Where the Heart Lies

Chapter One Meetings

Annabelle Carsons was in a hurry, angry, and tired. She had just been informed that her job was on the line-apparently her boss didn't fully appreciate the imitation she had done of him as an old, frustrated despot. On top of that, the heat was off in her apartment, she was two weeks behind on her rent, and the only food she had left in her fridge was a jar of pickles and a half a gallon of grape juice. She had braved the cold wind to walk to the bus station only to find out she had no fare money. She walked the six blocks to the store, cursing fate, life, buses, her boss, and every other thing she could think of. The wind was bitterly cold, and by the time she reached the large supermarket she was shivering.

"Damn winter, damn cheap jacket, damn doors, damn, damn, damn!" She stalked up and down the aisles, filling her basket with the cheapest foods she could find, wishing that she had enough money to buy her favorite food-chocolate. But even the cheapest candy was out of her strict budget, so she had to settle for simply sighing in longing as she walked down the candy aisle.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man in front of her until it was too late. They collided, and Abbie's basket went flying, her food scattering everywhere, and she watched in horror as the glass container the grape juice was in smashed against the tile floor, shattering into a million pieces. She fell on her butt with a grunt of surprise, and the man she had run into fell back against the shelves, spilling packages of skittles. He quickly straightened himself up, and began stammering out an apology.

"I…I…I'm so sorry, Miss! I…are you alright?" He bent down and began to gather her food up, all the while stammering his apologies.

Abbie begin to giggle, and he looked at her, slight bemusement and hurt in his gaze. He was rather handsome, Abbie thought to herself. He had somewhat pale skin, black hair, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He had the air of someone who has been beaten and cowed for much of their life, his clothes looked like they had been worn quite a lot-his jacket was beginning to fray at the wrists, and Abbie felt a wave of pity for him. She stood, brushing off her coat and pants, silently glad that she had managed to avoid sitting in the juice, and smiled at him.

"I'm fine, thank you. No serious harm done, unless you count my dignity and the grape juice. I should be the one apologizing for running into you. But, since we did run into each other, I think introductions are in order." She stuck her hand out. "I'm Annabelle Carsons. Call me Abbie."

He shook it, and smiled shyly. "Willard Stiles. I...I don't have a nickname."

Abbie beamed at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Willard. What brings you out to the store on a day like this?"

"Rats."

Abbie blinked, confused. "Rats?"

He nodded, and held up a rattrap. "My mother thinks there are rats in the basement, so I came here looking for something to get rid of them. I haven't seen them, but Mother can be very insistent." He sighed. "She's probably wondering where I am. I need to get going. It…it was nice to meet you."

He handed her the basket, then turned and walked back up the aisle. Abbie stared after him, a slight smile on her face. 'What an odd person. Sweet, but odd.' She continued shopping, making sure to grab a plastic bottle of juice this time.

She paid for her purchases, walked out the door, and was immediately assailed by a hard, heavy rain. She gasped for breath and ducked under the sparse shelter offered by the store's overhang, cursing and crying.

"DAMN IT!"

She was stuck. No bus fare, no cab fare, and it was pouring down rain. She was already soaked to the bone, and her grocery bags-cheap paper-were already beginning to deteriorate. She slumped against the wall, sobbing.

Willard walked out of the store and was about to make a dash for his car when he noticed someone slumped against the wall of the store. He looked closer, and realized it was the young woman he had run into. Her dark hair was plastered against her face, and her hazel eyes were bright with tears. Willard felt a stab of pity, and walked over to her, placing his hand tentatively on her arm. She looked up at him.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, and she shook her head.

"I have no bus fare, I'm cold, wet, my groceries are spilling everywhere, I might lose my job, I'm behind on my rent, and my tailbone hurts! Of course I'm not fucking alright!" She yelled, and Willard flinched. "I'm sorry. It's just my life has been a bit shitty these past few weeks."

Willard smiled in understanding, and then said something that shocked him. "Well, could I give you a lift home?" He blinked, shocked at the sentence that had just come out of his mouth. He had never offered to give anyone a ride, especially not a woman he had just met ten minutes ago. But there was something about Annabelle Carsons that put him at ease. He couldn't explain it, but he felt comfortable around her.

Abbie looked at him in surprise. "Umm…that's very sweet of you, but, I don't want to put you out…"

Willard smiled at her, and then took her bag from her arms. "You aren't, trust me. I've got a car, and you need a way to get home."

Abbie paused, still uncertain. "Your mother?"

"She can wait. Come on, I'll give you a lift. My car's just down that row." He turned away, and then looked back at her. "Coming?"

She nodded, and they dashed to his car, piling in as quickly as they could. It was cold, but at least it was dry. Willard started the car. "The heat should kick on soon. Where do you live?"

"Shhh…Shhha…Shady Groves Apartment Complex," Abbie said, shivering. "Is…is that out of your way?" Willard shook his head, and smiled at her.

"No, it's actually right on my way."

Abbie sighed as the heater kicked on. "Mmmm…warmth. Where do you live?"

Willard flushed. "Ummm…with my mother, in the house on the hill. She's sick, and I have to stay and take care of her. It…It's hard, especially since my job doesn't pay nearly enough."

"I know the feeling. Where do you work?"

"I'm a clerk in my Father's company." He sighed bitterly. "Of course, it's more Mr. Martin's company now. He bought out my father years ago, and we've never gotten along. Fortunately, one of the stipulations my father made was that I couldn't be fired."

Abbie chuckled quietly. "Smart move."

Willard shrugged. "I guess. Where do you work?"

"Right now I'm an assistant at Steiner and Sons Law Firm, which basically means I'm a glorified gofer. I do light typing, take messages, and make coffee, all for a vast sum of ten dollars an hour, which is not nearly enough to cover the rent on my apartment, but I can't find another job because no one is hiring. So I have weeks when I have to choose between paying the rent or having food. Food won out this time."

Willard looked over at her. "Must be tough." He winced as he realized how that had sounded.

She scoffed bitterly. "Yeah. Well, I think I see my apartment building coming up, so thanks for the ride and you can just drop me off here."

Willard flinched at the cold tone of her voice. "I'm sorry, that came out completely lopsided. I'm not really good around people." He gave her a small smile, and she sighed.

"Apology accepted."

Willard grinned. "Do you still want me to drop you off at the curb?"

Abbie laughed. "No, I think you can drop me off in front of my building."

"Will do." He pulled up at the building she indicated, and then helped her out of the car. The rain had stopped, and there was a distinct chill in the air.

After making sure she would be able to get up the stairs alright, Willard said his farewells and was about to leave when he heard her shout his name. He turned, and she pressed a torn scrap of paper into his hand. "My phone number. I can't guarantee my phone will be working, but still, I want you to have it."

"Ohh…ummmm…thank you." He flushed, patting his pockets. "I…should probably give you mine…ummm….I don't have anything to write with…" Abbie handed him her pen, and he tore a piece of his receipt and jotted down his number, then handed her the paper and her pen. "Will…will you call me?"

"Of course. I like you, Willard. You're odd. Sweet, but odd."

Willard flushed deeper. "Ohhh…ummm…thanks." Abbie smiled at him, then turned and walked up to her apartment.

Willard watched her leave, his heart feeling indescribably light. He turned and headed back to his car, a grin on his face.

Later that night, after he had made his mother as comfortable as he could, he lay in his bed, thoughts of brown hair, hazel eyes, and a shy smile running through his mind.

He hoped to run into Annabelle Carsons again.