“Where are you from?” he asked when she came back, and she told him. “What made you move here, or should I ask?”

“A lot of things. I like it here. The people are really nice. The restaurant's great. I found a real pretty little room near here. Everything just kind of worked out.” She smiled, and was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. And when she came back with his dinner, he seemed more interested in talking to her than eating.

He nibbled at his pie for a long time, and ordered another piece and another glass of milk, which he had never done before, and talked to her a lot about fly-fishing nearby and asked if she'd ever done it.

She had, a number of years before with her father and brother, but she'd never been very good at it. She liked just sitting there, while they fished, and reading or thinking.

“You could come with me sometime,” he said, and then blushed, wondering why he was talking to her so much. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since he'd walked into the restaurant and first seen her.

He left her a big tip, and then stood awkwardly for a moment on his side of the counter. “Well, thanks for everything. See you again next time.” And then he walked out. She noticed how tall he was, and how lanky and thin. He was good-looking, but he didn't seem to know it. And he seemed very young. He seemed more like a brother than a boy she'd have been interested in, but whatever he was, or would be, or even if she never saw him again, he'd been nice to talk to.

He came in again the next day, and the day after that, and he was deeply disappointed to find that she had a day off and he missed her. And then he came back again after the weekend.

“I missed you last time' he said as he ordered fried chicken. He had a healthy appetite, and he always ordered a whole dinner. He seemed to spend most of his paper route money on food. He ate out a lot, and Maribeth wondered if he lived with his parents, and she finally asked him.

“Do you live alone?” she asked cautiously, as she set his meal down and refilled his glass of milk. She didn't write it on the check. They gave free coffee refills after all, it wouldn't break Jimmy to pay for a glass of milk for a regular patron like Tommy.

“Not really. I live with my parents. But …they …uh …everyone kind of does their own thing. And my mom doesn't like to cook anymore. She's going back to work this fall. She's a teacher. She's been subbing for a long time, but she's going back full-time at the high school.”

“What does she teach?”

“English, social studies, lit. She's pretty good. She's always giving me extra work to do,” he said, rolling his eyes, but he didn't really look as though he minded.

“You're lucky. I've had to take some time off from school, and I know I'm really going to miss it.”

“College or high school?” he asked with interest. He was still trying to peg her age. She seemed older than her years, and yet in some ways, he got the feeling she was closer to his own age. She hesitated for only a moment before answering.

“High school.” He figured she was probably a senior. “I'm going to be doing some work on my own, until I go back after Christmas.” She said it defensively, and he wondered why she had dropped out, but he decided not to ask her.

“I can lend you some books, if you want. I can even get some stuff from my mom, she'd love it. She thinks the whole world should be doing independent studies. Do you like school?” He could see from the look in her eyes that she was being honest with him when she nodded. There was a real hunger there, an appetite that was never completely sated. On her day off she had gone to the library to borrow books that would help her keep up with her own classes.

“What do you like best?” she asked, clearing his plates. He had ordered blueberry pie a la mode for dessert. It was the pie they did best, and he loved it.

“English,” he answered as she set his pie down, and felt her back ache. But she liked standing there talking to him. They always seemed to have so much to say to each other. “English lit, English comp. Sometimes I think I might like to write. My mom would probably like that. My dad expects me to go into the business.”

“What kind of business is that?” she asked, intrigued by him. He was a smart, good-looking kid, and yet he seemed so lonely. He never came in with friends, never seemed to want to go home. She wondered about him, and why he seemed so alone, and so lonely.

“He's in produce,” he explained. “My grandfather started it. They used to be farmers. But then they started selling produce from all over. It's pretty interesting, but I like writing better. I might like to teach, like my mom.” He shrugged then, looking very young again. He liked talking to her, and he didn't mind answering her questions. He had a few of his own, but he decided to save them. And before he left that night, he asked when she was going to be off again.

“Friday.”

He nodded, wondering if she'd be shocked if he asked her to go for a walk with him, or to the swimming hole outside town. “Would you like to do something Friday afternoon? I have to help my dad in the morning. But I could pick you up around two. Hell let me have the truck. We could go to the swimming hole, or out to the lake. We can go fishing if you want.” He looked desperately hopeful as he waited.

“I'd like that. Whatever you want to do.” She lowered her voice then, so the others wouldn't hear, and gave him her address, and she didn't hesitate for a minute. He looked like the kind of person you could trust, and she felt completely at ease with him. She knew instinctively just from talking to him that Tommy Whittaker was her friend, and he would do nothing to harm her.

“Did you just make a date with him?” Julie asked with a curious grin when he left. One of the other girls thought she had heard him invite Maribeth to go fishing, and they were all giggling and laughing and speculating. She was such a kid, but they all liked her. And they liked him. He had been a mystery to them ever since he'd started coming in the previous winter. He never said anything to them, he just came in and ordered dinner. But with Maribeth, he had really come alive and he never seemed to stop talking.

“Of course not,” she said in answer to Julie's question. “I don't date customers,” she said pointedly, and Julie didn't believe her for a minute.

“You can do anything you want, you know. Jimmy doesn't mind. He's a cute kid, and he really likes you.”

“He's just a friend, that's all. He says his mom hates to cook so he comes in here for dinner.”

“Well, he certainly told you his life story, didn't he now.”

“Oh for heaven's sake.” Maribeth grinned, and walked into the kitchen to pick up a tray of hamburgers for a bunch of students. But as she walked back with the heavy tray, she smiled to herself, thinking of Friday.

Chapter Four

On Friday, his father let him leave work at eleven o'clock, and he picked her up at eleven-thirty. Maribeth was waiting for him in an old pair of jeans and saddle shoes and a big shirt that had been her fathers. The jeans were rolled up almost to her knees, and she was wearing her bright red hair in pigtails. She looked about fourteen, and the big shirt concealed her growing paunch. She hadn't been able to zip her jeans up for weeks now.

“Hi, I finished earlier than I thought I would. I told my dad I was going fishing. He thought it was a great idea and told me to get going.” He helped her into the truck, and they stopped at a small market on the way to buy some sandwiches for lunch.

Tommy ordered roast beef, and she had tuna. They were big homemade-looking sandwiches, and they bought a six-pack of Cokes, and a box of cookies.

“Anything else?” Tommy asked, excited just being with her. She was so pretty and so alive, and there was something very grown-up about her. Not living at home, and having a job, somehow made her seem very mature and a lot older.

Maribeth picked up a couple of apples and a Hershey bar, and Tommy insisted on paying. She tried to split the expense with him, but he wouldn't let her. He was long and tall and lean as he followed her back to the truck, carrying their groceries and admiring her figure.

“So how come you left home so young?” he asked as they drove to the lake. He hadn't heard the story yet about her being a widow. He figured maybe her parents had died, or something dramatic had happened. Most kids their age didn't just drop out of school and move away. Something about her suggested to him that there was more to the story.

“I … uh … I don't know.” She glanced out the window for a long time, and then back at him. “It's kind of a long story.” She shrugged, thinking about what it had been like leaving home and moving to the convent. It had been the most depressing place she'd ever been, and she was glad every day she hadn't stayed there. At least here she felt alive, she had a job, she was taking care of herself, and now she had met him. Maybe they could be friends. She was beginning to feel she had a life here. She had called home a couple of times, but her mom just cried, and they wouldn't let her speak to Noelle. And the last time she called, her mother said that maybe it would be better if she wrote and didn't call them. They were happy to know that she was well, and doing all right, but her father was still very angry at her, and he said he wouldn't talk to her until after “her problem was taken care of.” Her mother kept referring to the baby as Maribeth's “problem.”

Maribeth sighed, thinking of all that, and then looked at Tommy. He had nice clean-cut looks, and he seemed like a good person to talk to. “We had a big fight and my father made me move out. He wanted me to stay in our hometown, but after a couple of weeks I just decided that I couldn't. So I came here, and got a job.” She made it all sound so simple, with none of the agony it had caused her, the terror, or the heartbreak.