Whispering, Idaho Page 3

  Stephen sprinted around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. As she approached the oxidized-blue-truck, she could see the greasy underbelly through the rusted fender and realized it was the same truck that had been parked alongside the church before Stephen came to Whispering.

  Stephen beamed and offered her his hand. “You look great.”

  “Thanks,” she said, and climbed into the sweltering cab. She held her breath against the smell of axle-grease and wet dog, pushing a gnawed bone aside with her sandaled foot. Picking at the torn upholstery, she wished she’d worn her cutoffs.

  Stephen jumped in behind the big black wheel and slammed the door. “Ready?”

  Alice nodded and rolled down the window. “What kind of truck is this?”

  “Ford. Body’s rough but runs good. Got it off Charlie Glimmer. Belonged to his kid.”

  “Ben?”

  Nodding, Stephen wrestled the rattling rig around the corner and down South Hill Road.

  Alice frowned. “This is Ben’s truck? He was drafted right out of high school, you know. Got a low lottery number and now he’s gone. Were you in the draft lottery?”

  “Three fifty-four.”

  “Lucky you,” Alice said, feeling her throat tightening into a fist. She twisted her fingers until they hurt.

  “There’s a reason for everything,” Stephen said, shifting gears.

  “Tell that to Ben,” Alice snapped.

  “Whoa!” Stephen said, tapping the steering wheel with his ringless fingers.

  Staring at her hands twisted together in her lap, she listened to his strumming fingers. The truck rattled; her upper lip perspired. Maybe Christie was right. Maybe she did wreck everything.

  “You okay?”

  “Ben was my friend,” she gasped, speaking over the lump in her throat. She slipped her chewed fingertips beneath her legs and turned to the window.

  “I didn’t know. Tough losing a friend.”

  Alice nodded. She watched the summer lawns, brown as butcher paper, whipping past. “What will you do when the Glimmers come back?”

  Stephen shrugged and pulled the rumbling truck into the parking lot of the Triple-X Drive-in. He shut off the engine. “Better to live life as it comes. Burger?”

  Alice turned to his questioning eyes and remembered to smile. “Yes, please.”

  A female voice screeched at them from the speaker. “Take your order?”

  “What’ll it be, Alice?”

  “Cheeseburger and Coke, please.”

  Stephen placed the order and turned back to her. “Ben’s ghost is here. Glimmers may stay away.”

  “But this is their town.”

  Stephen was quiet for a few moments. “If they come back, I’ll move on.”

  Alice felt a wave of panic wash over her like spring runoff. She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Losing Ben was hard on all of us. The Glimmers need us. You can stay even if they do come back.”

  “Gotta work, Alice. This is a small town.”

  Alice wanted to shout, what about us? Instead she pushed down the words like she’d reject a stray dog and stared out the window at hungry people coming and going with sacks of hot food in their hands.

  “Alice?”

  She looked at him sideways, pushing away the dull emptiness she felt inside. She wanted to speak but no words came out. It was silly to think she might have found true love so young.

  “Great dress," he said, and smiled. “Goes nicely with your red hair.”

  Alice forced a smile. “Yellow cheers me up.”

  “Me too.” Stephen grinned and took her hand.

  Alice laughed. Sweat began to trickle down her sides, making it hard for her to concentrate.

  “Picnic in the park?”

  “No. Dad’s working late. He might see us.”

  “Yellow’s the tip off, right?”

  Alice felt her cheeks blaze. Having him stare at her with those blue eyes was almost more than she could take.

  “Just teasing.”

  Alice nodded. The carhop brought their order. “Mom gave me some money.”

  “I got it,” he said. Stephen set the sack between them and handed the waitress some bills. He started the rumbling truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Alice fell back against the seat and pressed her arms over the sweat circles staining her dress. The smell of dog and axle grease mixed with the aroma of burgers and fries. Her mouth began to water.

  “Know just the spot for our dinner,” Stephen said. He bounced the truck over hard ruts, turning it onto River Road. “Gotta special place in mind.”

  Alice stuck her head out the truck window and breathed the scent of musky willow roots and dark fish pools. Shadows lengthened and the air cooled slightly as they drew closer to Blue River.

  “Smells so much sweeter in the evening,” she said.

  Stephen swerved the truck off the windy road onto a narrow dirt lane.

  Alice grabbed the door handle and righted herself. “Where’re we going?”

  “Carl’s Glen,” Stephen said, slowing as he approached the old bridge. He turned the wheel sharply and rolled the truck onto the creaking planks.

  “Stop,” she shouted, opening the door and leaning out. At the sight of white water rushing past far below, Alice screamed. The truck jerked; Alice fell forward.

  Stephen’s hand grabbed her arm and pulled her against the seatback. Leaning across the seat, he pulled the door closed. “What’s the matter?”

  “Take me home.”

  “Clearing’s just ahead. The bridge is safe. I cross it all the time.”

  “Mom says these rickety beams could go any minute.”

  Stephen squeezed her hand. “She ever warn you about jumping from moving vehicles?”

  The warmth of his hand calmed her. “My cousin, Rayleen, fell out of a car once,” she said. “She didn’t get hurt, well, her knees got scraped. Everyone got scared to pieces.”

  “Let’s walk.” Stephen ground the truck into reverse and backed onto the shoulder next to the bridge.

  Alice nodded, feeling bits of leftover fear like radio static buzzing through her veins. Her teeth chattered and her stomach swirled; her hands shook.

  Stephen shut off the engine and leapt from the truck. He ran around to her side and opened the door. “Come on.”

  Alice took his hand and climbed out. Stephen guided her across the creaking bridge. Below them, the water tumbled over sharp rock, the whoosh and rumble drowning out the buzz of cicadas.

  He nodded westward down the river. “Got a funky cabin just past the switchback. Dotson homesteaded there. Plot for vegetables. Room for Zeke to run.”

  “Zeke?”

  “My dog.”

  They crossed the pasture of dry grass, prickly thistles and wilted sad lupine to a large rock sitting in the center of the field.

  “Supper table,” Stephen said. He set the food sack on the sun-warmed granite.

  Alice twisted her hands and looked around. The remote clearing was silent with the exception of the chirp of an osprey gliding overhead and the whoosh of the water. She was alone with a man in the middle of nowhere. She sneaked a peek at Stephen’s peaceful face and let out the breath she’d been holding ever since he’d picked her up at the house. She was safe with him. She smiled.

  “I’ve seen this rock from the other side of the river.” She climbed onto the sun-heated surface and nodded downstream. “There’s the best swimming hole on the entire river.” She lifted her hand and pointed.

  Stephen reached over and touched the row of bruises along her upper arm. “This is recent. What happened?”

  “Dad, he . . . accidentally pinched my arm.”

  “Accidentally?”

  Alice nodded and looked away from Stephen’s questioning eyes. An inner quaking took hold of her torso now and wouldn’t quit. Even her teeth chattered. She tried to make it stop, but tightening her muscles only made things worse.

  “This morning, at wor
k…” Stephen said.

  Alice lowered her eyes and stared at her dusty flip-flops. “I’m dealing with it, okay? Can’t we just eat?”

  “Sure. Have at it.” Stephen pulled a foil-wrapped burger out of the bag and handed it to her. “Bless these burgers,” he said.

  She unwrapped her dinner and ate greedily. Occasionally, she stopped, wiping her mouth on a paper napkin to watch her friend. “This is good,” she said at last, smiling, wanting to make up for brushing him off earlier.

  Stephen nodded, leaning back against the rock. He crossed his legs at the ankles and squinted against the lowering sun. After a while, he reached out a hand and pointed to the briers lining the river bank. “Right there,” he said. “See the trail and the barbwire fence. A red fox shows up early in the morning, while I meditate.”

  “I want to see him,” Alice said. She lifted a trembling hand and shaded her eyes. Staring hard into the brush, she hoped to catch a glimpse of the sleek animal.

  Stephen faced her. “If something bad is happening at home, I want to know about it.”

  Alice looked at the ground. Feeling the bruises along her arm, she realized she owed it to herself to put a stop to her father’s abuse. She looked up, preparing herself to tell Stephen the truth, but when she opened her mouth to speak, not a single word came out.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Alice nodded. “Some day, maybe.”

  Back at home, Alice watched from her bedroom window Stephen’s truck growing smaller as it traveled down the hill. The hazy sunset washed orange light over the neighborhood houses and yards, turning everything shimmery as a Maxfield Parrish painting. Alice hoped for a cool breeze to steady her nerves, but the air was still, unlike her shaking fingers. Even though she was fresh from the shower, already she was sweating from the stifling heat, or was it her date with Stephen that had her so overheated?

  She pulled a comb through her wet hair, thinking hard about the promise she’d made to her father not to tell. If she confided in Stephen, he’d drop her like a hot rock. She didn’t blame him for not wanting a screwed up girlfriend. Who would? She’d just have to keep the secret. The Glimmers would be back soon anyway. Maybe her mother was right…better to not get involved with the young Pastor.

  Dropping the comb into her nightstand drawer, she slipped her drawing book out from under the mattress. Taking a seat on the bed, she wrote: Only crazy people need help. I’ll just keep out of his way—better yet, maybe I’ll run away from home. I have enough money saved to get me away from here. I’ll get a place of my own and a job. He can’t bother me now that I’m of age.

  Alice imagined curling up with a good book in her new place. The apartment would creak like old bones; her heart would pound like a banging gate on a stormy night. If she lived alone, who would protect her when an intruder broke in? Her stomach turned. The bedroom door opened. Alice shrieked.

  Her mother stood in the doorway, a bundle of clean laundry pressed against her chest. “What’s the matter now?”

  “Nothing,” Alice said, and slammed her sketchbook shut. “You just surprised me.”

  “But you screamed. Kind of an overreaction.”

  “I was startled, that’s all.”

  “Well, I never,” Violet slurred, nearly missing the corner of Alice’s dresser as she set down the stack of folded clothes. “It’s late. Lights out, before your father…”

  Alice frowned. “You’re drunk.”

  Her mother leaned against the dresser and twirled a loose curl around her finger. She raised her eyebrows. “How was your date? You uh—showered before I…”

  “It wasn’t a date,” Alice said, remembering Stephen’s hand squeezing hers. She lifted her hand to her nose and sniffed her fingers. Heat flooded her cheeks.

  “Then why are you blushing?” her mother slurred.

  Alice dropped her hand to her neck, feeling at the base of her throat for the cross. “Mother?”

  “Yes, Dear?”

  She pictured the man in the photo and opened her mouth to ask her mother about him when she remembered she’d left the photo in the pocket of her cutoffs. She said, “Did you wash everything?”

  “I did.”

  “But my cutoffs weren’t…”

  Her mother frowned. “Cutoffs?”

  “Oh, never mind,” Alice said. “I just remembered they’re in the closet.”

  “All right, then. Lights out, Dear. Good night.” Her mother staggered out, closing the door behind her.

  Alice ran to the closet and pulled the photo from her back pocket. She studied the man standing between her parents. “Gena’s right. It’s too small to tell for sure. Tomorrow, I’ll return it to the safe.” She slipped the photo between the back pages of her sketchbook, turned to a blank page and wrote:

  Am I courageous enough to move out on my own? I’ll decide tomorrow.

  She sketched a picture of a boat navigating rough waters. As she shaded in the water around the vessel, she said, “Looks like it’s about to sink.” She closed the book and hid it beneath her mattress. In the fading light, Alice pulled the sheet up around her chin despite the heat. She shut her eyes and imagined riding in Stephen’s truck, about to cross the rickety bridge. She remembered her father’s warning to stay away from the Pastor. What if he saw them together at the drive-in? She attacked her thumbnail, tearing at the sore cuticle until she tasted salty blood. But he couldn’t have seen them together. He was at the Town Tavern drinking.

  CHAPTER 4

  The homey scent of fried eggs, burnt butter and fresh coffee drifted upstairs into Alice’s bedroom. She felt comforted by the smell of the meals her mother prepared. The distant clink of dishes and mumbling voices felt warm and friendly. Alice turned onto her side and let her mind drift back to her dream.

  She was prowling through a large house looking for a way out, trying one door, then another until she finally came to a staircase leading to the basement. The cement room was filled with large mirrors propped along the foundation walls. Hundreds of wild red-haired and dark-eyed reflections stared back from multiple silver surfaces. A voice called out. She looked around. Alice, Alice, this way.

  “Time for breakfast, Stupid," Christie yelled.

  Alice sighed and rolled out of bed. “Be right there.” She hated the nagging sound of her sister’s voice. She was either bragging about her friend, Belle, or scolding Alice for her bad cooking, her ugly clothes, or her crabby attitude. She slipped on a white sundress, drew a comb through her tangled red hair, and hurried downstairs.

  Twirling the spatula, Alice’s father turned from the hot electric griddle he’d plugged in on the counter. “What took you so long, Angel? Go help your mother.”

  “Just woke up,” Alice said. She curled her tender fingertips inside her palms and stared at his bare feet, wary to pass him.

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Nothing,” she laughed, and hurried around him, across the kitchen to where her mother fried eggs.

  “Sleep well, Dear?” Violet took the final drag off a Viceroy and snubbed it out in the ashtray. Smoke drift around her pink rollers and floated out the open window.

  “Better than usual,” Alice said.

  “What about me,” Christie said. She opened the paper to the funnies section. “Doesn’t anyone care how I slept?”

  “Christie! You always sleep well. Don’t start with me.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” Christie whined.

  “Made silver-dollar-pancakes just for you, Angel. Grab the syrup and hurry up before they get cold.” He twirled the spatula and dropped his watery eyes to Alice’s neckline.

  “What about me, Daddy? I’m hungry.”

  Alice was about to turn away from her father’s attention but he’d already moved on to her sister.

  “You too, kiddo.”

  Christie hooted. “Hey, listen. Charlie Brown makes Lucy promise she won’t pull the football away. He’s soooo stupid! She always pulls it away. He always fall
s smack on his back.”

  “Hasn’t learned his lesson yet,” her father said. He set a heaped plate of hotcakes in the middle of the table. “Can’t trust anyone. Come eat, Vi.”

  Raising her eyebrows at Charlie Brown’s gullibility, Alice sat down at the table with coffee and syrup. She knew better than to trust unreliable people. Eyebrows still raised, she looked over at her father. “How was inventory last night?”

  “Dirty. And your date with lover boy?” her father challenged. He took his place at the head of the table and waited, eyebrows raised.

  “It wasn’t a date. And don’t call him that. He’s getting to know the parishioners, that’s all.” She sipped her coffee and focused on her breakfast. She wasn’t going to let him bring her down this morning, ruin the glow she felt from spending the evening at the river with Stephen.

  Christie rattled the newspaper. “Parish-what?”

  “Will he be buying me a burger then?” he asked.

  “Guess so.”

  He stabbed the stack of pancakes with his fork. “Stay away from him, Angel. He’s a snot-nosed kid.”

  “Jim, for goodness sake, you weren’t around to ask. I’m the one who let her go out with the poor man.”

  “Could have called me, Vi.” He drew his fingers through his tousled hair. “Hand me those eggs,” he said, and leaned forward abruptly to grab them.

  Violet hurried to his end of the table and handed him the plate of eggs. “You don’t like being bothered at work.”

  “Look at her. It’s all wrong. The way she dresses. The boys she hangs out with. She’s setting a bad example for her sister,” he said, and slid two eggs on top of his pancakes. “Christ sakes, Vi, quit hovering and sit down.”

  “What boys? You don’t even let me date.”

  “What’s his name? That hoodlum? Drives a red motorcycle. Saw him in the park yesterday.”

  “Rod? He’s Gena’s friend.”

  Christie rustled the funny paper and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Can’t we stay home today?” she said, her voice overly loud. “Wearing a choir robe’s like wearing a winter coat. I almost fainted in church last week.”

  “Can’t miss an opportunity to drum up new clientele, now can we?” Her father stuffed an egg-topped forkful of hotcakes into his mouth. He chewed quickly and washed it down with coffee. “We’re going to church. That’s final.”