Just Past Oysterville: Shoalwater Book One by Perry P. Perkins Page A

deep breath and leaned against the back of the
van for a moment. Planning to ask someone
if, oh by the way, did they mind driving
her halfway across the country , had
been one thing. Now, faced with the reality of the moment, she
actually had to walk up to a total stranger who, oh by the way,
hopefully wasn’t a serial killer, and ask for a ride .
    Once she had gathered her courage, Cassie
glanced at the rear window and, after wiping some of the dirt off
with her sleeve, peered into the back of the van.
    In the darkness, she could make out several
closed cardboard boxes, a couple of sleeping bags and an even
larger collection of drive-thru refuse. Stepping away, Cassie
glanced around and, seeing no one, stashed her duffel bag under the
dumpster behind the café. After pulling some flattened cardboard
over the top of it and checking from several angles, Cassie nodded,
satisfied that it would remain hidden for the short time she was
inside.
    Continuing around the side
of the building to the front door, Cassie passed though the tiled
entryway, lined with newspaper boxes and penny-candy machines,
around the Please Wait to be
Seated sign, and into the
restaurant.
    Most of the coffee bar and many of the
booths were taken by lone occupants. Truckers, who read their books
or magazines, ate in silence, or just dozed over their coffee cups.
Near the end of the aisle, Cassie could see the back of a
white-haired head above the seat cushions and the empty arm of a
brown leather jacket hanging off the bench on the far side of the
table.
    She took a deep breath as she walked
tremulously toward the man. The smell of French fries and strong
coffee dominated the room. Cassie tried to focus on these
observations and not on the knot that was developing in her
stomach. She reached the table, turned to face the driver of the
van and, suddenly, found herself unable to speak. The man looked to
be in his early fifties, his face weather-lined and tanned. He kept
reading his book for a moment or two and then, after slowly
slipping a finger between the pages, he glanced up at Cassie over
his reading glasses.
    As soon as his gaze met hers he seemed to
jerk slightly in his seat, his eyes grew wide, his face pale, then
he blinked, and whatever had come over him passed. Head to toe, his
eyes took her in for a long moment and, under any other
circumstances, Cassie would have blushed, but something in his
manner made it clear that his stare was nothing inappropriate.
    “ Did you forget your
uniform?” he asked, in a soft baritone, “and my coffee?”
    Cassie stood, blinking and dumbfounded, for
a moment, trying to decipher what the man was talking about.
    “ No,” Cassie stammered, “I’m
not here…I mean, I don’t work here. I’m not a waitress!”
    “ Oh?”
    “ No, I’m not. I was just
wondering if you minded, I mean if I could…is that your blue van
out there?” Cassie spluttered.
    “ It is.” He replied, still
looking directly into her eyes. His expression was serious, his
voice flat, but his eyes had begun to twinkle with
amusement.
    “ Okay,” Cassie began, taking
a deep breath, “Let me try again. I saw that your van has
Washington plates, are you from Long Beach?”
    “ I am.”
    Okay,” she repeated, “um…are you heading
back that way?”
    “ Eventually,” he said, his
eyes twinkling even more.
    Pausing, Cassie tried to collect her
thoughts before asking the next question. This was quickly becoming
a most frustrating conversation. If only the man would stop staring
at her and start answering her questions with more than just
monosyllabic responses. Cassie decided to try another route.
    “ Can I…do you mind if I sit
down?” she asked.
    At this, the man’s stony expression finally
broke and the corners of his mouth curled into a slight, sardonic,
smile.
    “ Aren’t I a little old for
you, kid?”
    Cassie felt her cheeks grow hot as she both
sputtered and stammered, in an attempt to reply.
    “ No!” she almost