6. Lacey

CHAPTER SIX

lacey

S truggling with the hitch, I try to unhook the camper from my truck. Today is my first day of work, and I can't be rolling up with a camper. I don't need to waste the gas, either. Eventually, I get the stubborn hitch unhooked. I climb into my truck, trying to ignore the butterflies that seem to have claimed my stomach as their new home.

As I was getting dressed this morning, I started to worry about whether Jalynn exaggerated my experience to Mrs. Jones. Maybe that's why she didn't ask me a bunch of questions about my previous work history. Surely Jalynn wouldn't have embellished my work experience, would she?

I knew things were going too smoothly. I'm gonna ruin all of this on my very first day, and it's gonna turn into a giant disaster like the rest of my life. Jalynn is gonna be disappointed in me, Mrs. Jones will probably tell the whole town I lied to get a job, and nobody in this town will want to hire me. I should've stuck to what I know and tried for a job waitressing at the diner.

With my seatbelt buckled and key in the ignition, I twist the key forward. Nothing happens. The butterflies turn to nausea. I take a deep breath, counting to five as I draw in the air and exhale the same way, hoping to steady my nerves, then I turn the key again, praying the truck will start. This time it sputters to life.

I pull out of the driveway while trying to think positive thoughts, hoping they will help calm me. Everything is gonna be fine. I'll go in there, catch on to everything Mrs. Jones teaches me, and she isn't gonna have any regrets about hiring me.

Feeling more confident, I pick up speed. The truck engine revs a little and starts to sputter, but it keeps driving down the road. That's something at least.

"That can't be a good sign, though," I say out loud as I scan over the gauges on the broad, dusty dashboard. Nothing looks out of whack, best that I can tell. "Please, Jesus, keep this truck running."

I make my way into town without any more incidents and pull into a parking spot to the side of the storefront. I glance down the row of businesses on Main Street and absorb the beauty of this little town. Climbing out of my truck, I inhale deeply, full of hope and excitement to start this new chapter of my life, despite being somewhat scared.

Peeking through the glass, I knock on the locked door. Mrs. Jones comes out from behind the counter and lets me in.

"Good morning, dear. You're just in time to help me put the bouquets out front and change the special on the sidewalk sign. How's your penmanship?" Mrs. Jones asks, a stick of chalk in her hand.

"Um . . . legible?"

"Good enough for me. Put ferns on the board, buy one get one at half price," she says, handing the chalk over to me. "But first, let me show you around."

I trail behind Mrs. Jones into the back of the store.

"Here's the cooler," she says, opening the large walk-in cooler door so that I can see inside. "This is where all of the fresh-cut flowers are kept. These tables over here are our workstation for making arrangements and such. As you see, we have vases and ribbons on the shelves below the tables. You'll find more vases and supplies over there in that closet." Mrs. Jones points at the door labeled "storage."

She leads me out an exterior door in the back that opens to a brick patio. On the patio sits a small painted wrought iron table set. Against the brick wall of the store, there's a long wooden workbench with pots, tools, and bags of soil on the shelf underneath. The patio leads to three greenhouses lined up behind the store. Mrs. Jones walks me through each greenhouse, explaining the routines and procedures for care of the greenhouse plants.

"You have a wonderful setup here," I say as we walk back into the store. "For a town this small, though, it must be full of romantics."

Mrs. Jones laughs.

"You might be surprised. Actually, I own another shop in Bozeman. My daughter runs that one. We ship a lot of our flowers out there, and that's where the bulk of our sales are. Space is cheaper here, though. It just works out well for us this way."

"How many kids do you have?" I ask, wiping down the chalkboard.

"Four. A thirty-two-year-old and thirty-year-old, both married and moved away, and twenty-eight-year-old twins. One lives here in town still, and the other is the daughter I was just telling you about who runs my shop over in the city."

"You were busy!" I say, glancing up from writing the special on the chalkboard. "Four kids in four years! That must have been a challenge."

"It was, but it was also well worth it. How about you? Do you have a significant other you're hoping to have kids with one day?" Mrs. Jones asks while tying a bow from the ribbon on the worktable.

"I'm newly out of a long-term relationship. If I do meet someone, though, I like to think I'll have a few kids one day."

"What happened with your boyfriend? Why did you break up?"

I hesitate and debate my wording.

"It just wasn't what it was supposed to be," I finally say, wiping chalk from my hands.

"Ah. It happens. Well, let's get to work. You can start with this list. Let me know if you have any questions."

Grateful Mrs. Jones didn't press for more information, I look over the list she handed me and take the chalkboard outside to the sidewalk.

On the drive back to Jalynn's house, I replay my day. I'm tired, but I'm happy with how my first day went. Jalynn was right about Mrs. Jones. She's terrific. She has a natural, motherly, nurturing way about her. I can't remember much about my parents, but I like to think my mother was something like Mrs. Jones.

If I'd grown up with a mother like her, I bet my life would have played out quite differently. My grandparents were great, of course. They loved me, and they did the best they could by me. It just wasn't the same as being raised and loved by a mom and dad.

I pull into the driveway and discover I'm the only one here. Jalynn and George must both still be working. Without getting out of the truck, I pick up my phone and dial George's number.

"Hey, George. Sorry to bother you while you're hard at work, but I was wondering if you had any ideas of where I can park my camper."

"We don't mind it where it is," George replies. I can hear the cattle and horses in the background. Unfamiliar male voices drift through the line as well. "Put them in the barn. I'll check on it in a minute..." George says to someone else. Maybe I should wait till he's home to have this discussion, but then again, the commotion on his end is likely to work in my favor.

"I appreciate the hospitality, but I need my own space. I need a place to park it that I can call home." I trace a finger around the steering wheel of my truck.

"You're sure that's what you want to do?" he asks, too distracted by his work to put up a fight.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm almost done here. I've got the perfect spot in mind. I'll lead you down there when I get home."

I gather up my stuff from inside and hook the camper back up to the truck, finishing up as George pulls into the driveway and asks me if I'm ready to go. I hop in my truck and follow him down the road. We drive about a quarter of a mile, and George pulls off the road into a small grove of trees.

George gets out of his truck and directs me while I back the camper onto the lot. It takes me a few tries, but he's patient while I figure it out. I climb out of the truck and look around. It's pretty here. The trees give it some privacy. I can hear the gurgle of a creek close by. It appears to be only about twenty yards from my camper. A firepit sits off to the side of the clearing.

"We're still on your damn blasted property, aren't we?" I ask and roll my eyes at him.

"I mean, one might say we own it. Others might argue that the ranch owns it." George gives me a nervous shrug. "Look, just accept this, please. For me." His palms are stretched out in front of him in a pleading manner. "I'm never going to hear the end of it from Jalynn as it is. At least this way you're close enough to us if something happens or you need something?—"

"I'm not gonna need anything," I say, interrupting him.

"I know, but it will ease Jalynn's mind. She's worried about you being by yourself in this camper. Do me a solid here, Lacey. My wife is pregnant and hormonal, and she will be stressed out of her mind if you are any further away. Plus, you have a place to hook up to electricity here, and it's rent free."

"Fine."

I roll my eyes at him again just to be dramatic. Truthfully, I like the fact that they will be so close. I'm just too stubborn to admit it. After all, they are my people.

After George leaves, I get right to work, unhooking the truck again and getting the camper settled. Electricity is definitely a bonus I didn't really think about needing.

I unpack the groceries I picked up on my way home from work and organize the cupboards. Though the place isn't magazine worthy by any means, my stop for décor and staples once I arrived in Montana has given the camper a personal touch. I replaced all of the old curtains with new ones, put some plush blankets and pillows in the back for bedding, and added some textures and a pop of color with pillows for the bench.

The stovetop has already been scrubbed clean, but I have yet to test it. I turn the knob to high. The burner lights, turning a bright orange. It works! I unbox the pans I purchased, wash them, and put them away.

Despite the heat being on, there's a slight chill inside the camper. I pull out a sweatshirt, slip it on, and get to work chopping vegetables to go in a soup for dinner.

I eat my soup and wash up my dishes, putting the leftovers in the fridge. Sitting on my makeshift couch, also known as a wooden bench with throw pillows on it, I look around, unsure of what to do next. I mentally note that I need to run to the hardware store to pick up some paint tomorrow. The place still needs some sprucing up, but I've got nothing but time these days. I'm not much of a TV watcher, so even if I had one, which I don't, I would still have entirely too much time to sit and think. That has always been the perfect storm for me to come up with something stupid to do.

A sudden banging on my door pulls me away from my mental to-do list. I glance at the clock. George held Jalynn off longer than I expected. I get up and push open the door. A red-faced Jalynn climbs into the camper without waiting for an invitation.

"What the heck are you thinking, Lacey? This is no place for you to live, especially when there's a perfectly good house just down the road for you to live in. It's not safe out here by yourself! You're likely to freeze to death in your sleep. And what about the wild animals?" Jalynn's hands rest impatiently on her hips.

"I'm gonna be just fine, Mom. I know how to take care of myself. I have heat and air conditioning, and thanks to George, I even have lights. Plus, I'm hardly worried about some little critters coming to visit."

"You might not be worried about the little ones, but what about the bears? Or mountain lions?"

"Jay...I need my own space. I appreciate you looking out for me, but this is a little ridiculous."

"Come back to the house with me, and join us for dinner."

"I already ate." I fold my arms stubbornly across my chest, holding eye contact with Jalynn.

Her anger has dissolved by this point, and she's fueled instead by the stubbornness we were both blessed with. She narrows her eyes at me, trying to decipher if I'm bluffing.

"What did you eat?"

"I made soup."

"Cold from a can, I presume," Jalynn says accusingly.

She knows me well, but this time, I actually made my own from scratch. Of all the things Grammy succeeded at with me, teaching me how to find my way around the kitchen was not one of them. I would've starved in college if it wasn't for Jalynn.

"You see that thing behind you? It's called a stove. You see that box over there?" I motion to the mini-fridge. "Open it up. My leftovers are there. Give them a try and tell me again that I'm eating cold soup from a can."

Jalynn doesn't budge. A few seconds tick by. Finally, she reaches into the fridge and pulls out the leftover soup without moving from her spot. I hand her a spoon, and she pops the lid open and takes a bite. I watch as her face scrunches up. She turns to the sink and spits it out, then puts the lid back on the bowl and places it back in the fridge.

"What do you think?" I ask, even though I already know what she's going to say. "As good as store bought?"

"Please..." It's Jalynn who rolls her eyes this time. "Add food poisoning to the list of things that are liable to go wrong for you out here. You might not starve to death, but you're not going to stay healthy eating your cooking. Sell the stupid camper, Lace. You don't need it. I'll even feed you dinner every night. You can have real food."

Jalynn isn't gonna give up, but she has lost her steam entirely. Now she's just giving me friendly fire. I've always made my lack of skills in the kitchen fair game for joking about, because frankly, I've never cared about it being a weakness for me.

"Tempting offer, but no. I'm staying put."

"In all seriousness, though, is this truly what you want, or are you just afraid of imposing? Because you know you'd never be imposing, right?" Jalynn asks me, suddenly earnest.

"I know, Jay. Truly, though, I need to do this my way. I need to know I can."

"Fine," Jalynn replies. "Stay here. However, you have to come over at least a couple of nights a week for dinner. I'll cook. You can come whichever nights fit your busy social calendar best. Which means I'll be seeing you frequently."

"Yes, ma'am," I say in the same sarcastic tone she is using with me.

"And now that you're settled, I expect you to make an effort to get a social life. No sense in locking yourself up in this thing any more than necessary. This is like something out of a horror film." Jalynn turns and inspects the door. "You can lock the door from the inside, right?"

"Yes. In all seriousness, you don't have to worry. I'll be perfectly safe here," I say, trying to reassure her. I know beneath the sarcasm she is genuinely concerned about me.

"Okay, well, George said I had to hurry back. We haven't eaten dinner yet, and he's getting impatient. Plus, I need to pee, and if I don't hurry back to the bathroom I might wet myself."

"Do you want to use my bathroom?" I hook a thumb toward the back of the camper.

"Uh, no. I've got a perfectly good toilet just a couple minutes away. Call me tomorrow."

Jalynn winks at me, then steps down and out of the camper. She shakes her head on her way back to her car.

"You're an awful lot of trouble, you know it?" Jalynn hollers at me.

"One of the many things we have in common," I yell back and giggle, closing the door behind me.

I lock the door and tap my fingers on the kitchen counter, trying to decide what to do with myself. Remembering some books I brought with me, I head for the back of the camper to choose one off the shelf above my bed. A few chapters in, the couple's meet-cute in the story leaves me dwelling on Ben and how happy we were in the beginning. I can remember the excitement I felt when he finally asked me out.

I tossed my jean shorts to the side and slid on my faded blue jean skirt. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I pulled the capped sleeves of my pale yellow shirt further off my shoulders and I turned to examine myself again. Ben should show up any minute to pick me up for our first date. Jalynn did me a solid by inviting him to the river with us last week.

I jumped at the sound of the doorbell and hurried over to the window to peer down at the driveway. Sure enough, Ben's pickup was behind Grammy's car. I slid on my flip-flops while simultaneously dousing myself in my favorite body spray, glossed my lips one final time, then grabbed my purse and quickly made my way downstairs. Ben was standing in the living room with Grammy, looking uncomfortable.

"You two kids have fun and behave yourselves," Grammy said, seeing us out the door.

Later that night, holding hands at the front door and not wanting the evening to end, Ben slowly leaned down toward me and kissed me. I could taste the smoke from his last cigarette on his breath, but I didn't mind. I smiled up at him when he pulled away. I rose up on my toes and kissed him again. When the porch light began to flicker, I pulled away and said goodnight and slid in through the front door.

My phone buzzes next to me, and suddenly, I'm back in my camper, alone. It's a text message from Billy, my old boss. Billy is the only one who knew I was leaving. When I made it to Montana, I sent him a text to let him know I was settled. I open the text, not sure what to expect.

Billy: Ben came by today. He's been all around town asking a bunch of questions. Said he talked to some old man in Warbler's Hollow that sold you a camper.

Me: Does he know where I am?

Billy: I don't think so.

Billy: I'll keep you posted.