ONE (Rudi Vermont)
MAY 1991
WASHINGTON STATE
Rudi Vermont rapped his fingers against the countertop, smiling thoughtfully while the waitress refilled his cup for a second time. Bidding his thanks, he turned on the barstool and scoured the diner, methodically in search of interesting characters.
Every day the booths welcomed those still emerging from their early morning wakeup calls, whilst selected tables offered a quick getaway for personnel keen to get to work on time. Those closest to the street entertained breakfast goers, who not only enjoyed the start of a brand new day but the view it provided. While the counter offered a wide variety of intriguing, sometimes grumpy old-timers, newspaper lovers, dentists and doctors. Then on special occasions, soldiers from McChord Air Force Base would pop in before dispersing to their residences in and around Orting.
He loved watching people.
People were fascinating. Their habits. Their joys, upside down smiles and pet peeves. All of it, along with their origin, made up the exterior as well as the interior of a unique individual. The hobby he found aided his work as a dependable carpenter. Knowing how to satisfy customers, accommodating to their styles and character, came from listening, observing and understanding how they ticked. It was, in the end, all about service, not merely quantity. It was why they returned to the shop regularly. And why they were so kind enough to recommend his carpentry shop to outsiders and other residents alike.
A grin curved along his lips.
He took a sip of the black coffee with one sugar, gazing over the rim of the mug at the bustling street outside. Savouring its chicory taste, he found his attention drawn to a lone woman and baby. They occupied a booth by the window in the furthest corner of the diner. The woman, too, viewed the cars moving by at a gentle pace.
Interested, he lowered the mug and narrowed his eyes.
She wasn’t American. Perhaps from a colder region of Canada. Or maybe she came from Alaska. Either possibility, she somehow reminded him of Pocahontas. Long black hair, soft refined appearance, humble, shy. A personality which unknowingly enticed, and yet managed to keep a low profile.
The smile grew, reaching his clear blue eyes.
Taking another sip, he caught himself staring and shifted his eyes to the outside world, still keeping her profile in the corner of his vision. Like a magnet, her presence drew him.
He turned back to the counter and smiled at the plump fellow rushing to finish a family’s breakfast order. The shift in concentration didn’t help though. He felt the need to introduce himself. The desire to discover why she was so far away from home. He wanted to know why a mother sat here, with her eyes glued to the street, rather than taking pleasure in her new adventure.
He felt her fear hit him square in the chest. It overwhelmed his emotions and increased like a raging fire. He swallowed against the knot in his throat, restraining the urge to weep on her behalf. Uncertainty thundered against the uncanny occurrence, and then he understood what the Holy Spirit wanted him to do.
The waitress stopped in front of him and snapped her fingers, the sharp pitch startling him from the trance.
“You okay, honey?”
“Zeta, do you know the woman over there in the corner?” Rudi thumbed over his right shoulder.
She scowled at him.
“With the baby.” He clarified.
Her eyes lit up briefly and then exhibited empathy. She pushed a white curl behind her ear and retrieved the pen resting there. “Uh, no. She’s not from around here. Shy, reserved. Got a haunting look in her eyes.”
“Get the feeling she’s running from something?”
Zeta shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t know, hon. Seen my fair share of odd characters.” She chuckled to herself. “That’s what I like about this place, but her sort’s the first.” Noticing the concern in his eyes, she leaned forward. “Hon, it ain’t a can of worms you wanna open. Her culture is a complex one. Not to mention that baby of hers. The daddy’s bound to show.”
Rudi smirked wryly. “What would I do without ya, Zee?”
She tapped his arm and snorted. “I think raising three sons earned me the title.” From the edge of the counter, a teacher waved her over. “Another refill?” Rudi held up a hand. She smiled brightly. “Okie dokie. Yodel hon, if you want breakfast.”
He caught her arm, halting her withdrawal. “Zeta.”
“Hon?”
“Has she eaten anything yet?”
“Rue.” She cautioned in a way accustomed to his mother.
“Has she eaten yet?” He repeated with intent.
“Just a cola.” She glimpsed the teacher waving impatiently at her. “Nausea, I think.”
“Okay, thanks. A plate of fries for me then.”
“Will do. And.” She glared at him. “Be careful.”
Rudi watched her skip down towards the irritated customer, snickered, enjoying how she soft soothed the man, then glanced over his shoulder. The mysterious woman held a finger for the baby to grasp in its tiny hand. At the sight, he pushed off, and at an unperturbed pace weaved through the tables. His heart beat profusely. He had no idea what to do once he reached her, or what to say to break the ice. Still, he felt led to be himself and learn along the way what the Lord wanted to achieve with this meeting.
She noticed his advance. Fear glimmered in her choc-mint eyes; tensed her posture instantly. His expression softened, flashing her a kind smile once he stopped at the booth crosswise from her.
