But for the Kindness of Strangers and Daddy's Little Girl: Two Novelettes

By Ronnie Remondo

But for the Kindness of Strangers finds Janet Hardee full of determination and confidence as she puts the miles between her and what has been her only home for all her eighteen years. High school is behind her and college will be the next stepping stone on the roadshe is surethat will lead her to success. Unfortunately, even well-travelled roads can lead to danger, and Janet has to learn this lesson the hard way. She finds that people are not always what they appear to be, and that roads, once taken, cannot always be retraced. Forced into a living hell, she has to rely on her own strength and determination to get her through, one dreadful day at a time.

In contrast, Daddy's Little Girl introduces the reader to Teresa Bennettwho is thirteen and in love. The man of her dreams is thirty-three, marriedand her father. This doesn't stop "Tess," who is out to win him over no matter what the cost. When her father dies in a canoeing accident she is unable to cope with the loss and becomes bitter and and self-indulgent; striking out at those who could have helped her the most. Life is not without consequences and Teresa discovers that her life is no exception, as it begins to crumble around her like a deck of cards.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 20, 1999
• ISBN: 9781469731070

Ronnie Remondo

Ronnie Remonda has lived in North Central Florida for the last eighteen years. Before that he lived in a small community in upstate New York. An avid writer for the last ten years, he has written numerous short stories, and has several novels in the making. His stories are sometimes humorous, sometimes graphic, but always with a human element that is flavored with just a touch of cynicism.

Book preview

But for the Kindness of

Strangers and Daddy’s Little

Girl

Two Novelettes

By

Ronnie Remonda

toExcel

San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai

But for Kindness of Strangers and

Daddy’s Little Girl

All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 1999 by Ronnie Remonda

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

This edition published by toExcel Press,

an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse.com, Inc.

620 North 48 th Street Suite 201

Lincoln, NE 68504-3467

www.iuniverse.com

ISBN: 978-1-469-73107-0 (ebook)

ISBN: 1-58348-376-4

LCCN: 99-64431

Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

BUT FOR THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

Dedication

To Buzz, without whose help, advice and daily encouragement I would still be cursing the dark.

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank my wife, Dorothy, for enduring my addiction to writing, Terry Snyder, my ever patient proofreader, and my sister Cathy, for her enthusiasm.

But for the Kindness

of Strangers

But for the Kindness

of Strangers

When once we leave our feathered nest

To take first steps from Mother s breast,

And travel roads, unsure, unknown,

We find ourselves, at first, alone.

As we proceed each journey s day,

We meet new faces on the way,

Whose hands will guide us from the dangers,

Lost, but for the kindness of strangers.

Chapter 1

The sun was just nestling comfortably among the mountaintops, forcing Janet to adjust her sun visor a little more to the left. She watched the Pike roll beneath her wheels; the endless miles, constant, straight and boring, very boring. Bridges all looked alike as did the on ramps, the off ramps and the endless flow of bright, green and white signs, homogeneous icons that someday would veer off toward all the known planets. Trucks rolled by in long, constant, queues of towering menace, rumbling on past like giant, moving billboards, shaking her little Ford Escort with uncaring disdain, as if this highway were their turf and she an unwelcome intruder.

Get off our highway, lady, the big rigs seemed to say, as they bludgeoned their way by, Your in our way!

She longed for a more scenic, more leisurely route. After all, she was in no hurry. She had allowed herself two weeks of travel time, mainly so she could enjoy the sights. The country she drove through was a multiplicity of farms, small towns, forests, mountains and rolling hills, stocked with an abundance of fresh country air. So far most of what she had witnessed was a constant barrage of cars, semis, RVs, bridges, pavement and signs, bathed in a constant, choking cloud of diesel fumes.

A sign rolled by displaying the icons for food and lodging. She looked at her watch. It was nearly nine o’clock. Time to eat, she thought. She turned off at the next ramp. It wound around and ended abruptly on a narrow country road. The signs for food and lodging now pointed in both directions. She had expected to see a multitude of gas stations, fast food places and motels, lighting up the sky with brightly colored neon banners, while truckers and motorists streamed in and out, in endless processions. Instead, all she saw was a dark country road with not even a house in sight.

She thought about getting back on the Turnpike and going to the next exit, but then she remembered seeing a sign that said the next exit was twenty-three miles. How did she know the next exit would be any better? Where was her sense of adventure? This was a decision only she could make. After all she was eighteen now and on her own. She would have to make a lot of decisions from now on, some of them more important than this. She turned to the right, if she didn’t find something she liked in this direction, she would turn around and go the other way. She had three quarters of a tank of gas and was in no danger of running out.

There were few houses on this narrow, winding road and very little traffic. Large trees and power poles lined the edge of the road and occasionally a dirt road would lead off into the darkness. Stonewalls would creep close to the edge of the road and now and then the lights of a distant farmhouse would flicker briefly behind the passing trees. She wondered how anyone could live here, so far from anything.

She came upon an abandoned gas station. Quickly, she came to a stop and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. The sun was fading now and the building, with its sagging roof and broken windows, looked mysterious and foreboding. To the left of the garage sat an old automobile, something from the fifties, its hood, wheels and doors, long amputated, perhaps to prolong the life of some distant cousin. Weeds grew high around it and flowers protruded from the empty void, where once an engine proudly rested. In the front of the station stood two rusty gas pumps, their front covers and hoses missing, looking much like tired, silent sentries leaning lazily in their off-plumb posture. As she drove on, she thought of what a wonderful painting it would make. A bit of Americana, frozen in the dreams of a bygone era.

She wished she hadn’t packed her camera, but then there wasn’t enough light now anyway. Janet was a good artist and she was sure with a college education behind her, there was nothing that could stop her. As she rounded the next curve a lighted sign loomed up before her, ZODIAC DINER, OPEN ALL NIGHT.

OK! she yelled. I’m hungry!

After she had driven on for another mile she came upon another sign. This one was faded and listing dangerously toward the highway. PINE CABINS LODGE, the old sign read. Bushes obscured the bottom half and that was all she could read.

That sign looks old, she thought, that place might not even be there anymore. The diner should be there, though. Logic dictates that no one was going to pay the electric bill for a closed diner.

She drove on for another twelve miles without seeing any diner. She was just beginning to wonder if she had passed it, when the diner’s bright lights loomed up in the distance. There were only three cars in the parking lot: a tow truck, with Colven Brothers Towing and Repair, on the door; something from the seventies, big and blue, perhaps an Oldsmobile or Pontiac and an old blue Chevy pickup. The place was old and well lighted; its blatant motif ablaze with stainless steel and neon. Something left over from a different era. The burst of bright lights hurt her eyes as she stepped inside. The heavy screen door pushed hard against her back and slammed closed behind her, alerting all inside to her presents. The place looked clean and there was country music playing on the jukebox. Two men seated at the counter spun around in their seats and watched her intently. She took a booth near the front window where she could watch her car. It was a new car and it was all hers. Her parents gave it to her when she graduated from high school. She had been excepted at UCLA and her mom and dad were so proud of her. They didn’t like the idea of her driving cross-country, but she had explained how she would need a car when she got there. After all, isn’t that why they had bought it for her?

The two men were now looking her over and it made her feel uneasy. She had no qualms about her body. She knew she was in good shape. She had always worked hard to keep herself that way. She was used to getting the once over by men, but these men were old, maybe in their late forties. One was tall, bald and skinny. He was staring at her with a toothless grin. The other one was shorter and heavier. They were both dressed in matching, pale blue coveralls and the chunky one was wearing a dirty, blue baseball hat, pulled down to his ears. They were exchanging comments and chuckling to each other. Janet felt it was probably at her expense.

Coffee, Honey? The waitress, who stood before her, looked half-asleep. She yawned as she took a pencil down from her ear. She looked, first at Janet, then at the two men at the counter. Don’t let them two clowns bother ya, Honey, she said. Those are the Colven Brothers, Harley an Calvin. Calvin Colven, now ain’t that a mouthful? He’s the tall, skinny, toothless one, with the bald head. Harley’s the fat one, with the ill-fitting dentures. I think they were his fathers. He never takes off that baseball hat, so I suspect he’s as bald as his brother. They own the local garage and they’re both damn good mechanics. They’re bachelors and they live in the house next to the garage. They’ve, probably got mattresses stuffed full of money, but even I wouldn’t date either one of them and I sure as hell ain’t no Princes Di. I’ll bet they’ve each asked me out a hundred times. Tell ya what, Honey. If a pretty young thing like you were to walk up to them, right now, and say, ‘Hi, my name is’... She made a motion with her hands.

Janet.

.’Janet. How are you?’ They would turn crimson red and become stone deaf and dumb. The closest they ever come to a pretty girl like you, are the ones they droll over in them ‘girlie magazines’. They touch up those photos, you know. Of course ya don’t. Now, that I’ve run my mouth off for five minutes, did you want the coffee?

Yes, thank you, Janet said.

You don’t have to thank me, Honey. My name is Sally and I will be your waitress this evening. She said, doing a little curtsy. "They do that in some of the better restaurants, you know. Seeing as I’m the only one here, May went home at nine, I’m the only choice ya got. You look over the menu, Honey. I’ll get you your coffee. Don’t let those two losers bother you. They come in here every night, suck on a couple of beers, for an hour or so and then leave. They’ve been doing this for

years and years and in all that time they’ve never left me a tip. If they bother ya, Honey, you just holler and I’ll, gladly, throw the bums out."

Janet looked around, What’s the special? she asked.

Meat loaf, and it’s real good, Honey. Mays own recipe.

That sounds good, Janet said, I’ll have the meat loaf.

Sally licked the tip of her pencil and made a note on her pad. Mashed or fries, Honey?

Mashed.

Peas or corn?

Corn.

OK, Honey. Be back in a jiffy.

Sally returned shortly with the cup of coffee and a fresh pitcher of cream. Janet fished a Sweet-n-Low out of the rack. She sipped the coffee and hoped the meat loaf would be better. It was. It was the best she had ever tasted. She watched as the two Colven brothers settled up their account and walked to the door. They smiled at her as they passed. She smiled back sarcastically and waved. She could see their necks flush red as they pushed their way hurriedly through the heavy screen door. Sally had been right about them. She tore into her meal with the relish of a lumberjack, mopping up the last of the gravy with the last homemade biscuit. Sally appeared with the evening paper and a cup of coffee.

Mind some company, Honey? she asked. I’ve just got to get off my feet.

No. Of course not, said Janet.

Sally took a sip of her coffee. God! she said. This stuff is pure tar! Let me put on a fresh pot and get ya a fresh cup. I am so sorry!

It’s OK, said Janet, I would much rather have a Coke.

Fair enough, Honey, Sally said, getting to her feet, and I won’t charge ya for it either. She returned with two Cokes and two glasses of ice. I decided ta join ya, Honey. One will keep me awake, just as good as the other.

Is there another route I can take out of here, besides the Turnpike? Janet asked.

Which way ya headed, Honey?

West.

Well let’s see, Sally said taking a sip of her Coke, if you take this road north a bit you’ll run into Route 30. It was the main road through here, before the Pike came through. It will take ya into Greensburg and eventually into Pittsburgh. Now I don’t know how far you’re going.

I’m going all the way to California.

Whoa! Well then you don’t want ta go through Pittsburgh, Honey. Not if you don’t have to. Sally took a sip of her Coke. Now from here ta Greensburg ain’t too bad, but you start getting around those big cities the traffic gets terrible. Take the south loop out of Greensburg, back ta 70. That will take you to Washington, which ain’t too bad. That way you’ll avoid Pittsburgh altogether. Now there’s some pretty country out there, but Pennsylvania is a big state and it’s easy ta get lost around them big cities. If I were you, I’d go right back on 70 and just stay on it.

I’ll take my chances, Janet said, smiling. If one of those big rigs doesn’t run me off the road, I’ll probably die of boredom.

I know just what ya mean, Honey. I drove down ta Florida to see this friend of mine last year. I said, ‘never again. Next time I fly!’ That old wreck of mine ain’t got no air conditioning, it can’t pass a gas station and by the time I paid for two tows, repairs, two tires and a case or two of oil, I had me the price of a plane ticket. That old Chevy pickup out front is mine. Well, I inherited it from my ‘ex’ when we split up. He took the new car and left me with that old bag of bolts. I pray every night that son-of-a-bitch he’s drivin’ blows up with him in it.

Janet looked at her watch. It’s getting late and I still have to find a place to stay tonight. Is there someplace near by. A motel or something?

Sure is, Honey. Down the road about two miles. The Pine Cabins Lodge.

I didn’t think it would still be open. The sign I saw looked like it was ready to fall over.

"The signs are in bad shape, but the motel is kept up pretty good. People who normally stay there don’t need no sign to know where it is. That’s mostly people with company from out of town, married couples who want ta get away from the kids for a night,