Memories of a Dirt Road Town Read online

  “No … I need to say it to someone. I’ve practiced these words almost every day for three years. My heart and spirit will explode if I don’t tell someone.” Develyn sat up, took a sip of water, and swallowed hard. “I have a daughter. Three years ago she graduated from high school. For a number of years, things had not been too good between me and my husband. I could never do things right. I couldn’t cook well enough. My clothes were too plain. He hated my short hair. I didn’t like doing the things he did. I didn’t look young enough.”

  “Are you kidding me? You might be the youngest-looking forty-five-year-old in the midwest.”

  “I weighed thirty pounds more than I do now. Anyway, he once told me I was so boring and predictable he hated to come home at night.”

  “He said that?” Stef groaned. “I can’t believe he’d say that.”

  “He said other things. Often there were comments about the size of my rear end, and lack of size anywhere else. Anyway, we had a graduation party for Delaney. About two dozen of her friends came over. We had food, patio games, all the things we thought would be fun. I was in charge of the kitchen; he headed up the outside activities.”

  “Delaney is your only child?”

  “Yes.” Develyn paused and brushed the corners of her eyes. “I bet my mascara looks frightening.”

  “I should look so good. Shoot, girl, I didn’t look that good when I was eighteen.”

  Develyn leaned against the waitress and shook her head. “You are a natural encourager. Thanks. Anyway, about midnight or so, I had been working the kitchen four straight hours. I’ve never seen kids eat so much. It was early June and Indiana sticky. I perspired through my blouse and spilled salsa on my khaki shorts, so I snuck up to the bedroom to change.” Develyn stared down at the table.

  Stef’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my … no! They were, eh, dancing in your own bedroom?”

  “Her name is Heather Raphael. She was one of the high-schoolers. She had been my daughter’s best friend since third grade. She practically grew up at our house.”

  “How old was she? He could be arrested.”

  “Barely eighteen.”

  Stef shook her head. “I assume she wasn’t boring. What did you do?”

  Develyn leaned her shoulder against the waitress. “You mean after I screamed and cried and threw the alarm clock at him?”

  Stef glanced over her shoulder at the trucker, then lowered her voice. “Yes, what did you do then?”

  “I grabbed my daughter and drove her to a friend’s house. We spent the night there.”

  “Hey, Stefi-babe, I need some more coffee,” the trucker called out.

  “Max, you know where it is,” she shot back without looking at him. Then she whispered, “Did you go back?”

  “Two weeks later we snuck back in and grabbed a few of our things. I walked away from everything else. I never went back after that.”

  Stef’s green eyes widened. “You gave him everything?”

  “Everything seemed so cheap, fake, tarnished, cruddy. I couldn’t take it.”

  “Are you really a teacher?”

  “Yes. I teach the fifth grade. Delaney and I lived with my friend a few months. Then I bought a house, and I’ve been on my own.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Somehow, I feel like it was partly my fault. Isn’t that strange?”

  “You know, I never blamed Heather. I felt sorry for her. Lots of kids do dumb things on their graduation night from high school.”

  “I spent most of mine barfing,” Stef admitted. “I’ve never touched alcohol since that night. But all that happened to you three years ago. Why are you now out on the road running from someplace to someplace?”

  “It gets worse.” Develyn’s shoulders slumped. She felt so exhausted she contemplated stretching out on top of the table and taking a nap.

  “How can it get worse?”

  “My daughter always hoped and prayed that we would work things out and get back together.”

  “That’s natural for a daughter. Does she know what happened?”

  “I didn’t tell her, but she figured it out. She hasn’t spoken to Heather since that night. About a year after the divorce was final, her father sent me an apologetic letter. He said he had no excuse for that night. And that I had done the right thing in divorcing him. But he wanted to straighten his life out, and he knew he had to make peace with me.”

  “Did he want to get back together?”

  “That’s what it seemed like.” Develyn used her fingertips to massage her temples.

  “Was that before or after you lost the thirty pounds?” Stef asked.

  “After.”

  “It figures.”

  “Anyway, Dee—that’s what I call her … snuck into my dresser drawer and read her father’s letter to me. She decided that he had changed and got excited about us reuniting.”

  “But you didn’t want to?”

  Develyn sipped the lukewarm coffee, then picked lint off the sleeve of her sweatshirt. When her throat tightened, she coughed, then sipped the ice water. “Stef, to tell you the truth, I just couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him. I didn’t believe his words. I didn’t trust his motives. I know that’s very unchristian. But, there were just so many unresolved things. I didn’t think I could handle it again.”

  “What kind of unresolved things?” Stef whispered.

  “I don’t even know where to begin. For a while it was rumored that Heather was pregnant.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “And I heard Spencer insisted on driving her to Chicago to pay for her abortion.”

  “Nice guy.”

  “I don’t know if any of it’s true. That’s the problem. I don’t know what to believe.”

  For several moments she stared out the window at the scattered lights on the interstate. She shuddered, then rubbed the goose bumps on the back of her neck.

  Stef reached over and patted her hand. “It’s OK, honey.”

  “One of the engineers at his office wrote to me after that, to say that there had been other women, and I had done the right thing. I suppose he thought that would make me feel better. It just crushed me all over again. A person can only lie to herself for so long.”

  “You hadn’t known about the others?”

  “There are some things I tried not to know. I suppose I thought if I refused to deal with them, they weren’t real. Anyway, last Christmas Eve Dee’s father showed up, unexpected, at our new house. It was the first time he’d ever come by. He brought presents and asked if he could come in and visit. Dee said yes, and I said no. He left, but Delaney was so mad at me she didn’t speak to me all day Christmas.”

  “Not exactly a holiday to remember.”

  Develyn leaned back on the cold plastic booth and closed her eyes. “I seem to have had a lot of days I’d like to forget. He sent some roses to both of us on Valentine’s Day. I let Dee put them up on top of the television.”

  “And you began to feel you were too hard on him?”

  “I suppose.” Develyn sat up straight, brushed the corners of her eyes, and sipped on the cold, bitter coffee. “The first week in March he stopped by and brought us all the old photographs from the house. That was really nice of him. I think I missed those more than anything I had left behind.”

  “Maybe he really was trying,” Stef suggested.

  “Yes, well, Dee was convinced things were mending. But I just felt he was using me. Right before Easter I had a teacher’s conference up in South Bend. While I was there, I kept arguing with myself and praying about what I should do.”

  “Do you believe in Jesus, Dev?”

  “Yes, I do. But I’m not sure I understand how or why everything turns out the way it does.”

  “Yeah … that’s like me.”

  “Anyway, on the Sunday of the teacher’s conference, I went to an early church service by myself. I sat in the back and poured my heart out to God. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do. By the end of the ser
vice it seemed to be clearing up. I would go home and invite Dee’s father to lunch with us at a restaurant after church on Easter Sunday. I knew Dee would be thrilled.”

  “Did you get together?”

  Develyn chewed on her finger. She took several deep breaths and fought the urge to sob.

  “It’s OK, honey …” Stef whispered.

  “No, I have to say it,” Develyn whimpered. “I have to tell someone. It’s eating me up on the inside. When I got back to my hotel room there was a frantic voice mail to call home. I called and Dee was hysterical. She had been trying to call me for two hours. Her dad had a massive heart attack on a business trip to Atlanta. When I called back she had just learned that he had died.”

  Stef’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, no. No!”

  “My daughter decided that my hardness toward him had precipitated the heart attack, and it was my fault he died.”

  “Cupcake,” Max shouted, “do you want me to scoop my own ice cream on this pie?”

  Stef wiped her eyes on a thin white paper napkin. “Honey, I’ll be right back. Are you sure you don’t want some breakfast?”

  Develyn folded her arms on the cold Formica tabletop, then laid her head on them. “No, I think I’ll just rest my eyes.”

  When the trucker left, Stef returned to the table and listened as Develyn told about the change in summer plans, and her memories of a dirt-road town. When another truck driver blustered in, the waitress retreated to the kitchen.

  A few minutes later she returned. “Dev, you’re welcome to go down to my place and sleep a little. It’s isn’t much, just an old singlewide. But it’s clean and tidy. Really. I am a tidy person. I may not know how to keep a man, but I can keep a house.”

  “Thanks, Stef. I’m just starting to relax right here. I’m glad I told you all of that. It’s been boiling inside of me for way too long. I think it’s why I can’t sleep at night. Do you mind if I just sit here and rest my head on the table?”

  “No, of course not. Let me get you something …” Stef disappeared behind the counter and came back with a bright red, heart-shaped pillow, with the words “Sweet Cakes” embroidered on it. “Here, this will be more comfortable.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Isn’t it atrocious? You wouldn’t believe some of the presents I get. Most are unmentionable.”

  The pillow was soft.

  Her eyes felt so heavy.

  But there was an unexpected lightness in her heart.

  She thought of a wide-rumped brown horse with a white spot on his right shoulder. A smile creased the satin pillow. Blue sky floated above. There was a pleasing aroma of horse sweat and old leather.

  Develyn was startled to feel someone rub her shoulder.

  “Honey, it’s about time for my shift to end.”

  She sat up. A half-dozen male customers crowded the café.

  “Was I asleep?”

  “For over an hour.”

  “I need to get back on the road,” Develyn insisted.

  Stef picked up the empty coffee cup. “You know you can come home with me and take a shower or a nap or both.”

  Develyn looked over at the men, most of whom glanced her way. “They must have thought I was drunk and passed out.”

  “Nope. I told them you were my little sis, waiting for me to get off work.”

  Develyn slipped out of the booth. “I’ll just use the ladies’ room to wash my face. Then I’ll get on my way.”

  “I’ll fix you a couple of egg biscuits and a coffee for the road.”

  “And a large ice water.”

  The waitress slipped her arm around Develyn’s waist. “Honey, am I ever going to see you again?”

  “I was thinking the same thing. You were a special angel for me, Stef. I needed to talk. You are a very good listener.”

  “Years of practice, Dev. Take care of yourself. If you go back to Indiana this route, please stop by. I needed you tonight too, you know. Remember this halfway waitress in a halfway town.”

  Develyn hugged Stef and kissed her cheek. “Girl, I’m never going to forget you. Don’t you ever for a minute think your job is unimportant. It’s not just truckers who need you here. Maybe all of us are somewhere on the road of life … halfway.”

  3

  The Pizza Hut delivery girl banged on the door of Room 210 at the Cheyenne, Wyoming, Holiday Inn. Develyn woke up and staggered to the door. She vaguely remembered ordering a small BLT pizza with thin crust right after she got out of the shower, but she didn’t recall pulling on her Purdue sweats and sprawling across the bed.

  She extracted the smallest piece and nibbled at it while she fumbled with the phone.

  The voice that said “Hello” sounded worried.

  “Hi, Lily, it’s Dev.”

  “Are you in a hospital?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Are you in jail?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m at the Holiday Inn.”

  “Are you being kidnapped?”

  “Ms. Martin, what are you talking about?”

  “Those are the only three acceptable reasons for not phoning me until now. I was ready to call the state police.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily. Please don’t worry.”

  “Sure, that’s like telling a sunflower it doesn’t have to follow the sun.”

  Develyn jammed her finger in the cheese, then licked it. “I’m OK.”

  “You sound awful.”

  “Oh, thank you. That cheers me up. I just woke from a little nap.” Develyn glanced around the room at the lifeless impressionistic prints that framed the walls. “I totally zonked after my shower.”

  “Where are you?” Lily asked.

  “Cheyenne.”

  “Wyoming?”

  “Yes, is there another?” She peered around at the clock radio. “I got in about an hour ago.”

  “Where did you end up spending last night?”

  In her mind, Develyn could envision the auburn braid and green eyes of the waitress. “On the road, halfway.”

  “What?”

  She picked off a bacon nibble and popped it in her mouth. “I drove most of the night. But I got tired today so I stopped at a rest stop near Grand Island and slept a couple of hours.”

  “I’m glad you stopped for the night.”

  “I won’t do that again, mama. I’m way too old to stay up all night.”

  “Speaking of mama, I saw yours in Target today.”

  “And?”

  “She asked if your phone was down. She left a message and you didn’t return the call.”

  Develyn fluffed up the wimpy pillows on the bed, then leaned back against them. “What did you tell her?”

  “That I hadn’t talked to you for a couple of days. What was I supposed to say?”

  “I’ll call her.”

  “When?”

  “In the morning before I leave. And when you go feed the cats, write down my messages, then unplug the machine. I forgot all about it.”

  “Are you having a good time yet?”

  “It’s interesting, Lily. I really needed this. I’ve thought through so many scenes in my life. Maybe this summer I’ll learn something from my past, instead of just fleeing from it.”

  “That sounds profound.”

  Develyn’s toes felt cold. She scrunched them under the green and orange flowered bedspread. “It’s what happens when I’m sleep-deprived and eating a BLT pizza.”

  “Oh, I have to go,” Lily blustered. “Can I call you back in the morning?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “My date’s here.”

  “What? I’ve been gone two days and you’re chasing around?”

  “What can I say, Devy-girl. I met someone.”

  “Who? Where? What he’s like? How does he look in tight Wranglers?” Develyn laughed.

  “He’s standing right here …” Lily murmured.

  “You have to call me tonight … no, in the morning. You promise?�
��

  “Sure.”

  “I can’t believe it. All these years I’ve been holding you back.”

  Lily laughed. “Bye, Devy-girl.”

  “Bye, sweetie. Have fun and be good.”

  Develyn finished the slice of pizza, brushed her teeth, turned out the light, and collapsed on top of the thin, slick bedspread of the queen-sized bed.

  * * *

  By 9:00 a.m. Develyn Worrell drove north through Chugwater, Wyoming, on Interstate 25 and chewed on a cold breakfast burrito. At noon, while the Cherokee was filling with 89 octane gasoline, she spread her road map on top of the hood.

  OK, Daddy … we drove to Casper … and we were heading to Yellowstone. But you took a couple of shortcuts, got us lost, and then the station wagon dropped its muffler on the rocks when we crossed a riverbed, broke a belt, and shot part of the water pump through the radiator. We never made it to Cody, let alone Yellowstone. But that’s two hundred miles of wilderness.

  Of course, I have all summer.

  I just need to watch the gas gauge.

  And keep the doors locked.

  “Are you lost, ma’am?”

  Develyn spun around. A tall man with leather-like tanned face lounged next to a black Dodge pickup that towed a silver-sided horse trailer. “Excuse me?”

  His gray and dark brown hair curled out from under the black cowboy hat. He sauntered over toward her. “Don’t mean to interfere, ma’am.” He tipped his hat. “I just saw you studyin’ the map and surmised you might need some help findin’ something. You aren’t lookin’ for that big wild horse auction, are you?”

  Develyn studied his creased, steel gray eyes and square jaw. “Oh, no … I, eh … a horse auction?”

  He looped his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “B.L.M. is auctionin’ off some wild horses and burros this afternoon.”

  “B.L.M.?” she stammered.

  He glanced at the Indiana license plate on the Cherokee. “The Bureau of Land Management has too many wild horses grazin’ some of their land, so they have a program where the prisoners down at Rawlins green break the horses, then they are sold at auction. Well, they call it an adoption. I thought maybe you’re looking for the sale.”