Chapter Four #2
“Ouch,” I said and moved over to the board where the specials were written. “What goes up here today?”
“This is Saturday. That means beef tips over noodles, green beans, a house salad, and a bowl of peach crisp, all for the price of . . .” She quoted the price with a grin.
“Wait for it, wait for it . . . You get a free drink with the order, and there’s no charge for a scoop of ice cream on top of the dessert. ”
“Every Saturday?”
“Yes, and Sunday is chicken and dressing. Monday is spaghetti and meatballs, and so on. The same thing on each day of the week—but I don’t mind. I love every one of them.”
I wrote Saturday’s Lunch Special and then what Scarlett had told me. Evidently, in this part of the world, Groundhog Day lasted a week.
“I’m going for a jog,” I said at the end of the day. Whether in a gym or a run around a parking lot in a motel, exercise had always cleared my mind after days of riding in a vehicle or sitting at a poker table.
“Are you crazy?” Scarlett asked. “It’s cold out there, and the weatherman says we’re in for some snow. A lot of it by the middle of next week.”
“Maybe so, but I need some exercise.”
“Don’t you get enough by running from one table to another?” Rosalie asked.
I slipped on my hoodie and shook my head. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Either of you want to join me?”
“I wouldn’t make it to the end of the parking lot,” Rosalie answered.
Scarlett waved away the idea with a flick of her wrist. “And I’ve got a date tonight, so I’m taking a short nap before I get ready. If your hands turn blue or if you fall over by the side of the road, call me. I’ll come and get you. Which way are you going?”
“North, since there won’t be as much traffic.” I did a couple of stretches and then stepped outside. With every breath, I seemed to suck icicles into my lungs. I dug into my pocket, brought out a disposable mask, and covered my mouth and nose with it. That helped a little, but not much.
“See there? If I look deep enough, there’s a solution to everything—even cold air.” I fast-walked out to the road and then sped up.
My thoughts swirled as I ran along the side of the two-lane road.
There was Larry tossing that deed out in the middle of the table.
Looking back now, he probably had come to that poker game knowing he wasn’t ever going back to the Tumbleweed.
I hoped that someday he had to walk down a candy-and-chip aisle in a convenience store with no money in his pocket.
You never wish bad luck on a player when you leave a table, or it will be like a boomerang and come right back on you. Frank’s words, not mine.
“Okay, okay! I hear you.” I used up every bit of breath to scold myself when I came to a dead stop and put my hands on my knees.
I didn’t even realize a vehicle was coming up behind me until it stopped, and the passenger door flew open. I hoped that it wasn’t someone like Buddy. I wouldn’t have the strength to fight him off. My pistol and Rosalie’s shotgun were both back at the Tumbleweed.
Ada Lou yelled over the sound of the howling wind. “What in the hell are you running from? If you don’t start moving or else get into this truck, the tumbleweeds will cover you up and we won’t find your body until spring.”
I panted between words. “I’m . . . out . . . for . . . exercise.”
“Then do some of that Jane Fonda stuff in front of the television where this wind doesn’t suck all the air out of you. This ain’t no weather to be out jogging in,” she said.
“I’m finding that out,” I gasped.
“Get in here before you drop dead. You are going home with me for some hot chocolate and cookies. Once you get warm, I’ll take you back to the Tumbleweed. You’ve run a mile. That’s more than enough on a day like this.”
I didn’t argue and had started to shiver as I stretched the seat belt across my chest.
“Have you always been stupid, or did you just catch a dose of it when you came to this area?” she asked.
“I believe . . .” I had to stop talking and catch my breath. “It all started in Tucson.”
“You should stay away from there from now on.”
“I won’t be going back again, for sure,” I said.
“Like Kenny Rogers says in one of his songs, it might be time to fold the cards and leave the game.” She turned into a driveway leading back to half a dozen travel trailers of all sizes.
“I don’t think so,” I argued. “I’ve always been happy with my lifestyle.”
“Honey, happy is a state of mind. I get up every morning, look in the mirror, and say to myself, ‘Ada Lou, today you will be content with your lot.’ Some days I fight with myself a little, but I don’t let the enemy of my joy win the battle.
Now, I haven’t saved your life for nothing .
. .” She parked in front of the first of the trailers.
“You can help me carry in the groceries I bought in El Paso. I hate having to drive so far to get necessities, but the pros outweigh the cons.”
“How can you be happy in this place?” I looked across acres and acres of nothing but dead grass all the way to a mountain range out there in the distance.
She opened the back door to her truck and pointed to a case of water.
“You take that, and I’ll bring the bags.
When we get settled into the warm house, I’ll tell you a little about why I like living here.
Maybe if you stick around long enough, you’ll find the beauty in the spring, or even how pretty everything can be when it’s covered with snow. ”
Had she asked me to pick up that water before I had time to catch my breath, I would have had to lie down on the side of the road and let the coyotes and buzzards get me.
Even after the short ride in the warm truck, my legs were a little wobbly when I reached the last step leading up to her small trailer, but I made it without falling on my face.
“Set that on the bar. Then take off your jacket and have a seat in one of the recliners. Do you make a habit of running when it’s this cold?”
I did what she told me without a word and slumped down in a soft leather chair that molded to my body. “No, I usually work out in a hotel gym, but a few times I have jogged around a motel parking lot to get in a little exercise.”
Ada Lou set a pan on the stove and filled it with milk. “Well, running when there ain’t nothing but a few barbed wire fences to break the wind is a different thing. A little hot chocolate and a couple of pecan sandies should warm up your insides.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I kept them from streaming down my cheeks.
I had only a few good memories of my mother.
Her life had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
The doctor had said that she slipped and fell and hit her head so hard on the edge of the kitchen cabinet that she died before she hit the floor.
My favorite memory was coming home after school to the aroma of baked cookies and real hot chocolate—not that packaged kind made in a microwave. Mom would ask me all about my day and tell me about hers while we had our after-school snack.
Ada Lou opened a package of cookies and laid half a dozen out on a small plate.
She brought those to the living area and set them on a narrow table between the two chairs.
Then she went back to the tiny galley kitchen to pour two big mugs of hot chocolate.
After she’d added marshmallows, she crossed the short distance and handed one to me.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “If you don’t put something in your stomach to heat you up from the inside, you won’t ever stop shivering.”
I picked up a cookie, bit off a chunk, and then sipped the cocoa.
“In a few minutes you’ll be able to take off that sweatshirt,” she said.
She was right on both counts. When my mug was half full and I had devoured two cookies, I removed my hoodie.
“Now that you are warmed up, we can visit about how long you plan to stick around these parts,” she said.
“I’ve only been here a few days. If I had to decide today and if I had enough money, I would be gone by nightfall—but since I don’t, I will stay until I do,” I answered with a long sigh, and wished I could get in my vehicle and drive to the nearest poker game.
“How long do you intend to live out here in this desolate place?”
“Until they carry me off to be cremated, and then Rosalie will scatter my ashes at the base of the mountain,” she answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“She will inherit this trailer and can do whatever she wants with my estate. That’s what the lawyer called it, and I laughed at him.
She can sell it, burn it to the ground, or move it behind the Tumbleweed.
I’ll be dead, so it won’t matter to me what happens to it. ”
A cold chill that had nothing to do with the wind slamming against the trailer chased down my spine.
My mother had died when she was only a year older than I was, but I had never even thought about my expiration date.
Frank had told me that she’d always wanted to go to Florida for a vacation.
She’d wanted to smell the salt air and feel the sand beneath her feet.
She had never told me anything like that—but then, I was just a little girl.
We took the box her ashes were in to a pretty beach and scattered them into the ocean.
It wouldn’t be kosher for mine to be poured out in the middle of a poker table, would it?
Mama’s death had ended my days in public school—at least for the next eight years.
But good ol’ Frank cleaned out the house, put it up for sale, and I left all my little friends behind.
Frank and I had good times traveling all over the country, though, staying in hotels and eating at small cafés.
He took me to Disney World and Disneyland, to Dollywood and Six Flags Over Texas.
We saw all the famous spots, like the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls.