Safe Haven, Page 3

  Still... there was one possibility, he supposed. Another woman interested him, though he knew almost nothing about her, aside from the fact that she was single. She'd been coming to the store once or twice a week since early March. The first time he'd seen her, she was pale and gaunt, almost desperately thin. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have given her a second glance. People passing through town often stopped at the store for sodas or gasoline or junk food; he seldom saw such people again. But she wanted none of those things; instead, she kept her head down as she walked toward the grocery aisles, as if trying to remain unseen, a ghost in human form. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't working. She was too attractive to go unnoticed. She was in her late twenties, he guessed, with brown hair cut a little unevenly above her shoulder. She wore no makeup and her high cheekbones and round, wide-set eyes gave her an elegant if slightly fragile appearance.

  At the register, he realized that up close she was even prettier than she'd been from a distance. Her eyes were a greenish-hazel color and flecked with gold, and her brief, distracted smile vanished as quickly as it had come. On the counter, she placed nothing but staples: coffee, rice, oatmeal, pasta, peanut butter, and toiletries. He sensed that conversation would make her uncomfortable so he began to ring her up in silence. As he did, he heard her voice for the first time.

  "Do you have any dry beans?" she asked.

  "I'm sorry," he'd answered. "I don't normally keep those in stock."

  As he bagged her items after his answer, he noticed her staring out the window, absently chewing her lower lip. For some reason, he had the strange impression that she was about to cry.

  He cleared his throat. "If it's something you're going to need regularly, I'd be happy to stock them. I just need to know what kind you want."

  "I don't want to bother you." When she answered, her voice barely registered above a whisper.

  She paid him in small bills, and after taking the bag, she left the store. Surprising him, she kept walking out of the lot, and it was only then he realized she hadn't driven, which only added to his curiosity.

  The following week, there were dry beans in the store. He'd stocked three types: pinto, kidney, and lima, though only a single bag of each, and the next time she came in, he made a point of mentioning that they could be found on the bottom shelf in the corner, near the rice. Bringing all three bags to the register, she'd asked him if he happened to have an onion. He pointed to a small bag he kept in a bushel basket near the door, but she'd shaken her head. "I only need one," she murmured, her smile hesitant and apologetic. Her hands shook as she counted out her bills, and again, she left on foot.

  Since then, the beans were always in stock, there was a single onion available, and in the weeks that followed her first two visits to the store, she'd become something of a regular. Though still quiet, she seemed less fragile, less nervous, as time had gone on. The dark circles under her eyes were gradually fading, and she'd picked up some color during the recent spate of good weather. She'd put on some weight--not much, but enough to soften her delicate features. Her voice was stronger, too, and though it didn't signal any interest in him, she could hold his gaze a little longer before finally turning away. They hadn't proceeded much beyond the Did you find everything you needed? followed by the Yes, I did. Thank you type of conversation, but instead of fleeing the store like a hunted deer, she sometimes wandered the aisles a bit, and had even begun to talk to Kristen when the two of them were alone. It was the first time he'd seen the woman's defenses drop. Her easy demeanor and open expression spoke of an affection for children, and his first thought was that he'd glimpsed the woman she once had been and could be again, given the right circumstances. Kristen, too, seemed to notice something different about the woman, because after she left, Kristen had told him that she'd made a new friend and that her name was Miss Katie.

  That didn't mean, however, that Katie was comfortable with him. Last week, after she'd chatted easily with Kristen, he'd seen her reading the back covers of the novels he kept in stock. She didn't buy any of the titles, and when he offhandedly asked as she was checking out if she had a favorite author, he'd seen a flash of the old nervousness. He was struck by the notion that he shouldn't have let slip that he'd been watching her. "Never mind," he added quickly. "It's not important." On her way out the door, however, she'd paused for a moment, her bag tucked in the crook of her arm. She half-turned in his direction and mumbled, I like Dickens. With that, she opened the door and was gone, walking up the road.

  He'd thought about her with greater frequency since then, but they were vague thoughts, edged with mystery and colored by the knowledge that he wanted to get to know her better. Not that he knew how to go about it. Aside from the year he courted Carly, he'd never been good at dating. In college, between swimming and his classes, he had little time to go out. In the military, he'd thrown himself into his career, working long hours and transferring from post to post with every promotion. While he'd gone out with a few women, they were fleeting romances that for the most part began and ended in the bedroom. Sometimes, when thinking back on his life, he barely recognized the man he used to be, and Carly, he knew, was responsible for those changes. Yes, it was sometimes hard, and yes, he was lonely. He missed his wife, and though he never told anyone, there were still moments when he could swear he felt her presence nearby, watching over him, trying to make sure he was going to be all right.

  Because of the glorious weather, the store was busier than usual for a Sunday. By the time Alex unlocked the door at seven, there were already three boats tied at the dock waiting for the pump to be turned on. As was typical, while paying for the gas, the boat owners loaded up on snacks and drinks and bags of ice to stow in their boats. Roger--who was working the grill, as always--hadn't had a break since he'd put on his apron, and the tables were crowded with people eating sausage biscuits and cheeseburgers and asking for tips about the stock market.

  Usually, Alex worked the register until noon, when he would hand over the reins to Joyce, who, like Roger, was the kind of employee who made running the store much less challenging than it could be. Joyce, who'd worked in the courthouse until her retirement, had "come with the business," so to speak. His father-in-law had hired her ten years ago and now, in her seventies, she hadn't showed any signs of slowing down. Her husband had died years earlier, her kids had moved away, and she viewed the customers as her de facto family. Joyce was as intrinsic to the store as the items on the shelves.

  Even better, she understood that Alex needed to spend time with his children away from the store, and she didn't get bent out of shape by having to work on Sundays. As soon as she showed up, she'd slip behind the register and tell Alex he could go, sounding more like the boss than an employee. Joyce was also his babysitter, the only one he trusted to stay with the kids if he had to go out of town. That wasn't common--it had happened only twice in the past couple of years when he'd met up with an old army buddy in Raleigh--but he'd come to view Joyce as one of the best things in his life. When he'd needed her most, she'd always been there for him.

  Waiting for Joyce's arrival, Alex walked through the store, checking the shelves. The computer system was great at tracking inventory, but he knew that rows of numbers didn't always tell the whole story. Sometimes, he felt he got a better sense by actually scanning the shelves to see what had sold the day before. A successful store required turning over the inventory as frequently as possible, and that meant that he sometimes had to offer items that no other stores offered. He carried homemade jams and jellies; powdered rubs from "secret recipes" that flavored beef and pork; and a selection of locally canned fruits and vegetables. Even people who regularly shopped at the Food Lion or Piggly Wiggly often dropped by on their way home from the store to pick up the local specialty items Alex made a point of stocking.

  Even more important than an item's sales volume, he liked to know when it sold, a fact that didn't necessarily show up in the numbers. He'd learned, for instance, that hot dog buns sold
especially well on the weekends but only rarely during the week; regular loaves of bread were just the opposite. Noting that, he'd been able to keep more of both in stock when they were needed, and sales rose. It wasn't much but it added up and enabled Alex to keep his small business afloat when the chain stores were putting most local shops out of business.

  As he perused the shelves, he wondered idly what he was going to do with the kids in the afternoon and decided to take them for a bike ride. Carly had loved nothing more than strapping them into the bike stroller and hauling them all over town. But a bike ride wasn't enough to fill the entire afternoon. Maybe they could ride their bikes to the park... they might enjoy that.

  With a quick peek toward the front door to make sure no one was coming in, he hurried through the rear storeroom and poked his head out. Josh was fishing off the dock, which was far and away his favorite thing to do. Alex didn't like the fact that Josh was out there alone--he had no doubt that some people would regard him as a bad father for allowing it--but Josh always stayed within visual range of the video monitor behind the register. It was a rule, and Josh had always adhered to it. Kristen, as usual, was sitting at her table in the corner behind the register. She'd separated her American Girl doll clothing into different piles, and she seemed content to change her doll from one outfit to the next. Each time she finished, she would look up at him with a bright, innocent expression and ask her daddy how he thought her doll looked now, as if it were possible he would ever say he didn't like it.

  Little girls. They could melt the toughest hearts.

  Alex was straightening some of the condiments when he heard the bell on the front door jingle. Raising his head over the aisle, he saw Katie enter the store.

  "Hi, Miss Katie," Kristen called out, popping up from behind the register. "How do you think my doll looks?"

  From where he was standing, he could barely see Kristen's head above the counter, but she was holding... Vanessa? Rebecca? Whatever the doll with brown hair was called, high enough for Katie to notice.

  "She's beautiful, Kristen," Katie answered. "Is that a new dress?"

  "No, I've had it for a while. But she hasn't worn it lately."

  "What's her name?"

  "Vanessa," she said.

  Vanessa, Alex thought. When he complimented Vanessa later, he would sound like a much more attentive father.

  "Did you name her?"

  "No, she came with the name. Can you help me get her boots on, though? I can't get them on all the way."

  Alex watched as Kristen handed Katie the doll and she began to work on the soft plastic boots. From his own experience, Alex knew it was harder than it looked. There wasn't a chance a little girl could somehow muscle them on. He had trouble putting them on, but somehow Katie made it seem easy. She handed the doll back and asked, "How's that?"

  "Perfect," Kristen said. "Do you think I should put a coat on her?"

  "It's not that cold out."

  "I know. But Vanessa gets cold sometimes. I think she needs one." Kristen's head vanished behind the counter and then popped up again. "Which one do you think? Blue or purple?"

  Katie brought a finger to her mouth, her expression serious. "I think purple might be good."

  Kristen nodded. "That's what I think, too. Thanks."

  Katie smiled before turning away, and Alex focused his attention on the shelves before she caught him staring. He moved jars of mustard and relish toward the front of the shelf. From the corner of his eye, he saw Katie scoop up a small shopping basket before moving toward a different aisle.

  Alex headed back to the register. When she saw him, he offered a friendly wave. "Good morning," he said.

  "Hi." She tried to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but it was too short to catch. "I just have to pick up a few things."

  "Let me know if you can't find what you need. Sometimes things get moved around."

  She nodded before continuing down the aisle. As Alex stepped behind the register, he glanced at the video screen. Josh was fishing in the same spot, while a boat was slowly docking.

  "What do you think, Daddy?" Kristen tugged on his pant leg as she held up the doll.

  "Wow! She looks beautiful." Alex squatted down next to her. "And I love the coat. Vanessa gets cold sometimes, right?"

  "Yup," Kristen said. "But she told me she wants to go on the swings, so she's probably going to change."

  "Sounds like a good idea," Alex said. "Maybe we can all go to the park later? If you want to swing, too."

  "I don't want to swing. Vanessa does. And it's all pretend, anyway, Daddy."

  "Oh," he said, "okay." He stood again. Scratch going to the park, he thought.

  Lost in her own world, Kristen began to undress the doll again. Alex checked on Josh in the monitor just as a teenager entered the store, wearing nothing but board shorts. He handed over a wad of cash.

  "For the pump at the dock," he said before dashing out again.

  Alex rang him up and set the pump as Katie walked to the register. Same items as always, with the addition of a tube of sunscreen. When she peeked over the counter at Kristen, Alex noticed the changeable color of her eyes.

  "Did you find everything you needed?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  He began loading her bag. "My favorite Dickens novel is Great Expectations," he said. He tried to sound friendly as he put the items in her bag. "Which one is your favorite?"

  Instead of answering right away, she seemed startled that he remembered that she'd told him she liked Dickens.

  "A Tale of Two Cities," she answered, her voice soft.

  "I like that one, too. But it's sad."

  "Yes," she said. "That's why I like it."

  Since he knew she'd be walking, he double-bagged the groceries.

  "I figured that since you've already met my daughter, I should probably introduce myself. I'm Alex," he said. "Alex Wheatley."

  "Her name is Miss Katie," Kristen chirped from behind him. "But I already told you that, remember?" Alex glanced over his shoulder at her. When he turned back, Katie was smiling as she handed the money to him.

  "Just Katie," she said.

  "It's nice to meet you, Katie." He tapped the keys and the register drawer opened with a ring. "I take it you live around here?"

  She never got around to answering. Instead, when he looked up, he saw that her eyes had gone wide in fright. Swiveling around he saw what she'd caught on the monitor behind him: Josh in the water, fully clothed and arms flailing, in panic. Alex felt his throat suddenly close and he moved on instinct, rushing out from behind the counter and racing through the store and into the storeroom. Bursting through the door, he knocked over a case of paper towels, sending it flying, but he didn't slow down.

  He flung open the back door, adrenaline surging through his system as he hurdled a row of bushes, taking a shortcut to the dock. He hit the wooden planks at full speed. As he launched himself from the dock, Alex could see Josh choking in the water, his arms thrashing.

  His heart slamming against his rib cage, Alex sailed through the air, hitting the water only a couple of feet from Josh. The water wasn't deep--maybe six feet or so--and as he touched the soft, unsettled mud of the bottom, he sank up to his shins. He fought his way to the surface, feeling the strain in his arms as he reached for Josh.

  "I've got you!" he shouted. "I've got you!"

  But Josh was struggling and coughing, unable to catch his breath, and Alex fought to control him as he pulled him into shallower water. Then, with an enormous heave, he carried Josh up onto the grassy bank, his mind racing through options: CPR, stomach pumping, assisted breathing. He tried to lay Josh down, but Josh resisted. He was struggling and coughing, and though Alex could still feel the panic in his own system, he had enough presence of mind to know that it probably meant that Josh was going to be okay.

  He didn't know how long it took--probably only a few seconds, but it felt a lot longer--until Josh finally gave a rattling cough, emitting a spray of water, an
d for the first time was able to catch his breath. He inhaled sharply and coughed again, then inhaled and coughed again, though this time it settled into something that sounded like he was clearing his throat. He drew a few long breaths, still panic-stricken, and only then did the boy seem to realize what had happened.

  He reached for his dad and Alex folded him tightly in his arms. Josh began to cry, his shoulders shuddering, and Alex felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what might have been. What would have happened had he not noticed Katie staring at the monitor? What if another minute had passed? The answers to those questions left him shaking as badly as Josh.

  In time, Josh's cries began to slow and he uttered the first words since Alex had pulled him from the water.

  "I'm sorry, Daddy," he choked out.

  "I'm sorry, too," Alex whispered in return, and still, he held on to his son, afraid that somehow, if he let go, time would start to run backward, but this time, the outcome would be different.

  When he was finally able to loosen his hold on Josh, Alex found himself gazing at a crowd behind the store. Roger was there, as were the customers who'd been eating. Another pair of customers craned their necks, probably just having arrived. And of course, Kristen was there, too. Suddenly he felt like a terrible parent again, because he saw that his little girl was crying and afraid and needed him, too, even though she was nestled in Katie's arms.