miranda proceeded to fill it. 

Her Uncle Russ had said that there were staples at the cabin, flour, sugar, herbs, spices, liquor. 

Lucky for her, he left the power on at the cabin year round, to keep the waterlines from freezing and the sewer pump working, so she wouldn’t have to worry about getting the power activated.

Uncle Russ said that the cabin’s phone service would be activated in a few days.

For the moment, she would have to rely on her cell phone for communication purposes, which definitively meant that she would have no phone service until the land line was established.

The option was to go to a neighbor’s and borrow theirs.

That or she could use the pay phone at the Emporium.

Her cell was not going to ring out here.

Not once!

Surely this was paradise!

Finished with her list, Miranda approached the cash register and started unloading her purchases unto the counter. 

Betty motioned for her son to help her.  “Give her a hand, Tommy. I’m on the phone.”

So he did.

“You have enough in here to feed an army,” he teased, to which Miranda grinned.

“Yeah, that’s me all right – army of one.”

A one armed army of one, at that
, she thought to herself.

She spotted a magazine rack near the door and left the cart a moment to pluck the most recent Cosmopolitan magazine from the rack. 

She added it to the pile of her purchases, along with a pack of cinnamon chewing gum from the display.

Betty handed her the phone. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” Miranda was confused.

“Your uncle said for me to call when you got in, so I called. He’s on now.” Betty explained.

“Uncle Russ?” Miranda greeted him.

His voice filled her ear, “Hello my girl, find everything you need?”

“For now, anyway,” she told him.

“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay.  Your Aunt Nancee wants you to be mindful that if you change your mind there’s always Italy.”

Miranda smiled as she pictured him, wondering if Aunt Nancee was in the background dictating what he should say.

He was the control freak in the family, true but Aunt Nancee was the one holding his tether.

“I know.” Miranda told him. “But I think I might like it here.  Like you said, the people seem nice.”

“Are you heading out to the cabin now?”

“As soon as you let me off the phone.” She teased him with a feigned urgency in her voice.

“Call us when you get phone service at the cabin.  Or your Aunt will drive me crazy with worry.”

“I will.” Miranda promised and in ending the call, passed the phone back to Betty.

“Find everything you need?” Betty asked, of her long line-up of groceries.

“For now, anyway,” she said with a smile, as the other woman tallied up the goods.

“Say, will Russ and Nancee be coming out this summer at all?  He didn’t say on the phone.”

Miranda shrugged, the gesture making her left shoulder ache. “He said he’ll be up for a weekend of fishing in August and then moose hunting season, in early October but he and Nancee are going to Cancun, I think, for their summer vacation this year.”

“Mexico, eh?” Betty sighed. “Went there for my honeymoon.  We went to Hawaii last year.”

Miranda was slightly taken aback.

Betty is very well-travelled for a rural Canadian grocery store operator,
she figured.
Either that or I just haven’t met enough rural Canadians yet.

“Who minded the store, in your absence?” Miranda asked, curious.

“Sara and Albert Tyson, my brother-in-law and his wife.” Betty wrinkled her nose as she looked up the price of the green peppers. “They work here, on weekends and when we’re on holidays.”

Tommy beamed at Miranda. “Will you be going to the potluck supper this Wednesday?”

Her Wednesday night was as yet unplanned as were all of her other nights.

It was Monday now.

“A what?”

“Potluck.” Tommy repeated. 

“What’s a potluck?” It sounded like an exotic bird.

“A potluck is a supper where everyone attending brings a bit to share with the rest of the community.” Betty explained. “Luck of the pot.  
Potluck.
  You eat what’s there.  I’ll be making a lasagna myself.”

“Mom’s lasagna is the best.” Tommy assured her.

“You should come.” Betty insisted warmly.

“I don’t know...” Miranda shifted her tired left shoulder.

“I can introduce you to some of your uncle’s hunting buddies, if you go.” Betty continued. “Some of your neighbors, too.  Ben and Mabel Clarion, for sure will be there.”

Ben Clarion was the man her uncle had told her would show her some good fishing holes. 

It couldn’t hurt to socialize with the man a little.

“I’ll think about it.” Miranda decided.

Tommy glanced up at her as he set the last item – the chili powder – on the counter. “It doesn’t hurt to make a few friends, in case you should need something.”

Miranda realized the wisdom of the young man’s words. “Wednesday at what time?”

“At seven,” said Betty, deftly ringing up the items. “At the Community Hall.  You can ask anyone for directions. We’re a friendly lot.”

“The Community Hall?” Miranda considered her memory of the map her uncle had made her. “I think Uncle Russ marked it on the map of Waterhen he made up for me.”

“You really should come,” said Tommy, with the enthusiasm of youth. “It’s usually a great meal.  Lots of variety, lots of desserts.”

“I think I’d like that.” Miranda conceded and considered the bill that Betty had finished tallying up. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” said Betty. “Your uncle said to put it on his account.”

“Really?” Miranda was pleasantly surprised. 

Her Uncle Russ was certainly putting a great deal of effort into seeing that she had as smooth-sailing an escape out here as possible.