WILKINS MOTEL. FAMILY OWNED AND OPERATED FOR OVER FIFTY YEARS.
Original, for sure. She hadn't even realized the motel had an actual name. She thought it was just MOTEL because that's what the neon sign read.
She sat down on the bed, then lay against the soft pillows. Her eyes were gritty from crying and lack of sleep. Wanting to close her eyes and forget about her life, instead she pushed herself off the bed and peeked inside the bathroom.
Tiny brown-and-beige diamond-shaped tiles covered the floor, their coolness soothing against her raw and bloodied feet. Above the sink, which matched the beige-colored tiles, was a mirror. She pulled on the latch at one corner, and a door opened to reveal a medicine chest. She quickly opened the mirrored door, then closed it, keeping her eyes down. She really did not want to see what she looked like just then. Not noticing the glasses on the little shelf above the sink, she turned on the spigot, filled her hands with cold water, and drank until her thirst was quenched. She quickly turned away, frightened of what she'd see if she dared a glance in the mirror.
The shower-bath combination was much larger than the one in the trailer. On a small shelf above the toilet, white towels and washcloths were stacked in a neat pile. They, too, smelled of fresh summer air and sunshine. Beside the sink were two tiny bars of soap. Maddy couldn't wait to soak in the tub, but right now, she needed to purchase some clothes. Before the bed tempted her further, she took her purse and the room key, and hurried out to her car.
Unfamiliar with Brunswick, she returned to Main Street, only this time she drove in the opposite direction, away from the motel. It was almost seven-thirty, and she wasn't sure if she would find a store open this early. Since it was Sunday, she assumed most decent folks were preparing for church. Briefly, she thought of Pastor Royer. Would he miss her this morning or just attribute her absence to a late night at the prom? Either way, it didn't matter because she would never return to Blossom City, no matter how desperate she might be.
She wasn't so foolish as to think that life would be easy. She was a few weeks shy of eighteen, and all she had were the clothes on her back, a beat-up, very old car, and the cash in her purse. That wouldn't last long. She would have to find a job, then a place to live. After that, well, she hadn't thought that far ahead. For now, she simply needed a few items to get her through the next three days. That was as far ahead as she would think.
She continued driving down Main Street for a couple miles. When she spied a giant Walmart sign, she almost cried with relief. There wasn't a Walmart in Blossom City, but Fort Myers had one, and she was familiar with their brands and prices. It wasn't like she had much of a choice. She certainly wasn't going to shop at Macy's. No way did their prices fit with her meager budget.
She pulled into the parking lot, where dozens of vehicles were already parked. She saw people entering the store and gave up a silent thank-you.
Inside, she removed a blue basket from a stack by the door, turning around just in time to see an older couple staring at her, shaking their heads. She wanted to laugh but couldn't. She might stare, too, had she been in their position. She instantly spied the sign to the juniors department, where she picked out a pair of Lee jeans in a size 5 and three T-shirts that were on sale. From there, she went to the lingerie section. With jittery hands, she selected a packet of white-cotton panties. Without warning, memories of the night before attacked her. She threw the pack of underwear on the floor, then kicked it with her tender foot, not caring if anyone observed her fit of rage. Wobbling, she reached for the shelf to steady herself.
“Stop!” she whispered as she scoured the shelves, wishing she could erase the vile image from her mind. Spying a packet of pastel-colored panties with the days of the week on them, she crammed them in her basket. Anxious to get this task over with, she chose two pairs of white socks, then hurried to the shoe department, where she grabbed a pair of plain white tennis shoes in size 7. Before she forgot, she returned to the lingerie section, grabbed a long pink nightgown made of soft cotton and a cream-colored bra that looked like something an old woman would wear.
She had pushed her hair away from her face and was preparing to check out when it dawned on her that she would need toiletries. In the health and beauty department, she located a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a hairbrush, and a bottle of shampoo. As an afterthought, she removed a small bottle of gardenia-scented lotion from the shelf, putting it in her basket. She raced to the front of the store, mentally adding up her purchases, and decided that she would be broke if she didn't get out of there soon. Shopping for herself was still a new experience. Most of her earnings had gone toward food and the rent on the trailer. Clothing was purchased at Goodwill and the Salvation Army. She suddenly realized she would be wearing her first pair of brand-new jeans, as all the outerwear that she'd owned had been secondhand.
At the register, she felt the stares of other customers, heard their angry whispers, but didn't care. She didn't know these people and didn't plan on sticking around Brunswick long enough to make friends. The cashier, a short, chubby girl around her own age, said, “That'll be thirty-seven dollars and ninety-three cents.”
Maddy took two twenties from her pocket and gave them to the cashier. She held out her hand, waiting for her change. The second her purchases were bagged and her change placed in her hand, she almost ran out of the store. She needed to get back to the motel, needed to remove all traces of what had happened the night before, even if it was just physically. The psychological damage would remain, forever etched deeply inside that part of her brain where memories were stored.
Chapter Three
G
loria's Organic Market had everything a lover of gourmet foods could dream of. It was Molly's favorite place to shop when she had a special dinner party planned. Located in downtown Goldenhills, in the historic district between the public library and Dr. Laird's family practice, Gloria's was always packed with shoppers, no matter the time of day. Crates of fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs lined the sidewalk in front of the store. Huge tubs of rosemary flanked the entrance. Molly inhaled the piney, minty scent as she entered the market.
One could find fresh, grass-fed beef, free-range eggs and chickens, and a variety of homemade preserves supplied by local farmers. Spice rubs, salsas, and chutneys, along with an array of homemade breads, muffins, and crackers, crowded the shelves. Gloria's always had the best bay scallops and cherrystone and littleneck clams in the Boston area. Molly took in the smell of freshly made pesto, which brought a smile to her face; Gloria's was indeed a smorgasbord for the senses. She reached for a bright-yellow basket from a stack piled neatly at the entrance. Gloria must've stripped her basil plants out back in order to make the pesto. The last time Molly was here, the aromatic plants had little spikes of white flowers, indicating they were ready to pick. She spied Gloria at the back of the store behind the large wooden counter. “The pesto smells divine. I'll have half a pint,” said Molly.
“You want pasta, too? Chelsea made some fresh this morning.”
“You know I do,” she said. “I'll pick it up on my way out.”
Chelsea, Gloria's daughter, had inherited her mother's natural love of cooking and her ability to prepare just about anything connected with the human consumption of food and drink.
Mindlessly, Molly walked up and down the narrow aisles, searching for a new, unique gourmet item, anything to impress Tanner and his guests at tonight's dinner. She wound her way through the aisles, stopping in the refrigerated section. Glass jars filled with a shrimp-colored liquid caught her attention. Spicy tomato gazpacho with freshly ground horseradish, Gloria's handwritten label stated, along with a lengthy list of organic ingredients. This would be a perfect start to tonight's dinner. She placed four jars in her basket, thinking how refreshing it would be, given that it was smack-dab in the middle of summer. They'd had unusually high temperatures this year. A cold soup to start was ideal.
She took three pints of blackberries for the blackberry-rum shrub she planned to make. According to digital drinks.com, this was the hottest drink of the summer. She'd made it last week. It was to-die-for scrumptious, if you could call a drink scrumptious. A bottle of rum and a good balsamic vinegar completed her cocktail ingredients. Molly hoped tonight's guests were up for her fabulous blackberry concoction.
She bought a dozen and a half fillets of black sea bass for the main course, and fiddlehead ferns as a side dish. She planned a simple Caesar salad, with her special homemade dressing. She usually made this tableside in the formal dining room when she was casually entertaining friends, but tonight she'd prepare it in the kitchen. She didn't want to embarrass Tanner if she forgot an ingredient or, God forbid, dropped something.
She'd forgo the bread since she planned on serving baguettes with a cheese platter. She'd be serving five cheeses: smoked Gouda, Danish Havarti, pepper jack, a sweet ricotta, and a soft goat cheese. She always liked to add both sweet and dill pickles, three or four varieties of mustards, cappicola ham, and a good salami. She picked up two jars of preservesâapricot and strawberry. To her, this was a meal, but when dealing with such a large group, as she knew from experience, one could never have too much food.
She took a red velvet cake from the enclosed glass case. There wasn't enough time to make something from scratch.
She finished her shopping and stopped to chat with Gloria before heading to the checkout. “I'll use the pasta and pesto for tomorrow night's dinner. I've already got enough food here to feed a small army,” she explained, gesturing at the small cart she'd exchanged for the basket she had picked up when she first arrived.
Gloria laughed. “You love every single minute of the prep, right down to the last detail, and don't try to tell me otherwise. As I've said in the past, anytime you want to come and work for me, a job is yours.”
Molly laughed out loud, the sound foreign to her ears. She didn't have much to laugh about these days. “I don't think Tanner would approve, but thanks for the offer. I have that fancy kitchen, you know. We just remodeled last fall. I'm still searching for some of my pots and misplaced gadgets.” She and Gloria always made small talk, but other than the fact that they shared a love of cooking and each had a daughter, Molly knew virtually nothing about the woman she'd been acquainted with for at least fifteen years. Looking at her watch, she realized she had lingered much too long. She would need at least three hours to prep and prepare dinner. Maybe she would enlist Kristen's help tonight, though she felt sure her daughter had other plans. At seventeen, and it being the summer after her senior year, she rarely spent an evening at home. Tomorrow, Kristen would be leaving for Europe, where she and her best friend, Charlotte, would spend the next two months on a bike-and-barge tour. Tanner didn't approve, but Kristen had begged and pleaded until she got her way. And tomorrow was the big day.
Molly loaded her car with the recyclable bags, careful to arrange them so they didn't topple over. Once she was satisfied, she closed the door. She didn't dare store the fish in the trunk.
Driving back to their house on Riverbend Road, she thought back to the day that she'd first laid eyes on Tanner.
Chapter Four
A
fter three days of rest, Maddy/Molly was ready to get back on the road. She had no clue where she would go, but she hoped to go as far north as her money and the old Mustang would take her. Boston, she thought. She'd often dreamed of attending Harvard.
When the money was gone, then she really would have to settle down and find work, and the Wilkins Motel would be nothing more than a distant memory. She'd packed the clothes she'd purchased at Walmart in the shopping bag they'd provided when she'd purchased them. She put her few toiletry items in a clean wastebasket liner. Promising herself she would burn her prom dress, she removed it from the bottom of the closet and stuffed it in another clean wastebasket liner. She made a promise: as soon as she was settled, she would set fire to that dress. That way, maybe she could burn that night from her memory.
She glanced around the room that had been her home for the past three days, making sure that she had left nothing behind. She scanned the room, then searched the bathroom. The only sign of her was the small sliver of bath soap placed neatly in the soap dish. She'd soaked in the tub twice daily and used her shampoo as bubble bath. She'd loved staying at the motel in spite of the circumstances that had brought her here. Mrs. Wilkins's cleaning crew changed the sheets daily. Fresh towels were given out to all the guests whether they needed them or not. And just as she'd told her when she'd registered three mornings ago, there was fresh coffee from six in the morning until ten. What she hadn't said was that there were also pastries, bagels, muffins, jams, and jellies. The first morning Maddy/Molly had been reluctant even to enter the office, but she needed something in her stomach besides tap water, having spent the entire day and night sleeping. She remembered the coffee and found several guests milling about, with cups of coffee and small paper plates filled with all sorts of goodies. Her stomach growled, and she took two blueberry muffins and a cup of black coffee back to her room. She'd spent the next half hour savoring the muffins, which, she later learned, were prepared by a local bakery and delivered promptly at five in the morning, seven days a week. They were to die for. She didn't remember seeing any type of pastry when she'd checked in, but later she learned that if you didn't make it to the office by six-thirty, there would be nothing left but crumbs. So, for these past three days, she'd stuffed herself with pastries and coffee in the morning, then lounged in her room, enjoying being alone without the fear that Marcus or, as she thought very occasionally, her mother would barge in on her.
She watched television to her heart's content and read the copy of the
Brunswick Times
that was placed outside her door each morning. She had scanned the HELP WANTED section and noticed several possibilities, but this was too close to Blossom City. She wanted more than a few hundred miles between her and her attackers. And, of course, the law.
She put her bags in the trunk before going to the office to return her room key. As usual, Mrs. Wilkins was busy with paperwork. She wore her glasses and looked up when she entered.
“Have you decided to stay longer?” she asked the young woman. Maddy/Molly had told her how much she had enjoyed staying here yesterday as she'd waited her turn for a pastry.
If only
, she thought. “No, I'm heading to my friend's for two weeks, remember?” Why she'd brought up the story that Mrs. Wilkins had probably figured out was a lie, she wasn't sure. Maybe she wanted to be like all the other guests who had a clear destination. “I came in to give you back the room key, and to thank you. This is the nicest motel I've ever stayed in.” Her heart fluttered when she realized what she'd said. Not wanting to listen to Mrs. Wilkins's probing questions, or see that look of suspicion in her eye, she said, “On this trip. Of course I have stayed in fancy hotels, but this was . . . uh nice. For this town.”
Mrs. Wilkins smiled and shook her head. “That's good to know. Make sure you spread the word. Now, young lady, if you wish to stay with us at another time, the front desk will be open all night during the summer months.”
Maddy smiled, and said. “Thanks, but I'm off to college in two weeks. I'm staying at the dorm.” Before she spurted out another lie, she turned around and walked out the door, giving a quick wave to Mrs. Wilkins. Yes, this had been a nice place to stay when it was the only motel you'd ever stayed in. In the future, she would have to be very careful, watch every word she said, because if she didn't, her freedom could be taken away in the blink of an eye.
Before she pulled out onto Main Street, she counted her cash again. She had four hundred and fifty-five dollars left after paying for her motel room, clothing, incidentals, and gas. She figured gas averaged about a dollar twenty a gallon. The Mustang didn't have the greatest record as a gas saver, but she'd been getting around twenty miles a gallon on the open road. She roughly calculated that she had enough money to get her to Boston. She'd always had Harvard on her brain and thought this would be as good a place as any to start her new life. Once she'd had dreams of attending the esteemed university. Now she knew that that would never happen, but nothing said she could not live nearby and dream, did it?
In the beginning, she planned on getting some kind of menial job, save her money, and sleep in her car. If she didn't like the town or the job, she would move on. With this sketchy plan in mind, she pulled onto Main Street and headed for the interstate.
Wednesday-morning traffic on State Road 25 was minimal. She'd filled the Mustang up in Brunswick, then grabbed a large black coffee and two blueberry muffins in a cellophane package. She munched on one as she drove along at a safe speed of fifty miles per hour. If she'd expected these to taste like the muffins at the hotelâwhich she hadn't, but if she hadâshe would have been greatly disappointed. These tasted like the cellophane in which they were wrapped. Still, she ate the second one, too. Not because she was particularly hungry but because she wasn't wasteful.
She remembered what hunger was like.
Driving down the long stretch of open road, memories of her life in Blossom City came to her in flashes, like random bits from a movie reel. It seemed she had always been hungry. Maddy recalled the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach the times when it had been empty, the many times when even a cracker would have sufficed. How a mother could allow her child to suffer like that, she still hadn't figured out. But one thing she did know: when and if she ever had a child, she vowed to be the best mother she could be.
She'd been driving for a few hours when she made a quick stop in Florence, South Carolina. She liked the name, but still, it wasn't far enough. She filled her gas tank, bought a soda and a pack of peanut-butter crackers, then returned to I-95.
She cruised along, staying in the right-hand lane, carefully following all the traffic laws. Again, her thoughts returned to Blossom City and her sad life there.
She recalled a time years agoâshe had to have been around eleven or twelveâwhen her mother had decided to take her and Marcus to Texas, telling them she had come into a large inheritance. Florida to Texas had been a long, boring car ride, she recalled. Her mother stopped only when they needed to gas up or use the restroom, but that was it. Not once had they stopped for a meal. Not even a quick stop at a fast-food restaurant. Maddy remembered being so hungry she'd rummaged through her mother's purse when she'd been given instructions to keep her eye on it while her mother went to the restroom. Her mother's purse was always off-limits to her. If her mother had caught her even looking at her purse, there would have been hell to pay. She never knew why, maybe she'd been hiding drugs or something equally bad, but she knew she'd be in a heap of trouble if her mother caught her rummaging through her purse.
She'd looked in the front seat to make sure Marcus was still slumped against the passenger door sleeping. He was. Drool dangled from his chin, and his mouth hung open like a door. He was out like a light. Quickly, she crammed her hand inside her mother's purse, using her fingers to feel around for the loose change her mother always tossed in her purse when she was in a hurry, which seemed like most of the time on this trip. She scooped up a handful of change and quickly sneaked inside the service station, where she saw a vending machine. She dropped thirty-five cents in and pulled on a knobbed handle. A package of Chuckles dropped to the bottom, and she grabbed it and hurried back to the car before her mother returned. She'd tucked the candies inside her shorts. Her heart was beating so loudly, she was sure her mother would hear it when she returned, but she'd ignored her as usual, grabbed a cigarette from her purse, and continued their long drive to Texas.
Years later she would learn that her mother, Lenore, which is what she preferred Maddy to call her, had learned that her own mother, Maddy's grandmother, had passed away. A life insurance policy had listed Lenore as the sole beneficiary to the tune of a measly five hundred dollars. Her mother had thrown a hellacious fit when she'd left her grandmother's attorney's office. She'd raised hell the entire ride back to Blossom City. Scared to utter a word, Maddy had focused on allotting herself one Chuckle every four hours. If she could keep this up, the jellied fake-fruit squares would ward off the hunger pains until they reached Blossom City. There, she knew she would get at least one meal a day at school.
She didn't care that she was on the free lunch program and that several of her classmates whispered behind her back when she held out the pale-green meal card for the lunch lady to punch. Everyone knew the pale-green cards were for the poor white trash. She'd been humiliated when she was old enough to realize her family life was very different from that of most of her classmates. But when your stomach kept you awake most of the night, and drinking well water from the bathroom sink didn't cure your hunger, humiliation was a small price to pay for a full stomach, even if it was only one meal a day. Sometimes her friend Cassie, who got free lunches, too, would save a roll for her and slip it to her, wrapped in a napkin, beneath the table in the cafeteria. She'd always thanked her, and Cassie and she had been best of friends until Cassie's family moved away when they were in sixth grade.
After Cassie left Blossom City, there were no more yeast rolls to stave off the hunger at night. It wasn't too bad, really. She hardly ever saw her mother, had no clue if she even had a job, or why she only occasionally made an appearance at home, but Marcus always had a pocketful of money, and he never complained about being hungry. She suspected he stole from various people, but if she were to tell this to their mother, again there would be hell to pay.
By the time she was thirteen, Maddy had started offering babysitting services to a few families in the trailer park. Word got around. She was good to the kids, they all seemed to like her, and she could change a diaper like a pro and never complained when it was messy. With this job, she earned enough money to keep a few nonperishable food items hidden in her closet-size bedroom. If she had any cash left over, she would hide it, knowing the day would come when she would need it.
That day came at the beginning of seventh grade. While the junior high school provided textbooks for all of her classes, three of those classesâEnglish, math, and scienceârequired the students to purchase the accompanying workbooks. These were sold in the school bookstore. Maddy knew she had enough money stashed from her babysitting to pay for the workbooks, so she didn't think too much about it until the next morning when she pulled out the small jewelry box hidden inside a shoe box at the back of her tiny closet and saw that it had been emptied. She cried, and for the first time, she wished she were someone else, someone who belonged to a loving, kind family.
She recalled the humiliation she'd felt when her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Swan, took out a supply of last year's workbooks and gave a set to her after she had erased a former student's answers. She'd been thankful but still wished for a real family. A mother and a father. Parents who paid for her school supplies. Parents who made sure she never went to bed hungry, and parents who loved her.
More than anything, Maddy wished that her mother loved her. The other things really weren't all that important, but she guessed that if she had a mother who truly loved her, having things she needed would be taken care of. She'd had neither, and she accepted her life, though as she grew older, she became more aware of her mother and her mother's actions.
Put simply, her mother was a whore and a drug addict. She only cared about the next man, and it didn't matter who he was as long as he could provide her with drugs, alcohol, and a place to flop when she needed one.
By the time Maddy was fifteen, she had three part-time jobs as well as continuing with school, studying as hard as she could, and making straight As. It was then that she'd started paying rent on the trailer. She'd thought her mother owned the tin box, and she had at one time, but she'd sold it to some guy for a wad of cash on the condition her kids could live there, explaining to him that her daughter would pay the rent. It was a great deal for her mother. It was a terrible deal for Maddy, but she didn't really have much choice.
But now, she thought, as she continued down I-95, she had a choice. And she was not going to live like white trash ever again.
She'd arrived in Boston at four o'clock the next morning. Exhausted, she'd driven through the city, stopping in Cambridge, just north of Boston, at an all-night diner near Harvard, a place called Lou's. It reminded her of the diner on
Happy Days
. She and Cassie had spent many hours laughing at the characters' antics, both secretly wishing for the normal and often silly lives of the characters they admired so much.