"Later."
Margaret left the truck stop, keeping a careful look out for the big rigs and angry men. On the main street, she turned left. Two hundred miles north of Los Angeles, Inchwater was little more than a rest area for travelers. Except for a couple of gas stations, three restaurants, a grocery store, and a motel, the owners of which either lived above or behind their businesses, there was nothing else here. The nearest mall was nine miles away in Garrison. The resident population in Inchwater averaged fifteen because people preferred to live in Garrison and commute to Inchwater. The Inner Man, the restaurant her aunt owned, was only a couple of blocks away.
Margaret lifted her face into the air as she walked, picking up her stride, telling herself exercise was all she needed to blow the mental cobwebs away.
Timmy working around trucks didn't mean a thing. It was natural for him to prefer working there to frying donuts for Dan. It didn't indicate he was following in Daddy's footsteps.
Her pace slowed.
Daddy had been a truck driver for twenty-four years when his truck had been found at the bottom of a small slope with both their parents dead inside.
Blocked arteries, the autopsy revealed the result of a sedentary life, too many beers, and too much fast food eaten at stop 'n go places because of delivery deadlines. Her father had suffered a heart attack which had caused him to lose control of his rig; the hospital authorities had informed Aunt Jan. It was nobody's fault.
But Margaret knew different. She knew it was the long hours, the kind of work he did that had caused her father's death.
It was ironic that Aunt Jan had taken part of the insurance money and decided to open The Inner Man, a restaurant for truckers. But the Inner Man was a fitting shrine to their parents, especially Daddy. Every single item on the menu was carefully selected to be low cholesterol, low fat, and yet satisfying for gourmand appetites. Health awareness made the Inner Man a popular stop these days for truckers and tourists.
Heading for the gate that led into the garden at the rear of the restaurant, Margaret entered the kitchen.
Janet Hooper looked up from the whole wheat pie crust she was rolling. A smile split her face as she hurried around the old oak table to greet her niece, "Margaret! Welcome home darling!"
Home was Aunt Jan's arms around her, the warmth of her presence, and the love in her smile. They held each other close, their gladness at being together transmitting without any words.
This kitchen had been the scene of so many homecomings through the years. The aroma of baking bread clung to the air, mixed with the scent of a roast in the oven. As Aunt Jan hurried to fetch her a cup of coffee, Margaret noticed the kitchen counters had been re-done. Crisp new curtains hung at the window that overlooked the garden, and a row of shiny copper pans gleamed against the wall. From beyond the kitchen came the sound of voices in the restaurant mixed with the clink of dishes being rinsed in the work area beyond the kitchen. She had missed it all.
Margaret looked at Aunt Jan, immediately noticing the new lines that creased her forehead, the tired look in her eyes. Rake thin, immaculately turned out, it was hard for strangers to imagine Janet Hooper's passion for cooking and work. "How are you Aunt Jan?"
"Never better," her aunt said briskly. "Sit down, and I'll pour you a cup of coffee. Did you find Timmy?"
"Yes. He's got a new job at the truck stop."
The note in her voice made Aunt Jan pause, coffee pot in hand. "He's had that a month now."
"Timmy never mentioned it to me." The new chasm between herself and Timmy scared Margaret.
"Matt is a good role model for Timmy," Aunt Jan said.
"How are things in the restaurant?" Margaret asked quickly, in an effort to change the subject. She didn't want to talk about Matthew Magnum just yet.
"We're busy, but I wish we had more help. I told you about Gina who works the cash register. Her baby is due in two weeks. I haven't found anyone to replace her yet, and I have one more vacancy to fill. The employment agency in Garrison has promised to keep a lookout for suitable help, but apparently working in a restaurant in Inchwater isn't everyone's ideal job."
The door from the restaurant into the kitchen opened, and a girl in an advanced state of pregnancy, entered the kitchen. Seeing Margaret, she paused.
“Hi Gina. I’m Margaret.”
Gina looked no more than a kid herself thought Margaret as the girl smiled.
“Hi Margaret. Welcome home.”
"Gina, come in and join us for a cup of coffee," said Aunt Jan.
"I don't want to interrupt," Gina Wade said shyly. "I just wanted to thank you for that Shepherd's Pie you gave me yesterday, Janet. Jack loved it."
Some things never changed. Margaret and Timmy had a private theory that Aunt Jan gave away half the food she cooked.
"I've made some spaghetti sauce for you to take home tonight," Janet said. "Freeze it... it'll come in handy after the baby's here. Now, sit down before your break is over."
"Your aunt never stops talking about you," said Gina, sliding her bulk into a chair. "She's told me all about the work you do with physically handicapped children in Washington."
Margaret nodded. "I love my job. I only wish it was closer to home."
"The Edward Institute is making a name for itself, slowly but surely," Aunt Jan said with pride.
"Who runs it?" asked Gina.
"Dr. Aaron Edwards," said Margaret. "An article he read about children with birth defects who had been abandoned by their parents affected him deeply, and he gave up a successful practice to start the Institute. His aim was to take in as many children as he could and care for them. After a while he discovered some of the children benefitted by being read to, and taught. He hired teachers who would give them individual attention. I was teaching in San Francisco when I heard about his work, and wrote to him. Luckily for me, he hired me."
"Teaching handicapped children must need a great deal of patience," Gina said, awe in her gaze, as she looked at Margaret over the rim of her coffee mug.
"I love my work," said Margaret.
"The secret of happiness is enjoying the work you do," Aunt Jan added. "It’s a shame people pick careers for the money they'll make at it, instead of doing what they really want to."
"Are you feeling all right?" Margaret asked, noticing the sudden grimace on Gina's face.
"I'm fine. My back is just kind of sore." Gina finished her coffee and stood up, rubbing her back as she carried her mug to the sink. "Got to get back to work. It was nice meeting you Margaret."
As Gina left, Margaret looked at her aunt. "She's very young, isn't she?"
Aunt Jan nodded. "Dropped out of school to get married when she found she was pregnant. Turned eighteen a month ago. She's very reliable though and her husband is one of Matt's drivers."
Matthew Magnum had woven himself into everyone's life in Inchwater. Abruptly, Margaret stood up, "Do you need any help here?"
Aunt Jan shook her head. "I most certainly do not. Get some rest after that long flight. You look like death warmed over."
Margaret nodded, and turned away. The stairs hugged the left exterior wall of the building and led to their living quarters upstairs: four bedrooms, three baths, a living room, a dining room, and a tiny alcove kitchen, rarely used except for fixing hot beverages in the microwave.
Going straight to the bathroom adjoining her room, Margaret examined her reflection. Now she knew what death warmed over looked like. Dark circles ringed her caramel eyes, tension and exhaustion blanched the color from her face making every single freckle on her nose, and across her cheeks, stand out. Her hair looked lank and lifeless. The suit she'd been in since yesterday looked rumpled. Leaving D.C. right after the end-of-term staff meeting to catch her plane hadn't given Margaret any time to change into a casual traveling outfit.
Margaret slipped out of her clothes and into the shower. Under the soothing hot water, her mind perked up enough to toss the experiences of the last twenty four hours, like a juggler's colored balls.
The man in the truck stop. So strong. So angry. Timmy looking at her as if he didn't like her. Aunt Jan's patient, strained face shining with love.
The pictures stayed with Margaret while she toweled herself dry, slipped into a pair of cotton pajamas, and got into bed. Seeing a truck stop in Inchwater had brought all her fears to the surface. Beneath her fear of Timmy working around trucks was the other one, the one that shadowed her days and haunted her nights...she was afraid Death would snatch Timmy away from her, just as it had robbed her of her parents.
Stop it; you're too tired to think straight now.
Deliberately Margaret filled her mind with more pleasant pictures: Joe's smile, Aunt Jan's love, how nice it was to be back in her old room again. There would be time enough to sort out her thoughts later.
CHAPTER TWO
"How's it going, Tim?" Matt asked. He had been watching the boy cleaning some tools.
The red head shot up and brown eyes exactly like Margaret Browning's looked at him. Only the expression in the eyes differed. She hadn't bothered to hide her hostility and tension yesterday, whereas Timmy looked friendly and happy, "Fine, Mr. Magnum."
"Is your sister home for the summer?"
He didn't miss the frown on the boy's face. "I don't know yet."
Matt recalled his remark about their mouths being different. Margaret Browning had a full lower lip and the upper was beautifully arched. Tim's had a determined tilt to it and none of the fullness.
"Been a while since she came home, hasn't it?" In the eighteen months he'd been in Inchwater, Matt hadn't seen hide or hair of the gorgeous redhead. He'd heard her mentioned quite often though.
"She usually comes home at Christmas," Tim bowed his head, "but last year we all took a cruise together. During the summer Margaret works in Washington, and Aunt Jan and I go there to spend time with her. She's got a neat apartment."
Matt's brows drew together. The sophisticated woman he had just met fitted perfectly into Washington society. Yet the look in her eyes had hinted at soul deep vulnerability.
"Well," Matt said turning away, "if any of you need a ride into Los Angeles or Vegas for a shopping trip, you know my offer still holds good. Any of the drivers will be happy to take you."
"Thanks, Mr. Magnum, but Margaret doesn't like riding in trucks."
If Margaret Browning did not like riding in trucks, why had she stared at them as if transfixed, Matt wondered. He was quite sure he hadn't imagined the stunned expression on her face, or the dazed look in her eyes. Her aunt had mentioned once that Timmy's and Margaret's parents had been killed when their father had had a heart attack behind the wheel of his truck and the rig had run off the road. Had being here raised the ghost of the past for Margaret Browning?
"Mr. Magnum," called a voice from the door of his office. "Tom Camden of T.C. Trucking wants to talk to you. He's holding on line one."
"Be right there." Matt shrugged. He had plenty to do other than psychoanalyze Tim Browning's sister.
"Let me know if you need extra time off while she's here."
"Yes, sir."
"Hi, sis! You didn't have to wait up for me." Timmy said as he entered the garden and found her sitting on the old swing.
Margaret smiled affectionately. "I thought we might talk."
"I'll grab a soda and be right back."
Waiting for him to come back from a date or a jaunt with his friends was a habit. Yesterday, her first night back, Margaret had fallen asleep early but today she had decided to wait for Timmy.
She and Timmy often sat on the swing, talking late into the night. Here they didn't have to worry about disturbing Aunt Jan, who rose at five every morning. The garden, with its familiar scents and shadows, was a good place for exchanging secrets. The old swing creaked as it moved in the silent night; its familiar rhythm comforting.
Margaret let her thoughts drift. Her goals were still the same as always.
She wanted to see Timmy through college, ensure the Inner Man was at a stage where Aunt Jan had little else to do but supervise, before she could think of herself. Marriage, not that there were a heap of men fighting over her; was last on her list. Why Matt Magnum’s angry face should flash into her mind, made no sense at all.
Timmy came out through the kitchen door, sat down opposite her and took a big gulp from the can in his hand. "So, what did you do today, sis?"
"I slept for most of the day, then unpacked, and generally lazed around."
The rectangle of yellow light that shone out of the kitchen made it easy to notice Timmy's expression was carefully noncommittal. He ran his fingers through his hair, and she tensed. He only did that when he felt awkward.
"I thought we'd catch up on all the news," Margaret said with a smile.
"There isn't much to talk about."
Panic clutched at her. When had this close-mouthed stranger taken the place of her talkative brother? Aunt Jan always said she, Margaret, was the introvert in the family, Timmy the extrovert. To listen to him now, no one would suspect it.
"Are you planning to stay all summer?" Was it her imagination, or was there a sudden wariness to Timmy's tone?
"Yes."
Margaret had made the decision on the spur of the moment after the last time she had talked to Aunt Jan. Timmy, Aunt Jan had told her, planned to work through the summer. She herself wouldn't be able to come out to Washington this year because of lack of experienced help at the restaurant. Aunt Jan had sounded unlike herself, tired and dispirited, and Margaret had made up her mind to return to Inchwater and help her.
Aunt Jan had been thrilled by her decision. If Margaret's decision had the same effect on Timmy, he did an excellent job of not showing it. Keeping the smile on her face with difficulty, Margaret asked, "How do you like your new job?"
Timmy's face lit up. "Mr. Magnum's cool. He doesn't swear like Dan did; plus, he's giving me a dollar an hour more."
"That's great." Margaret's voice sounded hollow in her ears.
"How are things in Washington?" Timmy asked.
"Great." Why had she never realized before what an inane word it was.
"Do you have a part-time job lined up in Garrison for the summer?" Timmy asked.
"No." The Edward Institute could not afford to pay teachers during the summer, hiring student help instead to devise summer programs for the children. Margaret's part time summer jobs had helped stretch her tight budget. "I'm going to help Aunt Jan in the restaurant. I just thought we would spend some time as a family this year...maybe take a trip to Yosemite."
All three of them had enjoyed previous visits to the National Park.
"That's great," Timmy said.
That word again. Since when had Timmy and she started using it so often with each other, Margaret wondered.
"I can't get the time off yet though, but I think Aunt Jan will enjoy a trip to Yosemite. Mr. Magnum says I have the makings of a good mechanic, and if I want to, he's going to let me start going on short trips with the drivers."
No! screamed Margaret's mind, bucking to throw off the dark picture Timmy's words presented. No.
She didn't want Timmy involved in the trucking business as Daddy had been. She wanted Timmy to have a nice eight-to-five job and a settled family life.
Sounding calm took real effort. "How did you do on your preliminary SAT test last summer?"
The Scholastic Aptitude Test grades determined the scholarships one could receive, and at Christmas Timmy had mentioned taking the SAT exam as many times as he could this year.
Timmy shrugged, "I got a thousand. The Math is easy, but the English is really tough."
"I thought we might use part of the summer going over the comprehension part of the SAT manual. You know the higher the score you can get, the better your chances of a scholarship are."
Timmy wanted to be an engineer, and Margaret wanted him to get into the finest engineering school in the country.
"I may not take the SAT exam, sis."
"What do you mean?" Lightning, scoring a direct hit, couldn't have frightened her more.
"I'm not sure if I want to go to college."
"N...not sure?"
"I think I just want to work full time after I graduate, maybe go to truck driving school."
Maybe this was a nightmare brought on by too much worrying.
"T...truck driving school." The fears, she had dismantled as imaginary, had a good solid foundation under them.
"Yes." Timmy stood up. "I have to be up early in the morning to go fishing with Matt. I said I'd show him the best place for trout. Goodnight sis."
" 'Night Timmy."
He was going to show that stranger their stream, let him catch their trout, in nearby Garrison State Park. She didn't know what hurt more, the fact he hadn't asked her along, or the fact he was taking Matthew Magnum to their favorite spot. The man had to have made a really deep impression on Timmy. Deeper, apparently, than she had, in all these years.
Margaret sat there, feeling very alone; dimly aware of the creak of the garden swing, of the smell of the herbs Aunt Jan planted each year, of her thoughts bouncing about in her head again. The chains, that suspended the broad swing, felt cold and hard under her fingers. The kitchen door opened and she watched one of the late shift employees carry a bag of trash to the dumpster at the side of the building. Everything seemed unreal. Resentment flooded Margaret as she thought of what Matthew Magnum's truck stop had done to her brother.
Timmy wanted to go to truck driving school. He wanted to drive a big rig...just like Daddy had. Pain was a vise clamping down on Margaret's heart. She felt the way she had when they'd told her that her parents were never coming back. Life was once again spinning out of control. Margaret knew she had to do something about it as soon as possible.
The asphalt was wet when she stepped on it a week later. Though she had made up her mind to talk to Matthew Magnum the second day she had been in Inchwater she hadn't picked up the courage to do it till now. Margaret told herself it was because she had been busy helping in the restaurant.
A couple of truckers, on the way to their rigs, glanced at her curiously. Margaret knew she looked out of place dressed in a skirt and a cotton sweater, a silk scarf draped around her neck. She needed the confidence her semi-formal outfit would give her for this meeting. Even her unruly hair had been put up to emphasize the business like nature of her visit.
Unable to reach Matthew Magnum on the telephone the day before yesterday, the message she'd left on his machine had been answered by a girl who said she was his part-time office assistant. Mr. Magnum would be happy to see her at seven, Wednesday morning. Timmy reported for work at eight, so that should give her plenty of time for what she wanted to say.
"May I help you?" A woman looked up from the computer on her desk to ask, as Margaret walked into the office.
Tugging at the hem of her pink sweater, Margaret said, "I'm looking for Mr. Magnum. Matthew Magnum. Is he here?"
"He's in the buildings at the back. First room on your left as you face them."
"Thank you."
Margaret walked toward the buildings on legs that were suddenly shaky. Her gaze swerved to the left, went past the last door and then stopped. Incredibly enough among all the concrete and vehicles, someone had cleared an area twelve feet square and built a two foot planter wall around it. The little square was covered with emerald green grass, with a jacaranda tree in the middle cast a design of purple flowers on the grass below. Lining the brick wall were a variety of rose bushes blooming profusely. The fragrance of the roses permeated the air. It was a strange place for a garden, and yet the sheer beauty of it touched Margaret. She wondered who had thought of setting it here.
The roar of an engine was an abrupt reminder she wasn't here to admire the place, simply to meet the owner, and she'd better get on with it.
Turning to the first door, she looked at the name plate. Magnum, it stated simply, with no embellishments.
"Come in." The answer to her knock made Margaret push the door open cautiously.
He was staring out the window. Margaret took in the stool he sat on, the old desk covered with piles of paper facing a large window. From its position, she realized the window directly overlooked the little garden.
She'd expected this room to match the front office, something like the corporate offices one saw on television with a huge, impressive desk, a plush leather armchair, a gorgeous, blonde secretary. Besides the table and a few folding chairs, this one held ordinary book shelves and filing cabinets. Another table, against a far wall, held a computer and a printer. There was little else in the room. The words that jumped into Margaret's mind as she looked around were warm, simple, homey.
The crackle of voices in the background told her Matthew Magnum was listening to a CB radio. Perking coffee filled the room with a delicious morning smell. Margaret couldn't help noticing his dark hair was shower damp.
The fact he was looking at the garden made her pause. Had the rose garden been Matthew Magnum's idea? The thought was unsettling. The impression she had of a tough, impatient man was at odds with the one she received now. This ordinary room and the garden were like little peepholes into his mind. What she saw confused her. Margaret could deal with tough and impatient, she had met many men like that, but the latter...the latter made her uneasy, hinting there was something very likeable, very human about Matthew Magnum. She tried to push away the feeling.
Margaret swallowed, trying to get her thoughts under control. "Mr. Magnum...."
He swung around, his gaze swept her from head to toe, and then he got to his feet. Faded jeans molded his long legs; a blue and white checked shirt had sleeves rolled up to just above the elbows exposing arms covered with a smattering of dark hair. The cleft in his chin looked deeper and more dangerous than ever.