Where the Heart Is by Billie Letts Read Free Book Online Page B

bears.
    She had not needed alarms in the beginning when she hardly slept more than minutes at a time. Strange noises would jerk her from dreams and leave her rigid with fear, her eyes creating monsters in the shadows of coffeepots and hunting jackets. But once she got used to the building, got to know the look of the dark and the feel of the sounds, sharp and metallic, she began to sink into sleep too thick for sounds to slip through.
    She rolled up her sleeping bag, then stuffed it behind the others at the bottom of a shelf. A sharp pain poked at her lower back when she straightened, but she rubbed it away as she shuffled to the bathroom at the back of the store.
    She splashed her face with cold water, then brushed her teeth.
    When she pulled the nightshirt off, she stood on tiptoes to see her belly in the mirror. Her skin was stretched so tight it looked like the color of thin milk. She ran her fingers across her navel and thought of the baby attached to the other side of it, imagining it could feel her touch so that it might even reach out to her.
    The sound of the garbage truck behind the store jarred her from the daydream. She washed and dried herself with paper towels, then dressed quickly in the blue pantsuit she had picked from the maternity rack in ladieswear, the one she alternated with the tent dress she was wearing the day she arrived. She washed both outfits on Sunday nights when the store closed early, so they would have the extra few hours to dry.
    She was combing her hair when the back door slammed. Her heart raced as she crammed her things inside the beach bag, then turned off the light.
    “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she whispered to herself, angry that someone had arrived so early. She waited until footsteps echoed off the plastic tiles out front, then stepped soundlessly out of the bathroom, slipped around the corner and squeezed into her hiding place, the closet housing the hot water tank. She held her breath as she eased the door closed behind her.
    These were the times she hated most . . . hiding before the store opened and after it closed. The airless little closet was too small for a chair, or even a stool, so Novalee had to stand, wedged between the door and the tank. And the bigger she got, the less room she had.
    She had tried other hiding places, but they didn’t feel as safe. The first couple of weeks she was there, she had climbed a shaky ladder to a crawl hole into the attic, but the height made her dizzy. Then, she made a space for herself in the storage room by rearranging large cardboard boxes of pillows. But a few days later, a stock boy taking inventory came within inches of her before he was called to the front.
    That’s when she found the hot water tank closet.
    She usually stayed hidden about an hour in the mornings, a little less if everyone was on time. She counted them as they came in, all eighteen of the morning crew. But they fooled her occasionally, when two or three came in together. One morning she stayed hidden for over two hours, waiting for a straggler to arrive.
    Novalee’s stomach growled then, so loud she was afraid whoever was out front could hear it. She wished for biscuits and gravy, but would settle for the granola bar and peanut butter in her bag. She had given up Paydays and Pepsis after the first few days in Wal-Mart, but she still worried she wasn’t eating right for the baby.
    When she was sure the morning crew had arrived, she opened the closet door just a crack, checked the stock room, then slipped out and crossed quickly to the tool locker. She lifted the buckeye tree out, then hurried to the employee entrance and stepped outside.
    The day was already hot. By the time she walked the half block to the stop light, her hair was plastered to her neck and her blouse was wet across the shoulders, but she still had a long walk ahead of her.
    The library was on Main Street, less than a mile from Wal-Mart, but Novalee was going to walk an extra four blocks to avoid