Waiting for Daybreak (8 page)
Clarissa licked her lips and walked up beside Paige. “So, you’ve met Cory now.”
Paige continued to count pills with her spatula and didn’t answer until she was done. “Actually, I met him about twenty years ago. He was a couple of years behind me in school, but I’ve known him all my life.”
“Where did you say you’re from again?”
“Sledge. It’s about fifteen miles south of here. Small town, a lot like Shoal Creek.”
Clarissa thought of Becky, probably planning even now the new yoga studio in the Lancaster Building. She thought of her father, drinking his way into another oblivion. She looked at little Miss Apple Pie before her and remembered Cory’s obvious attraction to her. What would it take to make something go right?
She knew the answer. It was always the same. Stay focused and work hard. It was the Richardson way.
Dawn groaned at the beeping alarm. She should have left last night’s party a little earlier.
The snoring lump beside her remained motionless, his breath thick with stale beer and cigarettes. She poked his shoulder. “Jack, wake up. Time to get ready for work.”
“Hit the snooze.”
“I promised Paige I’d be on time today.”
“Like you care what she thinks.”
“Get up.”
He rolled toward her, his eyes still closed. “Call my boss and tell him I’m sick.”
“You promised you’d stop that. Come on.”
“Shut up and let me sleep.”
She shoved him so hard he nearly fell off the bed. “Nothing doing. I’m not working to pay your child support while you stay home in bed.”
He pulled the pillow over his head. “You are today.”
“You are such a loser.”
He flung the pillow at her, hitting her square in the face. “You should be more grateful. I’m the only one who would take you in after your parents kicked you out.”
She looked at the unshaven face and bloodshot eyes that had once seemed so charming. “Grateful?
You’re
the reason they kicked me out.”
He grabbed the pillow from her side of the bed and rolled away from her. “Hey, if you hate it here so bad, feel free to move on. I’m sure you’d be real comfortable living in your car. Now shut your mouth and let me sleep.”
“I hate you.” She meant every word. Mostly because he was right. She had nowhere else to go.
With no time for a shower, she stumbled forward and opened the closet door. It loomed before her like a cave: dark, eerie—and empty. Dirty clothes lay in small heaps across the dirty carpet. She bent to pick up a white shirt. A smear of ketchup marred the front, so she tossed it back to the ground. The second attempt, a green striped button-up, smelled of sweat and cigarettes. Finally, she picked up a short-sleeved blue pullover that didn’t look half bad—if you didn’t count wrinkles. It would have to do. Like everything else in her life.
Paige arrived on her fourth day ready to settle into her routine. She’d brought a coffee maker, and now that she had her keys, she wouldn’t have to wait at the door until someone else showed up. No, from here on out she could arrive a little after eight, brew a fresh pot, and spend some time getting ready for the day ahead. She set down the box at the pharmacy door, flipped through her keys, and unlocked the door.
As she bent down, she looked at the index card she’d set on top of the box. Maybe she had trouble memorizing Bible verses, but she kept hearing about the power of praying Scripture. Her mother needed the strongest kind of prayers right now, and Paige planned to do her part. She glanced at the card again.
Acts 3:16—By faith
in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made
strong. It is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that
has given this complete healing to him, as you can all see.
It was verses like this that she planned to pray and claim, over and over again, until she got God’s attention.
She swung open the door and punched the code in the alarm keypad. The empty darkness inside the store felt all too familiar.
God, please help Mom. We do have faith, please make her well.
We need her so much. And if You’re still listening, please send me
a friend.
Someone.
Anyone.
“You open?”
Paige turned and found herself looking up into the bespeckled eyes of an elderly woman. In spite of her age, she stood erect, wearing a wool skirt and boots with heels.
“No, not until nine. I’m just getting things set up. You need something?”
The woman sighed. “Honey, I need lots of things. But mostly, I was hoping for a refill of my angina medicine.”
It would at least provide some company for a few minutes, and the woman seemed nice enough. “Where did you get it filled last?”
“Right here.”
“Come on in. It’s silly for you to have to come back in an hour.”
The woman gave a brisk nod. “That’s what I like. Someone with a little common sense. Wasn’t sure there was any of that left in your generation.”
Paige saw the woman to the sitting area, then proceeded behind the counter. “I have to get the computer fired up. It’ll take just a few minutes.”
“You planning on making some coffee?”
“Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll get your medicine for you first.”
“Nonsense. I don’t want any half-awake pharmacist filling my prescription. You make that coffee
first.
You can pour me a cup while you’re at it. Personally, I’d die before I’d drink that frothy stuff out front. Plain old coffee’s good enough for me.”
Paige nodded. “Well, okay then. You got it.” She turned on the computer, then carried the coffee maker to the back shelf, measured out the first pot, and set it to brew. Once she pressed the
on
button, she walked down to her customer. “Do you know your prescription number?”
The woman reached into her oversized quilted purse. “Got my bottle right here.” She fished through the cavernous space for a moment, then produced the green plastic vial.
Paige looked at the name on the top of the label. Ora Vaerge. “How do you pronounce your last name?”
“Like the noun. You know, I’m on the
verge
of something great.”
Paige laughed. “I like it. It’s pretty.”
As Paige navigated the computer to find her record, the woman strained to look over the counter. “How’s that coffee coming?”
Paige set the bottle beside the terminal and walked to the back counter. “Nearly ready. Do you want cream or sugar?”
“Nope. Black’s good. No need for anything else.”
Paige carried a steaming mug for the woman. “I’ll get to work on your prescription now.”
“What’s that paper you were carrying around?”
“The what?”
“Paper. You know, the index card. You were reading it when I first walked up.”
“Oh, it’s a Bible verse. I’m praying about something very specific in my life. I’m writing out verses that help me.”
“I’ve never been able to quote verses. I remember references like you wouldn’t believe but can’t quote a word. I have to go look them up.”
Paige laughed outright. “My mom’s just the opposite. She can remember all sorts of verses but can’t tell you where any of them are found. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of anyone besides you with the opposite problem.”
“Not a problem at all. A reference comes to mind, it’s easy as can be to go look it up. Don’t have to carry a bunch of cards around with me, neither.”
“I guess you’re right.” Paige finished with the refill. “Here you go, Mrs. Vaerge. Your prescription’s ready.”
The woman swung her arm in a dismissive manner. “Ora. Call me Ora. I’m too young to be Mrs. Vaerge.” She winked a left eye that had easily seen eighty years pass. “So, what are you praying about? If I have a reference for it, I’ll give it to you.”
“My mom has cancer. I’m praying through verses on faith and healing.”
“Let’s see, let me think a minute.” She rubbed her chin, then gave a brisk nod. “Got just the thing. Second Timothy, chapter four, verse twenty. Can’t remember what it says, but I remember it’s about faith and healing.”
As much as Paige was ready to get on with her day, this was just too intriguing to ignore. “How about I look it up?” She walked to the back computer and typed in the web address for an online Bible. “Let’s see, 2 Timothy 4:20, got it right here, it says ‘Erastus stayed in Corinth, and I left Trophimus sick in Miletus.’ ” Paige looked at the woman and resisted the urge to giggle. “Uh, I guess your memory for references didn’t quite work this time.”
“Course it did. It says, ‘I left Trophimus sick,’ doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“It was Paul doing the talking, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Course it was. It was from Paul’s letter to Timothy. Now, back to my point, lots of sick people were made well when Paul touched them and prayed for them, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there you have it, clear as Vicks VapoRub.” She put her prescription bag in her purse, then looked up at Paige as if she were an idiot. “Sometimes healing doesn’t happen, even when the faith is there. Sometimes The Big Man just has other plans, and those plans don’t involve the person in question getting better. See?”
Was that supposed to be encouraging? Time to get this lady out of here. “Well, thanks, Ora. I’ll walk you out so I can lock up behind you.”
Ora set her empty mug on the counter. “Next time, use cold water.”
“Excuse me?”
“In your coffee maker. If you start with cold water, the coffee tastes better. Yours isn’t very good.”
Paige bit her bottom lip. “Umm, thanks for the tip.”
“No problem. You opening tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, I’ll come by then. You can try again.” The woman turned and disappeared out the door.
Paige looked at the ceiling. “God, what is going on? I’m claiming Your Word, I’m doing all I can, and You seem to be answering every request with the complete opposite. I asked for a friend, and You’ve sent me a crotchety old lady who criticizes my coffee and gives me bizarre Bible references that have nothing to do with anything. Do you even hear me anymore?”
Monday morning marked Paige’s first full week at work. Things felt almost normal, though it still hurt to head home every night to her parents’ empty house. She was washing out her coffee pot when Clarissa arrived and began to scrub everything that didn’t move. As she wiped at the counter for at least the tenth time, Paige walked over and put her hand on Clarissa’s arm. “Is everything okay?”
Clarissa continued to rub at an imaginary spot. “You ever heard of Parrish Apothecary?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that a boutique pharmacy? Great service but higher prices, and doesn’t take insurance?”
“Milton Parrish is coming in today.
The
Milton Parrish. He’s part owner of this store along with my grandfather, but he’s never actually been here before. He’s also sole owner of the Parrish Apothecary chain. He’s decided to sell franchise rights to a select few people, and I want to be one of them.”
Paige nodded. “Got it. Something special you want me to do?”
Clarissa straightened the Zithromax Z-Paks on the shelf. “Tidy up anything that needs it. When he’s here, provide your best service and try to look happy.”
Paige saluted. “I’ll give it my best.”
Clarissa did not acknowledge the attempt at humor. Instead, she looked toward the door and began to drum her fingers on the counter. “I hope Dawn shows up wearing something halfway nice today. I told her to dress her best, but looking back, I think I should have been more specific.”
“Maybe she’ll surprise you.” In truth, Paige had never seen Dawn in anything besides faded jeans and wrinkled shirts, but now was not the time to say as much.
When Dawn arrived at ten after nine, quite early by her standards, she was wearing a long khaki skirt and a black turtleneck sweater. “If either one of you says a word about these clothes, you’re dead. Let’s just understand that up front.”
Clarissa snickered. “Can I ask just one question?”
“Ask at your own risk.”
“Did that actually come from your closet, or did you borrow it from someone?”
“My closet, unfortunately. My mother gave it to me for high school graduation, she just knew it was the perfect ensemble to wear to job interviews.” Dawn looked down and grabbed a fistful of skirt at the side seam. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to work for anyone who would hire a person wearing something this boring, but you did say the most conservative thing in my closet, and this is it. Now, I’m going to listen to the refills so I can hide in the back. I’d die if any of my friends came into the store today and saw me in this.”
By the time noon arrived, everything in the pharmacy had been rearranged at least twice. Clarissa had grown increasingly agitated and short-tempered, obsessively staring at the door. Paige tried offering a word of comfort here and there but nothing seemed to get through. Finally, Lee Richardson walked in, followed by a distinguished-looking man in a gray suit.
“Here he is now,” Clarissa hissed. She looked from Paige to Dawn, took a deep breath, and smoothed her hair. “Best foot forward, everyone.”
The two men walked through the front end of the store aisle by aisle, talking the whole time, pointing at things, gesturing. Every now and then, snatches of phrases like “profit margin,” “lower overhead,” and “liability” could be heard, with an occasional bit of laughter.
A steady flow of customers kept Paige too occupied to worry much about what they were doing. When they finally stepped up into the dispensing area, they ignored Paige and Clarissa altogether and continued their tour as if no one else was even there.
“This is a terrific layout.” Milton Parrish’s voice came from the back of the pharmacy.
“Clarissa is the one who designed it all. She told me what she wanted done, I just followed orders.” There was a moment of quiet before he continued, “Tell you what, Milton, the girl’s got a keen eye for efficiency. We could use her in the construction business if she ever gets tired of pharmacy.” There was no mistaking the pride in Lee Richardson’s voice.
Paige looked at Clarissa, who was typing at the computer. Her face remained serious, but her eyes began to sparkle.
