Excerpt: A Daughter's Trust

“Ms. Edwards? Ms. Edwards, you might want to wake up now.”

Karen opened bleary eyes and quickly shut them again at the bright sunlight beaming right at her face. Something plastic nudged her hand. She squinted a bit and saw that Ben had retrieved her sunglasses for her and was shading her face with a book.

“Thanks. Wh—where are we?”

“I-80. We need gas and I thought after several hours you’d probably need to get up and walk around a little, maybe grab something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Karen reached over her head, stretching in true happy kitty fashion, the blanket slipping from around her shoulders. She pulled the seat back to an upright position and straightened her blouse under her still-buttoned coat. She briefly glanced at Ben in the middle of her ministrations, but turned back to confirm the oddly mischievous expression on his face.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Ben, what is it?”

His head dipped down, fighting a smile. His eyes rose to shyly meet hers.
“You moan in your sleep.”

Her heart stopped for a second. “I do what?”

“You moan, kind of loudly, off and on.”

Karen hid her face behind one hand. Ben snickered, unable to control his laughter any longer. Her other hand flew up, but neither were enough to cover the crimson flush spreading hotly across her cheeks and down her neck.

“My mother said…but I never believed her…”

“Believe it.” Ben fought to keep his laughter contained. “I thought it was just an odd snore, but then it kept happening and there was no other word for it. You moaned. A lot.”

The explanation wasn’t helping her recover from her embarrassment any, but Ben continued. “Then I remembered you saying in class that you had a very active and vivid dream life, so I figured that you were either having a good dream of getting a great massage in one of those posh mountain spa resorts, or a not-so-good dream of waking up in the plastic surgeon’s office and finding that he’s stitched your lips shut with bailing wire.”

The last image struck an odd chord and she dropped her hands to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “What on earth…”

“Distracted you, didn’t it?” Ben smiled broadly, looking quite pleased with himself as he opened the door and stepped up to the gas pump. Karen flipped down the visor and checked her appearance in the mirror. Amazingly there were no creases in her cheek from the pillow and her hair still looked reasonably coifed. Bracing herself for the icy wind, she climbed out of the car quickly and tottered on stiff legs to the store. After freshening up in the bathroom, she walked around the glittering stands of blown glass ornaments, customized stationary sets, and plaster figurines commemorating the local area. Ben came up behind her, a large mug of steaming coffee in his hand, as she moved on to the postcard stand. He picked up the topmost one, featuring a white arch and proclaiming the truck stop as the largest in the world.

“I get that this place is big and has a lot of restaurants, but I’m not sure what’s so special about this truck stop that it would get all the hype. To a trucker, I’d bet that as long as there’s a working bathroom and something hot to eat, one stop is pretty much like any other.”

Karen flipped through a brochure on a nearby shopping center, her back to him as she answered. “Actually, this place is really fantastic for truckers. There are sleeping coves that you can rent if you don’t have a sleeper cab, really nice shower areas, a barber, and even a dentist in one of the far buildings. Most of the parking areas also have electric hookups to power the heating elements of cabs so the engine doesn’t have to be running, which is a Godsend, really. When you think about how much diesel they’d burn just letting it idle so they can stay warm, the combined emissions and cost of the fuel is alarming.

“Not to mention if they are owner-operators and have to absorb all fuel and repair costs themselves—then it’s truly like burning money. With having to buy a new cab every five years or so, which, decently equipped, cost upwards of three hundred thousand, the stresses of trying to deal with traveling in the winter could give you a pair of ulcers. This pales in comparison to the numerous towns along highways which have outlawed overnight or long-term parking in even completely empty parking lots; then you have thousands of very tired people with no place to rest comfortably for days if not weeks at a time. You know, I’m sure there’s a pamphlet or brochure somewhere around here that explains all of this, if you’re interested.”

She turned back to look at Ben and found him nearly slack-jawed in confused wonder. “How do you know all that?”

She shrugged. “My uncle, Mom’s brother, has been a cross-country trucker for nearly forty years. He made sure I appreciated what was stocked at the supermarket.”

“Ms. Edwards, you never cease to amaze me.”

She waved him off, lost in thought and looking over a row of packaged nuts. “Call me Karen.”

“What?”

“Considering you’ve listened to me moaning for over two hours, Karen is fine.”

She didn’t realize what she had said until she heard Ben sputtering and choking on a badly-timed sip of coffee. He tried to cover his smile in the curl of his hand but failed as he watched her eyes widen in shock, her hand darting to her mouth.

“I—oh, I didn’t mean…”

Ben’s eyes were beginning to water under the strain of repressing his laughter. “I’ll wait for you in the car—we’ll pick up some lunch at Arby’s and eat on the road.” He left her standing there, blushing harder than ever, a tube of cashews slipping from her limp hand.