“Stephen, now isn’t really—”
“I like you,” he said, cutting her off before she could stop him from saying anything. “I like you a lot. You’re pretty and you’re different, and I know you don’t want to get into anything, but I’d like to date you. You know, you and me. I promise I won’t push you, because I get that you’re skittish about guys or whatever, but really, that’s okay. I’d just like to see you and see where it goes. No pressure.”
Madeline sagged against the outside wall of the Squeaky Clean Laundromat, where she happened to be standing. Stephen was a great guy, and any woman would be crazy not to be into him. But Madeline wasn’t. This is what she always did. She would go out with a guy a few times and then disappear. The one time she hadn’t done that, the one time she’d tried to be a “girlfriend” to a guy named Trystan, he’d dumped her. He’d said he wasn’t feeling it, whatever that meant. Madeline hadn’t felt as devastated by that as she’d felt validated in what she believed about men.
But now, an image of Luke jumped into her mind, which she tried to push out. She didn’t understand herself, or the fist in her belly when she talked to Stephen or thought of Luke, and honestly, she was too exhausted to even try at the moment. “I have so much on my mind right now,” she said.
“Sure, sure,” Stephen said. “But I just want you to know, that whatever it is you are going through, I want to help. Or not. And everything can wait until you get back.”
“Thanks, I just need to take care of a couple of things.”
“I know. Do what you need to do. I’ll text you the name of this guy.”
She thanked him and hung up. She didn’t want to think too much right now. And besides, her feet hurt. Madeline walked on to Tag’s Outfitters.
She had to duck her head to step into the place, which looked as if it might have been an adobe barn at one point. The ceiling was very low, the wooden beams exposed. Someone had thought it a good idea to suspend billed hats from the beams. There were dozens and dozens of them, hanging only inches over her head. The windows were small and rectangular, and the only real light came from a glaring fluorescent tube that stretched across the ceiling between the hats.
An old man with long gray hair and a longer gray beard was sitting on a stool behind the counter. He wore a stained sun hat and in his hair a feather that looked as if it had been plucked from a very large bird of prey. He glanced up at Madeline only briefly, then lowered his gaze to what looked like a sudoku puzzle, his pen poised above it.
“Ah… Danielle at the Grizzly Inn said you might have some clothes and things?”
Without lifting his gaze he said, “Got everything you need for living in the mountains. Ladies’ section in the back.”
Madeline looked around the store. There was no clear “back” to the store, just lots of meandering aisles through stacks of boxes. She looked at the man behind the counter. He made a mark on his puzzle.
She started down one path through boxes piled to near the ceiling, some of them leaning precariously. But at the end of that row, Madeline was rewarded with six round racks full of women’s clothing. There was a closet with a curtain pulled across it that she supposed was the dressing room, and a surprisingly cheerful little rug just outside of it.
She perused the racks, sorting through sundresses with skimpy straps and brightly printed fabrics, T-shirts emblazoned with inspirational slogans and mystic symbols, hiking wear, and jeans. Madeline was not much of a shopper. She did not enjoy spending the money she made. She was guided by the fear that something horrible would happen—like her mother would land in a hospital after one of her nights of partying, with no insurance and poor health—and she would need every penny she ever made.
But today, Madeline decided she could use a little retail therapy. She picked up two of the sundresses, some hiking pants, a pair of jeans, and some T-shirts. She stepped into the dressing room to try them on. They were not her usual style, but one of the dresses reminded her of her blue dress at home. This one was red with white polka dots, and it floated around Madeline’s knees the way Emma’s skirt had floated around hers. Why not? Madeline thought, and smiled at her reflection. Why not wear a frilly dress?
She tried on the other clothes, and happy with her picks, made her way to the front of the store to purchase the items, including a sweater with pretty beading on it she found on the way up the aisle.
She deposited her things on the counter.
“That it?” the man asked, putting aside his magazine.
“No,” Madeline said. “I need shoes.”
The old man perked up at that, clearly interested in the prospect of selling shoes. “What kind?”
“Something practical for walking.”
He eyed her curiously. “What kind of walking? Pavement or trail? Improved or unimproved? Hilly or flat?”