CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Chip
Two jingly bells over the front door chime whenever a customer enters the mercantile. I glanced up to find Gloria Gardner hurrying in after the heads-up. Bertie took the day off to go to Walmart for Christmas present shopping, so I was running back and forth to the gas lanes.
Van, unaccustomed to Montana winters, insisted he was too cold to go in and out all day to assist with pumping fuel, so I asked him to restock the shelves and coolers, and to assist our customers.
As I’d assumed, he was a natural with folks.
They loved him the instant they interacted with my handsome guest.
* * *
“Train me on the register,” he’d begged after the first two days of helping out. “I’m smart. I can handle it.”
“You’re too good to be manning a stupid cash register in a dumb store like this,” I’d muttered. “Trust me, this part is boring.”
I avoided giving him mundane tasks. For some reason, I didn’t want Van to dislike working in the mercantile.
He didn’t say he was staying past Christmas, but secretly, I wanted him to have a reason to.
And I wanted the reason to be me, but I worried that just like John, he’d get sick of the mercantile and lump me in with the business as the reason he’d eventually leave town.
“Your business is not stupid or dumb,” he’d declared. “You should be proud of what you’ve established in Missile. Your customers love your store, but mostly, Chip, they love you.”
“I just think you’re too good for this type of work,” I admitted. “City boy like you with your fancy tech job. This can’t be fun.”
“Working here is a blast, and I like helping you. I enjoy the wonderful customers you have. I even like Bertie,” he joked. “What’s not to appreciate about your thriving business?” he asked.
Even though I wanted to voice a reason, I didn’t. He’d been a wonderful guest since the tow truck discussion had gone bad, but unfortunately, I sensed a cooling in the direction of our relationship.
We were still quite physical, but there were no words about a future, no discussion of messages from the universe or his search for love. He’d either readjusted his plans or knew I wasn’t a candidate.
* * *
“Is Van here today?” Mrs. Gardner asked. “I just have to tell the dear that I spoke to my daughter, and he was correct with his advice. I just love that boy so much,” she added, looking around the store impatiently.
“He’s in the cooler restocking dairy,” I answered. She looked desperate to speak with him, so I gestured to the door to the stockroom. “Go ahead. You can go back and say hi.”
She clutched her purse to her chest. “He is so wonderful, Chip,” she said, oozing affection and love. “Such a breath of fresh air, too.” She paused and nervously adjusted the hem of her dress. “I think he knows stuff,” she whispered, quickly glancing around to see who else might be nearby.
“You think he knows stuff?” I inquired, knowing full well what she insinuated.
Mrs. Gardner was their leader, but many other town folks, especially the older women, had mentioned they felt something special when interacting with Van.
She nodded excitedly, clutching her pearl necklace. “You know what I mean,” she whispered. “Stuff. Otherworldly stuff.”
“I see,” I acknowledged. “Otherworldly stuff. The serious stuff.”
She waved me off with zero regard for my teasing. “Van knew Carol wanted me to call her and patch things up.”
Carol was the daughter Mrs. Gardner had offended when she voiced her displeasure about Carol marrying a man of a different race. Unfortunately, Missile is very white. Boringly so. But her disapproval was based on long-rooted bigotry in these parts.
“Carol,” I affirmed. “The daughter you haven’t spoken to in a decade?”
Mrs. Gardner twisted her necklace with her arthritic fingers. “It has been a decade,” she admitted. “But Van felt I needed to better understand Carol’s feelings. He explained Carol must love her husband if she could go all these years without speaking to her mother.”
“Van said all that?” I asked, not so surprised after spending nearly a week with the incredible man.
I’d witnessed his opinions about forgiveness and wisdom.
Even though Van admitted he struggled with his mom’s new husband, he knew that one day soon, he’d need to accept the fact and try to engage with him better.
His capacity to look at his weaknesses, forgive himself, and make a plan to be a better person was amazing to witness.
He impressed me every time I discovered a new thing about him.
Her eyes teared up, so I handed her a box of Kleenex from behind the counter.
“Van is wise, Chip,” she said, dabbing the corners of her eyes.
“He was so loving to take the time to listen to an old lady like me. I think he truly cares about folks,” she added.
“And to think his boyfriend dumped him for some stranger.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d been dumped for the guy who’d dumped me. Knowing Van and his forthright attitude, maybe he’d told her already.
“He told you he was gay?”
“Oh my, yes,” she replied. “I’ll admit I was surprised, but like you, he’s too handsome for womenfolk.”
“Like me?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Her face tightened. “Now don’t go acting offended, Chip. We all knew John was your person,” she stated. “Gosh, you boys were practically connected at the hip almost before you could walk.”
“And you knew John and I were together? Were a couple?”
“Of course,” she answered. “Even if the two of you were reluctant to speak about it.”
Her words caused me to reflect on my interactions with her in the past. She was correct.
I liked Mrs. Gardner, but I’d never asked her about her life or offered insight into mine.
I’d listened to town gossip. Mostly through Bertie, but not once had I shared a story about John and our relationship, or asked about her family.
“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing outside toward the gas pumps, uncomfortable after realizing how selfish I’d been.
“For what, honey?”
I returned my gaze to her. “For not looking past my own concerns about how you might have seen me and John,” I stated. “We could have been more open.”
“But this is Missile, honey. I understood why you didn’t.”
“You did?” I asked.
“I do not profess to speak for the entirety of Missile, but we all did, Chip,” she confirmed. “You boys didn’t hide your relationship, but you didn’t share it either,” she explained. “But this is Montana, after all. We knew the reason, but people and places are changing now.”
I looked at her. Truly looked directly into her eyes. She was accurate. I’d cared for my neighbors, and I tried to prove it by doing anything I could to help them, but I never shared who I was at heart. Not the real Calvin Winlock the third, anyway.
“John and I should’ve done better,” I admitted. “But John decided to leave Missile, ma’am. He’s gone now, but I hear you and promise to work harder at sharing.”
Mrs. Gardner stepped closer. “And I am truly sorry for never asking you what happened. Or even taking the time to inquire if you were okay, son,” she said. “I suspected you were hurting, but was afraid to discuss your loss with you.”
“There’s always next time. God willing,” I added, lightly laughing to ease the discomfort of discussing sad news.
“Speaking of that,” she began. She glanced over her shoulder to check behind her. “You absolutely must explore a future with your handsome guest. Young men like Van don’t just fall out of trees.”
“That they don’t,” I agreed. “Especially trees growing in Missile.”
“Now don’t go repeating this to Sadie, but Bertie and I have decided Van is here for you.”
I almost laughed out loud. “Are you talking about those messages Bertie claimed to receive?” I quipped. “Or the fact that she manifested his showing up here unannounced? Not to mention, Mrs. Hatfield has her sights set on me and her grandson James becoming an item.”
Mrs. Gardner chuckled at my humor, but we both knew Mrs. Sadie Hatfield would have a cow if she caught wind that she and Bertie were plotting someone different for my heart.
“You might be right. Bertie may have lost her mind,” she agreed. “But let me say this. Before speaking with Van, I’ll admit I thought messages from the universe and other mumbo-jumbo were a bunch of hooey. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“What changed your mind?”
She locked eyes with me. “Van did. And because Van admits he’s on a journey to discover a husband.
He told me so himself,” she explained. “And then some stranger in Seattle tells him to get gas in our little hamlet?” She nodded her head steadily while giving me the once-over.
“I might tend to believe a message or two when that sorta stuff happens.”
“Sounds good, ma’am,” I agreed.
She reached across the counter and grabbed my hand, holding it firmly in hers, before leaning closer. “Please don’t be dismissive, young man. You need to do your part,” she urged. “A fella like Van is hard to find. And then there’s the…” she paused, waiting for me to confirm I was listening.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Well, I believe he came here looking for you, Chip.”
We studied one another. She wanted confirmation that I hadn’t missed her intent, but I needed validation that she had some sorta proof. Neither got an answer.
“Mrs. Gardner,” Van hollered from down the aisle, closing in on us quickly. “You are looking gorgeous as always. Now tell me all about Carol,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’ve been so worried, yet hopeful for you.”
Mrs. Gardner gave me a satisfied glance. The type of look that asks, ‘Do you need any more proof?’
I watched as they walked away, his hand on her lower back, her head leaning against his shoulder for comfort. He was a marvel to witness.