Refuge for Flora by Deanndra Hall

Chapter 1

He turned the key and… nothing happened. “Well, shit.” That meant getting off the thing and tinkering around, something he really didn’t have time for. Probably the spark plug, he told himself as he took things apart and put them back together. It would be dark soon, and there was no way he could get the damn thing running before then. It was supposed to have headlights, but of the two, only one worked, and it was about as bright as a pen light.

“You ‘bout got that done?” a thready, high-pitched voice called out.

He dragged the back of his hand across his brow to wipe the sweat away from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Murphy, but there’s no way. I think the spark plug is fouled and it’s gonna be too dark to fix it by the time I can get to town and buy another one.”

“Reckon you’ll have to finish it tomorrow. Don’t want my yard lookin’ like shit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He wanted to yell, Thank you for ordering me around, seeing as how you’re not paying me! The old woman had lived there for as long as he could remember, and she was getting pretty feeble. Most folks had stopped doing anything for her because she was so damn hard to get along with, but Barrett had gone to school with her grandson, and the boy had been killed in a motorcycle accident. There was an older girl, but Barrett hadn’t heard anything about her in ages. Without any family to help Mrs. Murphy, he felt it was the least he could do. His mama had raised him right.

He pushed the mower into the barn and closed the door. It was time to take a shower, get dressed for bed, and watch a little TV before he fell asleep. Morning would come and he had a long workday ahead of him.

All his life, he’d heard people talk about waking up in a new world every day. It never occurred to him that someday, it would be the perfect description of the life he had loved.

* * *

“What does it look like?”

“I thought it was a hawk, but it’s not. It’s got a long, pointy beak, but it’s a big bird, and―”

“It’s a woodcock.”

There was a pause and the man’s voice said, “A woodcock.” Barrett waited, and he knew exactly what was happening―a Google search. “Oh, yeah. I see the picture. Yeah, that’s what it is. So it’s in my grill, and there’s a hunting season, so I thought I’d better call.”

“Yeah, but you can just throw it away. But I do appreciate you trying to do the right thing,” Barrett said, glancing at his watch since his phone was up to his ear.

“Thanks so much, sir,” the man said.

“You’re very welcome. Have a nice day.” At least the guy had been friendly and polite, and he was trying to do the right thing.

Dealing with the public. That was the part of the job he hated most. He didn’t want to sound like an asshole, but people were stupid. He hadn’t realized how stupid they were until he took that job. After he’d slipped his phone back into his pocket, he adjusted his tool belt before he climbed back into the big four-wheel drive truck. He’d no more than started the vehicle than his radio squawked.

“KDFWR unit four twelve, this is dispatch. Over.”

He picked up his mic and keyed it up. “Dispatch, unit four twelve responding.”

“Four twelve, officer assist needed at the back side of the old mill on Oaks Road. Repeat,

officer assist needed at the back side of the old mill on Oaks Road. Copy?”

“Copy that, dispatch. Four twelve en route. Out.” Barrett wheeled the truck out onto the road, throwing gravel as he went. It wasn’t far, just a few miles, and he wondered what was going on.

As soon as he pulled up, he was met by Kirby White. “Hey, what’s up?”

Kirby pointed up the hill. “You ain’t gonna believe this, but on top of that hill there’s a big pen full of coyotes. Some of the neighbors called and complained, said there was a lot of noise. They think the guy who’s living there is trying to breed the coyotes to dogs he’s got up there.”

Barrett glared at him. “You’re not serious.”

“Absolutely am.” The other officer standing there was Frankie Elliott, a deputy sheriff with the McCracken County Sheriff’s Department. “I climbed up the hill and checked it out. But let me tell you, I think there are some booby traps and shit up there.”

“You think they’re doing more than just illegally breeding wild canines to domesticated?” Barrett asked, knowing the answer.

Frankie nodded. “Oh, yeah. Pretty sure there’s a meth lab up there.”

“So why can’t you guys bust them for meth?”

“We’re going to, but we need wildlife officers there to handle the animals. Animal control won’t touch them.”

Barrett nodded back. “I know that’s true.”

“Okay. So I’m going back to the drug task force. Once we’ve got a clear plan, I’ll let you know what’s going on.” Frankie pulled his cap back on. “So we’re clear about what’s going on here?” he asked as he stood inside the open door of his cruiser.

“Yeah. Got it. Thanks.” As soon as he drove away, Barrett muttered, “Asshole.”

“Yeah. They’ll take the drug bust and we get to deal with the vermin in the back yard,” Kirby groused.

“And no telling what’s inside there,” Barrett pointed out. A typical day. He’d been so proud when he put on that uniform and finished the academy, only to discover that local law enforcement saw them as cheap substitutes for animal control, or more like glorified zookeepers. But as a Kentucky Department of Fish & Wildlife Resources officer, he had the authority to detain, arrest, subdue, and charge violators of the state laws the same as any law enforcement official. Even worse, there were very few of them, and if they needed help, there often was none available. If a KDFWR officer requested backup, the law enforcement agencies came to help whenever they felt like it. It was one of the many dangers of the job.

But Barrett hadn’t taken the job to arrest people. He’d been far more concerned about all the deer carcasses he saw everywhere as cars hit does and fawns crossing the road. What had once been their foraging areas had become subdivisions and strip malls. The deer had nowhere to go, so they ran back and forth across highways, looking for a place to be, and that place was often the front grill of a Ford F150. He wanted to make a difference, to help keep them in protected areas where they’d be safe, and to keep all the other wildlife safe too.

Kirby tapped the bill of his cap. “Well, I’m going back out. Got a call about something over off Bryant’s Ford Road.”

“Be careful. A lot of that property is federal.” The national wildlife refuge backed up to the property around the river there, and the federal officers didn’t like KDFWR officers overstepping their bounds.

“Yeah. I don’t want to get in trouble with Uncle Sam. He’s my least favorite relative,” Kirby called out as he climbed back into his truck. “See you around.”

“Yep. See ya.” Barrett slid under the steering wheel and radioed dispatch. “Central, this is KDFWR unit four twelve. In service. Over.”

“Copy that, four twelve.”

And he was off again. He was pretty sure those things he’d seen from a distance in that field on Bypass Road were some kind of homemade animal trap, and he’d figured the first time he was in that area and had time, he’d check it out. He never knew what he’d find.

Maybe he’d wind up with a pet skunk!

* * *

Dusty.Bumpy. Dirty. Smelly. And somehow she’d managed to wind up by the bathroom. Great, just great. The old man across the aisle had been staring at her too. If he had the same destination as hers, she didn’t know what she’d do. It was getting late in the day and she was too tired to kick some old man’s ass. Besides, the only reason it was her destination was because she’d run out of money for another ticket, so once she got there, she’d be stuck.

As soon as she managed to climb down off the bus, she looked around. The “bus station,” if it could be called that, was a converted gas station. It didn’t even have a public restroom. She gazed around. Next door was a place that sold portable buildings and on the other side, a car parts store. Down the block, she could see a Kentucky Fried Chicken and Taco Bell combination, and in the distance, a huge Walmart sign, as well as a Lowe’s. Her bag was tiny, so she took off, dragging it behind her.

The counter clerk was helpful and told her about a motel two blocks behind the restaurant. When she got there, she decided it was too terrifying to stay, so she headed back to the main drag and proceeded to walk to Walmart. She just needed a safe place to sleep for the night. The next day, she’d go to the state career office to see if she could find some kind of job. She’d noticed that most of the stores along the way were hiring, but she couldn’t take the risk of anyone knowing where she was. He could track her down that way, and she wanted none of that. She might have been six hours from them, but that wasn’t really far enough away to suit her.

Walmart didn’t have an independent café anymore, so she’d have to look for somewhere else. When she spotted the huge gas station and convenience store, she knew they had a couple of booths. She’d just beg the clerk working to let her stay.

She really had no other options.

* * *

It had beena long walk to the career office for nothing. Everything they had needed forms filled out and proof of identification shown, and she couldn’t take that risk.

Papers thumbtacked to a board nearby rustled with the swoosh of air as she opened the door to leave, and she glanced at them. At first, she thought they were all policy flyers, like non-discrimination and state mandate notices, but it appeared not all were. Mixed in among the official-looking notices were papers, some handwritten, with “help wanted” requests on them. One in the back caught her eye, and she pulled it forward. It had little tear off strips along the bottom with the name and number on them, and most of them were gone. The paper looked like it had been there forever, so she tore one of the strips off, then took some off other flyers there too. As she walked along, she looked at them. For some reason, the one she most wanted to call was the first one, the old one. But she had no phone. A quick count told her she still had almost three hundred dollars left, so she turned and walked toward a big building with Hotel Irvin Cobb painted on the end. She could go to Walmart and get a phone of some kind, something that was good enough to make and receive calls about jobs.

Sure as hell wouldn’t be any other use for it. She had no one to call, and the only people who’d call her were people she most definitely didn’t want to hear from.

* * *

The building was really old.It had been a hotel at one time, but had been converted into an apartment building. The lobby was open because people came in and out whenever they chose, and there were big sofas and chairs there. They were lumpy and not the cleanest, but it was a place to rest. Maybe no one would notice if she slept with her head resting on the arm of a chair.

Someone was tapping her on the shoulder, and she cracked an eyelid open. An older man stood there in front of her, staring down into her face. “Who are you? Did you sleep here last night?”

Think fast!she told herself. “Uh, I was waiting for my grandma, but she never came in. If she did, she must not have noticed me over here.”

“Who’s your grandma?”

She only hesitated for a moment. “Sarah Miller.”

“We don’t have a Sarah Miller who lives here,” the man informed her and frowned at her.

“This is, uh, the, um, Bluegrass Apartments, right?” she asked, trying to come up with a fake name that sounded real.

“No. This is the Irvin Cobb Apartments. I don’t know where the Bluegrass Apartments are.”

“Oh. Dang. I’m in the wrong place. Okay, sorry. I’ll just call her and see if I can figure out where I’m supposed to be. Thank you.” She could feel his eyes on her as she picked up her bag and shuffled out the front door, not knowing where to go first. Then she spotted it.

There was a sign a block farther out with the insignia of the Methodist Church on it, and she headed that direction. She tried the massive front doors, but they were locked, so she walked around to the back of the building. Sure enough, there were a few cars sitting there, and the door under the porte cochère was open. The aroma of some kind of food hit her nose and made her stomach growl. Not more than twenty-five feet inside the building a woman wearing plaid pants and a huge smile stopped her. “Are you here for lunch?”

“Uh, I don’t―”

“There’s plenty! Wouldn’t you like to have something to eat?”

“Um, well, I am hungry. Do I have to join the church to get it?”

The woman looked at her like she was crazy. “No. We just do a meal every Wednesday for anyone in the community who needs it. That’s all. Come with me.”

It occurred to her that it might be some kind of trick, but the hallway opened into a large cafeteria-style room with dozens of tables, and at least ten people sat around, eating from plates full of food and bread on trays. “Okay, come on back here and Mrs. Randolph will fix you up.” It looked for all the world like a cafeteria line at a school.

“Here we go, honey.” A tray was handed to her, and it was already loaded up with food. “I’m Mrs. Randolph, but you can call me Cassie. And what would you like to drink? We’ve got all kinds of things back here.”

“Could I have just a plain soda?”

“Of course! Here you go!” The can was placed in the corner of her tray, and the woman added a bundle of flatware to it. “I hope you enjoy it, and God bless you.”

“Uh, God bless you too,” she said as she turned, tray in hand. There was a table near the wall with no one sitting at it, and she decided that might be the best place. It had been a few days since she’d had a shower, and she didn’t want to put anyone off their food.

It might’ve just been a little bowl of stew and some kind of spaghetti with sauce, but it tasted pretty good to her, and she tried hard not to gobble as she ate. The bread was good too, a roll that was sort of sweet, and she wished she had an extra one. Matter of fact, she wished she could go back for seconds. “Is it good?” a male voice asked, and she turned to see who it was.

A man stood there, probably in his late fifties, in a pair of tan slacks and a polo shirt. Men rattled her most of the time, but he was very unintimidating, and he had a kind face. “Yes. It’s very good. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome! Mind if I sit?” She shook her head, so he took a seat across the table from her and folded his hands on the surface. “So I’m Reverend Simmons, but you can call me Ray.”

“So you’re the preacher here?”

“Not exactly. I’m one of them. I’m the minister of education and outreach.”

“Oh.” That’s right. I’m outreach, she told herself, then remembered her manners. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you as well. Do you mind me asking your name?”

For a moment, the idea of lying and giving him a fake name sounded good, but the man had a sweet smile and she felt safe sitting there with him. “Flora. Flora Stevens.” Did I just screw up royally? she asked herself, but it was out there and there was no way to take it back.

“Well, Flora, it’s nice to meet you. So is there anything I can do for you today?”

Well, okay, he asked. “Not unless you can take me somewhere so I can get a phone to job hunt. I have the money. I just don’t have a way to get there.”

“We can make that happen. Are you just passing through?”

“Depends.” His eyebrows shot up. “On whether or not I can find a job.”

“Gotcha. I think we can fix you up.”

Something about the man sitting across from her made her hopeful. He seemed genuine and trustworthy. “You should know, I’m running from something. Maybe I should say someone. And it’s not the law, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was … even scared to tell you my name.”

“Don’t be. Now that I know what’s going on, I can get you some assistance. I’ll be right back.” He stood and she felt her heart drop into her knees until he said, “Please don’t run off. I’m not getting anyone who’ll do anything to you. I’m just going to call an agency here in town that can probably help you. Okay?”

She just nodded and watched him walk away. In front of her sat her empty melamine, divided plate, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with it when a woman strolled past, stopped, backed up, and said, “Can I take that for you?”

“Oh! Sure. Thanks. I didn’t know where it went.”

“If you’re still hungry, there’s plenty more up there. I think Cassie went a little crazy this morning. You’re welcome to get another plate, and we’ve got some really good homemade desserts up there too.”

“Thank you.” Once the woman had disappeared through a door, Flora headed back to the serving line.

“My spaghetti must be pretty good today!” Cassie said with a smile.

“Yes, and I was really hungry.” Flora waited as the big spoon plopped more spaghetti and sauce onto her plate. That time, Cassie added two rolls to it.

“Don’t forget to get some dessert. Take two! One for now and one for later. I’ll package one up for you if you want,” Cassie offered.

“Thank you. That would be nice.” Instead of asking for another soft drink, she let Cassie put a glass of tea on her tray before she wandered back to her seat. The crowd, if it could be called that, had thinned a bit, and only she and one other person, a middle-aged man, were still eating.

Then Ray stepped back into the room with a tall, thin woman in tow, and they made a beeline to her table. “Flora, this is Miriam. Miriam, please meet Flora.”

“Hi, Flora! Ray seems to think we might be able to help you out with some things.”

Flora froze. Who was this woman? “Uhhhh …”

“I’ll leave you two to talk. Please come back sometime, Flora. I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Yes. Thank you,” she called after him, then put her fork down and sighed. “Okay. I know we’re going to play twenty questions, so let’s just get it over with.”

“Actually, we’re not. I only have a couple of things to ask you and then we’ll see what I can do. First, have you been in an abusive relationship?”

Her face burned. “Yes.”

“And are you currently homeless?”

She’d never considered herself homeless but, honestly, she was. “Yes.”

“Okay. That’s all I needed to know. We have a house across town where you can stay until you can get on your feet. I can drive you there. On the way, we can stop and get things you need. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds really good.”

“There’s only one thing we ask of you.”

Awww, shit, here it comes, Flora told herself. “Yes?”

“That you never reveal the location of the house. The women who live there are at risk, and we don’t want anyone knowing where they are.”

“That’s no problem. I’d never do that.” Who the hell would I tell anyway? she wondered. She didn’t know a soul in that town save for Cassie and Ray, and she’d only met them briefly.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to go move some things around in my car. It’s kinda messy. But I’ll be back. Just enjoy the rest of your lunch. I hear the desserts are spectacular,” Miriam said with a laugh.

Flora finished her food and, true to her word, Miriam returned. The big box store was on the same route they took to the house, so they stopped and she bought a burner phone. To Flora’s astonishment, the shelter was in a fancy part of town, with big brick homes everywhere and expensive cars sitting in wide driveways. Wonder how they feel about having a bunch of homeless women right next door? she thought, but she didn’t ask. She just felt fortunate that she was going to get to stay there for at least a few days.

The room they assigned to her was small but comfortable, and she was happy to have a place to sleep. At a little after five, a young woman came to her door and asked if she wanted to eat with them. “Sure. I’ll be down in a minute,” she answered as the woman closed the door.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, bread, Brussels sprouts, and bread pudding. She hadn’t eaten that well in several years. There hadn’t been enough money for anything, so food had been scarce. After thanking everyone she could see, she headed back to her room.

The door closed softly, and she dug in her pocket until she found the little strips of paper. There was nothing on them that indicated which strip had come from which flyer, and it didn’t really matter. She needed a job. Then she looked at them again.

The one with the scrappy handwriting … Something told her to call that one first. She punched in the numbers, hit CALL, and waited.

It rang and rang. She was about to hang up when a voice answered with a loud, reedy, “Hello!”

“Hello. I, uh, I saw a flyer at the career office downtown. A ‘now hiring’ flyer. Was that yours?”

“Had my number on it, didn’t it?” the voice barked.

“Yes, ma’am. So, um, are you still looking for somebody?”

“I been lookin’ for somebody and nobody stays. Nobody wants to work. What makes you think you will?”

“Because I need a job.”

“Do you need a place to live too? ‘Cause this is a live-in position.”

Flora thought she’d heard wrong. If ever there was a position that was made for her, it was that one. “Actually, I do.”

“Well, you’d have a room, my car to drive, and some money.”

“What exactly is it?”

The voice barked out, “I’m eighty-nine years old! I need somebody to do all the things I can’t!”

“Oh! Well, yeah, I’m very interested.”

“Then come on out and let me see if I think you’ll work. I’ll give ya twenty dollars just for comin’.”

“Sure, if I can get a way there. Can I have your address?”

The old woman rattled it off and Flora tried to remember without any way to write it down. “So you comin’?”

“As soon as I can get somebody to bring me. And thank you, Mrs. … I don’t know your name.”

“Murphy. Marilyn Murphy. See ya when I see ya.” And she hung up.

Well, she sounds like a delight, Flora’s brain huffed. But the job sounds perfect. After breakfast the next morning, Flora would see if someone could take her to the address. If not, maybe she could call a cab or something. But one way or another, she’d get out there and find out about that job.

She had to. There was nothing else to do.

* * *

Showeredand dressed by nine thirty, Flora went down to find that breakfast was already over and everything washed and put away. “We tried to wake you up,” one of the other women said. Her name was, what … Rachel? Flora couldn’t remember.

“Yeah. Long time since I slept in a bed. Felt good.” She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal, then rummaged until she found bowls and spoons. There was milk in the refrigerator, and that would be good enough.

A short, round woman who looked to be maybe fifty appeared in the doorway. “You must be Flora! I’m Janet, and I’m the house mother today. You look like you’re going somewhere.”

Flora nodded as she chewed. “I’ve got a prospective job.”

Janet chuckled. “Already? You work fast!”

“Yeah, well, I saw the flyer at the career office. It’s work, room, and board. I figure without transportation, as long as they’re not using me as a sex slave, it should be okay.”

“I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you, at least not around here,” the other woman said through clenched teeth.

“I’m not joking. I know it happens. So I’ll go out there with nothing. Coming back to get my things will be my excuse. If it’s sketchy, I’ll come back here and never go back. If I don’t come to pick up my things by evening, you’ll know to come looking for me.”

Janet nodded. “That’s a pretty good plan. You have an address?”

“Yeah. I’ll leave you the address and phone number so you’ll know where I am.”

Janet sighed. “I hope you don’t think we’re trying to take over your life or―”

“No-no! Nothing like that! It’s nice to know somebody will be looking out for me. I haven’t ever had that, and I’m happy about it. And I appreciate all that you all do. It’s just that if I can get a job and get out of here, it frees up a room for somebody else, you know?”

Janet smiled. “Thanks for thinking that way. We do have to turn women away from time to time, but we don’t like to.”

“I understand. So do you have a number for a cab company or―”

“No. There’s a fella from the church who comes and takes the ladies here to doctor appointments, the dentist, meetings with teachers at school. He’s huge and scary, and everybody feels safe with him. Plus he’s gay, so they know he’s not sizing them up.”

“That sounds good. How do I reach him?”

“I’ll give him a call and then give you his number. As long as I call him first, he’ll take you wherever you need to go and watch out for you. When are you supposed to be there?”

“She said come when I could, so I guess anytime.”

Forty-five minutes later, Flora and the man named Rick were driving away from town and out into the suburbs. The houses got farther apart and everything looked more rural. Finally, Rick said, “Okay, this is the road.”

“I thought it would be in town.”

“Nope. Oh, there it is.” He pointed, and Flora sighed in disappointment.

Nestled in a thicket of trees and shrubs at the end of the long gravel drive was a dilapidated little house, one shutter falling off and paint peeling everywhere. She was pretty sure it had been blue at one time, but the sun and rain had turned it a grayish color. A gutter was down, its end on the ground, and there were a couple of rungs out of the wooden porch rail. Clumps of plants grew in what looked like random spots, weeds shooting up within them, and there were various pieces of junk lying about. The whole place looked tired and depressed, and Flora wondered if she was about to step into a mess. Rick pulled up to the flagstone path that led to the door and stopped. “So should I wait for you?”

“I guess I should stay at least thirty minutes. What do you think?”

“That sounds appropriate. I need to get some gas for the van anyway, so I’ll go gas it up and pick up some things I need from the hardware store and then I’ll come back. If you haven’t come out in forty-five minutes, I’ll come up and knock on the door.”

Flora got out and leaned into the car door. “Sounds good. See you in thirty minutes. Thanks, Rick.”

“You’re very welcome. Good luck.” Flora stood at the end of the walk and watched as Rick turned the van around and pulled out of the driveway. It occurred to her as his taillights disappeared that the person who lived there might not be home, so she climbed the rickety porch steps and knocked.

There was some type of dragging sound from inside, and then the knob turned and the door opened a crack. “Yeah?”

“Are you Mrs. Murphy?”

A pair of gray-blue eyes sized Flora up from the darkness of the house. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Flora. Flora Stevens. We spoke on the phone and―”

“Yeah, okay. Come on in.” The woman pulled the door wide open and Flora stepped in.

Musty. That was the only word she could think of that would describe the house. It didn’t smell … bad. It just smelled like it needed to be aired out. Flora stood there, unsure of what to do, when the woman pointed to the sofa, so she sat down. The cushion was lumpy and the arms were threadbare, and she wondered if she should try to get comfortable or sit up on the edge. She was trying to think of something to say and all she came up with was, “Nice house.”

“Eh. It’s a shit hole.” The old woman plopped down in a recliner that tilted suspiciously to the right and sighed. “So you need a job.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what do you think this job would be?”

Flora shrugged. “I have no idea, ma’am. I suppose it’s whatever you want it to be.”

“Right answer.” Mrs. Murphy leaned back into the chair and sighed. “I’m old.”

“You said you’re eighty-nine.”

“Yeah. And I can’t do most of the things I used to do. Even if I do, it takes me all day.”

“What would you need me to do?”

“Washing. Cooking. Cleaning. That sort of stuff. Taking out the garbage. Sweeping. Mopping. And the yard―”

“Mowing?”

“Nah. There’s a guy who lives down the road. He comes and mows. But them flower beds out there, they’re nasty.”

“Looks like the house could use a coat of paint too,” Flora offered.

“You know how to paint?”

“No, but I’m sure I can learn.”

Mrs. Murphy squinted at her. “Where you from, girl? You ain’t from ‘round here.”

“No, ma’am. I’m from eastern Kentucky. Pikeville.”

“Whatter ya doin’ here?”

“Looking for a change of scenery.” That sounded pretty good.

“Running from the law?”

“No, ma’am. Just time to move on.”

“Well, you wanna look at the room I got for ya? It ain’t much, but it’s a roof, a bed, and a bathroom. Oh, and food and such. So, you still interested?”

“Let me go back here and take a peek at the room.”

Mrs. Murphy motioned toward the hallway. “Help yourself.”

Flora watched dust swirl around her ankles as she stepped into the hallway. On the left was a bathroom, and it needed a thorough cleaning. There was a door on the right, and she opened it and peered inside.

It looked like a teenage girl had just left it―in the seventies. The bedding and curtains were girly-colored stripes and several animal-shaped pillows lay on the bed. There were pictures of a girl in a prom dress on the dresser, and another of the same girl holding a trophy as she stood on a stage. A jewelry box lay in the middle of the dresser, its lid open, and some cheap, junky jewelry rested inside it. A bottle of perfume, its contents long since evaporated, sat beside a hairbrush on the small vanity across the room, and there was a bookcase full of all kinds of books right beside it. The biggest shock was the dust. It was everywhere, on every surface, and it looked as though the place hadn’t been cleaned in twenty years.

She checked out the end of the hallway and found the other bedroom. It appeared to have a small bathroom adjacent to it. The décor in that bedroom wasn’t much better. It was apparent that when it came to niceties, Mrs. Murphy just wasn’t interested.

There wasn’t a chance to sit down again before the old woman asked, “Well? You wanna work here?”

Flora nodded and sat back down. “I think so.”

“When can you start?”

“Rick will be back in just a few minutes and he’ll take me to get my things.”

“Rick? That your boyfriend?”

Flora shook her head. “No. Guy who helps out at the … church.”

“Oh! You mean Ricky Mabry. He helps out at that women’s shelter. He’s one-a them queers.” Mrs. Murphy looked quite proud of herself for recognizing Rick’s sexual preference.

“I dunno. I didn’t know what his last name was.”

“Yeah. I knew his mother.” Mrs. Murphy stared at her again. “You runnin’ from somebody, ain’t ya, girl?”

Fear sliced into Flora’s chest. “What would you know about that?”

“I know I had a husband. And he beat the shit outta me.”

She hung her head and sighed. “Did you run?”

“Girl,” Mrs. Murphy barked, “I ain’t never run from nothin’ in my life.”

“So what happened to him?”

A knowing grin spread across the old woman’s countenance. “He went to Tennessee.”

Flora could feel her eyebrows shoot up as she watched the old woman’s face. “He went to Tennessee?”

“Yeah. That’s what I tell everybody anyway.”

“Where is he?”

With a flourish, the old lady pulled a flask out of the pocket of her stained sweatpants, unscrewed the top, took a big swig, and smiled as she resealed it. “Let’s just say I own a lot of land and weren’t nobody lookin’ for him no-how.”

Flora tried to suppress a smile, but she couldn’t. Damn, I like this woman! she heard her mind yell with a laugh. “So I’ll start as soon as I can get my stuff.”

Mrs. Murphy side-eyed her. “You haven’t asked what it pays.”

“I have a bedroom, bathroom, food to eat, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I don’t care what it pays.”

“You haven’t asked me what you’re supposed to be doing either.”

“You’re not running a brothel, are you?”

“No.”

“And am I going to be expected to give you enemas?”

“Well, hell no, girl!” Mrs. Murphy yelled.

“Then I reckon anything else should be fine.”

“You know what?” The old woman gave her a snaggletoothed smile. “I like you, girly. You got spunk!”

Yeah, and that spunk has gotten me into trouble a few times, Flora wanted to respond, but she didn’t. The longer no one knew what her story was, the better off she’d be.