Page 5 of Missile Tow
“Well, I changed my mind.”
“What you need to change is that attitude, young man,” she said. “Ain’t no new boy gonna want someone as sullen as you are these days.”
I knew she was correct, but I couldn’t seem to move forward. “I had my one shot at happiness, Bertie. I lost him, and that’s the way it goes. I don’t give a shit anymore,” I admitted.
She inched closer and rested her hand on my shoulder while I leaned over the cash register, pretending to be busy. But my shuddering shoulders while I stifled a sob gave me away.
“Shhhh,” she whispered. “You’re too good a man to be alone, Junior.”
“What do you know?” I griped, slamming the register door shut.
“More than you think, wiseass,” she began. “I grew up with your granddaddy. He was a good man. Your daddy was his spittin’ image and just as good. But you? You’re the best of the lot, boy.”
I turned away, about to walk off, tears welling in my eyes. “Thanks, Bert,” I muttered.
She pulled me around by my shoulder and placed her hands on them both, forcing me to face her. Her hand lifted my chin. “It’s been nearly a year, son. You’re stronger than this.”
I wanted to crumble. To drop to my knees and pound on the concrete floor as hard as I possibly could. Anything to hide the rush of tears cascading down my cheeks like a mountain creek in the springtime.
“It’s all too much, Bert,” I gasped, slobbering as I spoke. “Mom and Dad. Then Grampa. Then John up and leaves town. I got no one left.”
“You got me, dontcha? I ain’t going nowhere,” she soothed, keeping my chin firmly in her hand. “And I love you like my own kin. I’m here for you.”
The dam in my eyes released the backup, and I fell into her arms. Bertie was barely five feet tall, but she was a strong woman. “I’m not doing well, Bert,” I confessed.
“Think I don’t know that, son?” she asked. She wiped my tears. “How old are you, Chip?”
“You know I’m twenty-four,” I stated. “Twenty-five in two weeks.”
“Yep! I do know that fact,” she agreed. “But lemme give you some advice. You’re still so young. Painful stuff happens during one’s life.AndI’ll certainly admit this, son. You’ve had an unfair amount already, and I’m certain losing John feels like the last straw.”
“You could say that,” I agreed.
Her mouth pinched in warning. “You aren’t going to like this, son, but there will be more heartache. You can count on it,” she lectured. “But there’s the good stuff in between that you don’t wanna miss out on.”
“After a year of hell. I’m not suregood stuffhas my address.”
Bertie chuckled. “You’re too pretty to be alone for long, son. You have your daddy’s physique and your momma’s pretty face.”
“Uh… thanks. I think,” I said.
“Men who look like you,” she began, holding her fingers up. “Men who have your work ethic. Men who have your heart,” she continued, peeling a finger back each time. “Let’s just say they don’t stay on the market very long,” she pointed out. “Most women in this town would kick their men to the curb for a shot at you.”
“But what about the guys?” I wisecracked.
“Between you and me, now that you’re available, I think there are a couple of boys in town questioning their preferences.”
I smiled through my tears and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Bert.”
She touched my face. “There’s that handsome smile,” she said. “He’s out there, Chip. And I bet he’s looking for someone just like you as we’re talkin’ ’bout him. Whatcha think?”
“Do you think he knows where Missile, Montana, is?” I asked, watching as the first gas customer pulled up to the pumps outside.
“Well,thatis the million-dollar question,” she answered. “Do you believe in Christmas miracles?”
“I used to,” I admitted. “I used to.”
My voice trailed off as I thought about John, Grampa, and my folks. And as if she could read my mind, Bertie spoke.
