All in One Place (10 page)

But I left. I made a decision.

I ran away. I didn't confront Eric. Didn't stop him…

Amelia sniffed a few more times, then dug into her purse. “Sorry,” she whispered. She pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her
eyes. “Is my mascara running?”

“You look fine.”

“I just wish I could figure out what to do with my life. It's such a mess.”

I patted her on the shoulder, unable to offer any sterling words of wisdom, my life being the train wreck it was. I'd scooted
out of Seattle with hopes of ducking below Eric's radar while spending time with Leslie. Then, when I figured my past had
settled down, I would move on to greener pastures with a blue sky above me and not a care in the world.

At least that was phase one of the life plan I'd scribbled out on a napkin one rainy afternoon at a Starbucks.

“I wish there was something I could do for you,” I said, as I glanced around the bar.

Amelia gave me a trembling smile. “You know, that's the nicest thing I've heard since I came here. Thanks.”

Her tentative appreciation gave my bruised ego a tender boost. Leslie should see this. Might make her realize I wasn't such
a loser after all.

“Are you meeting someone else here?” Amelia asked.

“No. Just seeing if I know anyone.” I thought I might see those boys who had ducked out on paying their bill at the diner.
“But I should get going.” I resisted the urge to tell her that she should as well. I wasn't her mother.

“Will I see you around?” she asked.

“I'm at the restaurant most days. Stop by next time you have a chance, or call me. I'll give you the number.” I dug through
my purse, but the only paper I found was an old Visa bill, and I had nothing to write with but a lipstick pencil. “Here's
Helen's phone number and address,” I said, writing it carefully on the bill. “If you ever need my help or just need to talk,
call, okay? Otherwise, I'll be at the diner if I'm not home.”

Amelia took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks a bunch. It was nice talking to you.”

I laid my hand on her shoulder. “You don't have to stay with him, you know. You do have a choice.”

She nodded as she slipped the paper into a zippered compartment of her purse, but I could tell she wasn't convinced. “Yeah.
I guess I do,” she said. But as I gathered up my purse to leave, she caught my arm and gave me a sheepish grin. “I want to
stay awhile yet, but I forgot my wallet…”

“Don't worry. I'll get the tab.” I signaled the bartender and paid for both our drinks, resisting the urge to slip her a few
more bills. I didn't need to encourage her drinking, in spite of her desire to linger. As I slipped off the stool, a bellowing
laugh caught my attention. A group of young kids had slipped in while I was having my heart-to-heart with Amelia.

I recognized one of them.

My smile was triumphant as I zipped open my purse and pulled out the unpaid restaurant bill. This was going to be so good.
I straightened my jacket, smoothed out my lipstick, and with my smile intact, walked over.

“Hello, youngsters. How are you doing?”

The boy I recognized turned his head with that lazy “I don't care” sneer spoiled teenage boys all over North America seem
to have adopted as their signature look.

“I'll have a…”

His eyes drifted upward. I held the unpaid bill suspended between us as his sneer stiffened and shifted into fearful recognition.

“Yes. It's me. The voice of your conscience.” I waved the bill back and forth, savoring the moment. “You owe me nineteen dollars
and seventy-five cents. Plus a fifteen percent tip, which makes twenty-two dollars and seventy-two cents, plus a five-dollar
delivery charge, on top of which I could add an idiot charge. But I'm feeling gracious, so your grand total is twenty-seven
dollars and seventy-two cents.” I slapped the bill on the table. “Which I'll round up, for ease of payment, to twenty-eight
dollars.”

I love my work.

“But… You gotta be kidding… You can't do this…”

“I can. And I will. Pay up, punk.” I held my hand out, knowing full well that when push came to shove, this little twerp wouldn't.
Push or shove, that is.

“Hey, wait a minute,” his friend said. “This is crazy.”

I turned to take him on and found myself looking directly into the wide-open, overdone raccoon eyes of Gloria's daughter,
Tabitha.

O
kay. So I felt a little smug. The VandeKeeres with their family moments and their praying and churchgoing couldn't keep this
little minx out of trouble.

But my smug moment was doused when I remembered Leslie's concern and Wilma's comment about praying for her. This girl had
all the support and opportunities that Leslie and I never had. And she was royally messing it up.

And why do I care? I've done my good deeds for the night. Listening to Amelia, dispensing advice, paying for her drink.

Okay, so I wasn't Dr. Phil. I wasn't Mother Teresa either, but it bugged me to see this young girl mangle her life.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, shaking my head at the sight. “And how in the world did you get in?”

Tabitha's gaze slipped down as her Gwen Stefani red lips pressed against each other.

“Who are you? Her mother?” one of the young men demanded with that striving-to-be-tough attitude that young men carry until
age and experience tell them they're not.

“I'm her aunt.” Actually, the sister of her aunt, but I figured it was close enough. I flipped my hand toward Tabitha. “And
she's a minor, so unless you want me to report you to the bartender or the sheriff, you might want to back off.” I turned
back to Tabitha. “Maybe you'd better leave, hon.”

Tabitha glanced at the group, then back at me. Though I was alone, she knew I represented a host of adults in her life, so
she slowly got up.

The boy that had stiffed me relaxed.

“And you pay up, sonny. You're not off the hook.”

He glared up at me, but in spite of his tough attitude, he leaned sideways and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, throwing
a handful of bills onto the table.

I sighed, but I decided to leave the teaching of manners to his mother, so I just picked up the money. “Look at this as a
growing experience,” I said as I slipped the bills into my purse. “Someday you'll thank me for teaching you the value of paying
and for the embarrassment of having to do so in front of your friends. Suffering makes you stronger, you know.”

I gave the collective group a quick smile, then took Tabitha by the arm and pulled her away from this motley crowd of losers.

As soon as we were out of earshot of her friends, she grabbed my arm. “Why did you do that?” she demanded. “You embarrassed
me.”

I stopped and caught her by her skinny seventeen-year-old shoulder. “
You
embarrassed you,” I corrected her. “This is a stupid place for you to be.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I was meeting someone, but that doesn't matter because I happen to be of legal drinking age, and you, little scamp, are not.”

“What's the big deal?” She blinked, her teeth working at her lips. “Gramma said you were drunk at Leslie's wedding…”

Gramma had a long memory and was obviously willing to share, but I wasn't going to get sidetracked.

“I thought I made the underage reference fairly clear.”

“But it seemed like so much fun.”

“Like that party you were at that sent you to the hospital with alcohol poisoning?”

Tabitha reared back, her eyes wide. “Does everyone know everything about me?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said quietly. “But that's not always a bad thing.”

Tabitha looked down, wrapping her fingers around each other. “I just get tired of always being…”

“Being what?” I prompted, sensing a struggle in her heart.

“Being good. Being sweet and kind.” She said the last word like it was a disease. “I play in a worship band; I sing Christian
songs. I'm supposed to love the Lord, but sometimes it's so hard. My brothers can get away with all kinds of stuff because
they're boys, but I have to be a good little mommy's girl and a good little Christian.”

“Believe it or not, you're lucky to have a mom who is involved enough in your life that you can be a mommy's girl,” I said
quietly, touching her on the shoulder. “And being a good little Christian leaves you with fewer regrets than being a bad pagan.
Listen to the voice of experience, honey.”

Tabitha bit her lip. “Sometimes this seems like so much fun,” she repeated.

“Take another look, Tabitha. A deep, hard look. How many people here are really having fun?”

Tabitha's frustrated sigh answered my question.

“Now, you need to get home. How did you get here?”

“I took my mom's car.”

“I do not want to know this,” I said, waving my hand at her. “Just head out and clean yourself up and make sure you drive
the speed limit.”

She nodded, looked back at the noisy crowd in the bar, then with a sigh, left out the back door.

I waited until she was gone, then took another look around. Amelia still sat at the bar, but for now Tabitha was my concern.

The evening air was chilly, and I shivered just outside the door of the bar as I watched Tabitha walk to the car, get in,
and drive away.

Different bar, different town. Different, yet familiar. So which way was Helen's place?

As I got my bearings, a rattly diesel truck pulled up to the hotel and two tall young men stepped out.

One of them gave me a slow smile and sauntered over. “Hey, babe. You ready for a good time?”

“Yeah, you know where I can find it?”

The youngster thumped his chest. “Right here, baby. Right here. Let's you and me go back inside, and I'll show you.”

I didn't have the time or energy for this. “Sorry, I don't date outside my species.”

“What's with you?” he asked, his voice growing belligerent.

“Not you. Now, go inside and make up some new pickup lines.”

I turned and started walking away, blinking against the glare of headlights as a car parked down the street. I heard footsteps
behind me. The guy was following me.

Did I have “I'm available” written on my forehead? First that loser at the Pump and Grill, and now this character.

I spun around, deciding to take him face-on. “Look, stop bothering me, or I'm going to call the cops.” I pulled out my cell
phone, my thumb on the screen, ready to flip it open. He didn't know that my battery was dead. As long as he didn't call my
bluff, I'd be okay. And if he did, well, I could always pitch it at him and start running.

“I hope you're not causing trouble again.”

That rough voice behind me was way too familiar.

Jack the Cop, and déjà vu all over again.

“No, Sheriff. I'm not.” The young man held up his hands and backed away.

I realized with relief that Jack had someone else in his sights, and in spite of my tough talk, I was glad for his solid presence
behind me and the authority his uniform and his presence exuded.

“Just talking to the lady, that's all.” The guy gave Jack a feeble smile. He motioned to his friend, and they went into the
bar together.

I made sure they were gone, then turned to Jack. “You always sneak up behind people and start talking in that gruff voice
of yours?”

Jack angled me a curious look. “Sorry.”

I relented. “Well, thanks. He was getting to be a nuisance.”

“Actually, I thought I'd intervene for his protection.” His expression was serious, but I caught the faintest movement of
his lips.

I gave in and smiled first. “To serve and protect by keeping the foreheads and insteps of carbon-based life-forms of Harland
safe from all newcomers,” I joked.

His mouth lifted just a bit.

Tough crowd.

“Are you headed home?” he asked.

“That's the plan.” Then, with horror, I realized something else. “I am allowed to go to the bar, right? I'm not breaking the
conditions of my bail, am I?”

“Did you start another fight?”

“I didn't start the first one.”

“Sorry.” He held up his hand as if to stop me from beating on him as well. “So, where are you staying?”

“Helen's.”

“She's a good person.”

“For now, it's a bed and… well… a bed.” I gave him a casual shrug. Cool and in charge. But I couldn't help wondering why he
was suddenly making with the chitchat. I guessed even policemen needed to cut loose from time to time.

The door of the bar opened, emitting a burst of noise and pounding music into the quiet evening. A petite figure stood on
the step, looking around as if trying to decide what to do.

Amelia.

She saw me and waved. “Hey, Terra,” but when she saw Jack, her hand faltered midair. As she looked from me to Jack, her smile
slipped away and her features hardened. Then she turned and left. She probably thought I had arranged to meet Jack here.

“You spent the evening with Amelia?” Jack asked, arching one questioning eyebrow my way.

I deflected the query with a shrug, stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. “We talked some.” And then I caught
his next question before he could even ask. “And a friend is taking care of Madison.”

“So she comes to the bar.” Jack's sigh hit a raw nerve.

“To get away from a guy that…”
Gear down, motor mouth. Amelia asked you not to tell him.

“That what?”

“Never mind.” I knew the guy code. Man friends are never wrong. Man friends stick together through thick and thin.

Jack gave me a penetrating look, but I wasn't budging. Amelia already thought I had broken her trust—I didn't need to shatter
it completely.

A chill feathered down my spine, but I forced myself to hold his intense gaze.

“Amelia's in a bad place right now. I think she needs help.”

“She's had offers of help, which she's turned down.”

“She or Rod?”

Jack frowned, and I remembered the friendly hello Rod got when he came to the restaurant. Jack probably wouldn't believe me
if I told him that I suspected Rod had sabotaged that situation as well.