She stood, undecided. “Are you sure? I might wreck your truck.”
“I doubt it.” He went around to the passenger side and got in.
Excited, she slipped into the driver’s seat and put the keys in the ignition. She frowned as she looked out through the windshield. The moon shone brightly, but she still worried. “It’s dark, Joshua.”
He leaned over, his shoulder firm against hers as he reached beneath the wheel, almost brushing her knees, and pulled a knob. As he drew back, she looked into his hazel eyes and felt her heart give a little flip. He smiled. “There’s always light when you need it.”
CHAPTER 17
The eyes of the Lord search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.
2 CHRONICLES 16:9
JOSHUA COULDN’T SLEEP after he saw Abra to her room. He waited until she closed the door before he unlocked his own. He gave her plenty of time to settle for the night before he went out again. He headed down the street to the all-night Chevron station and closed himself into the telephone booth. Dad would be in bed, but Joshua didn’t think he’d mind having his sleep interrupted.
“She’s here, Dad. In Agua Dulce.”
The groggy voice came awake. “Have you talked with her?”
“I gave her a driving lesson on the way out to Vasquez Rocks. We talked. Actually, she talked. I listened.”
“Is she ready to come home?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.” Joshua rubbed the back of his neck. “Start praying, Dad.”
“I’ve never stopped. I’ll call Peter and Priscilla.”
“Better wait.”
“They’ve been waiting a long time for any news, Joshua.”
“Okay. But don’t get their hopes up.”
Abra shivered in the cold morning air until Clarice unlocked the door of the diner and let her in. “Well, you look better this morning.” She smiled broadly. “I take it you had a good time with Joshua.”
“Yes. I did.” Abra took chairs down and put out napkins and silverware while Clarice got out the Farmer Brothers coffee and got four pots brewing. Rudy already had bacon going, the scent drifting into the diner. He and Clarice talked through the open window between the counter and kitchen. The work crew would start coming in soon. She had just laid out the last few bundles of silverware when the bell jangled and Joshua walked in. She smiled at him. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you, too.” He sounded well-rested, in good humor.
“Well, aren’t you both cheerful!” Clarice chuckled as she looked from one to the other. “So where did you take her, Joshua? There aren’t any movie theaters around here.”
“We went out to Vasquez Rocks. We used to hike together back home.”
Clarice’s eyes popped open. “You know each other!”
Abra went behind the counter. “We grew up together.”
“We lost touch.” Joshua sat on a stool.
Abra set a mug in front of him and filled it with fresh coffee. She felt oddly shy with him now. “Thank you for my driving lesson yesterday. And for listening.”
“Would you like to have another driving lesson this afternoon?” He lifted his mug and looked at her over the rim. “You need more practice using a clutch.”
“And the gas and the brakes and the steering.” She kept her tone light, trying to ignore the flutters in her stomach. She set the pot back on the burner.
“You have a lot to learn. And we still have a lot to talk about.”
She thought of Haven and all the people she had known there. Some had meant more to her than others. One, in particular, but she didn’t dare mention Pastor Zeke. “How are Peter and Priscilla?”
He lowered his mug. “Call them and ask.”
She winced. “I doubt they’d want to hear from me.”
“You’re wrong. Peter went looking for you. Priscilla’s been in and out of Dad’s office ever since you left. They love you.”
The guilt came back like a steamroller. She blinked back tears. “I know the address. I’ll write.”
His eyes narrowed. “You wrote once before. You left notes to everyone. Remember? Except me. Why was that?”
She couldn’t speak for a moment. “What would you like to order for breakfast?”
“I’m not attacking you.” Joshua set the mug on the counter and held it with both hands.
Wasn’t he? It felt like it. “When you go back to Haven, tell everyone you saw me. Tell them everything I told you. That should make them all happy never to see me again.” The instant the first insulting word flew out of her mouth, she knew she’d regret every one that followed. She drew in a shaky breath, waiting for him to retaliate.
Joshua leaned back and looked at her, eyes darkening in anger. He didn’t speak.
She lowered her eyes, ashamed. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Surprise me.”
She turned away.
“Wait a minute.” He called her back. “I don’t want oatmeal.” He grabbed a menu and gave it a quick once-over. “Steak—medium rare—three eggs, hash browns, sourdough toast, orange juice, and keep the coffee coming.”
At least she hadn’t made him lose his appetite.
The bell over the door jangled, announcing the arrival of more customers. Abra welcomed the distraction. She took orders and filled water glasses and coffee cups. When Rudy rang the bell, she collected and delivered Joshua’s breakfast and refilled his mug with coffee, then went back to work.
Joshua ate, paid his bill, and left without another look at her. She tried not to feel abandoned. She wanted him to leave, didn’t she?
Her shift done, she returned to the hotel and stocked the cart with fresh sheets, towels, boxes of tissue, and small bottles of shampoo. She worked quickly and efficiently until she came to room 12.
Except for the Bible and notebook on the birch coffee table, Joshua’s room was the same as all the others. He had a double bed with a quilted boomerang-patterned bedspread, two pale birch side tables with space-age lamps, a Scandinavian fabric and wood chair in the corner with a hanging lamp for reading. His toiletries bag was open: Barbasol shaving cream and his razor, a wood-handled brush, Old Spice deodorant. His toothbrush and Colgate toothpaste stood in a glass.
Abra stripped the bed and gathered the used towels into her laundry bag. She whipped open the fresh sheets, tucking them in with hospital corners. She plumped pillows with fresh cases and smoothed over and tucked in the bedspread. She scrubbed the blue linoleum bathroom floor, the toilet and shower, polished the mirror and fixtures before dusting the furniture and lamps and vacuuming the beige rug. She looked around to make certain everything was just right before closing the door.
She’d already made her own bed, but she exchanged her damp towel with a fresh one before moving on to do a thorough cleaning of the last seven rooms. Stowing the work cart, she went back to rest up for the evening shift at the diner. She slept for an hour and awakened feeling hot and sticky. She’d been dreaming about Penny. Stepping into the shower, she let the lukewarm water cool her overheated skin. She kept thinking about Priscilla and Peter and Mitzi and all the others who had been kind to her.
And Pastor Zeke.
She hadn’t allowed herself to think about him for so long, and now she felt such an intense longing to talk with him. Of all the people she’d ever known, she’d hurt him the most. Mama Marianne had told her how he’d saved Abra’s life. “He found you and tucked you inside his shirt to keep you warm . . .” She vaguely remembered him singing to her and holding her in the night. She’d always felt warm and safe with him. She’d felt loved. Until he gave her away.
Her world came apart when Marianne died and Pastor Zeke abandoned her. “You need a family, Abra. You’ll have a mommy and daddy and a sister.” Everything changed that last day when he went out the door. She never felt a part of any family after that.
Abra covered her face as the water soothed her. Ha
d everything been tainted by hurt and anger? For weeks after, Pastor Zeke had come back to check on her and she’d hoped he’d take her home. Then he stopped coming. After that, Peter took the family to a different church. She never understood why, only that it was somehow her fault.
Pastor Zeke didn’t come to visit after that, but sometimes she’d awaken and sit in the window, waiting. She’d see him come around the corner in the wee hours of the morning. He’d stop at the gate and bow his head.
“We love you, Abra.” How many times had Priscilla said those words? “We want you to be our daughter, too.”
But Penny had said things, too, things that might be closer to the truth. “They only adopted you because I said I wanted a sister. I can tell them anytime I want that I’ve changed my mind.”
Abra had waited for that day to come. She’d never let them get too close. She was afraid if she did, they’d give her away, too. She thought they were just saying nice words, but didn’t really mean them. She saw how they loved Penny. She knew the difference.
Now she wondered. Was that their fault or hers?
She hadn’t let anyone get close until Dylan, and what a disaster that had been. She thought of poor Franklin and put her head against the tile wall. Maybe if she’d been honest. Maybe if she had stayed Abra instead of being so willing to become someone else.
Turning off the water, she stood shivering. God, I don’t know what to do or where to turn. How do I move ahead with my life if all I can do is look back?
Every time Joshua was with Abra, he felt the struggle going on inside her. They went out every day together after she finished her shift. She must have had a hundred questions about people back home, but she didn’t ask one. She talked less and less. Ten days had passed already and the work was going more quickly than anyone had expected. The movie town would be finished soon, and he’d be out of a job. So would Abra. What then? Would she board a bus and disappear into the night again? He had to remind himself she didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t his business what she decided to do with her life.
God, she’s in Your hands. She’s always been in Your hands.
They haunted Vasquez Rocks. She had tennis shoes and jeans and T-shirts now.
“Thanks for teaching me to drive.” Abra clasped her arms around her knees and stared at the gold-streaked pale-blue horizon.
Was that comment a prelude to saying good-bye?
She kept her eyes on the horizon. “How long before you finish work here?”
So she was thinking about it, too. “Three weeks, maybe less.”
“And then?”
“I’m going home.”
He saw the glistening of tears, though she widened her eyes before giving him a wistful smile. “I thought you would.” She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Clarice has already given me fair warning. So has Bea. Business will be back to normal, which means they won’t need extra help.”
They hadn’t talked about the future. He hadn’t put any pressure on her about going home, but he felt the moment at hand. “What do you want to do, Abra?”
“I’ve saved some money.” Her mouth curved in a grim smile. “The men have been nice about leaving me good tips. I have enough to buy a bus ticket to Las Vegas and pay for a few nights in a motel. I can find a steady job there.”
“What kind of job?” He wanted to bite his tongue. The question came out all wrong.
“Don’t worry. Not that kind of job. I’ve prostituted myself before. I won’t do it again.”
Wounded people made a lot of promises they couldn’t keep. Joshua decided not to let the question go. “What do you want to do, Abra?” He said it slowly, deliberately, looking straight at her.
She rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes before speaking. “I know what I should do, Joshua. I just don’t know if I have the courage.”
“It might take less than you think.”
“And hurt more than I can bear.”
“I’d be right beside you.”
Her mouth trembled and she pressed her lips together tightly. She shook her head.
Joshua knew she wanted him to let it go, but he couldn’t. “Which is it, Abra? Fear or pride?”
“Both, I guess.” She faced him, eyes bright with tears. “You know who I dread seeing most? Your father.”
“Why?”
“He sees things in black-and-white.”
He knew what she meant. Life didn’t hold any gray areas for Dad. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Life and death. Serving God or serving something else. But she had missed the most important thing about him.
“He sees through eyes of grace, Abra.” He hadn’t talked to Dad since he let him know Abra was here in Agua Dulce, but he knew he was praying. He imagined Peter and Priscilla praying, too, and Mitzi, and so many others hoping for an end to the heartache. “You’ll never have any peace unless you face them.”
“By them, you mean everyone: Peter and Priscilla, Penny, Mitzi.” She looked away and he saw her swallow before she spoke in a hoarse voice. “Pastor Zeke.”
He turned to her. “Come home with me.”
“I can’t.” She stood, her raw expression piercing him. She took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Let’s go back. It’s getting cold.”
Joshua let her drive back to the motel. She removed the keys from the ignition and put them in his hand. The lightest brush of her fingers stirred his senses. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and longing. “I love you, Joshua.”
He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “I know you do.” But not the way he wanted. “I love you, too.” More than he had. Her skin felt warm and velvet soft. She moved under his touch, like a kitten wanting to be stroked, and his heart rolled into a fast beat. Heat spread and sank. He took his hand away. He opened the truck door and got out, drawing in a deep breath of cool night air.
Abra got out and closed the driver’s side door carefully. He met her on the walkway between rooms. She stood still and looked up at him, searching, pensive. “Abra.” He put his arms around her, half-expecting her to pull away. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder. His pulse quickened when she stepped closer, pressing her body full against him. He doubted she knew how he felt about her, how he’d felt when he came home from Korea and saw her standing on her front porch. When she slipped her arms around his waist, he felt on fire. He wanted to lift her head and kiss her. He wanted to lose himself in her. How easy that would be. Oh, Lord, help.
Joshua put his hands on her shoulders and put a few inches between them, hoping she didn’t notice his heightened breathing. He took the room key from her hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Stepping back, he forced a casual smile. “I’ll see you at the diner in the morning.” He wondered at the defeated look before she turned away from him and went inside.
Joshua went into his room and tossed the truck keys on the coffee table. He took out his wallet and set it on the side table, and stretched out on his bed. Las Vegas! His breathing was still shallow and his heart hadn’t stopped pounding. He wished the motel had a pool so he could cool off and swim laps. A run would help, but it was dark.
Men’s voices came from outside. He heard McGillicuddy, Chet, and Javier. They must have gone to the bar because they didn’t sound like they were feeling any pain. Doors opened, closed. Silence. Minutes passed. His heart kept racing. A truck went by, heading out for the Mojave, a night run.
He had to be up early tomorrow. He needed to get some sleep. He untied and took off his work boots, then stripped off his socks. He unbuttoned and yanked off his shirt, flinging it with needless violence into the chair.
Restless, he went into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. He brushed his teeth. He paced the room, unbuckling his belt. Leather whistled against denim as he pulled it from the loops and tossed it on the bed.
He didn’t know he was waiting until he heard the tap on his door. His pulse rocketed. He knew who was there and what could happen. He o
pened the door a few inches. Abra stood under the dying light, looking broken and vulnerable. “You shouldn’t be here, Abra. People might see you and get the wrong idea about us.”
She looked at his bare chest and bare feet, her gaze flitting away in embarrassment. Still, that one brief look had its impact. “I don’t care, Joshua.”
“I do.” She’d seen him without a shirt before, but he felt the awareness between them. It shook him. His hand tightened on the door.
“Can I come in? Just for a few minutes.”
Temptation wrapped its arms around him and whispered in his ear. He fought against it. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to talk, Joshua.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “I want you to hold me.”
He let out his breath sharply and went hot all over.
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that.” She bit her lip. “I mean the way you used to hold me. When I was a kid and . . .”
He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes and curbed the instinct to pull her inside his room and enfold her in his arms. “We’re not children anymore, Abra.”
“Nobody cares what we do.”
“God cares. I care.”
She sighed softly. “You’ve been like a brother to me.”
She was lying to herself as well as to him. “But I’m not your brother, am I?”
He saw her eyes flicker, fill with self-recrimination, and then clear. Her face softened. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could go back to the way things were?”
“In some ways.” He wanted to keep moving forward. At least the tension between them had eased. He could breathe a little easier. “Try to get some sleep.”
She stepped back with a smile, relaxed now. “It’s nice to know you’re on the other side of the wall.”
Joshua didn’t close his door until she’d gone back into her room. Stretching out on the bed again, he put his arms behind his head, listening to the soft squeak of her mattress.