Chapter 1

Thirty year old Rick Gibson sat on the old wooden bleachers watching a little league baseball game. His nose and mouth were covered by his hands which were cupped in a praying position. He was leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees. Rick had a familiar face in the area but wasn't too well known because he never got around. He had lived in the small town of Longview, Texas for four years. There was a another larger town called Longview but this one had only about three thousand people in this one. He arrived shortly after recovering from a serious wound from the Gulf War.

Rick was about five foot nine, one hundred and eighty pounds, short brown hair and eyes. He lived on his medical pension and doing a few small jobs in the town. Mostly washing dishes at Shelly's the local bar and grill. On Friday and Saturday nights a large curtain was pulled aside to reveal a small dance floor. Usually it was for couples to dance the two step with the music provided by an old jukebox or once in a great while a mediocre band trying to make a few bucks in cash. He liked the music and it helped him when he washed the dishes.

He wasn't a drinker or smoker but addicted to Dr. Pepper which he got for nothing as a benefit of being the dish washer. It was hard for Shelly to find someone to do that menial job. With this and his pension, Rick made ends meet since he wasn't married, had no kids, and a shack that he lived in rent free.

He liked watching the kids play. Especially since their best player was an eleven year old girl with long hair fixed into a ponytail. She wore glasses but he could see that when she abandoned her tomboy status, she'd become a real beauty. At this point she had an overpowering arm and struck out all the players in opposition. He didn't shout or openly cheer for the Longview Tigers. Ginny or Jenny or whatever her name was had a fastball that few boys could get their bats around to hit. He saw one boy from a different town hit one her pitches and sent it so far he was across the plate for a homerun before the outfielder caught up with the ball. Still, he liked her athletic prowness on the baseball field and thought if she were properly coached the girl could become an excellent pitcher in softball.

"Move over," Rick heard a woman's voice tell him cheerfully. He looked up he saw Joyce Nelson standing over him. She was in her late thirties or or early forties. Joyce was attractive. A bit overweight but the pounds were well distributed. She had short reddish brown hair, pretty face with freckles, large breasts. and hips as she worked hard to keep them from expanding.

"Lots of room in this row," he shifted a little. She sat down purposely having her hips touch his. Joyce was a part time weekend warrior at Shelly's tending bar and delivering food to the tables of the guests. She had a cheerful disposition, a loud but nice laugh, and was always energetic. She was the treasurer for the little league program of Longview. She probably picked up the cash that people paid to view this game.

"Too bad there aren't more people here today, but this is a makeup game from a rainout earlier," she brushed his arm with hers. She wore tight jeans and a t-shirt that said LONGVIEW TIGERS. She had some flip-flops on her feet and a large purse that obviously carried a large amount of cash.

"There's enough," he stared into her cheerful looking eyes. He liked her smile. He had heard that she was a divorcee when her husband ran off with a senorita ten years younger than her. No doubt the woman had an affair with her husband before leaving with him to parts unknown. Joyce didn't make any effort to find out where he went. She didn't miss him, got the house, the bank account minus the two thousand he took out before disappearing. Joyce seemed to be happier since he left.

"Yes, but there would be more if this were on a weekend."

"If it were on the weekend, I wouldn't be able to see this."

"What days do you work?"

"Thursdays through Sundays."

"So you don't have to get back for the next few days?"

"That's right. I did some shooting with Emil earlier and decided to walk over and see this game."

Joyce stood up, "C'mon," she held his underarm.

"Where we going?"

"You look like you are hungry, mister. I'm taking you home to feed you."

"I never turn down a home cooked meal," he jumped to his feet. All about the outcome of the game was forgotten. He followed her to the steps, then to the parking lot.

"I assume you're hungry," she looped her arm through his.

"You assume correctly."

They had been acquaintences ever since he moved to Longview a few years back. When she brought the dirty dishes for him to wash, she always had a joke or something cheerful to say to him. His shack had no electricity, no gas, and only an outhouse to relieve himself. In the middle of the night if he had to go, he'd piss in a jar to empty it the next day. When he first moved in, he was bitten by a small rattlesnake which caused him to be hospitalized for a few days.

Rick was an avid reader. Emil would give him his day old newspaper, or he read the Bible given to him by a chaplain as he recovered from the bad wound he received during the Gulf War, and anything he could get his hands on. He must have read Gone With The Wind four times. He loved Tom Clancy novels and many stories by Michael Chrichton along with John Grisham. He also liked to do the puzzles in the paper. He didn't need television. He played soft music on his battery charged radio. He had an old Datsun that didn't work and sat next to his shack for over a year.

Joyce's house was a split level ranch. The lawn was mown to perfection and trimmed at the edges like it was done by a professional. The outside had a new coat of paint, the shutters made the windows standout, and the whole general property was well maintained. Inside was just as nice as the outside. Everything was clean and neat. It smelled like lilacs as there were several lilac trees in the back with its odor being blown in by the wind through the two open kitchen windows.

"You make yourself at home," she handed him a glass of lemonade knowing that Rick didn't drink alcohol. It wasn't that he disliked liquor, no matter if were beer, wine, or the hard stuff; it made him sick to his stomach and in minutes after taking a drink, up it came. No reason for it except his body rejected it. "I'm going to rustle up some grub. Do you like Mexican food?"

"Love it," he grinned. "Mexican eats are some of my favorites.

"You look like you need a few more pounds on you," she laughed heading for the kitchen. She handed him the remote to turn on the television but he reached for the morning paper instead.

"This is delicious," Rick complimented Joyce on the meal she made. It took her forty-five minutes to toss it all together, cook it, and now he was tasting this dish for the first time.

"It's called Spanella," Joyce smiled, pleased with the compliment. "I had some in a small out of the way place run by Mexicans a year ago. I liked it so much I paid them ten dollars to give me the recipe. This is the second time I've made it. Shelly likes it too. I've given her the pointers on how to make it and she's going to add it to her menu as soon as she can."

"Spanella, huh? Strange name but it is good," he scooped in another big spoonful.

"I was on my way to Dallas when I went through this small town. I had a taste for something Mexican so I came across this. I'm glad I did."

"I'm glad too," he drank half a glass of ice cold lemonade to quell the spices that made his tongue feel hot.

"If I put too much hot stuff on this, only one thing will help you," she got up and poured him a glass of milk. "It's the only thing known to man that will relieve how hot it is."

Downing the milk, it did work. Still he wanted to finish the plate. It was that good. They sat at the table talking about the heat and humidity of the day. It was nice that Joyce had central heat and cooling. The house was comfortable while it baked outside. Upon entering, she had closed the windows and turned the air conditioning sky high."