Chapter Three
He knows it can’t end well—it never does—but she is still achingly human in ways he finds simultaneously frustrating and admirable. It is a strange thing to love the heart that invites pain under their roof.
CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES
Anna doesn’t make a habit of going into town.
The cottage and the gardens she’s surrounded it with provide her with most of her needs.
The fields, forests, and coastline are bountiful with the rest. However, there are some things she simply isn’t equipped to provide for herself—flour and rice, fabric and thread.
Since Khiran returned to her, he’s made a point to bring whatever she needs just to spare her the necessity of the journey.
It’s unfortunate that she hadn’t realized she was low on sugar before he left yesterday, but she supposes it gives her the chance to see how the town has changed since she’s last visited in the fall.
She hooks Loki to a post outside the convenience store, petting the donkey on the nose and feeding him a carrot from her pocket before heading in. Above her, a bell chimes as she opens the door.
“Ah, Miss Anna! Haven’t seen you for a while. Was starting to worry the storms got ya.”
Anna offers the balding man a smile. “I’m well enough.
Loki has been getting older, poor thing.
It’s getting harder for him to make the journey.
” A lie. The donkey is just as stubborn and prone to trouble as the first day she brought him home.
Still, it’s a better excuse than the truth—that she has no need to make the trip when Khiran brings her whatever she wishes.
She changes the topic before he can inquire further. “How is Susan doing? And the kids?”
Carl catches her up—Susan is obsessing over the quilt she’s working on (she shows one at the county fair every year, you know) and he’s certain his girls are solely to blame for all his hair loss.
Anna nods and hums in interest when the conversation calls for it, all while plucking goods off the shelf and into her hand basket.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into kids these days,” he grumbles, as she sets her purchases on the counter.
He rings up the items, his gold watch winking up at her with every twist of his wrist. “Gayle’s got it in her mind that she wants to go to college, of all things.
Can you believe it?” He scoffs, shaking his head and repeats the word as if it’s personally wronged him.
“College. I tell you, Anna. The world is changing something awful. What’s a girl going to do with a college education? Waste of money is what it is.”
Good for her, Anna thinks. What she says is, “The world is always changing. Could you kindly add today’s paper to the order? You know how out of touch I get up there.”
“Eh? Oh, yeah. Of course.” He ducks below the counter, grabbing a paper from the top and handing it to her. “Not a whole lot of folks buying them these days. What with television and all. You know, I got a cousin who’s a rancher that’d be willing to buy that old place up from ya.”
Anna tries to smother her smile. He’s brought it up multiple times. Nearly as often as his insistence that she should retire her cart and get a car. “Yes, I believe you’ve mentioned.”
Carl has the decency to look embarrassed, scratching at the graying stubble of his jaw sheepishly. “It’s just not right, is all. Little lady like you living all the way up there by yourself.”
She could ask why his cousin would be any different, but she knows a tired conversation when she sees one. “How much do I owe you, Carl?”
“Oh, that’d be, uh—” He squints at the numbers on the register. “A dollar twenty-eight.”
She rests her bag on the counter, fishing for her coin purse. Behind her, she hears the bell of the shop door chime.
Carl’s face darkens. “You again?! You got some nerve, kid!”
Anna turns, curious. The person in the doorway is, in fact, a kid. He’s scrawny, beanpole thin, and can’t be older than sixteen. His eyes, so dark they’re nearly as black as his chin length hair, narrow in rebellion. “I have money!”
“Yeah? You got enough to cover that loaf of bread you stole from me last week?”
“I didn’t—”
“I’ll pay for him,” Anna says, severing the argument before it can escalate. Carl’s face has turned a curious shade of violet. “The loaf of bread, too.”
“Miss Anna, that’s—you shouldn’t—”
“He can grab what he needs while you bag up my things. We’ll do it all in one transaction.
It’ll hardly take you any extra time at all.
” The boy is staring at her from the doorway, unsure.
Anna holds out her now empty shopping basket with a smile.
“Go on and fill it up, but let’s try not to keep Mr. Robinson waiting. ”
Tentatively, he takes the offered basket, giving her one last assessing look before turning toward the aisles. Anna doesn’t miss the way he continues to look back over his shoulder, as if waiting for her to change her mind.
Carl is already leaning over the counter.
“You got a good heart, a real good heart, but I’m telling you he’s wasting it.
” Despite the hiss in his voice, every word rings with a volume that matches his angry flush.
“Kid has been a right nuisance ever since he showed up here. Picking pockets, lifting goods, the works.”
Anna looks from Carl to the boy, watching the way his shoulders hunch and his hand shakes as they grip a jar of peanut butter. “Yes, you mentioned he stole… what was it? A loaf of bread? Please make sure to add that to my bill.”
He must notice the edge of judgement in her voice. “Well, it’s not about—”
Anna knows exactly what it’s about. Knows it the same way she knows Carl wouldn’t have questioned her kindness if the boy had been white. “Are you turning down my money, Carl?”
As suspected, his stream of protests abruptly cease.
Anna can see him chewing on the words, though.
They must be tougher than leather for how the muscle in his jaw spasms as he finishes bagging the rest of her items. When the boy comes back, Carl grudgingly punches in the additional items on the till and places them in a separate bag.
Bread, peanut butter, and two cans of beans.
Anna has to force a fragile smile just to hide the depths of her worry. “Are you sure that’s all?”
He doesn’t meet her eyes. His gaze settles lower, near her chin, when he nods. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”
On the other side of the counter, Carl scoffs under his breath.
If she wasn’t already biting her tongue, Anna may have given into the temptation to insist the boy grab more.
As it is, she can’t trust that she won’t have a few extra words for the grocer as well.
So, with her lips pursed, she silently pays the total.
On her way out, she hesitates, her hand lingering on the door-frame as she waits for the boy to be out of earshot.
She offers Carl some final, parting words in the hopes that they’ll sink in when he finds himself alone.
“Of all the things he could have taken. Did you even once ask yourself what kind of teenager steals bread?” she asks, suddenly tired.
He doesn’t answer. Anna hopes it’s because he feels embarrassed.
Shame is a powerful motivator for change.
Yet, she has the distinct sense that Carl will fail to learn or grow from any of it.
She shifts the weight of the bag on her hip, letting the door close behind her. The tiny brass bell above her rings as it shuts.
The boy is waiting by her cart, staring at Loki with an odd expression as he clutches the paper bag to his chest. It’s not until she places her items in the back that he turns to look at her.
There’s a stubbornness in the set of his brows, a determination in the way his chin tips.
“Thank you,” he says, as his hand pulls some coins from his pocket before holding it out for her to take. “Here. For my things.”
Anna considers refusing, but she gets the sense that it would wound his pride. She accepts the money, the coins warm in her palm. “I’m sorry I had to step in for you to get them.” She places the money in the pocket of her dress. “What’s your name?”
He hesitates, just long enough that Anna thinks he might not give it. “Jiro. Jiro Okino.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jiro. I’m Anna.” She lets her stare linger. “Do you have somewhere to go?”
“Yeah,” he says, but the tired shrug of his shoulders contradicts the word.
“There’s this old boat shored up on the beach.
” He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk, the grip on his bag tightening until Anna catches the sound of crinkling paper.
“It’s close to the docks. Sometimes I can make a bit of money helping the fishermen.
It’s not a lot, but they’re the only ones willing to hire me. ”
Anna considers him, mind turning over the idea for a few seconds before she commits to offering it.
“I could use an extra set of hands at home, if you’re willing.
Help in the garden, the kitchen, things like that.
” She gives Loki a scratch behind his long ear.
He lips at the hem of her shirt. “Of course, I’m a ways away.
It would have to be a live-in position. But I could give you meals and a room in addition to a weekly payment? ”
He frowns, his brows lowering and eyes narrowing. “I don’t want your charity.”
Anna tilts her head. “Is it charity if you’re providing me a service?”
He adjusts his hold on the bag, eyeing her cautiously. “What if you decide to fire me?”
“Then I suppose I’d bring you back on my next trip into town. Assuming that’s where you wished to go.”
He considers it, lips thin and brow furrowed. “Yeah. Alright.”
Anna hides her relief behind a smile. “Come on then. We’ll swing by the pier so you can grab your things.”