Wandering Lost: Part 9
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DAY NINE
Jensen tries not to be insulted that Jared is gone.
He woke to an empty bed and only found Mrs. G. downstairs preparing breakfast. When he asks her about Jared, she insists he had a packed day around town, and that he headed out with an egg and bacon sandwich to get started early.
She also relays the news that the Ford is ready.
This is it, he thinks. This is really the end.
*
At Dingy Dick’s, Richard says the truck is all set. Even points out the spic-n-span wash and wax he gave it.
“What do I owe you?” Jensen asks, and Richard immediately shakes him off. “No, seriously, what’s the bill?”
Richard downs a cup of coffee and rubs at the spots where his mustache is all wet. “Jared took care of that.”
“He did,” Jensen says more than asks.
“He’s a good fella, you know?. Always ready to lend a helping hand to those in need.”
In a flash, Jensen feels his skin burn at the memories of the last two nights when Jared surely put his hands to use, helped out Jensen in a big way.
Richard breaks the silence with a surprisingly concerned, “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He holds his head high and faces the mechanic head-on while admitting, “I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“Good guy. Really good guy,” Richard reiterates.
Jensen looks away, losing himself in thought. “Can’t argue with that.”
Richard stares for quite a long time, and Jensen lets the room fill with awkward silence while he works on his breathing, steadies his mind, so the next time he talks, he doesn’t sound like he’s about to lose it, all over Jared doing yet another good deed.
“You wanna see the truck?” Richard offers, pointing to the garage.
Jensen moves sluggishly. There are many things he’d rather be doing than getting back in that truck. It’s a strange realization when he thinks about the Ford being the reason he was stuck here in the first place. Now it’s about to take him far away from Paradise.
He halfway wishes it won’t start.
***
Jensen makes his last rounds of goodbyes, trying not to acknowledge the tension in his chest when Briana hugs him with tight arms around his neck, or when Kim slaps him on the back and makes him promise to come back and visit sometime.
His last stop is the inn to pay Mrs. G for his stay in her guest room.
She’s in the kitchen mixing a new batch of brownie batter, floral and frilly apron askew around her neck and streaks of melted chocolate on her cheek. Jensen smiles at the state she’s in and immediately regrets having to tell her he’s leaving.
“Okay,” she says simply once he gets the words out.
“Okay?” Jensen parrots back.
Mrs. G shrugs. “People come and go. But the memory remains.”
Keeping his defenses at half mast, Jensen hugs her, holds tight and smells the chocolate on her, commits that to memory. Because she was the very first person here to be honest and helpful, without strings attached. Without any ulterior motives or attitude.
When they break apart, she rubs her palm over his chest. “Your memory will remain.”
His throat is thick with emotion, and he wonders how this sweet old woman isn’t crying. Beats himself up that he kind of wants to do just that for the both of them.
“Here, I want you to take this.” He offers the wad of cash in his hand.
“What for?”
“For my stay.”
“No need for that, darling. It was fun while it lasted.”
He puts the money in her hands, but she pulls them away and lets the bills drop to the floor. “No, really, I insist.”
“You’ll need that money more than I will once you’re back on the road.”
“I have cards I can use then. Take this.”
She ignores every request to take the money. She says the pleasure was all hers, and he feels a few more tears prickle the corner of one eye.
“No, really. You fed me and washed clothes and everything. At least let me pay you for the food. For the water in the shower and whatever else I used that you wouldn’t have if I wasn’t here.”
“Oh honey,” she sighs with a pat on his cheek. The term of endearment is rather … endearing. Rather than awkward and sugary. His stomach twists with the thought. “The real gift was in having your company.”
“Please let me pay. I insist.”
“You don’t need to pay.”
“I have to. Please let me.”
“It’s all taken care of.”
He stops now and blinks. Feels a heavy weight hang on his shoulders. “Jared paid you,” realizes. Guilt builds deep in the pit of his stomach, and his walls rise quickly. He hadn’t intended for Jared to pay for anything. He would have rather had a proper goodbye with him. “You can give his money back and take mine.”
Mrs. G. shakes her head while moving to the far end of the counter. She steps back to him carrying a china plate covered in plastic, holding a pile of double chocolate chip cookies in place. “You take this.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“You can. And you will.”
“You made those for yourself.” Jensen chuckles awkwardly. “Or Jared. It’s probably his payment.”
“I made them for you.”
“Why?”
She purses her lips like any good mother would when facing a petulant child. “Because you said you liked them, and I’m terrible at pie. Surely you can grab one of Briana’s on your way out.”
He bites the inside of his mouth as he considers having to say goodbye to her, too. Surely it won’t be as easy as this … if this is even that easy for him to turn away.
Even if he wanted to stay, stick around and deal with whatever could happen with Jared day after day, Jensen has to get the truck to Beaver. It’s the whole reason he wound up here. He knows he needs to - wants to - see it through to the end. Owes it to the old man. And deserves the fine wages for surviving this long, burdened by the truck.
On his way out of the inn, saddled with his backpack, the plate of cookies, and a few Tupperware containers of fresh ham and roast beef sandwiches, Jensen stops at the front counter just long enough to grab a flier for the business. He’ll send Mrs. G. some of Beaver’s paycheck once he’s back on the East Coast. She can’t deny the offer when he’s two time zones away.
Surely, she can deposit it in one of her fifteen bank accounts.
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