2. Dana
The sun’s rays highlight warm hints of chocolate in my dark brown hair as I twist and twirl it around my fingers. Even after months of this color, I still take a second look when I catch myself in a mirror.
For a moment I wonder who this person is looking back at me before it hits me: I have no idea. I don’t know who I am anymore.
Just over a year ago, I was sure Jessa and I would still be living under everyone’s radar and working toward our exit plan.
Now I’m living in the middle of nowhere. This town is so small it isn’t even officially listed on a map. We get lumped in with Troy, a larger town further up the road. Our main street is a row of two-story houses that have been converted into various stores. My coffee shop was originally a drinking hole before Dale bought a barn, converted it into a bar, and moved about ten minutes away. This isn’t a place I ever thought I’d end up in, and my best and only friend is gone.
I glance at my unmanicured nails, remembering I haven’t accessed the internet in ages.
After downloading my temporary ID off my phone, I hit a business center and got to work creating my new identity. After choosing a generic name and changing my birthplace to a largely populated city, I became much more difficult to find. And so Dana Granger became Kim Johnson of New York. Go ahead, try to find me. When you consider the possibility I might be a Kimberly, the choices are endless.
Once I had a new name, I researched some places to start over. Jessa used to say go north, because it is always assumed that men head north to disappear and women typically go south, where it’s warm. If there’s one good thing about patriarchy, its predictability is dependable. Jessa used to say we can always use it for our own benefit.
I followed everything Jessa taught me to the letter, and it has kept me safe all this time. She kept me safe. Following her lessons brought me to the beautiful mountains of Montana.
On my way, I grabbed an external hard drive and downloaded all the other files that came with my marching orders, then destroyed the phone.
There was only one thing I couldn’t do, one predictable thing about me I couldn’t let go of. Even though I have enough money to sit at home and watch movies all day for the rest of my life, I can’t stay still.
Thoughts of Jessa and my last days with her play over and over again if my brain isn’t busy. So I did what Jessa and I always said we would do: I opened a coffee shop. I figure I’m allowed one thing. One little thing to remind me of what I love to do and who I left behind.
Everything else is gone.
The bell over the front door rings, pulling me from my misery.
“Good morning, Ms. Johnson.”
“We talked about this, Ty.” I mock chastise Tyler with a smile.
He stops in his tracks and glances around the coffee shop, nodding at Mr. and Mrs. Grayford, who are in the corner having their morning coffee.
Since I opened the shop nine months ago, they have been my most regular customers.
Some days they are my only customers. I’m not complaining though. I don’t want to be popular. I don’t want to be noticed by anyone.
“Sorry, Kim. Good morning. Is Kaley in yet?” He corrects himself, and I smile.
He’s a good kid. I sometimes think he’s too formal just to get a rise out of me.
“Good morning. She’s in the back. I’ve created a monster. She said she couldn’t sleep last night. She had this great idea for a new cookie, and she’s been baking for two hours. Just a heads-up: if she asks you to taste her first two tries, say no.” I stick my tongue out to show my silent distaste, and Tyler chuckles as I point to a plate full of cookies on the front counter. “This batch is pretty good though.”
“Do you want me to put them in the display case?” Tyler reaches over the counter and grabs a cloth, waiting for my answer.
“The usual. Put them out as free samples. The kids will be in soon to snag a couple on their way to the school bus.”
“They look really good.” He inhales deeply, a curious expression crossing his face. “Is that lavender?”
“It is. She got some from the farm on her way in this morning. They are lavender shortbread cookies. I have the school lunches bagged and ready to go too.” I point to a few bags on the counter behind me. “It looks like it’s going to be a quiet day. No orders or deliveries. If you want to take a couple of hours to study now before you start work, you can use the back table. I’ll let you know if it gets busy.” I nod my head toward a quiet area at the back of the room. Tyler is retaking his senior year by correspondence, and I know he doesn’t get a lot of time to study at home.
“Great. Thanks.” Adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, he walks into the room, passing Mrs. Grayford as she stands and makes her way toward me.
“Good morning, dear. How are you?” I find her gentle voice soothing. She warmed up to me almost instantly when I first came to town. It took me opening the coffee shop to get almost everyone else to talk to this outsider though.
“I’m well, Gerri. And you? What’s the lowdown from the ladies today?” I lean over the counter as she straightens to look over her shoulder, and I smile to myself.
Other than her, there are only three people here, and she’s married to one of them.
Gerri and the ladies are a small group of older women. They live closer to Troy, for the amenities, but they visit regularly and always seem to know more about what is going on than the people who live here.
They’re our version of social media. If you want to know what’s new, you ask one of them. But they have to like you, or you’re not getting an answer.
“Oh, you know me; I’m not one to talk,” she says loudly, and her husband scoffs, rolling his eyes at his coffee. Then, dropping her voice, she leans in. “It looks like the Millers rented their place out. We drove by on the way here, and, sure enough, there were some vehicles parked near the cabin. Probably up here to do some fishing since hunting season is done. You might want to drop by with a welcome basket of your treats.” She gives a little wink. “Oh, and before I forget, Marge wanted me to thank you for the muffins. She said to tell you she should be back up and around by next week.”
Truth be told, that was the information I was looking for. Marge is a widow who lives on her own. She fell in her home last week and was on the floor for a full day before her Gerri, Vi and Betty went to check on her when she didn’t show up for their weekly game of bridge.
Dropping her voice lower, Gerri continues, “Also, Betty was at the Surplus, and she said she saw a couple of men in there looking around. Said they was good-lookin’. Maybe they are the ones staying at the cabin.” She nods her head and grins.
Mr. Grayford stands, straightens his shirt, and drops a tip on the table before making his way toward us. “Come on, Geraldine. I’m sure Kim needs to get to her own business.” He offers me an apologetic smile, thinking I consider our conversation a burden.
Before Gerri objects, the bell above the door jingles, and some local kids enter the shop wearing backpacks. The Grayfords offer their smiles and move out of the way.
Tyler jumps up from his seat at the back and saunters to the counter as Kaley walks out from the kitchen. She stops in front of the small group of kids, who have gathered around her cookies.
All the kids around here know each other. I guess you could say they run in the same gang, but it’s not what you think. The younger kids in and around town are tightly knit. They watch out for each other. Most of them still live with at least one parent, and there isn’t much to do out here.
Life is boring but good.
Kaley is basically a food chemist. She enjoys baking almost as much as I do, and she takes a crazy scientific approach to it. Her mother was a sex worker who was beaten to death by a client when Kaley was a kid. She was sent to live here with her only remaining family, a grandfather who didn’t know she existed until she showed up on his doorstep.
Tyler was sent to live with a foster family when his father was incarcerated. His last year at school was a rough one. Given his past, he was blamed for all the trouble at his school, and he was kicked out before he could graduate. He just turned eighteen, and he’s on his own now, but Dale, one of our residents, has been looking out for him like he’s his own. Tyler is extremely smart. In addition to studying for his GED, he’s also taking some university-level classes online to prepare himself for next year.
The school lunch program was Tyler’s idea. The kids in the area get bussed to the nearest city for class. Bullies and dealers realized that some kids were sent with money for lunch, as Tyler was. Before lunch, those kids were either beaten up or solicited for their cash.
Tyler had the idea to give the kids a healthy lunch and keep them safe. So now, when the kids come in, they drop off their lunch money, and we give them a bagged lunch with sandwiches, fruit, vegetables, milk, and other snacks. This way, they don’t show up to school with any cash.
What they don’t know is, we save their lunch money for them. Each day, after they leave, the money they hand over is recorded and stored. In some instances, it adds up to a few thousand a year. That’s a good head start for them once they finish school.
There are others in town who help as well.
First there is Dale, the owner of the barn-turned-bar. He’s been a father figure to many of these kids. The owners of the lavender farm have been a big help as well. During harvest, they hire the older kids, and they often open their doors and their land so the kids can meet up on the weekends. Having everyone on their land for a big bonfire is better than not knowing where anyone is.
I met the owners, Bonnie and Steven George, when I first came to town. I was looking for a place to stay, and they were kind enough to offer me a small cabin adjacent to their land while I looked for a permanent place. That was how I met most of the kids. It was only natural to hire some of them when I opened my coffee shop.
“Okay, that’s everyone.” Kaley pulls me away from my thoughts as the kids file out of the shop and across the street to catch the school bus as it passes through town.
“Thanks, guys. Tyler, your twelfth-grade math book isn’t going to learn itself. Get back to it. Kaley, take the cash to the office and record it; I’ll clean up the kitchen. I want to get a couple batches of brownies baked for later today.” I cover the cookies on the counter and make my way over to clear the Grayfords’ cups.
By the looks of our display case, I have more than enough leftovers to take up to the people staying at the Miller cabin. I laugh to myself in reflection. It sounds a lot like Gerri is trying to set me up, but this might be a good way to get new customers. Having a business that doesn’t make any money will eventually raise some flags.
A bright light flashes into my eyes, catching my attention, and I glance up and across the street as the bus pulls away from the curb, but there’s nothing.
For a fleeting moment, my breath catches in my throat. It’s hard to shake all of the years I was on the run, but I remind myself that this is a town where nothing happens, and I couldn’t be happier about that.