Between Sisters by Kristin Hannah Read Free Book Online Page B

through the diner, head down, to the last bar stool on the left. He'd learned not to sit too close to the “good people” in any of the towns in which he stopped. Sometimes the presence of a man who'd fallen on hard times was offensive. In those towns it was too damn easy to find your ass on a jail-cell cot. He'd spent enough time in jail already.
    The waitress stood back by the grill, dressed in a splotchy, stained pink polyester uniform. Like everyone else in the place, she was staring at him.
    He sat quietly, his body tensed.
    Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the noise returned.
    The waitress pulled a pen out from above her ear and came toward him. When she got closer, he noticed that she was younger than he'd thought. Maybe still in high school, even. Her long brown hair, drawn back in a haphazard ponytail, was streaked with purple, and a small gold hoop clung precariously to her overly plucked eyebrow. She wore more makeup than Boy George.
    “What can I getcha?” She wrinkled her nose and stepped backward.
    “I guess I need a shower, huh?”
    “You could use one.” She smiled, then leaned a fraction of an inch closer. “The KOA campground is your best bet. They have a killer bathroom. 'Course it's for guests only, but nobody much watches.” She popped her gum and whispered, “The door code is twenty-one hundred. All the locals know it.”
    “Thank you.” He looked at her name tag. “Brandy.”
    She poised a pen at the small notepad. “Now, whaddaya want?”
    He didn't bother looking at the menu. “I'll have a bran muffin, fresh fruit—whatever you have—and a bowl of oatmeal. Oh. And a glass of orange juice.”
    “No bacon or eggs?”
    “Nope.”
    She shrugged and started to turn away. He stopped her by saying, “Brandy?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Where could a guy like me find some work?”
    She looked at him. “A guy like you?” The tone was obvious. She'd figured he didn't work, just begged and drifted. “I'd try the Tip Top Apple Farm. They always need people. And Yardbirds—they mow lawns for the vacation rentals.”
    “Thanks.”
    Joe sat there, on that surprisingly comfortable bar stool, long after he should have gone. He ate his breakfast as slowly as possible, chewing every bite forever, but finally his bowl and plate were empty.
    He knew it was time to move on, but he couldn't make himself get up. Last night he'd slept tucked along a fallen log in some farmer's back pasture. Between the howling wind and a sudden rainstorm, it had been an uncomfortable night. His whole body ached today. Now, for once, he was warm but not hot, and his stomach was full, and he was sitting comfortably. It was a moment of Heaven.
    “You gotta go,” Brandy whispered as she swept past him. “My boss says he's gonna call the cops if you keep hanging around.”
    Joe could have argued, could have pointed out that he'd paid for breakfast and could legally sit here. An ordinary person certainly had that right.
    Instead, he said, “Okay,” and put six bucks on the pink Formica counter.
    He slowly got to his feet. For a second, he felt dizzy. When the bout passed, he grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
    Outside, the heat hit him hard, knocking him back. It took a supreme act of will to start walking.
    He kept his thumb out, but no one picked him up. Slowly, his strength sapped by the hundred-degree heat, he walked in the direction Brandy had given him. By the time he reached the KOA Campground, he had a pounding headache and his throat hurt.
    There was nothing he wanted to do more than walk down that gravel road, duck into the bathroom for a long hot shower, and then rent a cabin for a much-needed rest.
    “Impossible,” he said aloud, thinking of the six bucks in his wallet. It was a habit he'd acquired lately: talking to himself. Otherwise, he sometimes went days without hearing another human voice.
    He'd have to sneak into the bathroom, and he couldn't do it when people were everywhere.
    He