Chapter 1

The dinger rang announcing a customer. Old Purdy, the owner's big yellow Labrador, raised his head and barked softly once. That told me there really was a car at the gas pumps and it wasn't those Perkins kids riding their bicycles over the bell line again as a joke. I stepped from under the old Dodge on the hoist. The oil would finish draining while I was gone. Grabbing a rag I began wiping the grease from my hands as I headed outside. Whenever I'm alone, I do everything; gas, repairs, cash register and phone. It doesn't matter if I'm just sixteen or not.

I didn't recognize the grey Chevrolet sedan at the pumps and glanced at the license plate. Minnesota - not many Minnesota cars ever get to this part of Tennessee. Stepping between the pumps and the car I leaned down to the driver's window and said, "May I help you Ma'am?"

"Yes, fill the tank please and can you tell me where the," she picked up a piece of paper from the seat beside her and scanned it quickly. "Um, the St. Stephens Episcopal Church is? Oh, and my daughter needs a restroom, please."

"Only if it's clean," a voice said from the passenger's seat. I'd noticed the slim legs in red shorts on the far side of the car and used the opportunity to lean down for a better look. Not that I saw too much, the driver's head was in the way, but the front of the blouse I glimpsed was pushed out nicely by a pair of breasts.

"Bathroom's inside the station, ma'am. Second door on the left towards the back. It's clean, I cleaned it myself after I used it this morning. You won't find a cleaner one." There was a huffing sound from that side of the car, kind of a "Yeah sure!" sound. A "because I was still wiping grease and oil from my hands and arms - what could I possibly know about cleanliness" kind of noise. Still the door on that side of the car opened and the girl got out. I didn't see her face, she never turned around. She had short reddish-brown hair ending just above the collar of a loose white blouse. Those red shorts were interesting though as she walked away, swaying from side to side with each step, the tightly held butt rising and falling, shifting as she moved.

"Damn that's nice!" I thought, then called after her, "Don't mind the dog. Old Purdy won't bother you none." One hand raised a bit but she didn't turn. Speaking again to the driver, while still watching that butt walking away, I said, "The church is right downtown, ma'am. Turn left at the intersection and follow the road around. Church's on the left. You can't miss it. I mean, it's the only thing that in town that looks like a church. There's a sign out front."

The nozzle was in the filler, gas pumping, when I asked the woman, "Was it only gas you wanted ma'am? If you'd like, I can check the oil and clean the windows too." Yep, our town is that small. Gas station is full service and we still work on cars too. None of that crappy self-service, do-it-all-yourself, mini-market stuff like they've got in Knoxville and other towns bigger than ours.

"No, thank you young man. Just the gas for now. Can you tell me though, will the Reverend likely be at the church?"

"Well, that kinda depends, ma'am. If he's expecting you, he'll be there. Sometimes though he fills in for Mr. Hawkins at Willie's Way Stop, what passes for a store here in town... uh, Mr. Hawkins is the butcher there. If the Reverend isn't at the church, try the store - it's only a couple doors further along. If he's not there, Mr. Hawkins, or Willie, uh... Ms. Williams, will know how to get hold of him." The gas had finished pumping and I worked the nozzle 'til I hit the next even dollar - made things simpler.

I took her money and stepped into the station to make change at the register. That was when I got my first real look at the girl. As I stepped through the open overhead door she was to my left. She was bent over petting Purdy who'd actually raised his lazy head for the attention. My first look at her was straight down the open neck of that loose white blouse she wore. The hanging inner curves and seperation of her breasts, The distinctive line of her tan, changing from tannish-brown to creamy white. She wasn't wearing a bra and, as they jiggled and swayed with her petting motions, I wondered if I would see more. But fear of being branded a pervert, for looking down her shirt, made me look away.

"Well," I said, moving towards the till, "You've got Old Purdy excited. He usually doesn't bother raising his head for attention. Just lays there and accepts it."

"He's a pretty dog. Kinda fat though. You should put him on a diet or something." Her voice was soft, kinda husky and the sound of it sent a thrill through me, almost as much of a thrill as the peek at her swaying boobs had a moment ago.

"Purdy belongs to Mr. Miller, my boss. He always overfeeds him. Besides, Purdy's been fat and lazy as long as I've known him." I made change from the register and asked, "Can you take your mother's change back to her? I gotta to get to work on that truck in back. Joshua'll be back in an hour for it and if it ain't done I'll catch hell... unless there's something else you need, of course?" She was eyeing the candy bars on the counter when I turned.

"No, nothing else," she took the bills I passed her, frowning at the grease still streaking my arm. "I'd better get back to the car. Mama will be getting impatient. Thanks for the use of the bathroom. You were right, It's the cleanest one I've ever seen in a gas station."

"You and your mama have yourselves a good day. Tell her thanks for the business."

"Looks like the place across the street is occupied again," said Dad over dinner.

"Yeah. I think I met them today... kinda. The car in the driveway stopped at the station this morning."

"Oh? Them?"

"There was a mother and a daughter. Girl about my age."

"Cute?"

"I guess. Seemed a little uppity though."

"The mother or the daughter?"

"The daughter. Needed the bathroom... 'but only if it was clean'. Said it like she didn't think country folk would know how to clean a toilet."

"What happened?"

"She used the bathroom. Petted old Purdy. Said he was too fat, then they left. The mother asked if the Reverend would be in and for directions to the church. Told her to try the church first, then maybe Willie's."

"Seems to have steered her right. A woman was carrying a couple of bags into Free House when I drove in."

"Why do they call it that, Dad? What's it mean?"

"Free House? Hadn't realised I'd said that. I try not to think of it in those terms. Still, you're old enough to understand now. Partly, it's just exactly that. It's rent free for those who move in. Sometimes they have to pay utilities, but that's all. It's also meant to be a safe place for them to live. You see, there's a big coalition of churches and private groups around the country. They all mostly keep homes like this one - all donated or bequeathed by parishioners. These days they are for hiding wives and children from abusive and dangerous husbands. They are only used when more normal places are thought unsafe and don't work. Places like community centers and things like court injunctions that just don't get the job done."

"So the two of them are in danger then?"

"Could be... or they were - someone thought they were obviously, or they wouldn't be here."

"How long do you think they will stay?"

"I don't know Dex, I don't know. They could be here a while, or this could be a temporary stop before they move them somewhere else. I don't know the particulars of how these things work, only the basics."

She came through the open overhead door quietly and stopped. The smile on her face disappeared and a stuned expression took it's place. She saw that I'd seen her and quickly raised a finger to her lips to keep me from giving her away. She was wearing that same loose white shirt and red hot pants combo she'd been wearing the day they arrived - she wore it often. That had been over a month ago and a lot had happened since then.

I'd gotten my driver's license the week after they arrived.

I had learned their names a few days after they'd moved in, Catherine (Kathy) Bedloe (her maiden name) and her daughter Lorna (Lonnie) Mack. Lonnie was from Kathy's first marriage, which had ended in a divorce three years ago. It was her second husband they were running from. I gathered that he had beaten and raped Kathy a few times - for saying no. He'd also beaten Lonnie the last time, for defending her mother, but hadn't raped her. That's when they left him and moved back in with Kathy's parents. He found them there and the police had to be called, a judge filled out an injunction, but then 'things' started happening. Kathy's car was trashed, Lonnie was followed home from school once - by someone she didn't know - and Kathy and her parents started getting phone calls and threats. That's when state social workers stepped in.

After I got my license, Mr. Miller, my boss, offered to let me have a car. I could choose from any of the cars in the station's fenced side yard. He had seven old junkers out there that he'd always meant to fix up and sell, but hadn't. Of course, as soon as we'd agreed and I chose a car he started docking my pay. "Gotta make something on the deal," He said. Still, he was the one who paid for those pricey things the car needed to fix it up. He "added it to my tab". (I have no idea just how big my "tab" is.)

Minnesota courts had tried placing the two of them in a local, state run, home - under cover of course - but daddy had found them. Lonnie said he had political friends (whatever that means). That's when a social worker put Kathy in touch with people in the church and how they ended up here. They are going to be here for a while.

Did I mention that I got my driver's license? Dad took a day off and took me into Athens for testing and I passed.

Lonnie and I started hanging around together. Dad said she could use his bicycle for getting around on, until she got her own. But only if I was with her and she had to return it every day. Most days, when I was working, she'd come around the station and borrow mine until I got off. Sometimes she just came inside and visited for a while.

I got my license in the mail last week. Lousy picture. Doesn't look a thing like me. Dad says that's normal though.

Kathy needs some medical help - I know there's something wrong with the right side of her head, and she walks funny sometimes. But no one's said if it was from her husband or something from birth or when she was little. I do know, from talking to her and Lonnie, that the doctors are talking about two or three years of surgery to fix her up right. The church has arranged something with some private clinic a few hours from here in North Carolina. So the two of them are going to be here a while.

I introduced Lonnie to one of the local swimming holes two weeks ago. That first visit she didn't have a suit on and was dressed in that same white blouse and shorts outfit again. I'd been in cut-offs and a T-Shirt. I suggested a swim. She tried to beg off, but I said I was going in anyway. I stripped off my shirt, kicked out of my sneaks and ran into the river. Lonnie followed right behind me too, after only a few seconds, leaping from the river bank and trying to canonball me.

I learned something that day about women's clothes. A wet white blouse molds itself to the female body, showing every curve and outline. It also becomes practically see-through when wet. Lonnie had come up sputtering and laughing in the wiast deep water. I stood there stupidly... staring. I was finding it hard to really believe what I was seeing. It was something straight out of one of the fantasies I masturbated to in bed at night. She was braless again (she was braless a lot) and I could make out every detail of her breasts; the curves, the form, the wide dark outlines surrounding her suddenly stiff nipples. I could even make out her tan lines through that blouse. Of course, her hands covered the good parts, as soon as she saw me staring, and she sprinted from the river. But I'd seen enough. She'd made me turn my back and changed into my T-shirt for the ride home and I went home shirtless.

I quickly learned that Lonnie and her mother were my friends. Something they seemed to have few of in town. I know Kathy and my dad didn't seem to get along, though I don't know why. Still, he hasn't discouraged me from visiting or helping them when I wished to. I know that many of the women in town shun them though - because they live in Free House I guess, I haven't understand that. These are the same church-going christian women who helped them come here in the first place. I also learned that most of the town's kids have been warned away from Lonnie by their parents. Again though, I have no idea why. I didn't and don't care either. They're my friends and I'm theirs. I've been happy to do things for them when I can, like mowing their yard whenever I mow ours. It's small enough that it only takes another twenty minutes when I do both. I've loaned them books of mine and was surprised to find that Lonnie loves science fiction and westerns as much as I. Kathy though prefers romances and mysteries, which she was able to find in the church loaner library.

Kathy also insists that I call her by her first name and get's upset if I use Ms. Bedloe. She and Lonnie also refuse to call me Dex. Even though I've told them everyone does. They've insisted on calling me Dexter. "More grown up," they said. I kinda liked that.

Lonnie started helping me "fix up" the 1959 Nash Metropolitan I'd chosen for "my" car. There were two old Metropolitans in the yard and I thought I could canabalize parts from one for the other. I've been doing most of the mechanical work. Getting it running again, replacing all the wiring and things. Lonnie's usually sanding off the rust and getting things ready for paint. Sometimes she helps by handing me tools when I need them, or simply stretches out beside me, under the car, watching and chatting while I work on something. It's turning into a working car again.

Kathy is a writer. Evidently a good one, since people pay her for what she writes. Though what Lonnie showed me of her work I found either too sappy or too boring to read. Not only does she like reading romances and mysteries, she writes them too.

Oh, and Lonnie is the same age as me, almost - she's three weeks older than I am, but that's also what makes things nice too. It finally gives me someone my own age as a friend in town. The closest kids to my own age have always been the Johnson twins, Sarah and Susan, who are almost nineteen now. We were friends once, when we were kids. But then, when I was about eight, they were suddenly too old to associate with "children". The rest of the kids in town are pretty much just "pains." The next closest kid to my age is Amy Mulgrew, a thirteen year old girl that I'd never seen wear anything but dresses and skirts. Too prissy and dainty to ever really get herself dirty, she doesn't even know which end of a baseball bat to hold. She hangs around the station a lot, pestering me. Amy was there today when Lonnie came through the big door. Lonnie, I was soon to learn, was in one of her moods today. Those times when she seems to delight in embarrassing me.

I was under the hood of a Ford, doing the final touches on a tune-up. Amy was behind me and had been prattling on about a great new place she'd found for a picnic and asking if I'd like to go there with her next Sunday, after church.

I rose up from under the hood, catching a quick glimpse of Lonnie's back as she slipped quietly back out the door. Grabbing a rag I started wiping my hands and slowly turned to Amy. She was sitting in one of the two chairs beside the station's oil furnace.

"Geeze, Amy. I'd like to, I really would, but I promised Dad I would work around the house this Sunday. I'm sorry." You'd think she would learn by now. I'd been turning down invitations from her for most of the summer, but she keeps asking.

"Okay Dex. Maybe we can do it some other time."

"Yeah, sure." The station dinger sounded and a few seconds later Lonnie stepped back into the station.

"Sorry Dexter. I accidentally stepped on the bell hose on my way in. I didn't mean to."

"That's okay, Lonnie. We won't be able to work on the car this afternoon like we planned though. The boss wasn't feeling good and went home for a few hours. He'll be back about four though, so I can leave on time. You need to borrow the bicycle?"

"That's okay. Nope. No place to go today and I'm bored. Any problems if I stay here and just visit a while?"

"None at all. Amy is already here visiting, you've met Amy haven't you?" Lonnie and Amy both nodded. "I have to keep working though. I also have an oil change to do on this one before the boss gets back. We can talk while I work though."

"Okay," Lonnie said and looked at Amy. Lonnie smiled, Amy didn't. I closed the Ford's hood and climbed into the driver's seat. Starting the engine and just listening to it run, I listened to it for a few seconds before turning it off again. Then it was time for a break and I got me a Coka Cola from the fridge.

"Well, I think I'd better be going," Amy announced walking across to where her bicycle leaned against a cabinet. "I think Mama wants me to clean the kitchen this afternoon. I'll see you later, Dex." She made a point of not saying goodbye to Lonnie.

"Sure thing Amy, I said without turning to look at her"

Lonnie stood at the stations big picture window watching Amy ride away. "I think you have a fan there, Dexter," she said without looking around.

"Yeah, like that's a secret? She's had a crush, or something, on me all summer. Keeps coming around and trying to invite me to do things with her... or just generally being a pest sometimes."

"Oh, I think she has more than a crush on you. You could get in her pants if you want to."

The comment caught me completely by surprise. I've known Amy for most of her life and have never thought of her "that way". Oh, sure she usually seems to hang around me when we were at the same places - she always has. And she always makes a point of coming across the road after church on Sundays, saying "Hi" to me and dad. Sometimes she brings something she wants to show me. Recently though, she's been bringing us food "she cooked with her own hands" too. Things like cupcakes and cookies. Once she even made us fried chicken. Which, to me, only means she'll be stopping by the station in a few days to get her mama's plate back. I did notice she's been growing breasts this summer though. Most of her youthful chubbiness has disappeared too. But she's a kid... I mean, she's thirteen and I've never even thought about it. Still, now that the idea is mentioned, I'm have a few thoughts and my cock is stiff under my coveralls. "I could what?" I asked.

"You could get into her panties... you know," and she turned to face me with that evil cat-like grin she wears when she wants to get my goat. "Have sex with her... Fuck her... you know what it means to fuck someone don't you?"

"That's not nice, Lonnie." I was blushing furiously, just like she knew I would. "Dang it! You know I'm still a virgin. Besides, how would you know I could... uh... do something with Amy? You two haven't started talking have you?"

"No. You saw. She's like most of the other kids in town and won't have a thing to do with me. Hell, she goes so far as to cross the street if she sees me coming. But you could still have her if you want to. Do you know what she was doing when I first stepped in the door?"