I smiled to let her know I was teasing and to try to lighten the tone. I had a good idea that some variation of the "rides cost gas, grass, or ass" speech had prompted her to bail in a service station. "But that's still, I don't know, ten miles from here?"

"One of the women at the diner there was nice and told me the hardware store down here had a Help Wanted sign. She dropped me off on her way home."

"They weren't hiring? I thought they were too."

She shrugged. "They had a sign up but they told me no. I think I wasn't quite what they were looking for. Maybe two days without a shower ... I don't know." I could see her eyes welling a bit. "I can't seem to catch a break lately."

I looked away so as not to embarrass her further. I heard her sigh and saw a quick wipe of her eyes out of the corner of my vision. "Probably just as well," she said. "I never even thought about the fact that small towns wouldn't have youth hostels or anything. Anyway," she stood up, "if you'll let me out, I should get going. Do you know when the bus comes through?"

"Not really. You have money for the fare?"

"Since I ate for free," she flushed at that, "yeah, enough for Pittsburgh." She looked down at her sneakers and then back to my face. "Thank you for what you did and for, well, not calling the cops last night."

I nodded. "Why Pittsburgh?"

She shrugged. "Cities have jobs and cheap places to crash. Hopefully, I can find one. Other than that, it's just a stop on the way to Florida."

"Okay." We walked out into the hall, and I unlocked the front door as she scooped up her pack. "Hey, Madison, look at me a second." She turned, puzzled. "Is there anything in that pack," I asked, watching her eyes, "that I'm going to be pissed off is missing later today?"

I saw the offended expression. "I promised I wouldn't steal from you! Especially after what you've done. I may be a little desperate, but I'm not an asshole!"

I raised my hands. "Fair enough."

I could tell she was still indignant, but she forced a smile and put out her hand to shake. "Thanks ... oh ... I don't even know your name."

"Will."

"Well, thank you, Will. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a while, that's for sure." I watched her walk down my sidewalk and turn toward the bus stop.

Two hours later I headed over to Underwood for my daily late-morning coffee, jamming along to Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" at full volume, when I saw the figure huddled in the bus stop shelter. Killing the volume, I rolled down the passenger window. "Problem?" I called.

She shook her head. "Bus comes at eleven twenty-five."

I pulled the car farther onto the shoulder, moving down so I wasn't in the marked area. Leaving the engine running, I got out and waved to her. She didn't move so I walked back. "Come on. Sit in the car. It's freezing out here."

"I'm okay."

I shook my head in exasperation, reached, and snagged her pack off the bench. She still had fast reflexes but her hands had been up inside her sleeves and I got it cleanly. "Come on," I ordered. She trotted after me and docilely climbed into the passenger side after I tossed her pack in the back. I flipped the blower on high and pushed the middle vent to point directly at her.

Honestly, all I had intended up to that point was to keep someone obviously down on their luck from freezing. I could wait for my coffee and Danish long enough to do that. But then a car swung out to go around my parked truck, and I saw Mrs. Thompson look over. I nodded in greeting. When she saw who it was, she looked away without acknowledging me.

The familiar conflict started: "Fuck you, I don't need your fucking approval" at war with "I'll show you."

I knew myself. That conflict would never end because neither side of it was true enough to beat the other. I loved living in a place where my roots ran back generations, and saying "fuck you" to it wasn't living there. And how do you show people who can't be bothered to see, who heard something and made up their minds and then closed them?

I looked at Madison. And a back-eddy in the maelstrom of my mind let the second side in my private, internal war emerge victorious ... at least, for today's battle.

"Do you just need a job?"

"Why? Are you hiring someone?"

"No." I watched the momentary hope fade as quickly as it came on. I pulled out my phone.

"Hi, Carrie, it's Will Dannreuther. How are you and the boys?"

The throaty voice that always sounded as if it was on the verge of a chuckle came back, "Fine, Will. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. Hey, the reason I called is, are you still looking for someone to help out?" Madison's eyes went wide at hearing that.

"Yes, I am."

"Would you be willing to consider someone if I brought her by?"

"A friend of yours?"

"Well, more like someone I happen to know, but she's eighteen and could use a job right now."

"Sure, stop by."

"Great. I'll be by in a few. Thanks, Carrie."

I looked over at Madison. "Carrie Schaeffer owns a stable just down the road. She's a grandmother and caring for her two grandsons while her daughter is deployed abroad. She's looking for someone to man the desk in the afternoons and early evenings while she deals with the kids. You don't have to know anything about horses. She has a groom for that."

She looked uncertain. "What do motels here cost for a day, and is there even one in walking distance?"

"You can stay in my guest room. Give me whatever Carrie pays you for an hour's work a day to cover your food and whatnot and we'll call it even. You'll have enough for a Florida ticket in a week or so."

I could see the undercurrent of wariness, more muted today, but still there. "Why are you doing this?"

I shrugged. "Doesn't cost me anything to be helpful," I said. I let her process it ... let her work up her nerve, more likely ... then reach a conclusion based upon last night's events. At her nod, I headed over to Bothwell Farm Stables. 

I wandered into the barn while she went into the office. Like a lot of local kids, I'd worked here one summer, stall-mucker and hay-spreader. It wasn't my favorite job, but it did earn me a down payment on my first truck. If only Caroline Frey, who rode exercise, had noticed me, it would have been a good time. But nerdy sixteen-year-olds aren't high on pretty seventeen-year-old girls' priority lists.

Down the long row, I saw a woman come out of a stall, bundled up against the cold like I was and carrying a bag. She gave me a perfunctory smile as she passed by on her way to the office. "Carrie's interviewing someone right now," I said, as she reached for the door handle. She turned back to me and I suddenly felt rude. "Sorry, I shouldn't have butted in like that."

She shook her head. "It's okay. I'm not in a hurry." She flopped down on the bench outside the office, setting her bag at her feet.

I noticed the caduceus emblem with the V over it. "You don't look like Jim Harvey."

Her eyebrows went up. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. I could hear the brush-off and read the body language of eyes that met mine precisely as long as it took to say that and then looked away. I gave her a smile that was probably ninety-five percent grimace and stepped outside. Somehow, the chill from the gust of wind that slipped under the neck of my jacket seemed warmer than the metaphorical one inside.

Half an hour later Madison came back out, looking happier than I'd seen her. "Five hours a day," she said.

"More than I expected. I hope you were honest with Carrie that it's a short-term thing?"

She nodded. "I explained. She said we'd deal with that when it came up."

She was quiet the rest of the trip to the diner for the long-delayed coffee. We got a booth and ordered some food since it was later than I normally came in. Then we sat in silence for a while. To me, it was normal, but she looked uncomfortable. I figured I might as well find out more about my unexpected housemate.

"Where are you from?"

"Oregon." That was a surprise. Even though the birth certificate tucked in her pack had said she was born in Medford, I'd assumed she was more local now. "I know, long way away," she said. "I came out to Boston to see my dad. I saw him but it was only for a short visit and here I am."

"But not heading back to Oregon?"

She shook her head, toying with her spoon. I wasn't sure where to go from there. Asking, "Why not?" seemed intrusive so I tried, "No other family?"

"In Oregon." Oh. The flat tone let me know I'd stepped in it. She glanced up at my face then looked away out the window. "I'm not wanted by the cops or anything if that's what you're thinking."