{"id":1184,"date":"2019-02-14T12:15:55","date_gmt":"2019-02-14T17:15:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1184"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:12","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:12","slug":"macy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/macy\/","title":{"rendered":"Macy"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Macy<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by April McGowan<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Independent\u2026or Alone?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Macy longed for independence her whole life. Maybe marrying Arthur to escape her home hadn\u2019t been the best plan, but it seemed good enough at the time. Now, pregnant and abandoned in a diner far from anyone she knows, Macy must start life all over again. Relying on the mercy of the diner\u2019s owners, she begins to put things back together. Macy must make her own decisions for the first time in her adult life\u2014but it isn\u2019t all it\u2019s cracked up to be. And with the too-alluring Toby at her side instead of her husband, she\u2019s discovering those decisions harder to make than ever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All too soon the illusion of freedom comes crashing down when she realizes her family<\/a> back home might lose everything if she doesn\u2019t return. She\u2019d married Arthur to get away from those responsibilities, so how can she face ending up where she started?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With her grandmother\u2019s lessons on faith coming to mind again for the first time in years, Macy has to learn what freedom really is\u2026and which road will lead her to where she ought to have been all along.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

They say there is a time and a\nplace for everything. I could tell by the way Arthur held his fork, this was\nneither. It swiveled in his hand, looking more like a stabbing device than an\neating implement. The pieces of salad fell from the tines onto the booth\u2019s laminate\ntabletop, splattering it with red Catalina French salad dressing. As if\nlistening in, the restaurant seemed to go peculiarly quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He leaned toward me. Steel gray\neyes stared me down. \u201cYou\u2019re what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going to have a baby.\u201d I\nwhispered, certain everyone had turned their attention on us. Then the busboy\ndropped a tray of dirty dishes, and a half-eaten portion of chicken-fried steak\nhit the big trucker at the bar, and gravy coated the wall. They no longer cared\nabout two strangers in the back, their lives at a sudden impasse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I curled a strand of red hair\naround my finger, gripping it tight. My husband\u2019s gaze bore down on me, and everything\naround us went still. It reminded me of the time we stayed over in California\nduring one of their earthquakes. The breeze stopped and the birds quieted like\nsomeone\u2019d tossed a blanket over the whole place. Then it came on us, shaking me\nto my core, tossing me from my comfortable seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I gripped the table. Arthur shook\nhis head at me, and disgust curled his lips into a false smile. \u201cI\u2019m a long-haul\ntrucker. We live in our sleeper cab. We don\u2019t have a house.\u201d He listed things\nin a cold, detached way that told me his stress level had reached an all-time\nhigh. I also noticed he left the biggest issue off his list. He never wanted\nchildren. Until the moment I took the pregnancy test, neither had I.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould you like some herb tea?\u201d\nMy hand shook as I lifted the silver teapot toward him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes refocused on me. \u201cTea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I motioned to the basket of mixed\nteabags the waitress had left for us. \u201cTo calm you down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I waited for him to yell. Maybe take\na swing at me. But he didn\u2019t. Instead, Arthur did something that surprised me.\nHe got up, tossed money on the table, and walked out. Stunned, I didn\u2019t move. He\nmust have needed time to think. After all, I\u2019d had a week to process the idea.\nHe\u2019d come back in a while, and we\u2019d figure out what to do. Arthur could be a\nhard man, no one knew that better than me. The baby would change all that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A picture of a house nestled in\nthe trees, a garden out back, and maybe a dog to keep us company while Arthur\nwas out on the road, formed in my mind. I touched my stomach, daydreaming,\nuntil a familiar rumble startled me back to the present. I peered out the\nwindow, tipping to the side to see the parking lot, and saw diesel smoke bellow\nout of the chrome stacks. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was warming up the truck. I\ntook fast bites of my lunch, not wanting to make him wait for me any longer,\nbut my stomach rebelled. I\u2019d get a to-go box and take it with me. And the\ntea\u2014that\u2019d be just the thing to settle my stomach on the road. I almost got the\nwaitress\u2019s attention when I heard the engine shift from idling to engaged. My\nhand froze mid-air and I watched as if in slow motion. Our big rig pulled out\nof the parking lot and past the window where I sat. The brown cab, splotched\nwith dirt and oil from thousands of miles on the road, moved across the front parking\nlot of the restaurant, pulled out, drove to the light, then turned the corner\nout of sight. My heart raced, but my legs went numb. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d left. He\u2019d be back, he had\nto come back. I read the maps for him. He probably went to get supplies to let\nme finish lunch. We were overdue on an oil change\u2014hadn\u2019t he noticed the shop up\nthe road? I nibbled my food, glancing out the window between bites, sure he\u2019d\ncome pulling in any minute. Any minute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A full hour later, I still sat in\nthe booth. The waitress refilled my hot water pot. \u201cYou okay, honey?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I started to say what we all say\nwhen a stranger asks such a question. I started to tell her I was fine.\nInstead, when I opened my mouth, a sob came out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s gone,\u201d I managed to get out\nand then swallowed hard, realizing a new point of panic. \u201cI don\u2019t even know\nwhere I am.\u201d The smell of fried potatoes and eggs wafted off the waitress and\ntraipsed over to my nose. My stomach churned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure he\u2019ll be back.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I glanced at her hopeful blue\neyes. Her name tag said Donna. The\nlines around her smile and age spots on her hands showed her to be in her\nmid-fifties. \u201cThey all come back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t think he\u2019d leave.\u201d I\nshivered even as others around me shed their jackets. Maybe I was going into\nshock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome with me, sweetie.\u201d She pulled\nme up from the booth and led me down the hall, past the kitchen entry\u2014where I held\nmy breath\u2014to a door painted white with a seventies confetti sparkle. After pulling\nout a key, she unlocked it, revealing a long shadowy staircase. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got a small apartment up\nthere. Just a studio.\u201d She paused, her voice softening. \u201cIt\u2019s unoccupied. Go\nlay down a bit. Life always looks better after a nap.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the very suggestion of a nap,\nmy body went on autopilot. I trudged up the stairwell and she closed and locked\nthe door behind me. For a moment, I considered if I\u2019d been voluntarily\nkidnapped. As I topped the stairs, I found a cozy room with a kitchenette. In\nthe corner sat a daybed, all made up, as if waiting for me. I headed toward it,\npast the love seat and small coffee table, my eyes focused on the pillow.\nEverything was clean, dust free, hair free. I lay down and turned my face into\nthe bedding. As the aroma of baby powder dryer sheets met my nose, I gave in\nand cried myself to sleep. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The smell of coffee woke me. I\ncracked my eyes and took in my surroundings. It hit me again that I\u2019d been\nabandoned, and I buried deeper under the comforter. A bright light came in\nthrough the window sheers as the sun rose. I heard rustling in the kitchenette\nand saw Donna\u2019s back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat time is it?\u201d My croaky\nvoice surprised me. I must have cried harder than I thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Donna turned and gave me a soft\nsmile. Her eyes held regret. \u201cSorry, didn\u2019t mean to wake you. It\u2019s just a bit\nafter five.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFive? In the morning?\u201d I sat up\ntoo fast and the room spun. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Donna rushed over and kept me\nfrom toppling off the bed. \u201cI peeked in on you after closing last night, and\nyou were sleeping hard. You looked like you needed the rest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d been there all night. We\u2019d\nbeen married for seven years and not once had I spent the night away from\nArthur. He\u2019d never even let me go home for a visit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got coffee in the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Autopilot kicked on, because\notherwise I\u2019d be sobbing. \u201cThanks.\u201d I looked around and saw a door. \u201cIs that\nthe bathroom?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure is. You go clean up\u2014fresh\ntowels inside. Feel free to take your time. You come on down for breakfast when\nyou feel up to it.\u201d She patted my back and headed out of the room. Her heels\nclicked on the stairs as she tromped down. \u201cI\u2019m locking you in, but you can\nflip it from the inside. It\u2019s just to keep wanderers out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d I called. Bracing\nmyself against the bed, I got up and waited for the room to still again. Low\nblood sugar ran in my family. I remembered hearing my mama complaining about it\nwhen she was pregnant with my sisters and brother. That must be what was wrong\nwith me. Heading into the bathroom, I found not only fresh towels, but a bottle\nof shampoo, soap, packaged toothbrush, and toothpaste. A shiny clean hairbrush\nsat on the mirror shelf. And a fresh package of underwear, amazingly just about\nmy size, lay on the back of the toilet. Tears pooled in my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Glancing into the mirror over the\ntiny sink, I caught sight of matted red hair and mascara stains running down my\ncheeks. I hoped I hadn\u2019t ruined Donna\u2019s pillowcase. In the shower, I ran my\nsoapy fingers over the tiny hump I imagined on my stomach. Realistically, the\nbaby couldn\u2019t be showing yet\u2014but something felt different. Firmer. As I stepped\nfrom the shower, emotionally lighter, nausea washed through me. Before I knew\nit, I was over the toilet, vomiting bile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mother survived this four\ntimes, and toward the end of each one, resentment began to show. As it was only\nmy third time throwing up, I didn\u2019t feel bitter yet. Maybe that would come\nlater?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fully clothed and cleaned, I felt\nmore human. My toast had gone cold. A real breakfast sounded good. I headed\ndownstairs, thinking about how I could pay back Donna for her kindness\u2014and for\nthe breakfast I would eat. My hand protectively covered my stomach. I needed to\nfigure out what to do next, but I couldn\u2019t get my brain to engage. I didn\u2019t\nhave any cash on me. I needed to find my bank. Regret passed over me. I\u2019d\nworked hard to save my secret money for emergencies. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Being abandoned qualified.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The restaurant murmured with\nearly morning customers, sipping coffee from their mugs in zombie-like trances.\nI could almost see the light of life begin to sparkle in their eyes. The aroma\nof ham and eggs and all things breakfast-like cozied around me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere you are.\u201d Donna gave me a\nbright smile and motioned me to a booth. \u201cWhat sounds good this morning, sweetie?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAn omelet, some hash browns,\nside of fruit?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cComing right up.\u201d Donna turned\nto go. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I caught her arm and motioned her\nto come closer so I could whisper my shame. \u201cDonna, I don\u2019t have any money\nright now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s on me.\u201d She winked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Again, I was taken aback. It\u2019d\nbeen a long time since I\u2019d met anyone who didn\u2019t want something for, well,\neverything. Worries rushed through my head. All of my things, though few, were\nwith Arthur. I had no clothes. I had no job. I had no means of getting a job. Reading\nroad maps for the past seven years, and raising my siblings before that, didn\u2019t\nqualify me for much of anything. While my schoolmates were finishing high\nschool and working at the Fresh Freeze, I directed my husband across the\ncountry. My meager savings wouldn\u2019t last long at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Donna put the plate before me.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s your name, honey?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This woman fed and housed me, and\nI\u2019d never even introduced myself to her. I blushed. \u201cMacy Stone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, Macy, what are your plans?\u201d\nDonna tucked her order pad into her apron pocket and sat down across from me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Panic threatened to pop the lid\ncovering my emotions. I had never been on my own. I thought marrying Arthur\nwould take care of my future and give me the freedom I\u2019d dreamed of. Bit of a\nmistake there. \u201cI need a job.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust so happens, I\u2019m down a\nwaitress. You ever waitressed before?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shook my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can train you, but you need to\nassure me you\u2019re in for the duration. I don\u2019t want you skipping off to the next\nplace as soon as I get you broke in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost laughed. I\u2019d never\nskipped anywhere. And I had no place to go. \u201cWhat if Arthur comes back?\u201d My\nquestion was a hollow one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf he comes back, then you can\ngo with him. If you want to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My eyes locked on hers. If I wanted\nto? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Have you ever looked at a lion in\na zoo habitat too small for it? You\u2019d expect it to pace back and forth, yell\nand carry on to be let out. But it just sits there with all the hope squeezed\nout of it. The idea that there could be something else doesn\u2019t enter its mind\nanymore. It was just waiting. Waiting for the next rain, for the next meal, for\nthe next time little kids made growling noises at it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That had been me. But for the\nfirst time in my life, I wondered if there was something more. <\/p>\n\n\n