What She Saw

Chapter 2

Two nights later, Haley raced into work, her face burning. Hasty was sitting at his stool behind the cash register and his eyebrows lifted. “What the heck happened to you?”

“Dress rehearsal is a great time to find out I must be allergic to stage makeup.”

Hasty’s jaw dropped and then he let out a belly laugh. “No!”

“Oh, yes. Is there any still left? I scrubbed it so much with cold cream, but it still burns.”

“I can’t see it, but dang, girl, you look like you spent too long in the sun.”

“And I have to do this again on Friday and Saturday night,” Haley answered. “I can’t believe this.”

“Can’t they let you use something else?”

“I’m not sure it would work. Besides, I never wear makeup because it’s an expensive waste of money. For all I know, I’m allergic to all of it.”

“Go back and wash up some more. I got some of those over-the-counter pills that might help. It’ll make you sleepy, though. Maybe you should just take the night off.”

“Not unless you think I look that bad. I got bills, remember?”

Hasty chuckled a little and shook his head. “Soap and water, then I’ll give you one of them little pink pills. If you’re slow tonight, I won’t hold it against you.”

Haley took his advice, scrubbing well with soap from the hand dispenser, and leaning close to the mirror to check for any remnants of makeup. She couldn’t find any, but her whole face looked red and just a bit puffy.

When she got back out front, Hasty and Claire were seated on opposite sides of the counter, drinking coffee and chatting. Claire took one look and shook her head.

“Can’t you get someone else to fill in for you? What do they call them? Understudies?”

“Not for my role. It’s too small. No, I’ll just have to get through this.”

She slid onto a stool beside Claire with a cup of coffee and accepted the pill Hasty popped out of a blister pack into her hand. “I didn’t know I was in trouble until after the rehearsal had started. I wanted to scratch my face off.”

“You need to be careful,” Claire said. “I had a cousin who had an allergic reaction and it put her in the hospital the second time she had it. The first time wasn’t that bad.”

“I should be able to get the makeup on and off in about fifteen minutes Friday night. And everybody knows what happened.”

“That’s good. They’ll know what’s going on if it gets bad. Maybe it would help to put some petroleum jelly on your face before the makeup.”

“That’s an idea. Thanks.”

Hasty poured himself some more coffee, then came back to lean his elbow on the counter. “Ray’s wake is tonight and tomorrow night. Funeral Friday morning. I’m thinking about going to the funeral.”

“I guess I should,” Haley said reluctantly. The last funeral she had been to was her mother’s, and she wasn’t sure she ever again wanted to see the inside of Meeker’s Funeral Home. “The wake, anyway. For a few minutes. I have a final Friday morning.”

“Ray had his troubles,” Hasty opined, “but the family’s never been a problem. Being poor ain’t a sin, despite what some think.”

“You’re talking to a couple of waitresses,” Claire said, a touch tartly. “We know.”

Hasty flashed a grin. “You girls get better tips than my day girls. They got you beat on poor.”

Claire sniffed. “Your day girls don’t work as hard. If they want more money, tell them to work nights.”

Hasty was still looking amused. “I think they get that.”

A short while later, the night’s first wave rolled in. Haley and Claire jumped to work, and after a little while, even though she noticed she was a little slower than usual, Haley felt her face calming down.

At least nobody asked her about it. She joked casually with some of the drivers, but it seemed like an oddly quiet night. She wondered if news about Ray’s death had gotten around and they were all feeling a little more sober than usual.

The place sure didn’t feel quite as energetic as it usually did when it was full. Or maybe that was the little pill Hasty had given her.

She was working her way back through her section, clearing some tables, handing out tickets and picking up cash and change, serving latecomers, when Buck Devlin walked in. It was so unusual to see him when the place was crowded that she froze for a split second. He got his usual table, though, despite the crowd, and she worked her way toward him.

It wasn’t easy. The night turned unusual in that another wave arrived before the first was done. Hasty was cooking with both hands as fast as he could, and Claire was looking a bit frazzled. What was going on?

Then someone asked her for directions to the funeral parlor and she knew: these men had heard about Ray’s death and that his wake started tonight. Whether they’d known him or not, at least some were going to pay their respects, however briefly.

Because of the hour, most ate quickly, then headed out to walk to the funeral home, only a couple of blocks away.

“Isn’t that something?” Claire murmured to her as they brushed past each other.

Haley nodded. It was the last thing she would have expected.

At last she made it to Buck’s table. By this point her apron was showing signs of wear and a tickle at her neck told her some of her hair had escaped from the bun.

“The usual?” she asked him.

“Not tonight,” he answered. “What do you recommend?”

“Anything,” she answered promptly. “It’s all good.”

“Then surprise me.” He smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Anything you don’t like or can’t eat?”

“I’ve never been picky.”

“You’re so helpful,” she said tartly. “I’m a waitress, not a wife. Pick something from the menu. I promise you’ll like it.”

So he pulled the plastic card from the holder. “You going to Ray’s wake?” he asked casually as he scanned the menu.

“Tomorrow night. I’m surprised so many drivers are going.”

“Yeah. They’ve been gabbing about it on the radio since it happened. It bothers them.”

“I guess I can see that. Did many of them know him?”

“I don’t know. But I do know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“When does it ever?”

He looked up and his eyes seemed to bore into her. “Something wrong?”

She caught herself, wondering why she was being so prickly. “Sorry.” Then a thought occurred to her. “I took an allergy pill. I guess it’s not agreeing with me.”

He nodded, dropped his gaze to the menu and said, “I’ll take the steak, medium rare, side of mashed potatoes and broccoli.”

She scribbled it down then tried for a lighter note. “A man who eats broccoli. I hope Hasty can remember how to cook it.”

“Nuke it for three if it’s frozen,” Buck said and winked. “Otherwise, I’ll take it raw.”

That drew a laugh from her and she felt some inexplicable tension seeping away. Maybe it was just from the unusual burst of traffic. She was used to one level of activity, but tonight had been almost double. Then there was her face burning up and the allergy pill. Enough to make her just a bit irritable.

Hasty remembered how to make the broccoli, of course. She carried the plates to Buck’s table, refilled his coffee and went to take care of the remaining handful of drivers. In another half hour, the place had quieted almost to desolation, and, one by one, trucks started pulling out of the lot. She figured that might be the last of them for a while if they’d hurried to get here for the wake.

“Time for a smoke break,” Hasty announced. “You gals take some time, too.”

“I’m joining you,” Claire said.

“You don’t smoke,” Haley remarked.

“I used to. And right now I want one.”

Hasty eyed Haley. “You going to be okay?”

“Like I can’t hold the fort for ten minutes?”

So the two of them headed out back. Which left her alone in the restaurant with Buck Devlin, who was taking his time with his steak.

“Join me,” he suggested. “It wouldn’t hurt to rest your feet.”

She supposed it wouldn’t. “Are you going to Ray’s wake, too?” She glanced at her watch. If she remembered correctly, wakes ended at nine, and it was already past that.

“Tomorrow night,” he answered.

All of a sudden everything zipped into clear focus. The faint fog left by the allergy pill was gone. Her heart even remembered how to speed up. “You’re staying in town?”

“Over at the La-Z-Rest. I’m on vacation.”

She almost gaped at him.

He caught the expression and his eyes danced a little. “What?”

“Why in the world would someone on vacation stay here?”

“Where would you go?”

“Any place. Denver. New York. Paris. Miami. I don’t know. Some place with things to do.”

“So you want action?”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that,” she admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with this place. I like it. It just doesn’t strike me as a vacation spot.”

“That’s because you live here. You can’t see its charm.”

A little laugh escaped her. “We roll up the sidewalks at nine, except for here and the roadhouses. You’re going to get bored.”

“I doubt it. It’s quiet here. I like that. Plenty of nice places to walk. I like that, too, especially when I spend so much time driving.”

She supposed she could see that. Maybe. “Well, if you’re into hiking, there are some nice mountains.”

“They probably look different when you’re not behind the wheel of a heavy rig,” he allowed.

“Well, I’ll be interested to see how long you last. Most people who visit here wonder how we can stand it.”

“What makes this place work for you?”

She thought about it. “People. Great people. There’s something nice about knowing almost everyone. But that’s not going to work for you.”

“Maybe not. We’ll see. It’s sure some pretty countryside.”

She looked down at the table and realized she didn’t believe him. She was right, nobody picked this place for a vacation. Not even someone who was tired of driving. People who vacationed here—and there weren’t a ton of them—came to camp up in the mountains and hike.

“So, looks like you got sunburned.” He pushed his plate to one side.

Suddenly self-conscious, she put her hand to her cheek. “I wish. No, I had a dress rehearsal for a play I’m doing at school, and I discovered I’m allergic to the stage makeup.”

A smile crooked one corner of his mouth. “I bet that’s miserable. And you have to do it again? When’s the play?”

“Friday and Saturday night.”

“I ought to come to see you.”

“I’m on stage for less than five minutes. You won’t see much. But it is good play, a mystery. One of the students wrote it.”

“I’ll definitely come.”

She laughed. “See, you’re already looking for stuff to do around here. If you stay long enough, you’ll go crazy.” She started to get up as she saw another truck pulling in.

But Buck stopped her by reaching out and touching her hand. The contact felt almost like an electric spark, a zap that ran through her entire body. Before she could react, he’d withdrawn his touch. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “About what happened to Ray. Not here, though.”

For the first time, a real shiver of uneasiness ran through her. What was going on? And why should she trust this guy she didn’t know? Was he some kind of stalker?

All of a sudden, she had major doubts about the kind of person Buck Devlin might be. About the danger he could represent.

“I don’t think so,” she said briskly and stood. “I don’t see customers outside of work. Ever.”

Then another driver came through the door, ending the conversation. For the first time, she was relieved to get away from Buck Devlin.

Haley felt a little silly for asking Hasty to walk her to her car. She didn’t tell him why, but she also couldn’t forget that Buck was in the motel just across the way. At least Hasty didn’t ask any questions. Maybe he didn’t think it unusual for a woman to get a little nervous from time to time about crossing that huge parking lot where almost anything could lurk.

And maybe it really wasn’t. All kinds of strangers came through that lot, people with no roots and ties here. Maybe she should have been afraid all along of walking out there alone in the dark. She just wasn’t used to thinking that way.

But Buck had made her think that way, and ever since she’d told him off, she’d been wondering if she had overreacted. He wasn’t the first driver to make a suggestion and he wouldn’t be the last. So what had set her off? Disappointment that he was no better? Or his reference to Ray?

She honestly wasn’t sure. Overreaction, she decided finally. She was still upset that someone she knew had died, her face was a mess because of an allergic reaction, she’d taken a pill that had left her feeling off-kilter all night and then Buck had wanted to talk to her away from work.

Well, it wasn’t the first time some driver had made that suggestion, but it was the first time she’d gone into hyperdrive over it.

Thinking back over it, she almost felt embarrassed. It wasn’t as if he was a total stranger, in the sense that he’d been coming into the place for many months now. People knew who he was and who he worked for.

Now if it had been some guy she’d never seen before, that might have been reason to get upset.

Or maybe she had reacted oddly because he said he was vacationing here. At the ends of the earth. At a truck stop surrounded by a small town and a lot of wide-open spaces and distant ranches. Most definitely not a place on most people’s vacation lists.

That, linked with Ray and Buck’s interest in what had happened in the parking lot before the accident, seemed odd.

But odd was not the same as evil. And maybe his company had asked him to check around. How would she know, since she hadn’t given him a chance to explain anything?

Standing before her mirror, washing her face yet again and feeling some relief that most of the redness and swelling had gone down, she decided she had probably overreacted.

She didn’t work tomorrow night, but she might run into him at Ray’s wake, and if she did, she promised herself she was going to ask some questions.

Because the simple truth was, she didn’t want to put Buck in the category he seemed to be sliding toward: just another creep. She didn’t want to put him there at all.

Especially when she finally crawled exhausted into bed and realized that his face was floating in her mind’s eye, and that all she could think about was what it might be like to feel his arms around her.

Stupid, but private, she thought as she drifted away. No one would ever know.

And she was too smart to get herself into trouble over a rolling stone.

The wake the next night was surprisingly crowded. Or maybe not, Haley thought as she stood to one side and watched a swirl of local people she knew and truckers she recognized. All spoke in the subdued voices that seemed to go with the solemn situation. Her mother’s viewing had been less crowded.

People she had known at least by sight for most of her life. People who hadn’t forgotten her mother or her through all those terrible years of illness, even though the two of them had gradually withdrawn from most social contact.

Good people.

This was different, though, with those truckers coming and going in a fairly steady stream. She hadn’t realized that they formed such strong bonds just from being on the road. But they were all drivers who’d been coming through Hasty’s truck stop for a long time. Maybe they felt a link with this little town.

She was surprised, though, by how elaborate the funeral was. Her mother’s had been much less so, simply because after her illness there were few resources left. She would have thought Ray’s family would find it even harder. That looked like an awfully expensive casket, for one thing. And there was a ton of flowers. Plus, having a two-night viewing cost more. She’d had to shave it for her mother, having a relatively short wake right before the funeral.

“Hey,” said a familiar voice, and she turned to see one of her high school friends, a girl named Debbie. “Sad about Ray, huh?”

“Very. I have to admit I hadn’t seen him but once since high school, though.”

“I had.” Debbie shrugged. “He asked me out a few times in the last month.”

“Oh, Debbie, you must be devastated!” Haley at once reached for her hand.

Debbie shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t take him up on it. It was just kind of sad, though, because it sounded like things were really turning around for him. And for his family.”

“Trucking’s a good job.”

Debbie shook her head, and her dark mane of hair swirled a bit. “No, it wasn’t that. Apparently he was coming into some money from somewhere. I thought he was giving me a snow job so I’d go out with him. The Listons have never had two dimes.”

“I know.”

“So I didn’t believe him. I figured he was trying to make himself sound important, you know?”

“I know.”

“But maybe he wasn’t lying.” Debbie sighed. “I mean, look at this wake. You can’t do this when you’re broke. So maybe he got that money he was talking about.”

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.” Debbie’s smile was rather sad. “Well, I paid my respects, so I’ve got to get going. You need to poke your head up more often, Haley. It’s been too long.”

A couple more of her girlfriends stopped to chat with her, too, and a couple of guys who’d once wanted to date her but were now happily married to others of her friends.

Life seemed to have moved on during her mother’s illness and left her a little behind. But that was okay. She was going to catch up. She was already catching up by going to school, setting her sights on her LPN and then her RN. After that, she’d have time to catch up in any other way she wanted.

When things quieted a bit, she made her way over to offer her condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Liston. She didn’t know them well. Just as she hadn’t known Ray well. It occurred to her for the first time that the Listons might have kept to themselves simply because they were so poor. Look at the way Ray had been treated and ignored in school. Maybe the same had happened to his parents. Maybe they’d never quite fit in larger social circles around here. The thought saddened her.

She avoided looking into the open casket as she approached Ray’s parents. They appeared pinched and exhausted, almost worn to the bone by life. Dressed in their Sunday finest, which still looked outdated and threadbare, they seemed overwhelmed by the number of people who had showed up.

Haley offered her hand to Mrs. Liston. “I’m so sorry about Ray. He came into the truck stop that night, just before…well, I was glad to see he had such a good job.”

Mrs. Liston nodded. Mr. Liston, however, said, “He was a good boy, no matter what anyone thought.”

“He was,” Haley agreed. He’d never caused any trouble in school, and whatever scrape he’d gotten into right after graduation, she’d never learned the details.

“The cops don’t think he was good,” Mr. Liston said. “You saw him right before?”

Haley hesitated, wondering what he was seeking. “Yes, I did.”

“They kept asking did he do drugs. My boy didn’t do no drugs. Not ever.”

“I believe you,” Haley said quickly, although she had no way to know anything about what Ray might have done. “He seemed just fine right before his accident.”

“You tell them cops that?”

“I did,” she assured him. “I promise. He was just fine.”

That seemed to ease Mr. Liston’s mind a bit. She gave Mrs. Liston a brief hug then moved away, determined to get out of here.

Enough, she thought, her eyes starting to prickle unwontedly. The smell of flowers, the peculiar odor of this funeral home, was starting to get to her. The last time…no, she didn’t want to think about the last time, when she’d been the one standing there in Mrs. Liston’s place, accepting condolences from kind people, few of whom would ever understand, not really, how much her mother’s death hurt, or what a relief it was after all that suffering.

Of course, she heard all the platitudes, and they were all true, but none of them could possibly ease the pain and confusion. Not one.

She had become motherless at twenty-three, after a descent into hell that had lasted more than five years. Inside she’d felt hollowed out, except for the grief. No platitude for that.