CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Things didn't improve for Myra over the next few months. She stopped thinking about working to please Horace and to keep the peace and for some time gave herself other things to look forward to, such as visiting Emma and going for lunch at Grace's Diner once a week for a change of scene. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Then one day when she was at the diner, Grace put a new idea into her head. It had just been Grace's birthday and much to her delight and amazement Robert E had given her a new car. Her little old red Ford had done well, but lately had begun to fall to pieces and although Robert E had patched it up a number of times eventually there was nothing more he could do. He scrapped the car and gave Grace a two-year-old yellow Beetle for her birthday. Grace took Myra outside to show her, beaming with excitement.

"It ain't like your Horace's, it's the new Beetle," said Grace. "It came into the lot just a week ago. It was owned by a lady before, but she lost her job and decided she couldn't afford to keep it."

"It's beautiful!" Myra exclaimed, walking around the bright yellow car. "You're so lucky, Grace. I wish I could drive." Myra had never even sat behind the wheel of a car and didn't know the first thing about driving, but as she looked at the Beetle she imagined herself with her own car, Samantha strapped into a baby seat, driving along an open road with the windows down and the breeze blowing through her hair, free to do as she liked.

"Myra?" Grace's voice brought her back to reality.

"Sorry, Grace. I was just thinkin' I'd love to learn to drive."

"Why don't ya, then? Robert E has a couple of instructors he recommends when people want 'em."

"I'd like to; I'll have to ask Horace. He'd be payin' for it, after all," Myra said with a sigh. She couldn't see Horace agreeing to that, but one never knew. She decided to speak to him about it that evening.

"Why would ya wanna learn to drive, Myra?" he asked at once. "I'll take you anywhere ya wanna go."

"I thought it'd be fun for me to learn, and useful. I'd be able to take Sam out to places some days when you're workin'."

"I need the car to get to work," Horace reminded her.

"I could get my own."

"Myra, I ain't made of money!" Horace exclaimed. "I can't afford to run two cars and I sure can't afford to buy another one and pay for you to have drivin' lessons."

"I'm sure Robert E could find me a cheap car," Myra said.

"It ain't just the buyin' of it; there's insurance and repairs and gas….I'm sorry, Myra, you're gonna have to forget about it. If ya wanna go out somewhere, let me know and I'll take you on the weekends."

It was only what she expected. She could see Horace's point about the expense of another car; if he couldn't afford it then he couldn't. But he didn't want her to do anything for herself at all and the more time that passed, the more she felt like a prisoner. She decided to take Sam out for a day to cheer herself up and maybe buy herself something nice. It was a long time since she'd had anything new for herself.

The following morning, Myra was out walking into the centre of town with Samantha in her buggy less than an hour after Horace left for work. She decided to shop and then go to Grace's for lunch.

The first place she stopped was a shoe store. She loved shoes and had only had one new pair in the past year. She wandered around the store trying on different styles, walking up and down and pretending to herself that she could buy all of them. In the end she settled for a pair of stylish black high heels, not even looking at the price tag as she went to the cashier. She pulled out the Visa card to pay and waited for the slip to sign. Her stomach turned over. A hundred and forty-nine dollars! She gripped the pen tighter. She couldn't say anything, they'd think she was a fool or call security and make a big fuss about it. She signed the slip and a moment later was walking out of the store with the most expensive pair of shoes she'd ever owned, trying not to think about what Horace would say when the statement came.

Thinking it best not to look around any more stores Myra headed for the park, finding it deserted. She thought she would just stroll around for a while with Samantha in her buggy, which she did for ten minutes until she couldn't resist stopping to try on the new shoes again. She dumped the box into a garbage bin, put her old shoes in the plastic bag and slid her feet into the new high heels. She was wearing a knee-length black skirt and a blouse so the shoes didn't look out of place and they felt so comfortable. She hadn't worn high heels since she left the Gold Nugget, only little ones. The shoes Hank made her wear had been so high and uncomfortable she had always worried she would break her ankle and once she was pregnant, she had gotten used to flat shoes and sneakers.

Myra continued walking around the park in the new shoes, smiling with every step and taking great care not to scuff them on the uneven walkways. So what if they cost a hundred and forty-nine dollars? They were worth every cent.

From the park she headed to Grace's, deciding to have brunch instead of stay out all morning and end up struggling to find a table when the lunch time rush descended on the diner. She walked in, still wearing her new shoes and took a table by the window. Grace came over at once.

"Myra!" she exclaimed, glancing down. "Nice shoes!"

"Consolation prize," Myra said. "Horace can't afford for me to get a car, or even learn to drive."

"I'm sorry," said Grace. "Still, shoes are the next best thing. You wanna get a dress to go with 'em, make it a decent consolation prize."

"Maybe." Myra smiled and glanced at the menu. "I'll have some coffee, please," she said.

"Anything to eat?"

"Biscuits and gravy," Myra said with a grin. "And sausage." The one time she had ordered biscuits and gravy when she'd been with Horace, he had been horrified and said it wasn'y what 'decent people' ate.

"It'll be about ten minutes or so, is that ok?" said Grace.

"Take your time," Myra said. "Is there somewhere I can feed Samantha?"

"Of course, come through the back. You can use the little room off the kitchen, there's a table and chair in there. No one'll bother ya."

After feeding the baby Myra returned to her table and Samantha slept in the buggy while her mother tucked into her brunch. Myra was just finishing a second coffee when Jake walked in.

"Hey, Myra."

"Hello, Jake."

"Ain't seen you in a while." He bent to look inside the buggy. "Cute. How old is she?"

"Six months."

"It's been longer than I thought," Jake said, taking a seat at the table. "Don't mind, do ya?"

"No, of course not."

Jake looked up as a waitress hovered by the table. "Just coffee, thanks," he said. "And a blueberry muffin."

She poured coffee and went away to fetch a muffin.

"You alright, Myra?" Jake asked then.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Ya look kinda sad."

"I'm fine."

"Sure? No trouble in paradise?" he grinned.

"No."

"You can't be gettin' much excitement, married to Horace," Jake teased.

"Go to hell, Jake!" Myra snapped suddenly.

"Woah, Myra, I was just jokin'." He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Sounds like I hit the nail on the head though."

"I don't wanna talk to ya, Jake, it's none of your business," Myra sighed, wishing she was better at hiding her feelings.

"Fair enough." He sipped his coffee. "I saw Hank again last week."

"I ain't interested in Hank," Myra said at once. "It took me all my time to get away from him, remember. Now I got what I wanted, the last thing I wanna think about is the past."

"Well, you ain't gonna be able to keep him in the past forever," said Jake. "He's doin' ok, if he carries on the way he is and keeps his fists to himself he'll get parole in less than a year, then he'll be back at the club."

Myra almost stopped breathing for a moment. Somehow she had imagined Hank would stay locked up forever and she would never have to face him again. The time had passed so quickly, it was difficult to believe he had been in prison for over a year.

"Well, I ain't plannin' on goin' clubbin' any time soon," she said now.

"Maybe not, but this town ain't that big, you're bound to run into each other at some time."

"I suppose so." Myra pushed her chair back from the table. "Sorry, Jake, I have to go."

"Sure."

Myra stood up and quickly pushed the buggy out of the diner. Ten months was a long way off. Even then, she wasn't going to let fear of running into Hank make her a prisoner in her own home. She was already a prisoner in her own life.