Truck Stop

By Allie McCormack

"Hey, Kid…"
Two words that changed Teri's life forever

 

Teri Campbell is on the run, on a bus ride to nowhere. An unscheduled stop on the wind-blown plains of Wyoming leaves her at M&J's Truck Stop... and in the arms of Mike Gallagher, the young trucker who appoints himself her protector, who understands her as no one else could. But will her new life and her new-found love be enough when events take an unexpected turn? ...and can even Mike keep her safe from the past that threatens to reclaim her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allie McCormack
• Release date: Oct 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9798201467357

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Dust. Nothing but dust everywhere. It obscured the landscape, so that nothing except the tumbleweeds blowing across the highway were visible. The great silver bus, impervious to the howling winds and sand that battered it, plowed steadily forward. To the girl staring out the window it seemed that the bus and everyone in it were caught in a time warp... suspended, static... while only the wind and dust were alive, roaring about them. Just then a particularly vicious crosswind rocked the bus, and the whimsy vanished. She wondered if they would be overturned. Not that she cared. She was so tired. Hungry, too... she hadn’t eaten since the day before, and that had been just a stale sandwich from a machine at the Greyhound station in the dash to catch this bus to nowhere. She hadn’t been in the terminal long, a few minutes at most. With any luck, it hadn’t been long enough for anyone to have noticed her, should she be traced that far. She shivered, glancing instinctively out the window. Again the ferocious windstorm met her eyes. It was obscurely comforting.

Are you warm enough, honey?

It was the elderly gentleman across the aisle. She nodded, forcing a smile, but faint alarm registered. This wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to her. She didn’t want to be noticed, couldn’t afford for anyone to pay enough attention to her to be able to recognize her later. She hoped the baggy jacket and the knit cap pulled down around her face would help a bit. Wyoming was chilly even in early summer, the raw air creeping into the bus from the windows, so being warmly bundled was unremarkable. Falling into conversation with strangers was dangerous. One ceased to be strangers; worse, one became recognizable. He was a nice old man, his thick silvery hair neatly brushed back, faded eyes behind thick glasses shining with concern. It hurt her to just smile and close her eyes in a pretense of sleep. Such kindness deserved better than that. And where were they, she wondered suddenly, bitterly. Those caring people with the helping hand, where were they when they had been needed the most? And now, when the last thing she wanted was kind strangers taking notice of her, they were everywhere. First there'd been that lady on the last bus, the one she’d left in Denver. She might as well have scattered bread crumbs, she thought drowsily, if her father thought to follow the trail marked by good Samaritans.

Rock Springs!

Teri awoke with a start. Glancing out the window, she saw they were at a small truck stop, the lights of the brick building beckoning cheerily some yards away through a haze of wind-blown sand. Passengers were already descending, running for the warmth and lights of the restaurant, clutching coats and hats and purses against the biting wind.

Half an hour, the burly driver said to the remaining passengers like herself who were just waking up. I know it’s not a scheduled stop, but we’re behind schedule with this wind. It’ll be close on to midnight before we reach Salt Lake City. Stretch your legs, get warm, have a bite of supper before we go on.

Teri didn’t have any fault to find with that. She rose, stretching with a grimace as her joints rebelled. Leaning down to drag her backpack from under the seat, she slung it over her shoulder with practiced ease and headed for the front of the bus. Even the hours of traveling through the windswept southern plains of Wyoming hadn’t prepared her for the reality of the gale. It almost swept her off her feet as she stepped onto the pavement. Staggering, she gripped the straps of her backpack more tightly so it wouldn’t be ripped out of her hands. Bowing her head she leaned forward against the wind, planting her feet with care as she made her way to the haven of the restaurant.

The abrupt change from the noise and frantic tempo of vehicle and wind, to gentle music and comforting warmth was a shock. Teri paused, blinking as much to clear her mind as against the gritty sand from outside.

Mike looked up just as the girl was propelled through the door, the wind at her back a live force, determined to have one last chance at her before she reached safety. His coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. God, a runaway. Poor kid. She probably thought the baggy clothes would give her anonymity, but in fact they created quite the opposite effect. Her slight figure was clad in faded black jeans and a large, bulky jacket hanging almost to her knees. Short dark hair curled from under a knit cap, and big blue eyes seemed overlarge in a slender, pixie-like face. She presented the appearance of an appealing waif, lost and homeless.... guaranteed to bring out the nurturing instinct in every kind heart that crossed her path. Yeah, a runaway. He knew the signs; hell, he’d been one himself. Well, he wished her luck. At least she’d have a good meal here, whether she could afford it or not. Marsha would know the signs, too, and feed the kid up good. If he knew Marsha, she’d probably slide a twenty into the kid’s pocket, and Joe would have a fit. A reminiscent smile tugged at his lips.

Teri slid onto the nearest stool and looked around, taking stock of the place. It was small and unpretentious, with a homey feel; not one of the enormous, gleaming, sterile truck stop establishments. The main part of the restaurant was one long room, with large picture windows overlooking the highway and the plains stretching to the south. Vinyl booths ran along the front by the windows. They were dark maroon, not the bright red that so many places used, and looked well cared for. Across from them, a counter ran the length of the room. The stools were of wood; light and highly polished, they were old and comfortably worn. To her left the foyer led to a Quik-Mart, and she could see some of her fellow passengers browsing amongst the rows of postcards, assorted packaged foods and travelers gear. Opposite the front door stood a signpost reading Trucker's Section, and more booths and a counter stretched towards the back of the building, where a sign advertising Showers hung. Beyond, a glass door led into the back parking lot. Overall, the place looked..... friendly, Teri thought with a pang. She could picture a family tending this place over the decades, with generations of loving hands polishing the counter, dusting the booths, and smiling faces greeting customers new and old. Not that she would know much about family, she thought with a sigh.

A tall, rail thin woman catapulted through the double doors leading from the kitchen, balancing half a dozen plates. Teri blinked in wonder. Masses of red hair were piled haphazardly onto the woman’s head in defiance of any laws of gravity, and stray wisps had escaped here and there. Long earrings dangled, improbably pink against the red hair, and a dozen bracelets jingled on each thin wrist. Brilliant green eyes, unadorned with makeup, seemed to reflect both kindness and humor, with fine lines extending outward. Teri found herself instinctively drawn to her. The woman paused for a bare millisecond, scanning the waiting customers as she gathered herself for her next rush towards the other end of the room. Maneuvering her armload of plates through the opening in the counter, she gave Teri a friendly smile on her way past.

Be with you in half a sec, honey, she called back over her shoulder. We’re a little under the gun, not expecting you lot, and what with Betty down sick and my other gal just quit yesterday to go off to college in San Antonio, and the cook just plain didn’t show and Joe in there doin’ the cooking. Y’all will be here more than half an hour, surely you will, and so I’ll tell Dave when he pokes his nose in here. A body’s only got two hands, and I’ve only got one body.

Now. The woman was back in front of Teri, having delivered her meals while talking nonstop the whole time. You know what you want, honey?

Teri looked around the crowded counter and booths. The restaurant was as full as it could hold, mostly with passengers from the bus, although the truckers’ section opposite the front door was also full. She hesitated a moment, glancing back at the waitress. The friendly look in those brilliant emerald eyes decided her, and she smiled tentatively.

I’ve done some waitressing. I can help you out until the bus is ready to go.

The woman’s expression seemed suddenly dubious, and Teri raised her chin against the sharp assessment, a flush staining her cheeks. I can pay for a meal. I just thought you could use the help.

A man appeared through the double doors to the kitchen, a white cap askew on his head. Fer crissake, Marsha, let her help! I’ve got a dozen more dinners waiting in here and the gal is offering! Stop shuffling your feet and put her to work!

Marsha threw an impatient glance over her shoulder. Pooh, you don’t know anything! I’ll mind my customers and you go mind your cooking, Joe.

She turned back to Teri. I could sure use the help, but you won’t have time to eat, honey.

A sandwich and fries? Teri suggested. That I can take with me?

Done! The woman heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. Come on and get an apron. I’ll take the orders and you deliver the dinners. Joe can tell you who they go to. I’m Marsha, and there’s Bob in back washing dishes.

Further down the counter, Mike hid a smile behind his coffee cup.

Marsha watched the bus passengers begin to file out the door, not forty-five minutes but a full hour later, and the crowd in the restaurant finally started to thin out. Some of the travelers were lingering over the newspapers by the doorway or milling about the Quik-Mart, delaying until the last possible moment the mad dash to the bus through the furious, biting wind. Five minutes earlier she had pressed Teri into a seat at the counter and stood over her as the girl worked her way through a steaming plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes. The bus driver, Dave, finished his coffee, glancing with reluctance out the window at the gale raging outside.

Best get the old gal warmed up. He shoved his cap with its pull-down flaps of fur over his ears, and stomped outside.

Marsha hitched one hip onto the edge of the counter, watching the girl from the bus slip on that ridiculously oversized coat. She’d spent the last half hour turning a plan over in her mind, and made her final decision now, seeing how the girl’s eyes slid wistfully over her surroundings. She looked over her shoulder at Joe, and he dipped his chin in agreement, coming out of the kitchen to stand beside her.

Teri hefted her backpack to one shoulder, smiling at them both. It wasn’t much of a smile, the first one Marsha had seen from her yet, but it brightened her eyes, and lifted some of the strain from her waif’s face.

I’m glad I could help. You have a nice place here. Thank you.

Marsha was nothing if not blunt. You’re a runaway, aren’t you?

The blood receded from Teri’s face, and Joe punched Marsha in the shoulder.

Way to go, old girl. Nice and tactful, as usual.

Marsha frowned at him. You shut up. I got something to say, I say it. Not like some people, who beat around the bush for an hour. Besides, this doesn’t have anything to do with you. Go gas up a truck or cook something. And you broke my shoulder.

I did no such thing. You’re scaring the child to death.

Marsha turned her attention back to Teri, who was indeed poised as if for flight, fear warring with bewilderment in the blue eyes as she looked back and forth between husband and wife, confused by their banter.

It’s like this. I’m short of help, and you’re a good worker. You picked up real quick on our set-up here, and you fit in like you’d been here for a year. If you’ve got no place to go to, you could do worse than stop here. You’d have a job, with pay and tips, free meals, and we’ll put you up in our spare room til you’ve got enough together to get yourself a little place in town.

Teri felt herself begin to tremble. Her knees shook, and she clutched the back of a stool for support. She looked again around the restaurant, a surge of hope flooding through her. It was a moment before she could trust her voice to speak.

I could stay? I could stay.... here?

Joe looked away, clearing his throat to smother the chuckle that threatened; the girl made it sound like she’d been invited through the gates of Heaven. Marsha merely nodded, holding Teri’s gaze with her own.

We’ll do fair by you, and all we ask is that you do the same in return. A fair day’s work for a fair day’s wage.

Home. She would have a home. A place to stay... a chance to make a beginning. It was more than she had hoped to find anywhere.

Thank you, she whispered, her voice quivering. Thank you.

Someone should tell Dave.

Teri jumped at the deep voice behind her, turning with a gasp, her fingers clutching the stool in alarm. She gasped again as she looked up.... and up.... to the most beautiful face she had ever seen. A blond young giant stood before her, with broad shoulders and lean hips. Perhaps in his early or mid 20s, he was all golden; skin burnished by the sun to a deep bronze, and his thick hair worn long to his neck and slightly shaggy, of a color that would rival the bullion in Fort Knox. His face was almost classic in its beauty, with high cheekbones, a patrician nose, and a generous, wide mouth with beautifully sculpted lips. His eyes were green; not the brilliant, gleaming emerald of Marsha’s eyes, but a cool, sea green with bottomless depths. Teri had the sudden fancy that they were old eyes... old eyes that saw too much, knew too much. And he was tall. He stood several inches above six feet, towering over her own five foot two. Tall and golden and confident..... so Thor would have looked, she thought, striding across the battlefield.

Teri tore her gaze away from him, becoming aware of the conversation that had been going on over her head.

You want to do that for me, Mike? Marsha was asking. She broke off to look at Teri. Do you have anything else on the bus, honey?

Teri shook her head.

Okay then. Oh, and Mike.... green eyes met green in perfect understanding. Dave never had a passenger who got off in Rock Springs.

Mike nodded and turned away. Teri watched him stride across the parking lot to the bus, coatless, impervious to the wind which had felt to her so overpowering but now seemed ineffectual as it merely ruffled his shirt and hair.

Now, Marsha was saying. You’ve been riding that bus all day, and who knows for how long before that, so what you need most is a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning we’ll see what we can do for some clothes for you...... shut your mouth, she commanded, forestalling Teri’s protest. Faded old jeans and flannel may keep you warm, but they aren’t suitable for waitressing. Call it a stake, and you can pay me back as you can afford it.

Those brilliant eyes scanned her once more. Yes, you need rest as much as you need feeding up. We’ll start you off easy tomorrow, after the lunch rush, and put you on the register once the dinner crowd hits. As fast as you caught on this evening, though, I don’t expect you’ll have any problem. Now I’ll take you home and get you settled in for the night.

She handed her order pad and pen to her husband. Here, Joe. You and Mike keep an eye on things for me? I’ll be back in just a few minutes.

Yeah, I’d like to see Mike pouring coffee in anybody’s cup but his own, Joe grumbled, turning away, but he gave Teri a cheerful wink over his shoulder. G’wan with Marsha now, and welcome aboard.

The restaurant closes at ten, Marsha explained, leading the way through the trucker’s dining section and out a back door that led to the deserted fueling pumps. She raised her voice to be heard over the wind. But the gas pumps and the Quik-Mart are open all night.

At an oblique angle across the parking lot to the back was a dark wood-sided house, set behind a low wooden fence, a chimney rising from one side, while straggling rose bushes were planted along the front of the house. Marsha followed the direction of Teri’s gaze, and shrugged.

Roses are my passion, but they just can’t grow here.

They’d reached the front door, and Marsha pushed it open; Teri noticed that it hadn’t been locked. She hadn’t thought there was any place in the world where people didn’t lock their doors anymore. Teri found herself in a large room, a fireplace at the far end with an arched doorway to the right leading to a dining area. Marsha led her through this and into the kitchen, talking all the while.

This is it. I can’t stay but long enough to give you the nickel tour. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Here’s the bathroom, and this will be your bedroom here, and she strode briskly down a hallway giving off the kitchen, opening a door to her right. Teri found herself in a small but comfortable room with a window overlooking a patio on the far side of the house from the truck stop. Her hostess charged down the hallway and dove into the next bedroom, emerging again with towels and an extra blanket.

I don’t think you’ll need the blanket, but just in case. There’s lots of hot water, I suggest a long hot bath. Help yourself to the bubbles, I always have plenty and there's just nothing like a bubble bath to relax after a long day. Now.... there’s books and TV in the living room if you want, and the number to the restaurant is on the menu on the refrigerator if there’s a problem.

She stopped her headlong rush into the hall, turning to fix Teri with a long, earnest look.

Will you be okay alone for a couple of hours, honey?

Feeling rather battered by the swift sequence of events, and the first real kindness she had known in years, Teri nodded against the lump in her throat.

Marsha’s heart went out to the young girl, to the sad, lost look in her eyes, and reached out to pat her cheek gently.

It’ll work out fine, you’ll see. Tonight you don’t worry about a thing. Tomorrow will take care of itself. You just rest easy, and sleep if you can.

And the older woman was gone in a whirlwind of bright hair and clanking jewelry.

A deep, trembling sigh escaped Teri’s lips as she turned from the hallway, her shoulders slumping as she allowed the heavy bag to slide off her shoulder, where it landed with a thump on the floor beside her feet. She stood a moment, her eyes taking in the simple room. There was a southwest-motif coverlet on the twin bed beneath the window, and the high dresser and matching desk and chair were of a dark polished wood. In the opposite corner a low, overstuffed armchair with a crocheted throw tossed over the back was the only other furniture in the room. A hurricane lamp stood on the dresser, and a basket of dried flowers.

A wave of exhaustion swept over her, and she sank onto the end of the bed, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of her jacket. Reaching to pull the backpack towards her, she drew out a long flannel nightgown. She eyed it dubiously. Well, it might cover her twice over, but it looked warm, which was why she’d bought it. She hadn’t taken so much as a sock... not a matchstick, not a toothbrush.... when she left that place that didn’t deserve the name, home. She'd bought the clothes she wore and the few clothes and nightgown in her bag at a thrift store near the Greyhound station in Phoenix, and had dumped the clothes she’d worn when she left Los Angeles in the trash can in the ladies room.

Suddenly she realized that she had been just sitting there, the nightgown in her hands, for several minutes. It was harder to stand up than she expected, fighting against the weariness in her body. What she really wanted to do was to lay back on the bed and sleep forever. But Marsha was right, a bath would do her good and she’d sleep better. A shower would be better, actually; she’d probably fall asleep in a bath and drown. And a shower would wash away the grungy feeling of a week of crowded buses and dingy terminals.

Half an hour later, having scrubbed her skin til it protested, her hair clinging in damp curls to her neck and cheeks, Teri padded down the hallway to her bedroom, her bare feet reveling in the thick carpet. She could hear the wind still howling outside, shuddering the windows and soughing across the roof, but it wasn’t the live force it had seemed to her to be on the bus, its fury muted by the solid walls of the house. She felt safe, and warm, and secure for the first time that she could remember. Closing the bedroom door and flicking off the light, she made her way to the bed. Turning back the covers, she discovered a thick feather mattress. It was all that was needed, she thought, climbing into the bed and being enveloped in the soft billows. A smile of real happiness curved her lips as she curled up, cocooned under the heavy blankets, and let sleep take her.

A door slammed. Teri woke with a start, rigid with terror. The darkness was smothering, she couldn’t breathe. Another dark night, another small room... and footsteps. Muted voices reached her straining ears, and suddenly she remembered. Not the claustrophobic little apartment in Van Nuys, but Wyoming... the truck stop. She quivered suddenly, catching her breath with a gasp. Oh God, what had she done? She knew nothing about these people... they were strangers! They knew she was a runaway, no one