The Road That Leads to You: Four Stories of Love

By Teresa Hubley

These four accounts of love give us a recovering alcoholic with an old song stuck in his head, a businessman who inherits a partner he never knew he needed, an articulate mechanic determined to speak up for her man, and a bride-to-be struggling to put herself back into her wedding.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa Hubley
• Release date: May 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476181721

Teresa Hubley

Teresa Hubley was born in Minneapolis and moved every couple of years after that, winding up in a handful of small Midwestern towns, suburban California and even west Africa. As an adult, she acquired a doctoral degree in anthropology and has lived most of her life in Maine, where she works in the health field. She usually has too many books to keep track of going at any time on her reading list. Favorite authors include Charles Dickens, E.M. Forster, Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, and Dave Barry. Lunch out with Teresa and her family usually includes the reading of a few pages while the meal is delivered. When she's not reading or writing, she might be drawing, going for a long walk, or sneaking a guilty pleasure moment playing games on her tablet.

Book preview

The Road That Leads to You:

Four Stories of Love

Copyright 2012 Teresa Hubley

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Oscar’s Refrain

Pearls Before Goats

Making a Say

The Rain Garden

Oscar’s Refrain

Kleinhoff wasn’t there when it all happened, so he couldn’t have known. He just stumbled into the part he played next. When he bought out the Diamondback Inn, he agreed to take in the whole staff and not fire anyone out of hand. So he got Oscar as his cook just like he was then, skinny and stringy, given to not shaving enough and never flossing his teeth.

His only clue was a comment from the bartender, Coates. Never leave that guy alone with the cooking sherry.

Kleinhoff asked Oscar about it in the same tone he must have used with his youthful students back in Germany, before he fell in love with the American West and sank all his money into the inn. Now, Oscar, I understand you have had a problem with the drinking. Can this be true?

I won’t lie to you, Herr K. I did have some bad times. But I’ve been clean and sober for two years now. I swear it.

Oscar cursed himself for the Herr K part. That’s what they called Kleinhoff behind his back. It just popped out. He missed his chance to tell the whole story to the new boss, just because he was so frazzled by the slip. Kleinhoff declined to smile. Instead he gave a slight nod and let his eyes stray on Oscar for a long, quiet stretch. Oscar flinched and shrugged. He actually bit down on his tongue.

When Kleinhoff brought in the new waitress, Oscar kept his eyes mostly hovering near the bottom of the wall somewhere.

This is Sylvianna. They call her Stevie. She has much experience as a waitress. I shall put her in to lead the young students from college who come to work here in the summer. You will make a team of yourselves.

If you say, sir, Oscar mumbled.

Stevie, you are dismissed. I expect you to return dressed to serve in the morning. We shall see then of what you are made. Oscar will guide you.

Yes, sir, Stevie replied. Oscar risked a darting glance at her before she turned away and then studied her footwear as she retreated down the hall. She wore black leather boots with low heels. They reminded him of a motorcycle. He wondered where she got the money for a bike.

Coates offered his opinion when Oscar stopped after work for his customary root beer and hopped on his favorite stool. Herr K won’t give you a second chance. He can’t wait to dump us. You have to ride the straight and narrow or you’re down in the ditch.

Coates shoved a fetid rag unto a glass to clean it. Oscar wrinkled his nose at the smell.

Should I tell? Oscar asked. The whole thing?

Don’t call any more attention to yourself. That’s my advice. Just be quiet and keep it cool. And don’t forget. She’s there to watch you just as much as the other way around.

Oscar fished a sharply folded dollar out of his shirt pocket and tapped it into Coates’ tip jar. Here. Buy yourself a clean dishrag.

Take it back. You’ll be needing it for a new handkerchief before it’s through.

A lot later, as he turned out the light before bed, Oscar heard the light tinkle of the piano in the corner of the bar and knew Coates was at it again. Once a piano teacher staying in the inn had actually run into the bar and demanded Coates stop playing because it offended her ears. The only thing worse than Coates’ piano playing was his singing. So, of course, he started crooning in a raspy, wavering voice. Oscar smiled and laid back to listen.

It was a hack job on an old Elton John song. The mangled words were still recognizable, if only because Oscar had heard them so often.

And you can tell everybody

That this is your song.

It might be quite simple but,

Now that it’s done,

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind,

That I put down the words:

How wonderful life is

While you’re in the world.

Oscar repeated the words, burning them into his memory. God, that’s beautiful, he murmured.

Stevie said nothing to Oscar that her job didn’t require. All morning, she slipped the orders onto the carousel above the serving window and rang the bell. Every time she took the plates she said thank you in a voice that could have been grateful or possibly dejected. Oscar let their eyes meet but he saw no light or smile in that place. Her lids rolled down with her gaze and back up again as she approached, as if she couldn’t believe what she saw. He wondered if maybe he needed to shave more closely or cover his tattoos.

He waited until her back was turned to make the same trip with his eyes on her, head to toe and back again. She’d traded the boots for the cheapest sneakers. The tight pants hugged widening curves. She wore the lodge logo shirt untucked so he couldn’t see if her waist was expanding. She’d drawn her hair into a messy, wispy braid that looked about ready to burst. Oscar rubbed his chin and felt stubble. Maybe he did need to shave.

Oscar waited a few days to make changes. He didn’t want Stevie to think she had that kind of power over him. He bummed a ride to town with Coates and bought a new razor and some dandruff shampoo. He took to wearing a long-sleeved tee shirt rolled up to his elbows. That way the tattoos mostly stayed out of sight. He showered both night and day until the head housekeeper advised him he was damaging his skin and wasting water. Also, she said, he was trying too hard.

Change came about just as slowly in Stevie. She combed her hair more closely every day, eventually coming to a slick bundle that could have graced the head of any starlet at