Bridge to Haven (8 page)

The swinging doors from the kitchen bumped open, and Bessie came out with three breakfast plates stacked up one arm and another in her hand. “Good mornin’, Zeke! You’re a little late today. Your booth is waiting for you. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be right with you.” She served four men dressed in work clothes sitting near the front windows.

Before sliding into his usual spot near the back, Zeke poked his head into the kitchen to say hello to Oliver, harried but keeping pace with the morning crowd. “I see Bessie found a new girl.”

“She’s a good worker. Started last night. Kept up without a problem. Bessie has her fingers crossed.”

Zeke left him to his work and took his seat. He liked sitting in back, facing front. That way he could see everyone who came in. Dutch often stopped by, and they’d have a cup of coffee and talk for a while. He’d finally come to church, where Zeke introduced him to Marjorie Baxter. It took a few months of casual conversation before Dutch asked Marjorie to dinner. “We talked about you all evening,” Dutch told him with a grin. “Now that we’ve exhausted that boring subject, we can get on to other things.” Zeke couldn’t have been more delighted when they started seeing each other on a regular basis.

The new waitress looked his way again. He smiled and gave her a nod of silent greeting. Usually he could guess people’s ages, but this woman perplexed him. Thirty-five? She moved quickly, as though accustomed to this kind of work. She looked tired around the eyes, not physically tired, but world-weary, worn down. When she returned his smile, it didn’t touch her eyes.

Plates delivered, Bessie snatched a mug off the shelf and headed
for him. “You usually beat the crowd.” She set the mug on the table and poured a steaming cup of black coffee without spilling a drop.

Zeke thanked her and wrapped his cold hands around the warm porcelain. “I took a longer walk this morning.”

“Beats me why you walk at all when you have that sweet Packard 740 to drive around.”

Mitzi Martin had shocked him a few months after Marianne’s death when she insisted on giving him the 1930 Packard 740 Roadster that had been parked in her garage for who knew how many years. “You need a car, and I have one that’s sitting in a garage collecting dust. I want you to have it.” She had her mind made up, and all Zeke could do was gratefully accept the offer.

Even after several years, though, he still felt conspicuous behind the wheel of Mitzi’s car, and he only used it when he had to be somewhere in a hurry or had to go farther than his legs could carry him in a reasonable amount of time. He’d only taken it out once last week, and that was to give Mitzi a ride in the countryside. They talked about Abra. She’d been playing every Sunday for church, though under protest. “She’s nervous about playing in front of everyone, but she’ll get used to it. It takes time.”

Abra still didn’t have much to say to Zeke. She called him Pastor Zeke now, instead of Reverend Freeman, which was an improvement. He told her once how proud Marianne would be to see her playing piano for services. She said Mitzi told her the same thing and that’s why she’d agreed to play, in memory of Marianne. She’d said it in a perfectly polite tone, but he’d felt the stab just the same. Mitzi said she was looking at things through a child’s hurt. “Whatever happens, she’s going to know every hymn in the book, and something might come back to her when she needs it.”

Zeke gave Bessie a rueful grin. “I don’t want to put too many miles on the car.”

“Or you’re embarrassed to have a car that’s nicer than most of your parishioners’.”

There was some truth to that. In fact, Charles Lydickson was somewhat peeved whenever he saw Zeke in the Packard.

He nodded toward the new waitress. “I see you found someone to help you out.”

Bessie looked pleased. “Her name is Susan Wells. She came in yesterday, new to town, and said she was looking for work. She said she had experience waiting tables, and after watching her work last night and this morning, I’d say she sure does.” She beckoned. “Susan! Come on over here and meet one of my best customers.”

Susan dried her hands and came out from behind the counter.

“Zeke, I want you to meet Susan Wells, newcomer to Haven. Susan, this here is Reverend Ezekiel Freeman of Haven Community Church.”

Her eyes had flickered at
reverend
. He’d seen that
uh-oh
look on others’ faces. “Reverend Freeman.” She gave a reserved nod.

“Call him Pastor Zeke,” Bessie told her. “
Reverend
sounds stodgy, don’t you think? Like some old man.” She winked at Zeke.

Zeke extended his hand to Susan. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wells.”

After the briefest hesitation, she shook his hand. One firm shake and she let go. “It’s Mrs. Wells.” She spoke stiffly. Her gaze flicked away and then back. “My husband was killed in the war.”

He recognized a lie. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Hey, Bessie! How about some service over here?” A customer held up his mug.

“Hold your horses, Barney! What are you doing, anyway? Pouring it in a thermos before you get off your sorry backside and go to work?” Bessie excused herself and headed for the booth.

Susan had stood staring at the exchange in appalled silence. Zeke chuckled. “Don’t worry. Barney is Bessie’s little brother.”

“Oh.” She closed her lips.

Bessie and Barney were laughing now. She grabbed a handful of his curly dark hair and yanked it before heading for another booth.

“It’s a morning ritual.” Zeke smiled. “Welcome to Haven, Mrs. Wells.” He met her gaze.

Her expression altered, as though a veil had been pulled over her face, hiding her from his scrutiny. “Thanks. I’d better get back to work.”

Joshua found himself trapped on the front porch swing with Abra leaning against the railing while Penny sat beside him chatting about the upcoming eighth-grade graduation and the party her parents were giving. Abra leaned against the porch railing, not saying a word.

Penny scooted closer to Joshua. “Are you going to your senior prom? Isn’t it next weekend?”

Priscilla stepped out the front door. “Penny, come inside and set the table.”

“It’s not even close to dinnertime.”

“Now, Penny.”

“Okay. Okay.” Angry, she left the swing. “Can Joshua stay for dinner?”

Priscilla looked at him in question. “You know you’re more than welcome.”

A little more welcome than he wanted. “Thanks, but I can’t.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Joshua stood. “What do you say we go for a walk?”

Abra’s head came up and her face brightened. “Sure.”

He opened the front gate for her. She walked with eyes straight forward. He wondered what she was thinking about. “I was trying to bring you into the conversation.”

She shrugged. “Penny has a crush on you.”

Again, Joshua had that feeling that something was churning inside Abra. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a rift between two sisters. “She’ll have a crush on someone else next week.”

“
Are
you going to prom?” She cast him a look he couldn’t decipher. “You never did answer Penny’s question.”

“Yep. I’m going.” Paul Davenport wanted to take Janet Fulsom, but her father wouldn’t allow her to go unless another couple went with them. Joshua would have asked Janet’s best friend, Sally Pruitt, but he knew Brady Studebaker had already asked her. So he had called Lacey Glover, who said she’d love to go.

Abra abruptly changed the subject and asked if he was still working on the Woodings’ kitchen cabinets.

“Nope. Jack and I finished that project last week. Now he’s talking about replacing the balusters on his staircase. He taught me how to use the router and put me to work making balusters from a template. They’re for the new bungalows he’s building. He wants me to come up with a template of my own—‘a baluster with details,’ as he puts it.” He laughed. “Mr. Wooding has more confidence in me than I have. I’ve made six so far, and he’s broken every one of them in half and tossed them in the firewood box.”

“He sounds mean.”

“No, he’s not mean. He just pushes me to do better. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

“Don’t you want to go to college?”

“Someday. Maybe. I don’t have enough money saved right now.”

“Are you still in Scouts?”

“Not anymore.” Jack Wooding had encouraged him to go all the way to Eagle Scout. Joshua had made it last year when he wrote a proposal for a ramp into the public library, designed it, and found financial backing and a crew to make the project happen. “Between school and working with Mr. Wooding, I’m pretty busy.”

“You still have time to go out with girls.” She glanced at him. “You didn’t say who you’re taking to prom.”

Was she still thinking about that? “Lacey Glover. Her family goes to our church.” He watched Abra frown and figured she probably didn’t know her. “Tall, brunette, sits in the sixth row on the right side of church with her folks, has a younger brother a year older than you. Brian. Do you know him?”

She shrugged. “I know who he is. I don’t know him.” She kept walking. “Penny was hoping you’d ask her to prom.”

“I doubt that. She’s only thirteen and not even in high school.”

“We will be next fall.”

Joshua tried to tease her out of her low mood. “Any idea who you’d like to have take you to prom someday?”

She gave a short laugh. “I doubt I’ll be invited.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? You’re a pretty girl.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side. “You will. You’ll have guys lined up wanting to take you out. In the unlikely event you don’t have a date, I’ll take you.” He kissed her cheek and let her go as the downtown clock bonged in the tower. “I’d better get you home.”

Her mood had changed and she challenged him to a race back. Breathless, they reached the front gate, both gasping for air. “You run pretty well for a girl.” He’d barely beaten her. He dug in his pocket for keys. The truck’s door screeched when he opened it.

Abra leaned into the open passenger window. “This thing is still a piece of junk, Joshua.”

“Hey! This is a work in progress.” He patted the steering wheel. “She runs pretty well.” He turned the key and the engine choked.

Abra giggled. “Are you taking Lacey Glover to prom in this old rust bucket?”

He grinned. “Dad’s loaning me the Packard.”

“I’ve never even had a ride in Mitzi’s car!”

“That’s your fault. All you have to do is ask him.” He turned the key in the ignition again, and the truck shook itself to life.

Abra stepped off the running board and yelled over the noise. “Are you coming to our graduation?”

“I wouldn’t miss it! You’d better come to mine.” He waved as he pulled away from the curb. He looked back as he went around the corner. Abra was still standing outside the gate, watching him. He felt an odd lift in his chest at the sight of her, a hint of something to come, but he didn’t know what.

The George Washington Elementary School auditorium was packed for the eighth-grade graduation ceremony. A
Class of 1950
banner hung over the platform where the students sat.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Penny squeezed Abra’s hand. Abra squeezed back and looked out at the mass of people. There was Mitzi, beaming, and Joshua, both sitting with Peter and Priscilla. Abra knew Pastor Zeke was standing on the platform a few feet away, but tears were too close to the surface for her to chance a peek at him. Was he proud of her? Was he sorry now he’d given her away?

After the ceremony, everyone surged to their feet and clapped and cheered. Abra saw Joshua put his fingers to his lips and give a piercing whistle. She laughed, returning Penny’s exuberant hug.

Priscilla and Peter met up with them outside the auditorium, where pandemonium reigned. Abra saw Mitzi and went for her as toward a beacon. “I’m so glad you came.”

Mitzi pulled her close and kissed her temple. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” She held her at arm’s length. “This is just the beginning, sweetie pie.”