Deborah Kaple

Chapter 1

Noleen Raynor, a slender, dark-haired 17-year old, peeked out the lone window of Charlie’s Lunch in Bliss Bend, Ohio. The town was closing in on itself as a cold driving rain darkened its sidewalks and stained its buildings. Even with the door shut tightly, the afternoon storm carried the heavy, sweet smell of earth from the nearby fields. Noleen had heard ladies around town say that in a storm like this, they could taste Bliss Bend’s rich, clayish soil in their mouths.

Charlie’s Lunch was as full of people as it normally was on Sundays after church. But today was Saturday. Noleen stood with her bussing tub perched on her hip, waiting to clear a table for some folks who stood along the wall. They all watched the two old farmers who were finishing their meal, taking their time and looking around. Noleen saw them gazing placidly at the rain out the window, so she decided to take the dishes she’d already collected, and dump them. It was something to do. As she headed for the Dirty Dish Room in the back, she glanced over at her boss Charlie, who was leaning over the sizzling grill, poking sausages. No matter how you cut it, Charlie does look like a hedgehog.

She pushed her way through the nubby, vaguely flowered curtains that hung in the rounded archway separating the sinks from the restaurant.

“Hunh. You call this a life?” she said to Berta Lembrecht, the dishwasher, and her best friend. “All’s I do is just stand there like Elsie the Cow, waitin on two geezers to eat their pokey lunch.”

Berta flashed her broad grin and aimed the spray nozzle at Noleen. When Noleen dodged the water, Berta threw her head back and laughed, causing her long platinum blonde hair to fly into the air.

Thank God for Berta, because otherwise, there’d be nothing here in this place for me. She sometimes wondered at the accident of birth that’d brought her into the world in Bliss Bend, Ohio. This farming village, plopped as it was in Northwest Nowhere, a town of 2000 people surrounded by fields and hog farms, looked like every other farming town Noleen had ever seen. On a cosmic level—cosmic being a word she learned recently from Berta when they hunkered down in the bushes and got high in the park—being born here was a big joke. But whose joke was it? And why? She did not fit in, and it seemed to her that she did not matter at all to almost anybody in this town. That was her perspective, anyway, and she was fine with that. That’s what she’d said that night, anyway.

Oh, smoking that weed had been so fun, but then she’d started crying suddenly in the middle of a long, drawn-out guffaw, and said such embarrassing things that she wished she could erase them. “I want to belong here!” she’d blubbered to Berta, who’d looked down at her feet as if they were new to her. The next thing she remembered was that they’d figured out exactly what was “off” about Bliss Bend. This was huge, they told each other, huge. Their discovery that night was that everybody in town guarded some sort of deep dark secret. And if you didn’t know the secret already, if you had to ask about it, well, then, you just weren’t really part of the town. Something like that, anyway, she remembered, but she couldn’t recall whether it was one big secret they all knew, or if each of them had their own little secrets. But at the moment, it had been so right that she and Bert had rolled in the leaves, congratulating each other. Then they’d sat up, promising one another that they’d never forget what they had discovered that night.

What a pity they couldn’t remember any of the specifics. A damned shame.

Berta giggled over the shriek of the hot water sprayer. “Geezers, yeah! That’s just what I told Billy he was gonna look like someday.”

Noleen peeked out the curtains at the farmers. Now they were adjusting their feed and grain caps and counting coins out for a tip. The Hedgehog was smashing burgers onto the grill, so that was good. He was busy. She whipped her head back into the Dirty Dish Room.

“Billy! I thought you weren’t gonna see him anymore.”

“Oh, lighten up, Raynor. Well, maybe I won’t.” Berta dropped the spray nozzle and plunged her naked hands into the sink of steaming water. “Not if Ole Greenie Lembrecht, Model Dad of Bliss Bend, can help it.”

“Oh, geez. What’d your Dad do this time, throw knives at the kitchen door again?” Noleen snickered. She loved Berta’s Dad, but it was true: you never knew what he was going to do or say. “Okay, tell me quick—the old guys are workin toothpicks around their yellow teeth already.”

“Okay, I’ll be quick. So Billy showed up last night to pick me up, you know, and-”

“He’s gross, you know that,” Noleen interjected.

Berta shrugged, her long hair beginning to frizz from the steam. Noleen admired Berta—she was strong and straightforward, and loyal as a dog. Plus, she really didn’t care what others said about her.

“Anyway, Greenie just got home from the Wyandot, and I guess he was a little drunk already, you know. So he goes and grabs a beer outa the fridge, and sits his ass down at the kitchen table. Just then, Billy pulls up. Greenie sees his car out the window. I seen him, too, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Noleen nodded.

“Anyways,” she continued, “Greenie bolts out the door just as Billy is gettin out of his car and shouts, ‘What do YOU want?’ Billy answers, all puny-voiced, ‘Um, me and Berta were-‘ And Greenie leans right into his face, and screams, ‘No, you ain’t!” Berta snapped her bright pink gum. “God. Billy bout jumped a mile, can you believe it?”

“I believe it.” Noleen raised her eyebrows, and shook her head at the thought. She loved Greenie, but he was scary.

“And then Greenie goes: ‘You get outa here, you piss-complected puke! Get the hell outa here!’”

Noleen started laughing so hard she began to cough. “Oh, God, where’d he come up with that one? A piss-complected puke?” She had to set her bussing tub down on the counter as she doubled over, trying to catch her breath. She hated Billy Obergefell. He was from a good family, a nice religious farm family, but Noleen knew he was the type who kicked the calves when his dad wasn’t looking. He was a big nothing who liked Berta for one reason. The thing was, Berta truly didn’t seem to care why he hung around her or what Billy thought of her, which Noleen found unbelievable. She constantly expected Berta to wake up and admit that she did care, that she wanted to be Billy’s “real” girlfriend. Berta in turn kidded her for trying to be a good girl in town. “Lotta good it does you,” she’d say. “You want to be a big shot in Blissless Bend? Hunh, Raynor?”

Finally, the geezers headed for Louise at the cash register. Noleen refastened her long dark hair into a ponytail, and patted her blouse. She glanced at herself in the teapot-shaped mirror that hung next to the curtains. The mirror was so old that the entire spout part was corroded over, but still, she could make out her face with its “regular” features. That’s what her mom had said once, that girls with “regular features like yours” age well. It was a compliment, she guessed. She stuck her tongue out at the mirror and headed out.

Noleen knew she was pretty, in the right light, but not stand-out good looking like Berta. She did have full lips, which kids had teased her about in grade school, but now her boyfriend Omus admired. She shrugged, and waded into the restaurant, plunking her grease-stained tub onto the farmers’ empty table. As she gathered the egg-encrusted plates and remnants of toast that looked as if mice had nibbled on them, she glanced out the window for Omus, who had said he might drop by later. Instead, she found herself staring at the town’s lone stoplight swinging on its chain in the downpour. She stared at it for a moment, thinking that the slim metal shades above the stoplight’s red, yellow and green bulbs looked like eyebrows above glass eyes. Across the street from the restaurant, she could make out the blurry image of the IGA’s painted mural. She couldn’t quite read the letters above the painting for the rain, but saw them in her mind: “Bliss Bend at 150 Years, Still a Nice Place to Live in 2008.”

“Yeah, right,” she mumbled, giving the yellow Formica a swipe with her dishrag. There was a kind of beauty, she’d admit, in the big sky they all bragged about around here, or the smoky light that lay on the fields in the early evening. And people around Bliss Bend looked after each other, attending to those who were sick, and donating money when people were really in need. Yeah, that’s nice, but still, she and Berta spent most of their time together snorting at the potatoey people who lived here. Berta especially hated it that the girls all became fat women who wore stretch pants. Noleen thought the buildings in town were dull and small, and the people were dull and small-minded, too. Noleen and Berta constantly talked about getting the hell out of Bliss Bend, but deep down, Noleen feared leaving. Where would she go?

She straightened up the napkin holder, checking to make sure there were enough napkins, arranged the salt and pepper shakers on one side, and the sugar dish on the other. Charlie had strict standards for his restaurant. She glanced again out the window, over to Mullenbach’s Clothing, where the ladies would be discussing whether or not to roll up the yellow plastic covering the windows. She could almost hear Mrs. Mullenbach’s voice: “There won’t be any sun today, Mabel. Let’s take it up.” Noleen liked Mrs. Mullenbach’s reedy voice, the old-fashioned bun she always wore, and the way she would say “Hello, dearie” to friends who came into the store. But Mrs. Mullenbach only looked at Noleen blankly, her pale, long face leaning towards fear. Or was it dislike?

Noleen wondered what it meant that she wasn’t one of them. Where did she belong, if not in her own hometown? Her dad had grown up in Bliss Bend, and his parents had lived here forever. Of course, none of them had their names on buildings, like the one housing Charlie’s Lunch that said “Koch” on it, which was the name of their gym teacher at the high school, but still, the Raynors had been here a long time. She couldn’t think of who to ask. She fantasized about marching into the clothing store, and saying: “Mrs. Mullenbach, you know the secret about me—what is it? I mean, I look like a normal 17-year old girl, don’t I? And I was born and raised here. So what’s the deal?” If only she could do that, unmask her own mystery, then everyone would be happier. Secrets were stupid and hurtful, and she wanted them all out in the open.

“You say somethin?” The words startled her, and thinking her boss had appeared, she picked up the heavy plastic tub, and turned towards the voice.

“Oh, hi, Clete,” she said, relieved that it wasn’t Charlie. “Gosh, I don’t think so.” She studied the familiar ruddy face and red beard of Clete Kolkemeyer, the dad of the kids she often babysat. Clete was a big man who dressed neatly in flannel shirts tucked into jeans. He stepped back to avoid her tub, carrying his rounded chest and stomach high as if he, too, had a tub. Clete worked for his father, Henny, who owned the lumber company in town. Noleen had seen him here in Charlie’s. Henny was one of the town’s gray-haired muckety-mucks. He reminded Noleen of a German Shepherd, because he was always herding and nudging everyone. Clete wasn’t like that at all, he just had a nice, jolly way about him. But Noleen knew that it was fake, a big act. She saw him at home with his wife and kids, and he was ouchy and grumpy. She didn’t know why.

With a flourish, she wiped the table of a booth, and smiled at him. “Here, have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do, seeing’s how it’s nice and clean already.” He smiled, showing small, rounded teeth.

“How’re Maggie and Dwaynie?”

“Them rugrats? They’re fine. They’re always fine.” He smiled again, and as he did, nodded to some friends in the next booth. “Guess I’ll sit here and have a coffee. I’m waiting for my flaky brother to get here.”

She backed away, nodding. “Oh, okay. Well, I guess I’d better get back to work.” She didn’t know his brother Loyal very well, only by sight, really, but Berta would be excited. She’d said more than once how handsome Clete’s brother was. “For an older guy,” she’d add. Berta loved all men, even guys like Loyal, who was probably 40 years old. It was hard to believe that Berta’d take up with an old guy if she had the chance. But still, Noleen admired Berta’s guts, and loved her stories, for Berta was the only person in town who never lied. She loved uncovering the truth, the weirder the better.

Noleen worked her way towards the back of the restaurant, passing the Merchants’ Table, where the owners of Martin’s Hardware, the IGA, the Wyandot Bar, Neumeyer Furniture and A & L Carpets lingered over cigarettes and coffee. Charlie’s was steamy and close that afternoon, as people hung around, avoiding the rain.

Berta waited for her in the Dirty Dish Room. “Dirty Dish Room? Charlie calls it that? Are you kiddin me?” Bert had exclaimed when Noleen showed her around the first day. They had roared with laughter over this. He looked like a harmless hedgehog, with his long crew cut standing straight up and his elongated, pointy nose, but when he got mad at them, his ears turned red, too. Once when he was angry at them for talking too loud in the Dirty Dish Room, his ears had turned crimson and Berta had whispered that his ears looked like red rose petals. Now, whenever he gave them his sharp look, they just mouthed the word “petals” to each other, and tried not to laugh.

Noleen and Bert worked every Saturday, breakfast and lunch as a team. Charlie had hired Noleen first, and then Berta. After Bert began, Charlie had promoted Noleen from dishwasher to dish busser. When Bert heard of Noleen’s big promotion, she shook her big head of frizzy hair and laughed. “The Raynors always were one step above the Lembrechts in Bliss Bend.”

The girls had been close friends since elementary school, and it seemed to them that they’d be together forever. They’d bonded over their dads: both Greenie Lembrecht and Nolan Raynor were well-known town cranks and troublemakers. The difference was, Greenie was around, still making waves, while Nolan had been so bad that he’d been kicked out of town. In her heart, Noleen knew that he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone that day, back when she was 11, but she wasn’t sure what had happened. Or why. She didn’t care, she told Berta. What an idiot my dad must be. What does it matter, anyway? He lives somewhere else, in the south someplace. Even Jean, her mom, who was married to him for years, hardly mentioned him.

“Here, dump those dishes right into this tub, baby,” said Berta. She grinned, showing a wide gap between her front teeth.

Noleen was struck once again at how pretty Berta was, even with her funny split teeth. It made her so happy that even the podunky Bliss Benders noticed Bert’s beauty, although sometimes they pretended they didn’t. It was hard to admit that someone from the “wrong side of the tracks about” could actually be pretty. They would stare at her, and then go and marry a potato.

“Hey, guess what? Loyal Kolkemeyer’s comin in soon.”

Berta turned towards the deep metal sink. “He is? Tell me when he does, because I want you to take a gander at him. If you look at him the right way, you’ll see--he’s a hunk. You know, kind of like Brad Pitt.”

“I don’t like Brad Pitt,” retorted Noleen.

Berta reached for the overhead spray nozzle, quickly enveloping herself and the sink of dishes in heavy steam. “You’ll see.” Noleen watched her move the dishes to one side, and reach for a large, crusted-over pot.

Noleen wiped her face with a towel. “You’re nuts, Raynor.” She glanced back into the restaurant. “I see some dirty dishes out there with my name on em.” She pushed through the archway curtains to the restaurant just as Loyal Kolkemeyer banged open the front door. She could kind of understand what Berta meant. Loyal was handsome in a movie-star way. He was tall, light-haired, and smiley, more genuinely happy than his brother.

“Berta! Come here!” she hissed. “Brad Pitt just came in.”

Berta shoved Noleen from the doorway with dripping hands. “Oh, jeez. See what I mean, Raynor? He just kind of shines,” she said, faking a swoon.

“Okay. Get me out of here,” laughed Noleen. “That’s all I can take.”

*

Loyal Kolkemeyer flapped the restaurant door wide open, banging it into the wall. It shuddered, its old metal hardware clinking like loose change. Loyal looked around the restaurant with pleasure at all the people he knew. “Damn junky door,” he growled. “Where’s Charlie at, anyway?”

A man in bib overalls leaned back from his stool at the counter. “Hey, Kolkemeyer, wasn’t you supposed to fix that door?”

Several people laughed. “Yeah, last year.”

“Hey, first he’s got to hang my shutters.”

“Fat chance! First, he’s building me that nice new doghouse, ain’t ya, Loyal boy!”

Loyal looked from face to face, chuckling. He held out his long arms, and sang: “Oh, lord, it’s hard to be humble, when you’re perfect in every way…”

A loud groan rose from the restaurant. Loyal laughed and made his way to his brother. As he sat down, the man in the booth behind Clete leaned over and said, “Thank God one of you’s normal, right, boys?”

“Now don’t you go and say which one of us it is,” said Loyal. “You might just ruin someone’s day.”

Clete raised his eyebrows in mock exasperation across the table at Loyal.

“You want some coffee?” Eloise, the longtime waitress was circling the restaurant with a Pyrex pot in hand. Clete smiled and nodded.

Turning back to Loyal, he said, “You’re a darned piece of work, you know that?”

“This ain’t the first time I heard that.” Loyal shrugged, a slow smile lurking. “So, how’s things? How’s the house-building going?”

Loyal was in a great mood today. He loved these rainy days, when the watery outdoors made coming indoors so cozy and warm. Plus he’d grown up with farmers, who always appreciated rain as God’s gift to them. Folks around here joked that God was a German like them, because He gave them rain, which was both free and useful.

Radiant with the town’s loving abuse, he gazed around, still smiling, until he glimpsed Clete’s serious face. Clete was gonna ream him out, he saw that. Loyal loved his little brother like hell. Loyal had nurtured and teased him when they were kids, and later, he’d puffed up with pride watching Clete became the high school’s big basketball star. But then Loyal ran off to California for a few years with his girlfriend, and when he’d come back, Clete had changed into an unhappy adult man.

Loyal was against this change. Why be dour? Why be so serious? Life was nice, it was easy. Clete had never left Ohio, and maybe he couldn’t see how great it was to have an old man around who employed his kids. Didn’t he know how warm and friendly people were here in Bliss Bend, and what a nice place it was?

No, Loyal imagined he didn’t see anything. He just pushed himself to become a responsible man at 36, like their dad Henny had been. That was it, Clete was a baby Henny. Clete was getting old man habits already, like always parking his beloved truck in the same space next to the Scoot. And Clete was heavy now. Sometimes Loyal caught a glimpse of the previously lean, athletic body, like in the snap of the wrist or the turn of an ankle, but the reality was a hefty, red-faced man who nervously chewed his mustache.

Eloise reappeared with her carafe and a cup. “Hi, Loyal, here’s your mug. Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” said Loyal, clasping his hands together under his chin, smiling sweetly. “Oh, Weezie, you’re just the best, you know that?”

“Cut it out, Kolkemeyer,” she said, her mouth working not to smile.

When Eloise had gone on to the next booth, Loyal said, “Where was I? Oh, yeah, your new house. How’s it goin?”

“The house?” Clete shifted, glancing out the window at the rain that whorled across the restaurant’s window. “It’s gettin there. It’ll get done.”

Clete and his wife Sherilyn were building a new house out on Road M. They’d bought the Bliss family farm, the oldest structure in the county, and torn it down. Loyal didn’t know why they needed to do that, but he didn’t understand those things, not being married or having kids. He just saw this new house project was causing Clete a lot of headaches.

“Well, you know the lumber’s good, at least,” said Loyal, a half-smile denting his cheek. “I cut some of it myself. But if it ain’t good, one of the other boys cut it. You know.” Loyal chuckled at his own joke.

Clete leaned over the table. “I’m glad you brought that up, cause I wanted to talk to you about work.”

Loyal ripped open two sugar packets. “What, the lumber ain’t good?”

“No, Loyal, it’s fine. Do you have to horse around all the time?” said Clete, running his fingers down over his golden red mustache and pulling the longest hairs straight out. “You know what I mean.” He stopped, arranging the cup, saucer and spoon into a neat pattern in front of him. “Dad and I have been talking about you lately. We think it’s about time you step up--you know, get out of the woodshop. Dad feels weird about it. Here he has his own business that he built up so big and successful, and his oldest son still cuts wood out back. The Kolkemeyers should run Kolkemeyer Lumber, and not just cut wood.”

Loyal glanced out the window at the dim, wet street. Henny and Clete both were so darned pushy. He remembered coming back into Bliss Bend after his failure to make it in California. The smell of the crops and hog barns fed straight into his veins, invigorated him, almost bringing him to tears. He remembered seeing sweet Bliss Bend, its modest little downtown, the buttoned-up farms surrounding it, all so dear to him. He felt as if he had returned from war, or something, although he’d never said that to anyone. His Dad shook his hand that night, grasping the meaty part of his arm with his strong, wirey paws. “I’m so glad you’re back, son,” he’d said.

Loyal wiggled in the booth. Suddenly his shirt felt scratchy on his chest, as if he were wearing wool on a hot day. What kind of crap was this, again? He was a grown man and all. But he remained friendly. “Well, I have to admit, I’m pretty happy where I’m at. Come on, Clete. What the hell?”

Clete sighed, and rubbed his hands together as if warming them.

“Okay, next topic,” said Loyal. “Let’s get this overwith. I know you’re not done with me. Mom warned me you and Dad was hatchin somethin.”

“Well, she don’t know about this one, I hope.” Clete looked hard at him. “Okay, let’s not beat around the bush here. Loyal, we need to talk about Bev. Bev is our next topic.” The last of Loyal’s hopeful, easy-going mood blew away, as if he had been pummeled by the cold rain that thrashed at the window next to him. He’d figured that Clete might prod him again about moving from his apartment above Martin’s Hardware, to a house. Their dad hated it that he lived in their old place, right here in town. But pushing him around on Bev, this was serious. Bev was his pal, his friend. So what if she was married? They were careful. Nobody had to know what they were up to.

“Is this why you asked me here? Is this it?” Loyal creased and folded the empty sugar packs in front of him. “Because I don’t think we’re gonna get anyplace on this one.” He stretched his long legs under the table. “What do you care, anyway?”

Clete leaned towards him, and whispered. “Dad cares. It ain’t right, and he cares about stuff like that. I’m just tryin to help out, is all.” He plowed his thick fingers through coarse, heavy hair. “Plus, I don’t like her husband. He’s trouble, you know. A total creep.”

“Well, thank God I ain’t datin her husband,” said Loyal.

Clete shrugged. “Okay, brother, you speak Amish? Screw thee.”

“And thee,” smiled Loyal. “Now let’s get us some food. How about pig’s ass and hominy grits? All this serious talk’s made me hungry.”

Clete did not acknowledge Loyal’s sideways reference to their dad. When they were kids, they’d played outdoors for hours, building huts, or acting out war games down at the Bliss River, until suddenly, they’d feel desperate hunger rip at them. They’d abandon their tools, go-carts, tents, guns, and race home, anxious to eat. At the front door, unable to contain themselves, they’d shout into the house: “Mom! Dad! What’s for dinner?” If Henny were home already, he’d always answer: “Pig’s ass and hominy grits,” making them groan. But Clete either didn’t notice the phrase, or ignored it.

“Nah, I gotta get back. I’m meeting Dad later on, and I got some things to do before that.” He reached for his wallet, and Loyal waved him off.

“Really, I’ll pay. I think I can afford it on my measly woodshop salary.” He chuckled. “Where’s Dad at, anyways?”

“I don’t know. He was goin to take the crop duster up, but,” he glanced out the darkened window, “I rather imagine he didn’t do it today. But you never know, do you, with Dad?”

Loyal stood. “Nope, you don’t. Well, Cletie, I should go.” He forced himself to smile. “Hey, let’s do this again sometime,” he said, heading for the cash register. “It was real fun.”

*

Berta wiped her hands on a towel. “Yikes, my hands look like chicken claws.” She waved them in Noleen’s face. “How will I hold my ciggie? Hey, want to see a chicken smoking a cig? Come on in here.” She was backing into the bathroom, a little slapped-together room with a tiny toilet and sink tucked into the space below the staircase. It was “Girls Only,” since the toilet sat far back under the stairs, and the guys complained about hitting their heads on the underneath of the staircase as they peed. Then, as Berta put it, “Charlie built a nice john for the Johns.”

Noleen stepped into the tiny restroom after Berta. They shut the door and lit up.

“See what I mean about Loyal? Cute, ain’t he?” asked Berta, pursing her lips together in an exaggerated kiss.

“He’s okay.”

“Come on, Raynor, you wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eatin crackers, would you?”

“He wouldn’t be in my bed.”

“Noleen?” It was Charlie’s voice, outside the door. She threw the butt into the toilet, and flushed. “Just a moment, I’m in the bathroom,” she called. Then she rinsed her fingers, and cracked open the door. “Here I am.”

“The Fenstermaker boy is asking for you. You know.” Charlie gave her a sharp look with his small mammal eyes, and dipped back into the grill area.

Noleen rolled her eyes at Berta, who was tip-toeing out of the restroom after her. “Go see what he wants. Don’t mind Charlie, he’s a dork,” said Berta. She winked. “I’ll talk to him.”

Noleen nodded, and straightened her apron. She stepped into the dining room in time to see Bert’s heart throb Loyal slip out the door, with a big wave to the fellows at the bar. Then she saw Omus, her boyfriend and the dearest, sweetest guy in Bliss Bend, waiting for her. She still couldn’t believe that he loved her. Noleen knew she wasn’t a bad-looking girl; she was small and slight, with a nice figure, but nothing compared to Bert’s curvy, flashy body. Noleen was pretty ordinary, just like her Mom had said, but Omus never mentioned it.

Omus’s parents were farmers and devout Catholics who were active at St. Stephens in town. When Noleen teased him about hanging around with a lowly, non-Catholic Raynor, he waved her off. He insisted that she took everything too seriously, or read too much into everyone’s actions. One time he told her: “Hell, my own grandma looks down her nose at me. Last time I seen her, she gave me one of them faces, and said, ‘You know what Grandma F. feels about long hair on a boy.’ And then, he continued, “She sniffed at me.”

Noleen’s Mom liked Omus, too. Noleen loved her Mom, but suspected that maybe she liked Omus because she understood just how “nice” a family they were in Bliss Bend. Her little brother Brad and sister Roxy loved him because he drove them around town in a van that said A & L Carpets on the side in red letters.

So Omus was a good deal, she knew that. But most of the time, she didn’t feel like his girlfriend, she felt like his best friend. She knew that she wasn’t Berta, running after men and mixing it up with them, but whatever she had with Omus seemed pale and quiet. Like cheap, knock-off boots or something. They looked all right from afar, but up close, you knew they weren’t the real thing.

Or maybe she was just being too hard on herself, for when she saw Omus across the room, his ponytail, his wide strong chest and arms, wire-rimmed glasses, rounded, steel-toed boots, her stomach looped over on itself. Maybe I’m just crazy, she thought, running her hand through her hair. She grabbed her bussing tub, on the chance that Charlie was watching her. Omus stood next to the cash register with Clete Kolkemeyer, whose barn-like proportions made Omus look like a child. Omus saw her immediately and excitedly waved her over.

“Hi, Noleen,” Omus said, his small eyes almost lost behind his lenses.

“Hey, long time no see,” joked Clete. “How’s the bussing goin?”

Noleen dipped her head and shrugged.

Omus shifted his weight, digging into his pocket for change to pay for the coffee. “Here I just stopped by for a minute, and I run into Clete. We got to talkin,” he stopped and winked at Clete, who nodded like a proud father, “and next thing I know, I got me a big job.” He beamed. “I just had to tell you that.”

“Oh, really?” asked Noleen, looking at Clete. “So what’s the job?” Clete tilted his head towards Omus.

“Oh, what? Just carpeting the entire Bliss House, I mean, the new Kolkemeyer Mansion, out on Road M,” replied Omus, his face now red as a poppy. “How do you like them apples?”

Noleen grinned. “Hey, cool! Omus, that’s great,” she said, but the words were an effort. She didn’t know why, but this news didn’t make her as happy as Omus seemed to feel. Maybe it was that Clete gave her the willies. She didn’t trust him, the fake smiler, with Omus and his simple, honest happiness.

She shifted the bussing tub from her right hip to the left, looking over at Charlie behind the grill. As he handed a “Shit on a Shingle” Special to someone at the counter, he glanced back at her with his teeny, beady eyes. “I gotta get back to work, you guys,” she said.

At that moment, the restaurant door cracked open with a sharp thwack. Heads whipped around at the noise. Bliss Bend’s mayor stepped into the restaurant, panting and shivering like a frightened animal. His face was blotchy, and his large, alarmed eyes swam behind thick lenses. Everyone watched in silence as he slipped a handkerchief from his coat pocket, swiping his round face.

Only the fryer continued its rude sizzle.

“Sorry to disturb you, everyone, but there’s been a terrible accident out on Road P near Cascade. The Emergency Squad’s on its way, but the rain’s slowin them up. I was thinkin that some of us oughta get out there and help.”

All of the men stood, grabbing their jackets. Omus flung some change down onto the cash register shelf, nodded at Noleen, and turned to leave with the rest of them.

“Jesus,” said Noleen. “Good luck.”