The Faithful City….Zechariah 8:3
Logan pulled into the darkened lot behind the bar and cut the engine. The Quarter had actually come off pretty well in the flood, had been one of the least-affected areas, but the city was still largely in shambles and he knew a lot of it must have looked like a war zone to the girl. Marie had been awake for the last fifty miles or so, but she hadn’t said anything and he’d left her alone. Still, he was sure it wasn’t what she’d expected, if she’d had any expectations at all. Probably she was pretty much in a state of shock. Now she looked over at him, still silent, her knees tucked up in front of her as usual.
“I’m gonna go tell my friend we’re here,” he told her. “Wait here.” She just nodded and put her chin back down on her knees. Logan opened the door of the camper and swung himself out. He hesitated a moment. “You’ll be okay, right?”
“I’ll stay here.” She didn’t move as she answered the unasked question.
In the back of the building there was a door, almost hidden by the piles of clanking, leaky trash bags. Logan kicked a couple of them out of the way and tried the handle. It was locked, but he knew this door. One well-placed thump of his fist just over the lock, and he heard the bolt fall back. He opened the door, pushing aside more trash, and entered a darkened hallway. He turned towards a glimmer of light and found another door leading to the stairs.
At the top of the stairs he looked around, squinting a little against the light coming though the plate-glass window in front. The bar was closed at this hour of the morning, of course, but he’d hoped to find someone in, cleaning or setting up. Then he heard a click from the stairs leading up to the second floor. Logan turned quickly and found himself staring into the business end of a shotgun. He raised his hands.
“Finally had enough of me, huh, Toby?”
“Logan!” The big man on the stairs lowered his gun and hurried the rest of the way down. “Goddamnit, buddy, why don’t you ever learn to call ahead? You should know better than to break into a bar ‘round here, these days. People’ll shoot first and ask the fuckin’ questions later.” He threw an arm over Logan’s shoulders. “You stayin’?”
“For a while, yeah. If that’s okay.” Toby, who had grown up in some backwoods part of the state, had retired from the underground fight circuit and opened this place four or five years back. The bar had a scruffy feel, but near-constant visits from his old cronies had given his place the reputation of somewhere you didn’t want to start trouble, and he’d been successful as a more-or-less legitimate businessman. For old times’ sake as much as anything else, when Logan came through town he generally stopped in.
And Toby had married a local girl a couple of years ago, a tough blonde who brooked no nonsense and who was experienced behind the bar as they came. She liked Logan, fortunately, because he was counting on some significant help from that direction.
“Sure, sure. Anytime. You know that.” The big Cajun set his shotgun down against the wall. “How ‘bout a beer?”
“In a minute. I got a little—situation.” Logan hesitated. “I ran into this girl back in Mississippi.”
Toby laughed, a rolling, jovial roar. “That’s some kinda situation, all right. Delta girls, you gotta watch out for ‘em.”
“No. You don’t understand—look, she’s a kid. She—“ He took hold of Toby’s arm. “She’s like me. You know what I mean?”
The other man sobered immediately, his eyes meeting Logan’s. “Yeah. I know.”
“Her folks threw her out and sent her to this preacher. Son-of-a-bitch tried to kill her.” Logan summed it up bluntly. “I threw her in the truck and got her out of there, but I swear to god, I got no fuckin’ idea what to do with her. I was hopin’ Lynn could help me out here.”
Toby nodded slowly. “A kid, huh?”
“Teenager. I don’t know, sixteen, seventeen maybe.”
“Jesus.” Toby peered over his shoulder. “Where is she?”
“Still in the truck. I didn’t want to bring her in here till I’d talked to you.”
Toby waved his hands at Logan. “Go on. Go get her. Christ, Logan, you ain’t got to ask.” He picked up the shotgun. “I’ll go get Lynnie.”
When Logan returned to the truck, Marie was sitting just as he’d left her, looking as if she hadn’t moved a muscle. He made his way through the debris and opened the passenger-side door. “Hey, kid. Come on. It’s all right.” He held out his arms. “Let me—you can’t walk through this mess.” She was still barefoot.
She put her feet down, but hesitated. “You can’t—“
“Cut it out. I did it before.” He tugged at the blanket she was still sitting on. “Here. Use this if you’re worried.” Silently she wrapped it around her shoulders and then let him lift her out of the truck and carry her into the building. He didn’t set her down, but carried her up the stairs and into the still-darkened bar, finally depositing her in one of the booths that lined the wall. Toby wasn’t in sight, but a minute later he heard a minor commotion on the stairs.
“Just give me a second, for the Lord’s sake.” Lynn appeared, wiping her hands on a towel she was unpinning from her waist and smoothing out her hair; Toby followed in her wake. “Logan, sweetheart! So good to see you.” She came over and hugged him. “Toby says you brought a friend with you.” Logan could sense Marie’s nervous energy increase as the older woman looked around him and saw her. He felt Lynn’s fingers tighten on his arm briefly, and then she let go and sat down in the booth opposite Marie. “Hi, honey. You all right?” Marie just nodded, but Lynn’s voice was reassuring and Logan thought she relaxed just a bit. “My name’s Lynn and this’s my husband, Toby. We’re real old friends of Logan’s.” The blonde woman leaned over the table. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Marie gave Logan a quick glance and he tried to look encouraging. “Marie. I’m Marie.”
“Marie, why don’t you and me go upstairs and get you freshened up?” Lynn held out a hand and reflexively the girl pulled back. Logan leaned forward.
“It’s okay, kid. Lynn—you can’t touch her. Somethin’ with her skin.”
If Lynn was surprised, she covered it quickly. “Well, that’s no problem. I do hair and makeup on the side and I got all kinds of gloves upstairs. You just come with me, honey, and we’ll manage just fine. You boys can stay here and get caught up.” She waited until Marie had gotten up from the booth before putting a hand—carefully—on her shoulder. “You look like you’ve been drivin’ all night. We’ll get you cleaned up and maybe you can sleep for a couple of hours, all right?” She guided Marie up the stairs and out of sight.
Toby just looked at Logan. “Beer?”
“Yeah.” Toby led the way to the bar, swung up the barrier and pulled a couple of pints from something on draught. He set one in front of Logan, and raised his own glass in a vague salute.
“So. Welcome back.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
All journeys have to come to an end...or a beginning.