Finding Faith

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Fingers tapping on the steering wheel, Faith nearly gritted her teeth as she tried to distract her need, which was quickly becoming urgent, with loud music. No good. It had been several miles since she’d passed any sort of sign advertising anything useful for a woman who needed to empty her bladder soon or things would get messy.

Reaching a point of desperation, she took the next exit that she came upon, no clue where it led. At that point, she didn’t care. If nothing else, she’d be able to find somewhere more private to squat than the shoulder of I-80 West.

The snow-covered banks off the interstate turned into large expanses of snow-covered fields, the occasional farmhouse dotting the landscape off in the distance. Somehow, by taking that exit, she’d stumbled upon even more desolate territory than she had seen cruising along I-80.

“Crap,” she muttered. “I think this was a baaaaad idea.”

About to give in to the call of nature and pull over, she became distracted as the road wound around from open farmland into foothills, and finally opened up into a little town nestled in a little valley, a breathtaking view of the snow capped Rockies just beyond that left Faith’s mouth open and eyes wide.

“Did a Hallmark movie land in Colorado?” she muttered, the long, curved road straightening out into what looked to be the main street of the town.

On either side of the street was a line of buildings, very narrow alleyways between them, some separated by mere inches. Some of the buildings were made of wood siding while others were brick, tall and short. Running along all of them was a wooden sidewalk, something she’d expect to see as she was about to step into an Old West saloon.

She chuckled when she saw an old man coming down the street toward her in the opposite lane driving a sleigh, the type that she’d seen in Central Park during the holiday season, a single beautiful brown horse pulling the load. She followed the old man with her eyes the entire way, returning his wave as they passed each other.

“What the hell?” she muttered with a grin, noting the sleigh’s unique tracks in the snow-covered street, clearly not as heavily traveled as the interstate was to clear it of snow.

The charm of the tiny town that seemed to expand out beyond the main street faded away as the reason she’d stumbled upon it hit her once again—straight in the bladder. She tore her gaze from an adorable and what looked to be old, simple white church to her left, and looked anew for somewhere to stop. She spotted a café just up ahead.

“Thank god.” She pulled into the small parking lot next to the single-story building, which was offset from the row of buildings that formed the block. It definitely looked to be a newer addition—perhaps built in the thirties or forties, judging by the style of architecture—the brick aged, a few missing or smashed where they had been placed. The sign above the door read Pop’s.

Pushing the glass door open, Faith was presented with an aged and somewhat run-down café. The four-sided tables that littered the dining area were made of wood scarred from years of use and abuse. The wooden chairs tucked beneath looked uncomfortable, some a bit rickety. The linoleum that was the floor looked like it had been ripped directly from the hallways of an elementary school, and was stained and bubbled in some places.

A few patrons sat at tables. One man sat alone in one of the three booths lined up against the wall opposite the lunch counter, where chrome-ringed stools were bolted to the floor in a line along its length, ending at a cash register that looked like it belonged in 1972. An ancient man sat in front of the cash register reading a newspaper, his reading glasses perched at the end of his bulbous nose.

Gaze moving away from the counter, Faith spotted a dark hallway at the back of the building, a teenage boy mopping nearby, though she was sure he was more flipping through the options in the old jukebox than doing any cleaning.

Hurrying down that way, she found what she was looking for, but nearly cried in desperation when she found the women’s room door locked, a sign posted that declared she must order food to gain entrance.

“f**k!” Stepping out of the hallway, she looked to the man at the register. “Sir?” As if in slow motion, which she didn’t even think was possible, the man’s eyes slowly, oh-so-slowly, moved up from the paper to meet her desperate gaze over the rim of his glasses. He said nothing. “Can I please have the key to the restroom?”

“I don’t recall you ordering anything,” he muttered.

“I will, I swear. It’s…” A bit embarrassed, Faith glanced at the teen who was looking at her, then hurried over to the lunch counter. “It’s a bit of an emergency, sir,” she said quietly, for the old man’s ears only.

He continued to meet her gaze, seeming unmoved.

“Oh, Pops, be nice.”

Hearing a woman’s voice, Faith turned to see a petite redhead standing in the doorway between the area behind the lunch counter and the kitchen, the metal swinging door halfway pushed open. She held a tray loaded with plates of food balanced on a hand. Her deep auburn hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, tied back with a turquoise kerchief that matched the color of her eyes.

She hurried over to the counter, the tray barely moving as she bent down to reach under the counter, her hand coming up to reveal a key chained to a two-foot piece of wood. She handed it to Faith with a wink before hurrying off to one of the patronized tables.

Barely able to manage a thank-you, Faith took off. Ten minutes later, and feeling admittedly better, she pulled the bathroom door closed, making sure it was locked, and made her way back to the lunch counter.

In the time she’d been using the restroom, the jukebox had been commissioned, Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’ After Midnight” playing, and a pair of old men had taken seats at the lunch counter down by the cast register. They were chatting loudly with the man the waitress had called “Pops.” She saw the same waitress standing at the large coffee maker on the counter that ran along the outside of the kitchen, her image reflected back in a distorted way from the stainless steel diamond plate that covered that wall.

“Thanks so much,” Faith said, setting the key and its long stick of wood on the counter several stools down from the pair of old men. “I really appreciate it.” She slid onto the closest stool, prepared to honor the requirement to use the café’s bathroom.

The waitress glanced over her shoulder from the coffeemaker, the tip of her ponytail whipping her cheek with the movement. “No problem. Y’all feelin’ better?” she asked with a small smile, Faith noticing for the first time a bit of a southern accent in her words. “You were lookin’ pretty desperate.”

Embarrassed, Faith reached a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. “Yeah, well…” She grinned. “Been driving for quite a while, now.”

“Oh? Where from?” The waitress finished her task at the coffeemaker, which whooshed to life before she turned to face Faith, grabbed the key, and absently tucked it out of sight beneath the counter before placing a menu in front of Faith.

“New York, though I’m actually from here. Littleton.”

The waitress nodded as she wiped her hands on the white apron tied around her waist over faded blue jeans. Her blouse had capped sleeves and bright flowers all over the yellow background. “I’ve been here for about six years now, I guess,” she said, resting her weight on her hands, which were flat against the counter. “We came up from Athens, Georgia.”

Faith stared at her for a long moment, surprised. “You’re kidding. I graduated from UGA.”

It was the waitress’s turn to look surprised. “Well, I’ll be.” She grinned. “Grew up in Savannah.”

Faith jumped at the sound of the cash drawer being slammed into the cash register. She glanced over at the old man behind it to see him glaring at the waitress. Getting the message, Faith grabbed the menu placed before her and began to peruse it.

“Any recommendations?” she murmured, scanning the lunch options.

“Well, our special today is the grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup,” the friendly waitress said. “More of a tomato bisque,” she explained. “Good stuff.”

Faith nodded, handing the laminated menu over. “Sold. And a Coke.”

The woman pulled a small pad and a pen out of one of the pockets of her apron, scribbled down the order and, with a smile, disappeared into the kitchen.

Left alone, Faith took in more of the place, now able to concentrate as her eyeballs no longer felt like they were floating. Her fingers absently tapped on her thigh to the Patsy Cline classic. She noted with amusement that the old man at the register was partially smiling as he once again read his newspaper.

“One Coke.”

Suddenly a glass with the carbonated drink was in front of Faith, as was the waitress. It was then she noticed the name tag attached to her blouse. “Wyatt. That’s your first name?”

The waitress glanced down at it before grinning with a nod. “Well, see, they thought I was gonna be a girl, and my daddy had a penchant for Westerns and characters of the Old West. So, it was either gonna be Wyatt or John Wayne. Mamma, on the other hand, had a penchant for serial killers. She didn’t want me to get teased.”

Confused, Faith c****d her head slightly to the side. “Why would they tease you?”

“Our last name was Casey.”

It took a second, but then Faith’s head fell back as a bark of laughter erupted from her lips. “Oh my!”

“So, Wyatt it was,” the waitress finished with a charming grin.

“Wyatt Casey,” Faith said with a nod. “Definitely a, shall we say, safer-sounding name?”

Wyatt grinned. “I’d say. But that was my maiden name, so no worries now.”

For a strange reason, Faith felt the slightest sting of disappointment knowing the beautiful young waitress was married, as foolish as it was to care. She’d never be back in the tiny little town that didn’t seem to have a name, so it mattered not. “I certainly hope your husband isn’t an Earp,” she added, eyeing Wyatt as she tore the paper off the straw and pushed it into her drink.

Wyatt looked away and shook her head. “No, but he is a lawman.”

There was a loud ding from a bellhop’s bell and a man’s voice calling out, “Order up!”

“Be right back,” Wyatt said, heading into the kitchen. A moment later she returned with Faith’s lunch, dropping it off with a smile before running back to pick up another order.

Faith was left alone at the counter to eat her lunch—which was a hell of a lot better than she’d expected—as Wyatt performed her work duties of cleaning, waiting on patrons, and disappearing for long moments into the kitchen. She checked in from time to time as any good waitress does before zooming off again.

Finally, she finished her meal and it was time to hit the road again. Sliding off the stool, Faith grabbed the ticket Wyatt had left for her with a small wave and wishes of safe travels, and headed to Pops, who flipped through the newspaper as though making sure he’d read every last word.

“Enjoy it?” he grumbled, not bothering to look at her as she stepped up to the cash register, her wallet in hand.

“I did, thank you.” She handed him a twenty-dollar bill and waited for him to slowly—good lord he was slow—ring up her ticket and take her money and return her change.

He eyed her over the tops of his half-moon reading glasses. “Wanna own a piece of Wynter history?” he asked, voice deep and grumpy.

She looked at him, confused. “Excuse me?” She was startled when suddenly a laminated page was presented before her eyes. It looked to be the same lamination style as the menu—crappy, with bubbles and some of the paper still uncovered.

Taking it from him, she quickly read the short missive:

Church Steeple Raffle:

$10 buys you a ticket and a piece of Wynter history.

Drawing March 3.

Glancing down at the change in her hand that the old man had given her, she handed him the two five-dollar bills. “Why not?” she said with a smile, which wasn’t returned as he snatched the money and the laminated page from her.

“Wyatt! Raffle,” he called out, a roll of raffle tickets appearing on the counter next to the register as he returned to his paper.

Faith looked at him in surprise, wondering if he did anything but ring people up, read the paper and, it seemed, complain. Her thoughts were interrupted by Wyatt breezing through the swinging door with the grace of someone on roller skates.

“Sorry,” Faith muttered, knowing her raffle ticket was taking Wyatt away from far more important duties.

“S’kay,” Wyatt said with what Faith was beginning to understand was her signature smile. Wyatt truly was a lovely woman, looked to be in her early thirties perhaps. Her turquoise eyes, striking in color, held such warmth and kindness that fell into that smile. She couldn’t help but return it.

Faith watched as Wyatt tore off the two-part raffle ticket from the roll, sliding it on the counter in front of her along with a pen.

“Go ahead and write your name and phone number there,” the waitress instructed, tapping the tiny bit of space provided for the information. “I’ll give you this side of the ticket.” She tapped the other part of the ticket, which just held a five-digit number and could be torn away from the other part with correlating numbers and her contact information along the perforated line. “If your ticket is drawn in a few months, we’ll give y’all a buzz.”

Faith nodded, taking her part of the ticket after she finished writing her information. “What’s the raffle prize?” she asked, glancing at the number on her ticket before carefully tucking it into a pocket in her wallet.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Wyatt said with a shrug, dropping Faith’s stub into a jar she’d taken out from beneath the counter with others. “The town commission just came in one day and told us what to say and what to collect.”

“Of course they did,” Faith said with a chuckle. “Well, good luck with this.” She indicated the jar with a wave of her hand. “Sounds like it’s going to a good cause. Happy New Year to you.”

“And you,” Wyatt said. “Take care, now.”