The Bradford Station

Chapter 10

Hayden

"I'm sorry to do this to you," Janie says as she leaves me standing at my teller station by myself.

I'm so confused. "Do what to me?"

"You'll see." She gives me a little wave as she quickly walks out from behind the desks.

Looking around the lobby of the bank, there doesn't seem to be anything that would make her want to leave me here by myself. Just a white-haired woman with a little hunch to her back. I don't recognize her; maybe she moved here after I left. Either way, this should be a quick transaction.

"Good morning." I smile to welcome her.

She smiles back, putting her pocketbook on the counter. "You must be new here; I've never seen you before." Her gray eyes go to my name tag. "Hayden. What an unusual name."

"It's my grandmother's maiden name." My tone is one of pride. I love being able to share with others where it came from. "What can I help you with today?"

The quietness in the room unnerves me so much I look around and notice all the other tellers are gone. There's only one person remaining at the drive-thru station. She gives me a slight grin and a thumbs up. I have absolutely no idea what's going on and now I'm kind of nervous.

The older woman thumbs through her bag before holding up a bunch of papers. "I can't seem to get my checkbook to balance, honey. Is there any way you can help me?"

There it is.

Before I can ask, she's moving ahead with her request. "There's no one at home to help me. My husband passed away last year and we didn't have any children."

My heart aches for her, reminding me of what my dad might go through. As far as I know, he hasn't dated anyone since he and mom got divorced. He has to be lonely, but he never shows it. The consolation is at least he has us.

Without wanting her to, my mom pops up in my brain. Because she left us, is this what she has to look forward to? As much as I hate her for leaving us, I hope someone would take the time to be nice to her. Which is why I make a promise to myself. Every time this woman comes in here, I'll help her, no matter what I have going on. I'll make it a point to be the person I would want others to be to my parents.

"Sure," I answer past the lump in my throat. "Can you give me your account number? I'll print out the detail and we'll go over there." I point to an empty desk. "And go through it together. Would that be okay?"

Relief shines bright in her eyes. "That would be great." She pushes her checkbook to me. "Here's my account number and my license is inside."

The name on the check reads Mrs. Grant Thomas.

My heart.

Underneath her name, there's a notation of how long her account has been opened here. The year is nineteen fifty-six. She must notice me eyeing it.

"We got married on my eighteenth birthday. Came here three days later and opened up our account. Can't bring myself to change the name on it." Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

"I think it's just perfect." I give her a smile.

Pressing a button, I print out what I need. Grabbing a pen, I come around the bank of counters and walk over to where she's slowly making her way to the desk I'd pointed out. Easily, I take her arm, giving her support.

She looks up, thankfulness washing over her face.

"You can have a seat right here." I pull out the chair for her. Once she's settled, I get into my own and put all the paperwork in front of me. "Now, what do we have here?"

"These are my receipts," she explains, the crumpled-up wad she handed me earlier sitting between us.

A thought dawns on me. "Has anyone ever showed you how to keep stuff situated?"

"No." She shakes her head. "This is what Grant always told me to do and it's what I've always done."

Then no one's ever taken the time to try and make it easier on her, and on them. Which irritates me more than it should. There's no reason someone couldn't have been nice enough to explain all of this to her.

"Okay." I put my hand over hers. "Let me go get us a few things that's going to make this easier from now on. You're welcome to come in here every month and I'll help you, but I'll need you to do a few things that'll help me."

"Whatever you need, honey." She seems relieved and I'll do whatever it takes to keep the hope on her face.

My heels click across the floor as I go across the lobby looking for the packets we give to new account holders.

"You're doing well with her," Janie mentions from where she's appeared next to me.

"She's a nice lady. Someone should have taken the time to explain to her how things work. I have a feeling she'll do whatever she's shown."

Janie opens her mouth and then closes it. "You're probably right. Never thought of that."

Grabbing what I need, I go back to where Mrs. Thomas sits. "Okay, let's get started."

Danny

Most members of Station One hate grocery shopping. Me? I love it. It's not my money and it gives me time to get my head on straight. All of the issues weighing me down seem to make sense as I'm going up and down the aisles of the Piggly Wiggly.

Even after six months of being with them, there are times when I don't feel as if I'm included. Just like this morning, but that's partly my fault too. I've not been the type of coworker to offer much about my personal life. Whereas a lot of them treat the bunk area like a high school locker room, I purposely hold pieces of myself back.

Being the youngest is hard.

And I've always been there. From the youngest in my family to the youngest at the station. No one ever seems to treat me as if I know what I'm doing and, instead of trusting myself, I look to them for the vindication that I'm doing well. When really, I should have my own confidence.

Then there's my being from the other side of the tracks as everyone else. Without a doubt, I shouldn't let it get to me, but I still carry scars of a childhood where my family was looked down upon.

All because of who my mother chose to love.

"Danny!"

Speak of the devil and she appears.

"Mom." I turn at the sound of her voice. "What are you doing?"

She's pushing a cart in front of her. Tilting her head. "Same as you. I'm surprised you're shopping this early."

"Slow at the house so far; wanted to get a jump on things."

"I haven't seen nearly enough of you lately." Her voice is sad as she gives me puppy dog eyes.

"You always say that," I remind her, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"It's true. Since you moved out, you don't come by much," she pouts.

I laugh, putting my arm around her neck, pulling her close. I moved out so I could have a little privacy, which I wasn't getting at home. "You're not happy unless you're all up in everyone's business. I'm just busy."

"That's a lie and we both know it," she argues. "Tell me, what's been going on with you?"

If she only knew. But I don't want to get into it. Not here and not now. There'll be questions I don't know the answers to. Demands for information I don't have, and there's nothing I want to have to explain to her. Instead, I decide to play everything off, like my life is status quo. "Same old, same old. I'd love to stay here and chat with you, but I gotta finish this up." I point to the meat section. "And then get back to the firehouse. I'll try to make it over for dinner this Sunday?"

"Okay, I love you. Please try to make it to church before dinner. I like it when we're able to pray together."

Of course she wants church. "I'll see what I can do. I promise. Love you too, Mama."

Reaching over, I grab the last of the hamburger I need and then beat feet outta there. The last thing I need is to try to pretend I'm something I'm not for my mother's sake. There are already times I feel like a huge disappointment, even though I'm doing my best to change what people think of our family. As I push the cart to one of the checkout lines, there are eyes on me.

Used to be because I was one of the only half-Hispanic people in town. Now, it's because I wear a shirt that proclaims me a member of the fire department. One way or another, they all seem to know who I am.

Maybe it's my lot in life.

But maybe it's also time to face this is what I want. All eyes on me, looking to me to save everyone. A hero complex.

I wasn't able to make my mom's family love us because of who our dad is, but I damn sure will make the town respect us.

I'll give them no reason not to.