*** Seven ***
Traffic thinned, south of Portland but picked up a few minutes later as the freeway passed through Salem, the State Capitol.
“We’re only about a half hour out; Valerie, that is the last big city we have to drive through.”
“I’m glad for that! I never saw so many cars going so fast in my all life, well, maybe like on television, but not for real!”
“You have a backpack? Everything you need in there?”
“Hardly anything at all, Sir, pair of old jeans, a couple tops, some undies…but mostly my journals and a few books I snitched from the library.”
“Bad girl.”
“I know. But nobody reads books anymore. I am like the only one in that whole town who checks them out. So…I don’t feel guilty at all.”
“Guess we should stop and get some clothes for you, huh?”
“I don’t have any money, I guess you figured that; how can I ever pay you for them?”
“The pleasure of your company and giving me a chance to do something good is payment enough. It is good to know you, Valerie, I like you, hope you like me a little?”
“A lot! More than I even know, I think. My whole life is changing. I am excited and not quite believing any of it. I just hope…ah, I believe you; it will all work out and I’ll finally have a chance to be safe and happy.”
“Stop making me cry, kid. I don’t like shopping, so make it as quick as you can, okay?”
“I have never been shopping. Can I enjoy it for just a little?”
I took a deep breath and kicked myself, “Of course you can and I want to see what kind of things you pick out. I used to take my daughters shopping when they were young, I loved to watch them, maybe that’s why…You can try them on for me to see and for you to decide if they look right on you.”
We realized as we got out of the truck just how threadbare her outfit was. Blouse, ragged cut-off’s scuffed and stained sneakers.
“Do you have a long coat I can borrow?”
“It wouldn’t cover you up. We’ll find some nice things for you.”
Regardless of her appearance, she was thrilled; racing from store window to window, dragging me along with her. I stayed outside at one store until she came out in tears. A group of giggling girls followed her out.
“They treat you bad?”
“Called me an ugly toad and a ‘bumpkin;’ what’s that anyway?”
“An old saying and song, ‘country bumpkin,’ country style clothes, different from city kids; don’t let them bother you.”
“Am I ugly?”
I stopped and beckoned her into my arms to stifle the crying. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel that way; they only do it to try to hurt you, don’t let them, ever!”
We wandered a few minutes more until we found ourselves in a fairly large store of women’s and girl’s clothing.
I was about to say something when I noticed an attractive woman looking our way.
“I got a hunch…”
She followed me as I approached the sales clerk.
“I have a young lady here who was just called a ‘bumpkin’ by some up town girls. She needs a head to toe, all the best, can you help her?”
