Where Would I Be Without You

Sample Chapters of Settled For The Special

Chapter One

The pounding rain had created slick muddy roads that were not boding well for decent driving in my small commuter car. The ten-inch tires and great gas mileage worked well in my daily commutes back home but for this barren land on the drive into Hope Spring Falls, WY, it was singing a different tune. My silver four-door commuter car was all mud covered, and my tires kept sliding in the ruts. My knuckles were white and my fingers blue from the death grip I had from holding on to the steering wheel for the last hour.

To help keep a calming reserve to my mental status, I spoke aloud to myself. "Hope Forrester, how the heck do you keep getting yourself into this mess?" I took a moment to look into my rearview mirror and noticed the red rim of my cried out eyes. My brown hair appeared to be in a bit of disheveled mess in a ponytail about to fall out. I pulled out the band that had held my hair up and ran a hand quickly through it before needing to grasp the steering wheel tightly again.

I kept asking myself mentally, over and over, why I felt the need to pack up, leave my well-paid job and move to the first place that looked well, hopeful for a new beginning. On the map, it looked close to civilization but far enough away from my troubles, that I would feel safe. This four-hour drive was turning into six with all the high winds and low visibility from this unsuspecting terrible storm.

With the constant words of ‘WHY?’ circling my brain, my hands were suddenly forced to turn the wheel into the ditch as a resounding ‘pop’ exploded under my car.

“For the love of Pete!” I hollered at myself, inside my car. No amount of soothing country music on my car speakers was going to cheer me up. I was sure the pop was a flat, and I was in a ditch no bigger than a foot deep. Nevertheless, that foot might as well felt like the canyon lands with my small tires spinning in mud as I tried to ease back up on the main road to have a flat surface to change my tire.

With one hand, I shut off my car and then reached over and turned down the happy-go-lucky country songs I had been trying to listen to in hope that music would cheer me up. I reached down to my floorboard to locate my cell phone in my purse; I heard the load drum of tires from a cattleman’s truck quickly blazing by my car in the ditch. By the time I sat upright, it was red taillight city. I gave a middle finger salute to the decent human being in the truck as their taillights faded fast into the drizzling rainy night. I prayed cell service to call my new landlord and ask for help, because without cell service, I would be, well, in a ditch.

Oddly enough when I located Hope Spring Falls on the map, I had no idea what to expect. Only the heart filled, cheery words of the woman, who the real estate agent put me in touch with to rent from. A home that was just about the only available home. Julie Hoffman, my new landlord, talked like a prom queen recipient and made Hope Springs Falls out to be the home of Andy Griffin and Gomer Pile, a real Mayberry experience. A white picket community with cherry pie festivals and true all American lure. I was sold on the appeal of a laid-back break from my very chaotic life that just happened. I didn’t ask why the all American prom queen had her house up for rent; I was just glad it was.

Since Julie Hoffman’s cell number was the only local number I had, I went ahead and dialed it hoping she was home, and could help me get a tow truck. By the fifth ring, I was about to give up knowing a message would kick in on the next ring. I started to cry inwardly with just the feel of the tears streaming down my face. I couldn't hold back the emotions as I felt so raw from everything that just recently happened to me.

The sappy sweetness of Julie’s breathy voice yanked me out of my dark spiraling hole I felt like crawling into. “Hope. Honey is that you? Are you there? I couldn’t find my silly phone in this cute new knock off purse I bought on the strip yesterday.”

I listened to her rambling on and realized I had not even breathed a word. That Julie must have recognized me by caller I.D. on her phone, and if I did not talk quick, I might not get a word in. “Julie! I’m stuck out on the county road with a flat, and my car drove itself into a ditch!”

“Oh my! Listen I am in L.A., but I can call the local tow service, Walker Towing. Listen I don’t have my phone list on this adorable new phone I just got. Call information and ask for the home number of Bob Walker, and if he isn’t there, call the Walker Café. Bob and Cindy run the main local eats. Listen I gotta run, my Bob, my fiancé Bob, just walked in. I think I told you that I am engaged to be married. If not, listen, I will call tomorrow to see how you’re settling in. Have any problems, call Cindy at the cafe, and she’ll set you right up. Bye now!”

The click of her call was all I heard. The fast smooth talk, from the prom queen high on love and engagement, and then click, she was gone. Just like my life. Just like the moment I walked in on my lover and boss, Hugh Finley, of Morris, Parks and Finley Law Firm –my employers. Hugh was doing some type of desktop tango with non-other than his snotty, always deviant, secretary, Ms. Nelson. Little petite domestic diva, Ms. Nelson, who always seemed to forget that my personal messages needed to get to the top of the pile to Hugh. Moreover, the second I saw him pounding his secretary, in the sexual tense, over his desk it all came clear. The constant need for him to be working later hours, with new clients I never heard of, in board meetings.

His only explanation, as I laid my notice of leave on his desk, was that his secretary meant nothing to him. He just saw her as the perfect housewife to his attorney lifestyle, and I was the one he truly loved. That they could make this threesome work. Wow, that was the blow that sunk the titanic. I had to wonder what I ever saw in that man.

My tough thick skin attitude that I acquired through my life from being raised by a poor single mom did not allow the emotions to surface. I just laid my resignation on his desk and turned with my already packed suitcase and two letters of recommendation from the other partners, which were good, as long as I did not sue the company. Along with a nice year's salary pay, to hush my lips while I was at it.

I knew the drill and heard of it happening to others, but never did I think it would happen to my street-smart brain. If this is where romance and love led you, in the ditch, on a county road to a Podunk town in the middle of rancher land, then I did not need love or romance anymore. I just needed a short leave of absence to clear my head. The six-month lease I had to sign was not one I intended on staying in the full time but would pay the renter out. I was very happy to find out that my landlord left the house fully stocked with essentials and furniture, letting me leave most of my belongings in storage. That should make my temporary transition of what to do with my life next, that much easier. At this point, I didn't know if I wanted to go back or move forward and start anew somewhere else.

Just as I dialed information, the brightness of headlights illuminated my car, and it looked like a tow truck. ‘Thank you guardian angel!’ I spoke to myself to reassure my nerves. I wiped my eyes of any mascara runs and ran a few fingers through my messy hair.

Things were looking up, and I was bound and determined to get back on my feet.

If I had not known better, I would think that I had found the male version of the chattiest and friendliest man on the face of the earth. With only two hundred or so questions under his belt firing off like a machine gun, I had to smile.

The way he greeted me by name, I could only assume that Julie had reached Mr. Walker, proud owner of Walker Towing and Walker Café with a small cattle ranch at the end of town.

His round face and balding head matched his round body and chubby hands holding on to the steering wheel of his towing truck as we drove slowly into town.

I was not sure how many of his questions I wanted to answer but the man seemed rather inquisitive. I hoped the rest of the town was not as nosey, as I really wanted to get over my recent failure and setback as I was internally calling it. Trying to figure out the next step in my career was rather foggy as I didn’t see myself moving back to Utah to live with my mom and working in Denver, in property lawsuits, might run me into Mr. Hugh Finley, the hoodwink.

Nope, pulling out the US map after drinking the two hundred bottle of wine, I snuck out of Finley’s finest liquor cabinet, held only for his best paying clients, felt like the right thing to do. When I covered my hand over my eyes and used my other hand to roll circles over the map, I counted to ten with a pointed finger and landed on Hope Springs Falls, WY. After several minutes of drunken giggles, I pulled the city up on-line and found a real estate agent that lived in the next town over. Now I was miles from nowhere and renting from the local prom queen. Somehow, I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

With the rapid succession of Mr. Walker’s questions, I answered as few as possible with the least amount of information. I had better spend some time getting a story together while I was here otherwise my stay might be the talk of the town.

‘Newcomer to Hope Springs Falls finds her boss bopping his secretary just after he promised her partnership when he last bopped her, more at nine.’ I could envision the local news now. My friggin life, for all to chat about, while I wallow in tears of pity.

I never imagined I would be in this type of predicament, but hightailing it away from Hugh was my best option. Because something about him made me feel secure and comfortable until he dropped the bombshell idea that he marries miss quite contrary, but that I stay on and make partner, and be his mistress. At some point, I even considered myself in love with that man. However, at the drop of his offer that all changed. I was just afraid that if I stayed anywhere close to him; I might actually consider committing a crime I might not want to pay for.

Three days of packing and planning and I started to see the light. How I always fell for the smooth talkers, the handsome men who could lead me astray from my independent ways. Now I was not going to make that mistake again. At the early age of thirty, I could easily rebuild my career elsewhere and think about marriage and kids much later. A lot of women my age were doing it more and more. For me, it only made sense.

I wanted kids, but I wanted a career first and having kids without a good-paying career under foot was not an option for me. I watched my mom, scrimp, save and work three jobs to make ends meet. As far as my father went, I only knew him as a man who made a mistake. It was not until my thirtieth birthday that my mother took the time to explain the rape and physical damage the man left on my mom. That what kept my mom alive all those days in the hospital recovering, was the fact that she found out she was pregnant. With that fact, my mother told me that hope had sprung within her, and that she had decided from the moment she found out, if her baby was a girl, she would name her Hope. Knowing this was a sign from an angel that sometimes good can come from the bad.

Right now, I was hoping the fact that my fancy manicured nail landed right on this Mayberry town and sharing its name meant one thing, there was hope for my future.

Now I could only put all the facts of my hard-lived life together six months ago and oddly enough, that was when my affair with my boss began. I wondered if it was a way for me to escape the horror that my biological father was a monster, or if I felt the need to create some roots of my own. In either case, I now knew that Hugh Finley was definitely not fathering material, and I was going to heal my soul and make the best of a bad situation by creating a plan to move on.

With a cheery voice breaking my thought of past mistakes, I turned and smiled at the jovial man. “Well Hope, welcome to Hope Springs Falls, WY. I’m sure you’ll like it here. We all do.”

I had to smile. The man was a walking, talking advertisement for this town with his robust voice and red cherry lip smile made me want to toss a white wig and beard on him followed by a red velvet hat. “Where are we?” I asked as it looked as if he had pulled in front of a café. WALKER CAFÉ. Big Roman print letters painted on the window along with the specials for $2.99.

“I figured you could use a hot meal and cup of coffee to warm you up. This here is Cindy and mines café. Owned and operated since we graduated high school together. Married thirty-five years with three kids, five grand kids and couple dogs. Any hoot, Jerry, the mechanic is on one of his drinking binges so when he sobers up tomorrow he will just unhook your car from my tow truck and fix you right on up. His shop is just across the street.”

“That’s alright I can change my own flat tire. If you want to just lower my car off your tow truck, I can change it.” The last thing I wanted was to be without my car. Besides, all my luggage was in the backseat.

“No can do. Once I got your car out of the ditch, I noticed your axle was bent. Nope. Jerry is gonna need to straighten it out. You go on in. Cindy’s expecting ya. I’ll put all your belongings into our minivan over there and drive you on over to Julie’s place you're renting, after you’ve had a good meal. No trouble at all. You just go on in.”

I smiled a sincere smile and figured the man was Chris Cringle or a descendent there of. Nothing cuter than a grandparent with a minivan.

Taking a quick look up and down the street while seated in the front of the tow truck, I noticed the small-town appeal. Quaint shops and storefronts with benches and potted flowers out front, stretched up and down the street as far as I could see in the drizzling rain. No fast food drive-through or quick-stop gas stations, at least not along the strip of Main Street, I was looking at.

The rain was slowing and the wind was not blowing as hard, but if I was going to make it inside the café without getting soaked, I was going to have to make a mad dash for it in my denim skirt and white canvas tennis shoes.

Mr. Walker already pulled his minivan up next to my car and was unloading my things. I wanted to help or do it myself, but just from our short drive; I figured he was the type of man who would want to do it himself plus the fact he would have to bill me seventy dollars for the tow. He probably wouldn't have felt right taking my money if I didn't let him set about to do his job.

With a quick open of his tow truck door, I ran for the front door of the café and almost made it.