Chapter 34

Roxie finished sweeping out her cell. She pushed the dust and small amount of debris into a dustpan and emptied it into a large trash container on wheels. Her cell was the last little area of the small jail that she had to do.

“I’m all done in here,” she yelled out to the sergeant, who was out in the front room. “I mopped the showers and rest rooms, too.”

“Okay,” he replied. “You can take a break. Watch TV, if you want to.”

Since Roxie was the only detainee in the jail at the moment, Sgt. Thibodeau had told her that he would relax the jailhouse rules a bit. There was a small TV room in the back of the stationhouse. Prisoners—detainees, that is—on good behavior and even officers between shifts used it to pass the time. Thibodeau had told Roxie that if any new detainees arrived he would have to go back to strict rules.

There was a wash-up sink in the shower area and Roxie used it before settling down in front of the TV. She came back out and poured herself a cup of coffee, without asking. The other times she’d asked and no one seemed to care.

She was the only one in the TV room so she picked up the remote and began looking for a channel. There weren’t a lot of choices.

The first channel was French Language TV.

“Scratch that!”

The second channel she came across was the Shopping Channel. She thought about looking at that for a while. The hostess of the show was modeling cocktail rings with stones the size of golf balls—all for $138.

“Who am I kidding,” she asked herself. “I can’t even afford a bus ticket.”

She switched the channel. There were children’s cartoons for early Saturday morning.

She switched back to the Shopping Channel. She wondered why for a moment but was sure that the fantasy spending spree would take her mind off her troubles. Anyway, they were off of cocktail rings by that time and onto lawn furniture. It made Roxie think of her aunt’s empty house back in Appleton and realized that her channel selection had been a mistake.

She picked up the remote again.

“Let’s see how much French I can pick up,” she thought and reversed the channels.

Sergeant Thibodeau walked into the TV room. Roxie looked up at him.

“You’re a hard worker,” he said to her. “The floors are nice and clean—cleaner than in a long time.”

“Thanks,” Roxie answered.

She couldn’t understand why it made any difference what her jailer thought of her, or her work—but it did. So, she was glad to hear him say it.

“I spoke with Rolande about giving you a temporary job at the truck stop,” the sergeant continued. “He said ‘okay’, but it looks like you won’t need it.”

“Won’t need it? Then how am I going to...”

“You’re being bailed out. Go pack up your things. He’s in the office waiting for you.”

Roxie stood and shuffled to her cell. The door was open. She had a few odds and ends to stuff into her small suitcase. She found it and her clothes folded on her bed. Sergeant Thibodeau must have put them there while she was watching TV.

“You can sign for the rest of your things when we check you out. I’ll leave you alone so you can change out of your jail uniform. Just leave it on the bed when you leave.”

Roxie unzipped her orange coveralls and wondered who was waiting for her out at the front desk. Maybe it was Rolande, or perhaps Phillipe. But why would they be coming to get her if she didn’t need the truck stop job, like the sergeant had said?

Roxie shrugged. She would find out soon enough, but not much of it made sense.

“Maybe Rolande is just going to loan me the money for the bus ticket,” she wondered. “I hope not. I’d rather work for it, like I planned to before I was arrested.”

She shook her head. Rolande had already said ‘okay’ to the temporary job. Roxie snapped her fingers.

“It’s Bubba! He couldn’t stand himself after what he did to me.”

She thought some more.

“I don’t think I could stand him, either. I’d rather walk to Appleton. I’ll take the truck stop job, instead.”

When she thought of Appleton she wondered if someone from home had come to get her.

“Not likely! No one there is going to come all the way up here to bail me out. Besides, how would they even know?”

Roxie stepped to a counter where Sergeant Thibodeau was waiting to return her belongings. There was an envelope containing some money. Roxie counted it. There was the fifty that Bubba had given her and the forty that she earned that night at the truck stop. There was an extra sixteen dollars, plus the money that she’d paid the truck stop motel.

“I only had fifty-five when I came in,” Roxie said. “There’s some extra here.”

“The manager at the motel agreed to refund what you paid in advance. And, you get a stipend for doing work while you’re in jail,” Thibodeau answered. “It’s the law; you have it coming to you.”

Roxie shrugged and put the money in her pocket.

“Check out your suitcase and make sure everything is in there,” the sergeant said. “You have to, it’s regulations,” he added when Roxie hesitated.

There was a form to sign, which Roxie did.

“Step this way,” the sergeant told her.

They made their way to the office area of the station. Roxie looked past the sergeant to find the identity of whoever was bailing her out. She couldn’t see past the sergeant right away. At last she was in the waiting room and everything came into full view.

“You!” Roxie shrieked.

It was Cal.

He paused for a second. Roxie wondered if he had expected a different reaction from her. He had an expression on his face that made him look rather silly, but after a few seconds Roxie realized that he was just trying his best to smile.

“That’s right, Roxie, it’s me in the flesh.”

It would be typical of Cal, Roxie thought, to give such a dumb answer. She turned to Thibodeau.

“Do I have to go with him?”

Thibodeau shook his head.

“No,” he said, “you don’t have to. Have you got a reason not to?”

Roxie crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I sure do—but it’s my business. I think I’ll take that part time job at the truck stop. Take me out to see Rolande.”

“I can,” Thibodeau said, “but then you’ll have to come up with the two hundred for your fine that this man just paid, on top of earning your bus fare money.”

Roxie clenched her teeth and thought for a minute.

“C’mon, Roxie,” Cal said, “let’s get in the car and get on the road. It’s a long drive as it is and every minute we stand here makes it that much longer.”

“So, you think you can just order me into your car—just like that,” she shouted at him as she snapped her fingers.

She saw Cal look at Thibodeau.

“You can do what you want,” the sergeant said to her. “Just remember the numbers: two hundred for the fine, two hundred for the bus, room rent out at the truck stop...”

“I get it! I get it!” Roxie interrupted.

“Plus, you’ll have to work everyday with Marguerite,’ Sergeant Thibodeau added. “Maybe you’ll be able to make friends with her.”

Roxie huffed out a breath.

“Roxie, I would really appreciate it if you would come back to Appleton with me,” Cal said.

Roxie cast a glance at the sergeant and then one at Cal.

“Well, I guess that I’ve got no choice,” she admitted at last. “We better get on our way.”

She picked up her things but stopped before following Cal to the door of the station house and turned back toward the sergeant.

“You’ve been awful nice to me,” she said, “a lot nicer than you had to be. I appreciate it.”

“All in a day’s work,” the sergeant said. “Best of luck to you, Roxie.”

He thrust out his hand to her but she stepped forward and stood on her toes. She kissed him on the cheek. The sergeant stifled a chuckle.

“Beats a handshake any day,” he said.

Roxie giggled just a little bit and then turned toward the door. Cal was waiting for her. She turned again just before going outside.

“Say thanks and goodbye to Rolande and Phillipe for me, will you?”

The sergeant nodded.

“The car is over this way,” Cal said.

Roxie reclined the passenger’s seat as Cal drove south on Route 1. The car passed by a road sign that said ‘Westfield – 5 Miles’. Roxie figured that they had been driving for about ten minutes.

She hadn’t spoken to Cal since they left the State Police Station back in Presque Isle. Cal hadn’t spoken, either, although Roxie was sure that he wanted to. She knew that he wouldn’t say anything until she said something first. That was just Cal, be it his shyness or stubbornness. Roxie figured they were two traits that seemed to go together.

“Well, he can just wait a while longer.”

She turned her head and looked out the side window at the Maine scenery passing by. She hadn’t bothered to notice it when she and Bubba had passed this way on their way north.

“I was too busy thinking about our ‘make-up’ session I was planning,” she thought to herself. “That sure didn’t go like I thought it was going to.”

It made her wonder how this long ride she’d just begun with Cal would end up. She looked at the fields go by and realized the pastures of Belfast had given way to fields of potatoes. There were people already in the fields that morning working the harvest.

“I’m not going to wonder about anything.”

She looked at her watch and saw that it was just approaching nine on that cloudy morning. It had been almost an hour since Sergeant Thibodeau had roused her from her seat in the TV room to begin the process of releasing her. She did wonder what time Cal had started out driving the day before in order to arrive in Presque Isle at eight in the morning.

“I told myself that I wasn’t going to wonder about anything,” she reminded herself. “That’s Cal’s business and no worry of mine.”

The sign announcing that they were entering the town of Westfield made her realize that she’d been talking to herself longer than she’d been aware. As soon as she sat up to look at the town the car was leaving the tiny hamlet.

“This trip is going to take about twelve hours, Roxie,” Cal mumbled from the other side of the car. “I hope we don’t have to spend the whole time giving each other the cold shoulder.”

She didn’t quite hear what he said because of the road noise, but she could make a pretty good guess. She began to answer but decided not to. A few seconds passed and she heard Cal speaking again, this time with more conviction.

“I didn’t realize that you’d be angry at me for driving up here to pick you up and bring you back to Appleton. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Well, that was good old Cal, alright. On one hand, he had no idea what he was talking about, and on the other he managed to make an apology sound as formal as the minister had been at Aunt Flora’s gravesite.

“I’m not mad at you for that, Cal,” she said in as soft a voice that she could manage.

Cal let out a sigh.

“Millie told me that you’re angry because you think I stood you up for our date. But I didn’t. I can explain all that. Besides, after all this time I thought that might have forgotten about it.”

“I’m not mad at you for that, either,” Roxie answered.

“Then I can’t imagine what you’re mad at me for,” he shot back. “There’s nothing else to be mad at.”

“I didn’t say I was mad at you, Cal,” Roxie answered in a voice that she used to show Cal how much in control of herself she was. “In fact, I’m not mad at you.”

“Roxie, you were pretty angry in that police station back there—but I noticed that you weren’t very angry at the sergeant. And, I can’t say that this ride so far has been a barrel of laughs.”

“Well, I’m not mad at you, so let’s just forget it,” Roxie said.

“Whatever you say,” Cal replied, and turned his attention to the road ahead.

They drove along for another mile or so. Roxie felt something bubbling up from deep inside herself.

“I’m just mad at this whole damned thing,” she blurted out, “about quitting my job and taking off with a jerk like Bubba, about being played for a fool by him and then getting arrested, and now having to be chauffeured back to Appleton like a helpless child.”

“I can see how it might put a damper on your mood,” Cal said.

She didn’t blame him when she caught him fighting off a smirk.

“How did you find out I was here, anyway?”