Miracle on I-40 (2 page)

Lacey reached for a menu, even though it was probably a waste of time. She had been serving the man for some years now, and he either ordered the Texas T-bone or the Piping Hot Chili, always topping off with a piece of pie and ice cream.

And thinking of this, she remembered that he always sat in a booth, usually a front corner one all by himself, with a good view of the truck parking lot. His coming to the counter was unusual.

“Good evenin’.” She said in her friendly customer voice. She set the menu in front of him, then glanced up and found herself looking into his dark eyes. He had an odd expression. A hesitancy? A nervousness?

Cooper, who did actually feel nervous and was blaming his discomfort on the gal—Lacey Bryant—extended the folded piece of paper and said, “From Pate.” He figured the note would explain, so he didn’t think he needed to say more at this point.

The gal’s pale, slim feminine fingers seemed a stark contrast to his large, rough, dark ones as she slowly took the note. Confusion and apprehension clouded her eyes. Cooper noticed they were the color of spring grass just before she lowered them to the paper.

He ran his gaze over her glossy hair and ivory cheeks, and for the hundredth time, he asked himself how he’d gotten hooked into doing this.

Maybe he would escape his own foolishness. Maybe she would simply refuse to go.

Either she was a slow reader, or she couldn’t comprehend the words the first time, because it seemed to take her an inordinately long time to read the few words. Cooper knew what was in the note; he’d read it, unashamedly curious about the exact nature of his friend’s relationship with this young woman.

Dear Lacey,

Cooper will explain about me. He will also take you to North Carolina right along with hauling my payload on up to D.C.. Cooper is a good man. I trust him with my life. So I can trust him with yours, too. Have a good Christmas. Hope everything turns out the way you want.

Love,

Pate

Cooper felt a bit of embarrassment over the high praise. And he wondered about it. He didn’t think anyone, even a friend like Pate, knew him well enough to form such an opinion.

After what seemed like a very long time, the gal raised her eyes to him. Her face was white, her green eyes filled with confusion. “What...” She stopped and waited.

Just as Cooper opened his mouth to explain about Pate, a tall, good-looking sort of guy in a nice suit appeared at the counter near the cash register.

“Excuse me,” she said and stepped over to take the man’s payment.

Cooper, annoyed at the interruption, observed the two. The guy called her “honey” and attempted to chat in an overly familiar way. She smiled at him with the same friendliness she gave everyone.

She wasn’t what could be called a flirting type. Cooper, running his eyes over her, tried to come up with what type she was, and couldn’t.

He had been coming into Geralds and sitting at her table for over two years, maybe even three, because she was a darned good waitress. And also because she was easy to look at, but kept things cool. He had a couple of times even considered asking her out, before coming to his senses. She was one of those women a man didn’t want to fool with. He wondered again about the seriousness of her relationship with Pate. Maybe Pate was the reason she didn’t flirt. He and Pate never had talked women; they each liked a lot of privacy. And he had always sort of figured neither of them had a lot to talk about where women were concerned.

Finished with the customer, she returned and gazed expectantly at Cooper. “What’s this all about?”

“It iced up on us in Santa Fe yesterday evening. Pate slipped and fell down the front stair at his apartment.” He watched distress replace the confusion in her eyes. “Broke his leg bad enough to require a hospital stay. I told him I’d haul his payload and take you on to this place in North Carolina.”

“Pine Grove.”

“Yeah. He said west side of Raleigh.”

She nodded, frowning and searching his face. Maybe now she’d say she wouldn’t go. Cooper waited.

The next instant, she turned right around from him and went to the back counter. He had a moment of confusion, wondering if he should call out to her to come settle the matter. He watched her get a mug and the coffee pot, and then she returned to thunk the mug on the counter in front of him, filling it with coffee, as she said, “Pate’s in the hospital then?”

Cooper nodded. “Yep.” He automatically reached for the sugar. “But he should be released day after tomorrow. His son and his son’s family are flyin’ out from Richmond to spend Christmas with him and take care of him.” The sugar came out faster than he had anticipated. He spilled some on the counter.

“Oh.” She was staring at him, but she didn’t offer to wipe up the sugar, just stood there holding the coffee pot and looking at him.

He stirred his coffee, then said, “I’ll have the chili dinner…and I’ll sit over there.” Slipping off the stool, he inclined his head toward the corner booth, then headed for it, wishing the gal would simply get to saying that she changed her mind about the trip.

As he slid into the booth, he looked into the night-dark window glass and saw her reflection back at the counter, standing there gazing over at him.

* * * *

“I don’t know what to do now,” she said to Jolene in a low voice, not wishing to have her business spread out to Gerald and the cook, both busy near the stoves.

She looked down to see that she was so flustered she had put tomatoes and cucumbers in the salad bowl, without the lettuce.

“So, what’s the big deal?” Jolene asked.

“The children are countin’ on going.” She got another salad bowl and filled it with lettuce. “They need to meet their grandparents and aunt and uncle and cousins. Their family. My sister and mother are plannin’ on us being there Christmas Eve.

“I got myself all set to go home and face Daddy,” she added, feeling near tears.

“So…go, honey,” Jolene said.  “Cooper said he’d take you.”

“Cooper isn’t Pate. Pate...well, we’re good friends. I wasn’t imposing on him— it’s not imposing on a good friend. You didn’t see Cooper’s face. He doesn’t want to do this. He’s only doing it for Pate.” She dumped dressing all over the salad.

“So what? Doing it for Pate’s a good reason. And don’t pay any attention to Cooper’s attitude. He always looks grumpy. The man’s afraid to be friendly, afraid people will find out he’s got as big a soft spot as everyone else.” Jolene, who was mixing the house dressing, licked her finger.

“Where did you get that idea?” Lacey asked and handed Jolene a soapy dishcloth to wipe her hands.

“I’ve been serving him for four years. I’ve even been out with him.”

Lacey stared. “When?”

“Oh, long time back. Maybe right before you came to work here. Before I met Frank, obviously.” Jolene passed Lacey a small bowl of the dressing. “We went out twice, as a matter of fact. Once to a show, then to a show and dinner. He’s a real gentleman— good manners and all, so you don’t have to be worried at all. And he’s a loner. He’s not the marrying kind—he doesn’t want any entanglements. He’ll keep his distance. You will be perfectly safe.”

Lacey gazed at Jolene. “Is Cooper his first or last name?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Jolene shrugged.

“You went out with him twice and never learned his first and last names? Didn’t you ask?”

Jolene said, “He’s just Cooper. Everyone calls him Cooper. Maybe that is his first and last names. And why would I need to know? Two shows and dinner doesn’t mean marriage.”

“I know Pate respects him,” Lacey said, more to herself than to Jolene. “But I don’t really know anything about him.” She’d felt his low-keyed interest on a couple of occasions, but she didn’t think she wanted to speak about this to Jolene.

“I think Pate’s recommendation should be enough.” Jolene pointed a finger at Lacey. “Cooper says he’ll take you. You want to go home— you need to go home. Now’s your chance, and my advice is to take it, because you’re not gonna get another like it. Besides, what will you tell the kids? Sorry, it’s all off? Then they’d have to tell their friends, and the UPS man, that their braggin’ was all lies.”

“Thanks, Jolene,” Lacey said dryly and thrust the bowl of salad toward her. “You take this to him. I need a few minutes to think this thing through.”

Jolene looked at the salad. “I hope he likes ranch dressing,” she said as she walked away.

Lacey went to the cooler and brought back one head of lettuce and one of purple cabbage and began chopping them with a cleaver, hard, swift chops. She thought of Pate. Pate Andrews was around fifty, widowed and lived alone, and seemed to love his truck as one would a wife. He had alluded to regret at paying more attention to his truck and trucking than he had to his marriage and family. He had one son, who lived in Richmond with his wife and children, and the two were somewhat estranged. Pate had mentioned that he felt he was too rough for his son, who had been his mother’s child. Sometimes Lacey had the idea that he sought to make up for the loss of his wife and family with his relationship with her. 

Pate came into Gerald’s on a regular basis, and over the years he and Lacey had formed a special kind of friendship. Pate had taken the place of the father she didn’t have, the grandfather the children had never met. Her traveling with him out to North Carolina had been Pate’s suggestion in the first place. He’d first mentioned it back in the fall, and the idea had lodged in her mind, popping up again and again, so that she had begun to imagine going home and making peace with her father.

When Pate had told her that he planned to get a payload to take him east to spend the holidays with his son, it had been easy to ask if the invitation to go with him still held.

“You bet it is, gal,” Pate said immediately. “We’ll make this a holiday to remember, both of us makin’ a long overdue trip to family.”

Everything had fallen into place. She had sort of thought the opportunity had been a gift from God, a sign that she was meant to go home at last.

And hitching a ride was the only way that she and the children could make the trip. She could not afford a round trip even by bus. A single mother with two children and a patched up ’77 Delta 88 that she couldn’t possibly trust to carry her two children ten miles down the interstate, much less some eighteen-hundred-plus miles. What emergency money she had managed to put aside had been used up by the dentist for Jon and a new starter for the car. Beth had sent some money and wanted to have their mother send more, but Lacey refused. She couldn’t come home to her father like that.

Besides, Pate welcomed their company, and she felt they were contributing to his holiday, too.

She was fairly certain Cooper wouldn’t welcome their company, she thought, stepping to the double doors and peering through the small window, seeing him at his table eating his salad. 

“Ridin’ in a big rig? Man alive!” Jon had said. And, curiously, “Does my grandfather know what I look like?”

Anna had said, “I’m makin’ a pot holder for our grandmother.”

“Chili’s up!” the cook called.

Lacey turned and walked over to get the steaming bowl, assemble it and the fresh bread Gerald had made and butter on a tray.

“Mama’s aging, and Daddy’s heart could go anytime,” Beth had said.

Jolene burst through the door, bearing the big plastic dishpan. She set it on a counter and whirled to hold out several bills toward Lacey.

“Here’s your tip from that man who favored sliding his cup around. He was right nice, too. Now, you’d better get that chili out there to Cooper. It doesn’t take long to eat that small salad…and no, I’m not takin’ it. I’ve got to go do something with these antlers. They’re givin’ me a headache.” And she went off toward the ladies room.

Lacey lifted the tray of food, took a deep breath, and pushed through the swinging doors.

Walking toward Cooper in the booth, her heart thudded. He had to have heard her footsteps, but he didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading. Maybe he didn’t hear her. She stood at his table a moment, looked at his thick hair. Goodness, it was glossy brown. His mustache was, too, tinged with red, just like the hair on his head. And his eyes were brown as buckeye seeds.

She realized suddenly that he was looking up at her.

He folded the paper, wrinkling it in his haste, and she sat the plates in front of him, saying the chili was a little on the spicy side today, chatting in her nervousness.

She stood there, uncertain, rubbing her hands together. Then she slipped into the seat opposite him. His eyebrow came up. He gazed at her a moment, then looked at his bowl and sprinkled cheese over his chili.

“How did Pate seem when you left him?” she asked.

“He was wide awake and flirtin’ with the nurse.” He glanced at her, then stirred the chili, jabbing in the melting cheese.

“How long will he have a cast on?”

“Eight weeks at least, the doctor said.” He took up the bottle of dried pepper and shook it liberally over the chili. Without first tasting it, Lacey noted with a small bit of alarm.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” she said, when she realized he didn’t have one. She’d been negligent—they always brought the customer ice water first thing.

She hurried around the counter and got the water, and as she brought it back, the father of the family of four held up a finger and called, “Oh, Miss…Miss, we’d like to order pie to go please.”

She set the glass of water in front of Cooper, stepped away, only to stop and abruptly return to put a napkin under the glass to get the drips, then rush to get pie for the family who were in a hurry to get on the road. After that she had to attend the register for a trucker and the elderly ladies, who wished her and everyone in the room a very merry Christmas, and to get menus for two truckers who came in.

 Jolene had apparently gotten very involved with her antlers. Surely, Paloma, who was supposed to work the supper shift would come in any minute, she thought, heading back to Cooper’s table with the coffee pot.

“You goin’ or not?”

Cooper’s voice startled her, and she splashed the coffee out of his cup. “Oh…I’m sorry.” She dabbed up the spill.