Truth And Admiration Ch 01

This is a slow boil. If that's not what you're looking for, I totally understand and hope you'll keep looking.

I've titled this chapter one because I feel like I might want to write about these characters more, but to be honest, I don't have any idea what happens next.

This story has been updated with copy-edits (thanks to the generous help of HaltWhoGoesThere - who I am very grateful to for their time and input).

I hope you will enjoy the story, and if you do, that you will comment.

XOSNS

The Truth

Even before she knew she was doing it, she had stopped. Miranda leaned over to roll down the passenger side window, wondering at what she was doing. She had never picked up a hitchhiker. But there at the edge of town and at dusk, there was something especially vulnerable about the kid standing on the side of the road.

The little Victorian town was a hippy haven, even so, hitchhiking was still pretty uncommon, but it wasn't unheard of - and it wasn't a huge red flag either. The baseball cap pulled low and the oversized hoodie, however, would normally have been enough to spook Miranda off - 'what are you hiding little man?' - but something about his pose, about the way he held himself... something she glimpsed the instant she'd passed him had seized Miranda, made her stop.

She watched him trot towards the truck in the rearview mirror. Again something about the way he moved. His clothes were so baggy. He was so thin. But still, she felt a stab of apprehension, wondering if she was making a terrible mistake.

"Where are you headed?" She called through the open window; too loud, smiling too big. She was nervous, trying to cover for it.

"The hot springs!" The voice was high-pitched, and not even a shadow of a beard.

Miranda's smile slipped. He was really young... or a girl.

"Oh Jeez. Well, this is a terrible spot to catch a ride no matter what," she said, leaning over to unlock the door. "Hop in, I can get you to the 101, there at least it's a straight shot to the springs."

"Awesome!"

The boy-girl climbed in, and buckled up, holding a small backpack protectively in front of him/her.

Miranda checked behind her, waiting for an opening, and pulled into the evening traffic.

"This is a great truck!"

"Thanks, it's not mine... I'm Miranda," she said, glancing at her passenger. He/she was pretty. Clear skin, full lips, big pale eyes, young - really young.

"I'm Al, thanks so much for the ride, I thought I was going to be there all night!"

The name was ambiguous but the voice was high and girlish, with a slight southern twang.

'Definitely a she,' Miranda thought, realizing the hat and hood was probably an attempt to hide that. She relaxed a little, but at the same time felt a surge of concern for this girl.

'What was she fucking thinking?' Miranda thought with a growing alarm.

"No worries Al," she said, hoping her voice sounded friendly and calm, trying to play it cool. "Do you hitchhike a lot?"

"No, not really," Al admitted, looking around the cab nervously, clutching the bag tighter against her chest. "This is my first time."

"Right on. I hitchhiked with a-...with a friend a couple of times in Europe," she told the girl, hoping to put her at ease, feeling like she was bungling it. "Where are you coming from? Do you have friends in town? I don't feel like I've seen you around."

"No. I came from the city, kinda?"

She was traveling in the wrong direction to be coming from the city, Miranda glanced at her - her confusion must have shown - Al scratched her cheek and pulled a face. "I was on the ferry from the island?"

"Oh." Miranda tried to imagine the route that had taken the girl so far north. "Did you come across at Mukilteo?"

"Yeah," Al laughed. "I was taking the bus up to Western. I was supposed to... I have friends who go there - a friend, I guess. But I don't know, I changed my mind."

"Sooo you decided to go to the hot springs," Miranda volunteered.

"Yeah! It's- I don't know, I needed to clear my head? It's a special place," Al told her, pushing back her hood and pulling off her cap. Looking out the window she squeezed and twisted the cap. "I just really like it there, you know? And I thought..."

The cap had left a mark on her forehead, but Miranda could see Al clearly now. Thick dark brows, a straight narrow nose, and a strong jaw. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing a long thin neck. She was a very pretty girl; gorgeous even. There were so many lost young people floating around, but she didn't look like a street rat, could be at the U, but Miranda didn't think so.

"Hey I get that, I love it up there, and I don't want to be a downer, but it's going to be dark by the time you get to the 101- and it's still another hour at least to get to the springs"

"Yeah, I thought- It just took so much longer to get across the island than I thought," she confessed. "I thought I'd make it to the hot springs by dark."

"Well, all that's at the junction of 101 is Fat Smitty's, and I don't think it will even be open by the time we get there," Miranda told her, thinking of the greasy little tourist trap, with its chainsaw art and muddy parking lot. "I'm pretty sure that's not going to be a good place for you to get a ride tonight."

"Oh," the girl seemed to deflate. Miranda felt bad for her.

"I'm guessing you don't have a bag or tent in there?" she asked, gesturing to the little backpack Al was hugging to her chest. The girl shook her head no.

"Do you know anyone in town?" Miranda asked. "Anyone out here?"

Again Al shook her head no.

They drove in silence for a bit, Miranda trying to decide what to do. Marcus' truck was a ten-ton beast, great for hauling logs through the woods, but it took a lot of strength to drive. The four-hour drive to the city and back would be a nightmare, even if the engine didn't crap out - and that, she knew, was in no way guaranteed. Miranda bit her cheek.

"Look, I'm house-sitting for some friends. Their place is between her and the 101, not far out of the way. It's just me there. Why don't you come stay with me tonight and I'll drive you to Smitty's in the morning?"

"I'm not really..." Al started. Looking uncomfortable. "I don't know."

"I get it," Miranda laughed and smiled. Again hoping to reassure the girl. "Everyone says I look like a serial killer, but I promise I'm not!"

"No it's not that," she said, trying to smile. "I just feel like that's a lot. I feel bad."

"Don't feel bad, Al. The truth is I would feel much better if I knew you had a safe place to be tonight, and besides, it will be fun to have company," Miranda told her. "It's an old farmhouse, they have chickens. We can make something from the garden for dinner."

"Really?" the girl asked. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No it'll be fun, I promise."

"Yeah, OK!" she smiled big, "that would be great. Thanks so much, Miranda. The truth is I was getting kinda nervous before you picked me up."

"I bet," Miranda said as she passed the turnoff to the 101, and turned on the headlights. She wondered if there were worried parents in the city, if Al was a runaway, but she didn't want to spook the girl by asking her - felt she should move slowly. "Are you at the U?"

"No," Al said, sounding a bit disappointed, maybe she knew what Miranda was getting at. She gestured out at the forest. They were driving through a narrow cut between tall dark trees, the air was cool and smelled sweet. "Do you live out here usually, or just for the sit?"

"I used to," Miranda explained. "I moved here with a boyfriend and... and we lived nearby, but I live back in town now."

"With your boyfriend?" Al asked.

"No," Miranda told her. "He was at the boat building school, when he finished he went back East..."

"Oh."

"Yeah. How about you, where are you in the city?"

"I live on The Hill. I work at B&O?"

"Oh, right on," Miranda laughed. "I worked there the first year I moved out here. Do you know Joan?"

"Yeah!" Al had turned and looked genuinely happy. "Holy shit, Joan is awesome."

"Yeah, she is!" Miranda agreed as she made the turn onto the valley. "I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't for her."

"Wow, this is... really far... out of town," Al said, looking doubtfully out at pastures, punctuated by dark clumps of trees. "I can't imagine."

Miranda smiled, felt pretty sure she knew what the girl was feeling. When she had first moved out here it had felt like the end of the world, the forest primeval, and like Al, she couldn't picture how anyone like her could live out here.

"Wait till you see where we're going," she told the girl. They were curving up the valley past a tulip farm. There was no moon yet and the ridge was on their right, hidden by a dark wall of towering Doug fir and cedar. "It's literally the end of a dirt road."

She made the last turn, onto the road, and slowed down as they started up the hill. The road was graded a couple of times a year, but driving on it too fast made parts of it like a washboard, and the truck's suspension was stiff and unforgiving, so Miranda always drove it slow. She looked over at the girl, could feel Al getting nervous again, and understood why. The road curved and snaked. It was little more than a dark tunnel through the forest at night, the canopy totally blocking out the sky.

"Do you live alone?" She asked Al, hoping talking would help the girl relax.

"I live with a couple of friends," She said, watching the woods. "It's OK, a little cramped, but I like my room. It's all the way in the back and there's a yard. How about you?"

"I live alone. No yard, but I lucked out and got a cheap studio, there aren't many in town," she told her. "I miss it out here, but I don't have a car."

"This truck is awesome."

"I know right? It's older than God."

They made the turn into the clear cut and as the sky reappeared Al leaned forward to look up. It was full dark but the stars were out. The Milky Way was already a bright smear across the sky. Al hummed quietly.

"When I lived in the city we used to joke about 'looking at the star'" Miranda laughed.

"Fuck," Al blurted, craning at the windshield, "sorry, I mean, yeah."

"I forget how bright they are out here, even just living in town," Miranda said. "I guess it's been a while since you've seen them?"

AL grunted in the affirmative as she sat back and the truck reentered the forest and the road dipped into a deep gully surrounded by especially big cedar and the air abruptly chilled. The smell of dill filled the cab of the truck.

"Oooh! Do you smell that?" Al asked.

"Isn't that great? My boyfriend used to call this 'The Spooky Spot'. We'd walk down here to look at the stars and he'd tease me that there was a giant pickle in the woods," Miranda told her. "It sounds so dumb, but he'd scare the living shit out of me by going 'THE PICKLLLE! THE PICKLLLLLE!!!'"

"How is that remotely scary?" Al laughed so hard she snorted. "What did you picture, like a 'Mr. Pickles' with giant cartoon gloves?"

"I don't knowwww," Miranda admitted, laughing too. "It's scarier when you're not in a car. I fucking hated it."

Al turned to look at her and seemed to be studying her face. Her brow wrinkled.

"What do you do out here?"

"You mean for work?"

"Yeah I guess, but, like everything? What's it like?"

"I have a couple of jobs," she told her. "I work in the yards for a boat builder, doing their books and stuff, some cleaning up. And there's a bakery in town, my boss is awesome. I've been there a couple of years. I've made some really great friends, but they're mostly older and married. As for what it's like. I don't know. I grew up in Manhattan, so I've never lived in a small town before, never in a million years imagined I would. Honestly, it gets a little lonely sometimes, but I like it. It suits me right now."

The truck had re-emerged into pasture land again, sagging barbed wire fences and twisted apple trees marked the edges of the road. There was a turn-around with three gates. Miranda slowed down and turned into the open one.

"End of the road!" she told Al.

She was late. She'd been feeling guilty as she'd left town, afraid she'd come home to carnage and feathers. The headlights shined on chicken wire and muddy earth, nothing out of sorts. She'd promised Jean and Marcus that she'd be sure to put the ducks and chickens away before dark each night. They weren't in their yards, which was a good sign... she hoped. She looked at Al and saw that the girl was looking nervous again.

"Want to help me with the chickens?" she asked brightly as she turned off the truck.

"Um-"

"Come on," She said, opening her door. "They're so stupid, it's hilarious."

Miranda grabbed the flashlight from the dash and led Al into the yard, peeking her head into the hen house and turning on the light. The rooster glared at her, but no carnage. She sighed in relief. She grabbed Marcus' basket and reached under the first hen, nothing. Al was watching from the door.

"Want to try?"

"Um. No, I'm OK."

Miranda didn't blame her, the chickens used to freak her out. She did a quick search turning up eight eggs and only earning a few angry pecks. She turned off the light and closed them into the house for the night, shutting the gate to the yard. Next was the ducks, they had likewise retreated to their house, so she just shut them in. Turning to look at Al, who had been at her elbow the whole time. The flashlight was aimed at the ground, but she could see the girl's expression - she looked scared.

"Are you hungry? We can make a big omelet, and Markus makes killer home-brew," She told her and saw that Al brightened at that. "Come on."

Jean's garden was almost twice as big as the farmhouse - which was tiny, but still, it was a big garden. Using the flashlight, she and Al went down the rows, picking peppers and cukes, and pulling carrots and onions. While Al got greens for a salad, Miranda broke off a bunch of basil and some dill.

"Why'd you tell her about THE PICKLE?' Miranda chided herself, feeling foolish.

"Sorry, I wasn't planning to have guests tonight," She said as she turned on the lights. She was relieved to see the house was pretty clean. A couple of dirty bowls in the sink, a bra, and underpants on the floor by the sofa - which she quickly grabbed and threw up the stairs.

She turned around to see Al, still standing in the doorway, looking around the room with wide eyes, and suddenly felt self-conscious; could feel herself blushing. The "farmhouse" was over a hundred years old and didn't have a single level surface or right angle. It was hardly a house at all. The ceilings were low enough to touch. The kitchen and living room taking up a single space on one side of the downstairs, Marcus' little den, and Jean's sewing room on the other. Those tiny rooms were divided by the narrow staircase leading upstairs - so steep it was practically a ladder.

"I know it's funky-" Miranda started to explain.

"Oh my God, this is SO fucking... amazing!"

"Ha!" Miranda barked, feeling instantly relieved. "Well if you like this, wait till you see the outhouse!'

"Outhouse?" Al still looked really happy, but confused.

"Yeah, why do you need to pee?" Miranda asked her.

"Yeah actually."

"Come on,' she said, slipping her Berks back on and leading Al back out the door, "while you still have your shoes on."

They walked through the yard to the little narrow shed. And Miranda opened the door, pointing to the covered bucket on the floor she told Al, "just put the toilet paper in there." Pointing to the box of peat and the little scoop, she told her, "and if you poop, throw a scoop of that down the hole when you're done."

Al was staring dubiously at the toilet seat on the little wood platform.

"-It keeps it from smelling bad," she explained. But Al was still looking at the seat. "You OK?"

"What about-" she started. Looking concerned. "You know, spiders or..."

Miranda smiled, Opening the seat, and shining the light down onto the pile of peat-covered shit, she told her, "I used to be afraid that a snake or an animal would hide in there and jump out at me when I sat down.'

"Right?!" Al laughed.

"Jean was great when I told her that. She asked me to imagine I was a snake and I had the forest, the pastures, and the garden to choose from: would I want to live in the shit pile under the outhouse?"

"I guess not," Al admitted, but still not looking entirely convinced. "But what about spiders?"

"I've never been bit," Miranda told her. "And I'm three years in. I think because of the peat it doesn't attract flies? But also it's used enough that it would be hard for a spider to make a web. I promise you won't get bit."

She offered the flashlight to Al and smiled. The other girl still hesitated.

"Do you want me to wait?" she asked.

"Would you?" Al looked comically relieved.

"Go ahead," She told the girl. "I'll wait."

Al stepped up into the little house, but then turned around.

"Is it dumb if I leave the door open?"

"No," Miranda told her, turning to give her privacy. "It's not dumb at all, I think it's nicer that way."

Miranda looked up at the diagonal of the Milky Way, listening as Al set down the flashlight and undid the fly of her jeans. She could hear the girl's shoes cautiously scrape as she prepared to sit.

"It doesn't smell as bad as I thought it would be," Al admitted.

"Outhouses are only gross when they are overused," Miranda told her conversationally. "Like those things at concerts. But two adults, and the peat..."

"Eep!" Al squeaked.

"Cold?" Miranda laughed.

"Yeah, and damp!"

"Oh sorry, that's just dew. I should have warned you."

"It's so nice," Al cooed. "The stars."

"Yeah I like that too," Miranda told her, as she heard the soft sound of the girl's pee hitting the peat. Al started to giggle. A sound, just as girlish and sweet as the little pitter of her pee.

"This is so fucking random!" Al exclaimed. Miranda had to agree and laughed along with her.

Back inside she made a fire in the woodstove and told Al to relax. She pulled one of the three giant brown bottles from the fridge that Marcus had left her, and opening it, poured Al a glass.

"OK, I don't usually like a stout," Al admitted, "but this is really good!"

"Right?" Miranda told her as she cleaned the feathers and dried gunk off the eggs. "Marcus is a bit of a know-it-all, but he is legitimately awesome at everything he does."

Al was wandering barefoot around the room, looking at things, her hands pushing into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. The house was relatively spare and all the things Jean and Marcus owned were simple and old. But it somehow came together to be something so beautiful - like something out of a movie. Miranda loved staying here.

"Hey, is there anybody who is going to be worried about you?" she asked, gesturing with a wet hand at the old rotary phone on the wall. "Do you want to make a call?"

"No," Al said firmly, looking at the old phone like it might bite her. "I'm all good."

"Cool. So tell me about the hot springs, why there?"

"I don't know," Al admitted. She was standing at the counter with her beer, watching Miranda at the sink. "I went there with some friends just after I moved here, and it was so magical. I felt so good there, and nothing makes sense right now. I just thought... I don't know what I thought."

"Do you mind if I ask what's going on, or is it too personal?"

"It's personal I guess, but..." Al looked at her glass; sounded so sad. "Not 'too' personal - I don't know - not so I mind telling you anyway. It's just all so dumb."

Miranda could see Al was uncomfortable, was struggling with something, didn't want to push her, and so gave her an out.

"Two eggs or three?" Miranda asked her, breaking Al's reverie.