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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Inspirational / Uplifting
- Published: 09/18/2020
Millie’s Promise
Born 1945, M, from Farmersburg, United StatesGeorge McMillan entered the break room just as Millie was finishing her coffee. “I’m gonna need you to work Saturday,” he informed her. “Kelsey’s going to her cousin’s wedding, so I’m short a cashier.” That was a lie. It was common knowledge among the SuperMart employees that George and Kelsey were having an affair. Being the only one in the break room and having the most to lose if she balked, Millie was McMillan’s choice as the one to take Kelsey’s shift.
With her shoes off and her feet propped on a chair, Millie had been relishing her 15 minutes of peace and quiet before having to get back to the grind. At the sight of George, she dropped her feet and shoved them into her well-worn sneakers. Wearing those shoes was the only way Millie could stand at the checkout for eight hours. Allowing her to wear them was the one concession George had made to anyone asking to deviate from the standard uniform. There were many issues between SuperMart’s management and staff, not the least of which was the fact that the company made the women purchase their own uniforms while providing them to the male employees for free.
Averting her eyes, Millie said, “I can’t, Mr. McMillan. I promised Bobby I’d take him camping this weekend.” Millie’s heart pounded as fear and contempt bubbled up within. Over the past several months, she had covered for Kelsey at least a dozen times, knowing full well it was only so her coworker could sneak off with McMillan to some motel. Their tryst and her connection to it, albeit indirect, disgusted Millie, but she desperately needed this job. This week’s pay would make only a small dent in the bills that were piling up. If she got fired, she and Bobby would be on the street within a month.
At this time last year, Millie was happily married, or at least she thought so. While sorting her husband’s clothes for the wash one morning, she found a note in his pants pocket. The message from the blond bombshell at Charles’s office was a graphic recount of what the two of them had done the last time they shared a motel room. The laundry forgotten, Millie dissolved in tears. Thank God their 10-year-old son, Bobby, was in school. Millie’s emotions swirled from shock to rage to revenge and back again as she paced the house like a nervous cat. Three times she almost called the office. She got only as far as punching in the number before thinking better of it and hitting the end button.
Late that afternoon, Millie sent Bobby to his friend’s house for a play date. When Charles came through the front door, he was met by a confused and angry wife. Millie held out the note like a shield. “Well, I’m glad it’s over,” Charles said. An odd smile somewhere between shame and relief crossed his face. Assuming he was referring to the affair, Millie was unprepared for his next words: “Guess I better pack my bags and be gone before Bobby gets home." They pierced Millie’s heart like a spear.
“Speaking of our son, what do you suggest I tell him? That his father left us for a slut?"
Charles stiffened. “Sorry to break it to you, Millie, but she’s no slut. She’s a very respectable woman. She’s gentle and kind and she takes care of herself.” He left off, “unlike you,” but the inference was there.
“Oh, yes, what she’s been doing with a married man is highly respectable. So what happens when you get tired of her? Do you trade her in for a new model? Or are you just going to cheat on her until she finds out, like I did?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Heaving a huge sigh and swearing under his breath, Charles made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. He was back in minutes with a suitcase in his hand and two suits slung over his shoulder. There’s no way he could pack that fast, Millie thought. She remembered seeing the bag in the back of the closet but, being the last one to know, never thought to open it. Now it was clear that Charles had been preparing for his exit while waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Before Millie could speak he was out the door, slamming it behind him. She watched through the living room window as his car roared out of the driveway and disappeared down the street. The pain in her heart was crushing. She collapsed on the sofa and wept.
When Bobby came home, Millie lied that his dad had gone on a business trip. Holding herself together until Bobby was tucked into bed, she retreated to her room. Overcome with shock, loss and grief, all she could do was crawl into bed, bury her face in the pillow and let it pour out.
Two days later, a currier stood at the front door holding divorce papers. Dazed, Millie sat at the computer and half-heartedly began searching for a job. When Bobby came home from school, she sat him down and, as gently as she could, told him his father would not be living with them anymore. Holding the weeping child in her arms, she wept with him.
Over the next few weeks, aside from a few crying spells, Bobby seemed to adjust to his father’s absence. In truth, Charles had never been much of a factor in Bobby’s life. Still, it was clear from the far-away look in his eyes that the boy missed him terribly. Millie did her best to fill the gap, although her state of confusion, loss and uncertainty robbed her of energy and enthusiasm.
On one of his infrequent visits, Charles promised to take Bobby camping the following weekend. When Friday night rolled around, Bobby was so wound up he barely slept. At ten to six Saturday morning, Millie heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. Yawning, she descended the stairs to find him checking and repacking his duffle bag as he had at least a half dozen times during the week.
Wanting to sleep in on her day off, Millie nevertheless stayed up and made breakfast. Afraid he would miss his father, Bobby kept going to the window. At 7:30, he took up a position on the sidewalk. Millie kept her eye on him as she cleaned up the kitchen. An hour passed. Heartbroken, Millie watched her son pull his spyglass from his pack and use it to look up and down the street. She called Charles’s cell and left a voice mail message. “Your son is waiting on the curb for you.” Afraid she would say something she’d regret later, she bit her tongue and ended the call.
At nine, Millie went outside and tried to persuade Bobby to come in the house. With angry tears streaming, he refused. In her heart, Millie felt the same pain she had the day she found out about Charles’s infidelity. After waiting another hour, Bobby was forced to face the cold, hard fact that he could not rely on his father. Shrugging Millie’s hand off his shoulder, the boy stomped into the garage, hurled his pack into the corner and ran upstairs to his bedroom. From the hallway outside his locked door, Millie heard him sobbing.
By noon Millie had called Charles’s phone three more times. All went to voice mail. The house was too quiet and Millie began to worry about Bobby being behind that locked door. At one o’clock, she stood in front of it with a ham sandwich and a glass of milk. “Bobby, honey, please open the door. I brought you some lunch.”
She heard him cross the room and pull back the latch. “Why Mom, why does Dad hate me?” Bobby asked as she entered. Millie was at a loss, her heart breaking again. How do you explain to a child that his father chose an adulterous affair over his family? With no words to comfort him, she gathered her sobbing son in her arms and held him until he fell asleep.
She just reached the kitchen when her cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw Charles’s number. Surging with rage, she thought of not answering, but for Bobby’s sake she punched the button.
“Yes?” she snapped, clipping off the word.
“Hi Millie.” Charles sounded strange, his voice high-pitched and stressed.
“Hi Millie nothin’. Where were you?” Her heart raced, her face flamed and she was finding it hard to breathe. Calm down, she told herself. “Your son waited at the curb for you all morning.”
“I… forgot,” he said, so quietly she could barely hear. Charles always mumbled when he was lying.
Steaming, Millie’s knuckles turned white as she squeezed the phone as hard as she wanted to squeeze his neck. “You forgot. How noble of you. I’m sure Bobby would be so proud of his father to hear that.”
“Okay, okay. Lighten up, will you?" Charles sounded to Millie like a whining adolescent. “Would you please just tell him something came up at the office and I’ll make it up to him soon?”
“Hey c’mon, babe, we’re going to be late,” a female voice in the background called.
“Say hi to the slut for me,” Millie said bitterly.
“Yeah, well, you’ll be happy to know that didn’t work out. Listen, Millie, I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to Bobby. I promise.”
“You and your promises. But it’s nice you at least remembered his name.” There was silence. “You’re pathetic,” Millie said, her voice dripping with hatred and disgust.
“I don’t want to fight, Mill. Tell Bobby I’ll call him later.” The phone went dead.
Breathing hard, Millie reared back her arm with the impulse to smash the phone against the fireplace. Instead, she laid it on the coffee table and went upstairs to check on her son.
As it turned out, that was the first of Charles’s many broken promises. After the third, Bobby didn’t bother to pack his camping equipment. Nor did he show any emotion when Charles didn’t show. He simply went to his room without a word and stayed there all day. As fall turned to winter, the promise of a camping trip was swept away with the wind.
From then on, anytime Millie saw Charles’s name on the caller ID, she would let it ring. He never left a message. Millie wasn’t surprised when Charles left Bobby’s Christmas present on the doorstep with a note that he would call later. But it still hurt. She spent the day stewing in her loneliness while Bobby went sledding with his friends.
At the beginning of May, Millie surprised Bobby with plans for a camping trip. Hardly a nature girl, she nevertheless would endure any discomfort for her son. Unenthused at first, Bobby grew more excited as the time approached. Unlike his father, Millie had never made Bobby a promise she didn’t keep.
Charles sent money whenever he felt like it, and that wasn’t often. Lacking skills, Millie had searched for weeks before finally landing the cashier’s job at SuperMart. She soon learned that George McMillan was a hard taskmaster unless you were one of his favorites. He was known to find a reason to fire anyone who questioned his management policies. Then there was the ongoing rumor that George was stepping out on his wife. It was a standing joke in the break room. Just for giggles, some of the female employees would tease him just enough to let him think he had a chance. Kelsey, on the other hand, wasn’t fooling. She had her hooks into old George and led him around by the proverbial ring in his nose.
Now as McMillan stood over her breathing fire, Millie’s skin crawled. Never before had she refused to comply. An attractive woman at 35, she drew the line at McMillan’s advances, but always in a restrained and polite manner. Now, even as her heart pounded in her chest, she wasn’t going to budge. She needed this job. She was three months behind in the mortgage, the tires on the car were bald and the electric company was threatening to shut her off. Regardless, she would not let Bobby down.
“I can’t do it this weekend, Mr. McMillan,” she repeated. “I made a promise to Bobby.
“Just tell him you gotta work. He’ll get over it.”
“I’m sorry, but no.” Millie wondered if she looked as nervous as she felt, but her resolve didn’t waver.
McMillan twisted his face into a thuggish snarl and leaned so close to Millie she flinched. “If you’re not here at eight in the morning don’t brother coming back Monday.”
Tears formed in the corners of Millie’s eyes. “Please, Mr. McMillan. I need this job.”
“Then you’ll be here tomorrow morning. Not traipsing around the woods with your kid.”
“I can’t!” Millie shrieked, nearly making herself jump. Tears streamed down her crimson cheeks. She tried to compose herself. “I can work next Saturday or ‘til closing on Monday,” she murmured.
“Forget it. You’re fired. Leave the uniform in the locker.”
“B…but I bought this uniform.”
“Leave it or I’ll charge you with theft.” George gave her a smarmy grin.
“I have the receipt.”
McMillan was beginning to enjoy this. He’d never pegged little Millie for having such guts. He leered at her. “Take it off or I’ll take it off you.”
“You know what? Try. I’ll report you to the district office.”
McMillan skewed his lips into a repugnant sneer. “And I’ll have you arrested for stealing from the till. You think I can’t? Ask around and see how many times I’ve done it. Who’s gonna take care of your kid while you’re in the slammer? He’ll end up in foster care.”
“You’re ridiculous. Uh, can you say evidence?” Millie taunted, growing bolder with his every threat.
“Manager’s word against a lowly little dumb cashier’s? Evidence enough. Now take that thing off or I’ll rip it off.” He grabbed at the buttons on her bodice.
Backing away, Millie slapped his hand.
“Touch me and I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear me in the parking lot!” she shouted.
George dropped his hand and stood staring at her until she blinked. “You ain’t got nothin’ worth seeing anyway.” He leaned over her again. “I want you outta here in five minutes. And you better leave that dress or I’m calling the cops.” He whirled on his heel and was gone.
Flabbergasted and scared silly, Millie stared after him. She had just lost her only source of income. Charles was six months behind in child support. Millie knew taking him to court would do no good. When finalizing the divorce, the judge set the child support award for two years and told her not to ask for an increase any sooner.
With little left to lose other than her cheesy uniform, Millie cracked open the break room door and saw George at the front of the store. Taking a deep breath, she ran through the storeroom and burst through the rear door. The shrieking alarm overhead pierced her ears like a jackhammer. Running like a thief across the weed-strewn back lot, she made it to her car, fumbled with the lock, jumped in and jammed the key in the ignition. Unnerved, she floored the accelerator and let out a yelp when the car lurched forward. Whining in protest, the engine stalled. Tears blurred Millie’s vision as she turned the key. “Oh, please, not now.” The world was crashing down on her. Never in her life had she felt such fear.
The motor caught just as George pushed open the back door. Spotting her, he raised his fist and shouted, “I’m callin’ the cops!” Shifting into gear, Millie roared past him. Stopping at the entrance to the street, she looked in the rearview mirror. Even at this distance his beady, glowering eyes bored through her. She half expected him to come charging after her. Instead, he stepped back and pulled shut the door.
The police car pulled up behind her at the light on Jefferson. When it turned green, he turned on his light bar. Millie pulled to the side with her heart in her throat. The cop did a U-turn and turned on his siren. Millie gripped the wheel with her trembling hands and waited for her stomach to stop heaving, then drove the few blocks home. Thankful that Bobby was still in school, she turned the key in the front door and stepped into the foyer.
The house was deathly silent, gloomy as a tomb. Bobby’s camping pack lay by the back door, looking so forlorn it brought tears to Millie’s eyes. Burying her face in her hands, she cried. Her crying became sobs, her sobs turned to wails. How much more could she take? Another month and the bank would foreclose on the house. The car was falling apart. The electric bill with its accumulated late charges had chewed up most of her last paycheck. There was less than $20 in her checking account.
Swallowing her pride, Millie called Charles. In a voice as shrill as a fishwife’s, she recorded her message. “Charles, I’m out of money. If you don’t send at least a thousand immediately I’m taking you to court.” Ending the call with an uncharacteristic curse, she sat shaking her head. It was an empty threat, and Charles would know it. The law would do nothing. Even if they locked him up for nonsupport, he would just get further behind.
Over the next hour, Millie vacillated between hope and despair. She had to keep her promise. The only way she wouldn’t was if the cops hauled her off on George’s theft charge. She counted her cash. Just $50. The campground fee for two nights was 15, gas for the car 10. That left 25 for food and incidentals. The cloud seemed to lift. She would deal with everything Monday morning. This weekend she would focus on giving Bobby the best camping trip ever, one he’d remember the rest of his life.
It was almost noon. Bobby would be at lunch. If they left now they could be at the campground by one. Millie packed up the car and headed to the school. Bobby had just sat down across the table from his best friend, Justin, when he heard his name over the PA system. “Bobby Freeman, please report to the principal’s office.
“Uh oh, boy, you’re in trouble now,” Justin teased.
Bobby marched down the hall on wooden legs. Nobody went to the principal’s office unless they were in big trouble. Timidly, he knocked on the door. It opened and his mother stepped out, holding her finger to her lips. Looking back into the office, she said, “Thank you. I think we’ll just make his appointment.” Laying a hand Bobby’s shoulder, she propelled him down the hallway.
“What appointment, Mom?” Bobby asked as they walked to the car.
“Our appointment to go camping,” Millie answered with a coy grin.
“For real?” Opening the car door, Bobby spotted the camping equipment in the back seat. His face brightened, then fell. “What about the doctor’s note? They’ll ask me for one on Monday.”
“Let me worry about that. What do you say we start this adventure with some ice cream?” Before Charles’s departure, the family would visit the Dairy Queen at least once a week. This would be the first time in months that Millie and Bobby treated themselves to anything. Millie’s heart almost broke when he offered to help pay for his cone. He pulled the few coins from his pocket and held them out to her.
“No, honey, that’s all right,” she said, mentally calculating the bills in her purse. “This is my treat.” The car payment was due Tuesday. Millie would worry about it then. Bobby deserved this camping trip, and he was going to have it.
The ride to the camp ground was relaxing, the weather perfect. After finishing their cones, mother and son held a songfest, seeing who could sing the loudest. Bobby won hands down. Then he dozed off. Driving through the countryside, worry nagged at Millie. Would McMillan really stoop so low as to have her arrested? Could she get out of it just by showing the cops the receipt? If not and she landed in jail, Bobby would have to live with Charles, the father who cared more about the women he cheated with than he did his own son. Millie pushed the unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind. At the campground gate, she peeled a 10 and a five off her dwindling roll of bills.
The camping area consisted of a clearing large enough to accommodate 25 sites. Only three were occupied. They picked out a spot on the south side and started unloading the car.
Putting the rest of the camping gear aside, Millie took out the instructions for setting up the tent. They seemed straightforward enough. Laying out the tent, she placed the poles around its edges. The instructions advised that pitching the tent was a two-man job. Millie snickered when she read that. How difficult can it be? She tussled with it for 20 minutes, with Bobby doing his best to help. Just when she thought she had it, after struggling her way into its center the poles toppled and the tent collapsed on her.
“Would you like me to help?”
The voice sounded close. I must look like a blithering idiot, Millie thought. Flailing her way out from under the billowing canvas, she blinked at the handsome stranger. Mortified, she sloughed the thing off her back and let it fall to the ground.
“Not as easy as I thought,” she murmured, dropping her head to hide her flushed face from the staring, smiling man. He was slim, muscular and at least 6’2” with dark brown hair and twinkling brown eyes. She guessed him to be in his late 30’s.
He stooped to pick up one of the poles. "I can put it up for you. They do tend to be a bit tricky.”
Millie blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “That would be greatly appreciated. We’ll help.”
“My dad usually does it but he’s not here,” Bobby said sadly.
“Let me see what I can do.” The stranger picked up a second pole and fitted the two together. Millie watched in wonder as he singlehandedly erected the tent.
“There,” he said, “that should do it.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. ...”
“Eric. Eric Hicks. And you are?”
“Millie Freeman. This is my son, Bobby.” Eric shook Millie’s hand, then Bobby’s. Millie noticed his handshake was firm, yet gentle.
“Hey, Bobby, I have a boy around here somewhere,” Eric said. Scanning the campground, he called, “Benny, Ben! Come meet these folks.”
A boy about the same age as Bobby emerged from the forest. “Hey, Dad, there’s a chipmunk over there living in a hollow log,” Ben said, pointing to the way he came. He looked at Bobby. “Wanna go see it?”
“Can I, Mom?” Bobby said, turning pleading eyes on his mother.
“Okay. But don’t go too far. And be careful!” The words barely left Millie’s mouth before the boys were off and running.
“Don’t worry,” Eric told her. Ben knows these woods. Sometimes I think he spends more time here than at home.”
“Do you live close by, Mr. Hicks?”
“Eric, please. Yes. Just across the highway a little north of here.”
“That must be lovely. The only park we have in the city is a small one ten blocks from our home.”
“Yes, it is nice to have this practically in our back yard. Unfortunately, my work keeps me away more than I’d like. Well, Millie–may I call you Millie? If you need anything I’m right over there.” He pointed to a campsite about 50 feet away.
“Thanks again, Mr.–”
“Eric,” he corrected with a broad smile.
“Eric. Thank you again for putting up the tent,” Millie said, smiling shyly back at him.
Millie couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him while she set up camp. He was good-looking in a rugged kind of way. She tried to guess what type of job he had. With those muscles, he must do a lot of lifting. Warehouse? Construction? Eric was built for heavy lifting, all right, but not the kind Millie was thinking. Catching her looking at him, he smiled and waved. Self-consciously, Millie waved back, then ducked under the car’s open trunk lid, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
Having lain everything out on the ground, Millie looked for the camp stove. It had to be here. All the food she brought had to be heated. How could she have forgotten the camp stove? Depressed, she sat down on a log and hung her head. Why was all this happening to her? Everything was supposed to be perfect for Bobby. How could she hand him a can of cold beans? She rummaged through the picnic basket. She wanted to cry. No can opener, no spoons, no knife. Here she got herself fired just to do a good thing for Bobby, and instead they were in the middle of nowhere with nothing to eat. If it hadn’t been for Eric they’d be sleeping in the car. She wanted to kick herself.
Bobby was back, breathing hard from running. Millie had packed several cans of soda, but in her haste and with little money the thought of buying ice escaped her. Grabbing a root beer, Bobby called, “Hey, Mom, these are warm! Where’s the ice?”
“We’re roughing it, remember?” Millie said, forcing a smile.
Shaking his head, Bobby took a swig and grimaced as he swallowed it down. “Benny and me are going fishing after supper. If that’s okay.”
“We’ll see. Maybe Benny’s father and I will come along.”
The aroma of grilled meat permeated the campground. “Boy, that smells good,” Bobby said. “When are we going to fire up our grill? I’ll help.”
Frustrated and ashamed to admit her negligence, Millie avoided her son’s questioning look. “I think we’ll wait awhile.”
“Dad wants to know if you wanna come eat with us,” Benny hollered as he ran toward them. Catching his breath when he reached them, he added, “We have plenty of steaks. Dad works at a grocery store and gets stuff for cheap.”
Seated at the edge of the campfire with a plate loaded with grilled potatoes, corn on the cob and the biggest steak she ever saw, Millie said, “This is great, Eric. You’re a really good cook.”
“Thank you.”
“Mom works at a grocery store too,” Bobby piped up. “Ever heard of SuperMart?”
Ben opened his mouth. “Anybody want another steak?” Eric asked loudly, shooting a look at his son to keep quiet.“ I can stoke up these coals if you’re still hungry.” There were no takers. “Thanks,” Millie said. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Clean-up done, Millie and Eric sat on a log watching the boys play catch. Her mind wouldn’t stop nagging her. Ask him. Looking straight ahead, she forced out the words. “Any possibility your store is hiring?”
Eric thought for a moment. “You know, I think I did hear the boss say we could use another person. Mind if I ask what happened with your last job?”
Millie was reluctant to tell him, but once she started talking the story tumbled out. When she finished, she was embarrassed at how foolish she must look. “I’m sorry… I didn’t…I mean… sorry.”
“Don’t be. This George character sounds like a real jerk.”
Millie nodded. "Until the district manager comes around. Then he’s all sweetness and light.”
“Let’s see if the boys still want to go fishing. And listen, don’t worry, okay? I think I can get my boss to bring you on board.”
The camping trip turned out to be more fun than Millie imagined it could be. Eric insisted that she and Bobby join Ben and him for every meal. Although a bit tight-lipped about his life, Eric was a great conversationalist. Millie found him captivating and was very comfortable talking with him. He also was a good listener, a trait she’d seen in very few men.
On Sunday morning, they packed up early and returned home to attend services at their respective churches.
Monday morning, after sending Bobby off to school, Millie sat at the kitchen table going through the bills. She grew more tense and frightened as the words “due” and “past-due” jumped up at her from each one. Even if–-and that was a big IF–-Charles came up with the thousand, it wouldn’t be enough. The delinquent house payments would eat up most of it. Then there was the car. She needed two, possibly three thousand just to get her head above water. She could think of only one solution. Grabbing the phone book, Millie opened it to “Realtors”. She didn’t want to give up her home. She fell in love with it the first time she saw it. Bobby was only a few weeks old when they moved in. Millie spent weeks cleaning, painting and making it their own. She planted flowerbeds in front of the house and around the property’s perimeter, tending them lovingly throughout the spring and summer.
Pushing through her sadness, Millie selected an agent and picked up the phone. Just as she did, it rang. She didn’t recognize the number. Then she remembered Eric slipping her a piece of paper with his number. She dug it out of her purse and saw it was the same. Maybe he talked to his boss. Punching in the number, she waited nervously.
“Hi, Millie!” Eric said. Hearing his voice made Millie smile. “Hey, if you’re still interested, I may have a job for you.”
“Oh, I’m definitely interested. So, you spoke to your supervisor?”
“Yes. He thinks you’d be perfect for this job. Can you come down to SuperMart right away?”
“SuperMart!” Millie started tearing up. “No, Eric. I don’t think I can.”
“Trust me, Millie. Meet me at the Burger King across from the store.”
“I…” He hung up before she could refuse. Could she trust him? She barely knew him. She looked down at the Realtor’s ad. She would take the risk and trust him. Grabbing her purse, Millie drove the few blocks to the restaurant, wracking her brain along the way. How could Eric work at SuperMart? She knew all the employees there and she sure wouldn’t have missed him.
No sooner had she parked the car than Eric was standing at the driver’s side window. He wore a French cut suit, a red and white striped tie and a serious expression. Two men also wearing suits stood behind him. "Leave the car here,” Eric told her. "It’ll be all right. I’ve already spoken to the manager.”
He took off at a fast pace with the two men in tow. Lagging behind, Millie said loudly, “Wait, wait! You talked to the manager?”
Not breaking stride, Eric turned and walked backward as he answered, “Of the Burger King. So your car doesn’t get towed.” He whirled around, crossed the street and stopped to the left of the SuperMart entrance where he couldn’t be seen from inside. Breathing heavily, Millie caught up with them.
“Millie, I need you to do me a big favor. I want to go in and ask George McMillan for your paycheck.”
Millie looked at him quizzically. Who exactly are you? she wondered. But he was waiting for her response. “Eric, I can’t do that. When he fired me, he said if I came back here he would have me arrested for stealing.”
One of the men piped up. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Miss. There will be an arrest here today, but it won’t be you.”
“I’m sorry, Millie,” Eric said. “I was so focused on bringing McMillan down I forgot to introduce these gentlemen to you. Indicating the man in the gray suit, he introduced Detective Roy Moore. “And this is Ralph Boxsy, my district manager. You’ve probably seen him before.”
“See that van over there with the tinted windows?” Moore asked her, nodding toward a white Econoline parked in the corner of the lot. “It’s wired. With Mr. Hick’s permission, we bugged McMillan’s office last night.”
Millie looked at Eric. “Your district manager? You’re not just an employee at SuperMart, are you?”
“No. I own this chain and a few other companies. Millie, George McMillan has been embezzling for years. We estimate he’s taken over a million dollars.”
“We have some evidence, Millie. But if you can get him to admit he’s been stealing, we’ll have an airtight case against him,” Moore added.
Looking from one man to the next, Millie nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Moore spoke into his radio. “Stand by.”
McMillan was in his office with the door just enough ajar for Millie to glimpse him leaning over his desk as she approached. She pushed open the door and strode in. “I came for my check, George,” she said firmly.
He straightened up and gave her a leering once-over. “You got some nerve, girlie. Your crummy little check won’t even cover the cost of that dress you stole. I’ll have to make up the difference out of my pocket. Now get out of here.”
Taking a step forward, Millie closed the door and leaned against it. She knew her face was flushed; she could feel it burning. She prayed George couldn’t hear her heart pounding. They’re right outside listening, she told herself. She tried to swallow the baseball-sized lump in her throat. “I know what you’ve been doing.” Barely hearing the words herself, she cleared her throat and repeated them.
George leaned on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “Sweetheart, you got more guts than brains. Okay, what have I been doing?” He raised his eyebrows and stuck out his chin as if to say, come on, make it good.
“I know why the cash in the registers always comes up short.” Millie reached her hand behind and gripped the doorknob.
He took a step toward her.
“Really? And why is that, Princess?”
“Very simple, George. The cars you drive, the house you live in, the vacations you take. I think the police will be very interested in having a look at your bank statements.”
McMillan came at her, stopping just inches from her nose. Millie locked her knees and held onto the doorknob as the room swirled around her. She was sure she was going to faint.
“Now you listen to me. If you try that, you know what will happen? Nothing.” McMillan laughed in her face, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Not to me anyway. I’ll keep on stealing from these jerks like I have for the last ten years. And if they ever figure it out, which they won’t, you can read all about it in your prison cell.”
Millie turned the doorknob slowly. “They’ll believe me.”
“Yeah, sure they will after I plant a few marked bills in places you wouldn’t think to look. Oh, and I have a witness.” He picked up the phone. “Send Kelsey in here.”
“So Kelsey’s in on it. Big surprise.”
George laughed. “Oh, honey, with that moron running the head office I don’t need any help. Wanna know what my take has been so far?”
“A hundred thousand?” Millie’s dumb act worked splendidly. The blowhard braggadocio couldn’t resist impressing the poor little loser with the enormity of his exploits. Backing up, George sat on the edge of his desk, smiling and dangling his leg. He waited a few seconds, just to pump up the suspense. “Try two point three mil and change.” He threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Two million–”
Millie leapt aside as the door was thrown open. Moore stormed in, followed by Boxsy and several uniformed police officers. "George McMillan, you’re under arrest for embezzlement.”
Stunned, McMillan’s face drained of color as he pointed at Millie. “Wait a minute,” he sputtered. “She’s the thief! I caught her stealing from the register.” The officers spun him around and cuffed him. “Mr. Boxsy, Mr. Boxsy. C’mon. You know I’d never steal from you.”
“Nice try, Georgie boy,” Ralph Boxsy taunted as the blubbering crook was hustled out of the office. George caught sight of Eric standing just outside the doorway. Taking a recorder from his pocket, Eric flipped it on and played back George’s words as the officers frog-marched their suspect down the hall. Watching them pass through the aisles and out the door, the SuperMart employees cheered and applauded.
Stepping back into the office, Eric smiled at a pale-faced Millie leaning limply against the wall. “We did it,” he said. “You did it. You were great, Millie.”
Eric took her hand and led her to a chair. “I’m just glad it’s over,” she said in a near whisper.
“Well, now I need a manager. What do you say? Want the job?”
“Me?” Millie asked incredulously.
“I can’t think of anyone more qualified. By the way, the job comes with a five thousand dollar signing bonus. Interested?”
And that’s how Millie Freeman became manager of SuperMart. The position, however, was temporary. She soon went on to bigger and better things. Having chosen a lifelong career as Mrs. Eric Hicks, Millie has found fulfillment as wife, homemaker and full-time mom to Bobby and Ben.
Millie’s Promise(Darrell Case)
George McMillan entered the break room just as Millie was finishing her coffee. “I’m gonna need you to work Saturday,” he informed her. “Kelsey’s going to her cousin’s wedding, so I’m short a cashier.” That was a lie. It was common knowledge among the SuperMart employees that George and Kelsey were having an affair. Being the only one in the break room and having the most to lose if she balked, Millie was McMillan’s choice as the one to take Kelsey’s shift.
With her shoes off and her feet propped on a chair, Millie had been relishing her 15 minutes of peace and quiet before having to get back to the grind. At the sight of George, she dropped her feet and shoved them into her well-worn sneakers. Wearing those shoes was the only way Millie could stand at the checkout for eight hours. Allowing her to wear them was the one concession George had made to anyone asking to deviate from the standard uniform. There were many issues between SuperMart’s management and staff, not the least of which was the fact that the company made the women purchase their own uniforms while providing them to the male employees for free.
Averting her eyes, Millie said, “I can’t, Mr. McMillan. I promised Bobby I’d take him camping this weekend.” Millie’s heart pounded as fear and contempt bubbled up within. Over the past several months, she had covered for Kelsey at least a dozen times, knowing full well it was only so her coworker could sneak off with McMillan to some motel. Their tryst and her connection to it, albeit indirect, disgusted Millie, but she desperately needed this job. This week’s pay would make only a small dent in the bills that were piling up. If she got fired, she and Bobby would be on the street within a month.
At this time last year, Millie was happily married, or at least she thought so. While sorting her husband’s clothes for the wash one morning, she found a note in his pants pocket. The message from the blond bombshell at Charles’s office was a graphic recount of what the two of them had done the last time they shared a motel room. The laundry forgotten, Millie dissolved in tears. Thank God their 10-year-old son, Bobby, was in school. Millie’s emotions swirled from shock to rage to revenge and back again as she paced the house like a nervous cat. Three times she almost called the office. She got only as far as punching in the number before thinking better of it and hitting the end button.
Late that afternoon, Millie sent Bobby to his friend’s house for a play date. When Charles came through the front door, he was met by a confused and angry wife. Millie held out the note like a shield. “Well, I’m glad it’s over,” Charles said. An odd smile somewhere between shame and relief crossed his face. Assuming he was referring to the affair, Millie was unprepared for his next words: “Guess I better pack my bags and be gone before Bobby gets home." They pierced Millie’s heart like a spear.
“Speaking of our son, what do you suggest I tell him? That his father left us for a slut?"
Charles stiffened. “Sorry to break it to you, Millie, but she’s no slut. She’s a very respectable woman. She’s gentle and kind and she takes care of herself.” He left off, “unlike you,” but the inference was there.
“Oh, yes, what she’s been doing with a married man is highly respectable. So what happens when you get tired of her? Do you trade her in for a new model? Or are you just going to cheat on her until she finds out, like I did?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Heaving a huge sigh and swearing under his breath, Charles made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. He was back in minutes with a suitcase in his hand and two suits slung over his shoulder. There’s no way he could pack that fast, Millie thought. She remembered seeing the bag in the back of the closet but, being the last one to know, never thought to open it. Now it was clear that Charles had been preparing for his exit while waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Before Millie could speak he was out the door, slamming it behind him. She watched through the living room window as his car roared out of the driveway and disappeared down the street. The pain in her heart was crushing. She collapsed on the sofa and wept.
When Bobby came home, Millie lied that his dad had gone on a business trip. Holding herself together until Bobby was tucked into bed, she retreated to her room. Overcome with shock, loss and grief, all she could do was crawl into bed, bury her face in the pillow and let it pour out.
Two days later, a currier stood at the front door holding divorce papers. Dazed, Millie sat at the computer and half-heartedly began searching for a job. When Bobby came home from school, she sat him down and, as gently as she could, told him his father would not be living with them anymore. Holding the weeping child in her arms, she wept with him.
Over the next few weeks, aside from a few crying spells, Bobby seemed to adjust to his father’s absence. In truth, Charles had never been much of a factor in Bobby’s life. Still, it was clear from the far-away look in his eyes that the boy missed him terribly. Millie did her best to fill the gap, although her state of confusion, loss and uncertainty robbed her of energy and enthusiasm.
On one of his infrequent visits, Charles promised to take Bobby camping the following weekend. When Friday night rolled around, Bobby was so wound up he barely slept. At ten to six Saturday morning, Millie heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. Yawning, she descended the stairs to find him checking and repacking his duffle bag as he had at least a half dozen times during the week.
Wanting to sleep in on her day off, Millie nevertheless stayed up and made breakfast. Afraid he would miss his father, Bobby kept going to the window. At 7:30, he took up a position on the sidewalk. Millie kept her eye on him as she cleaned up the kitchen. An hour passed. Heartbroken, Millie watched her son pull his spyglass from his pack and use it to look up and down the street. She called Charles’s cell and left a voice mail message. “Your son is waiting on the curb for you.” Afraid she would say something she’d regret later, she bit her tongue and ended the call.
At nine, Millie went outside and tried to persuade Bobby to come in the house. With angry tears streaming, he refused. In her heart, Millie felt the same pain she had the day she found out about Charles’s infidelity. After waiting another hour, Bobby was forced to face the cold, hard fact that he could not rely on his father. Shrugging Millie’s hand off his shoulder, the boy stomped into the garage, hurled his pack into the corner and ran upstairs to his bedroom. From the hallway outside his locked door, Millie heard him sobbing.
By noon Millie had called Charles’s phone three more times. All went to voice mail. The house was too quiet and Millie began to worry about Bobby being behind that locked door. At one o’clock, she stood in front of it with a ham sandwich and a glass of milk. “Bobby, honey, please open the door. I brought you some lunch.”
She heard him cross the room and pull back the latch. “Why Mom, why does Dad hate me?” Bobby asked as she entered. Millie was at a loss, her heart breaking again. How do you explain to a child that his father chose an adulterous affair over his family? With no words to comfort him, she gathered her sobbing son in her arms and held him until he fell asleep.
She just reached the kitchen when her cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw Charles’s number. Surging with rage, she thought of not answering, but for Bobby’s sake she punched the button.
“Yes?” she snapped, clipping off the word.
“Hi Millie.” Charles sounded strange, his voice high-pitched and stressed.
“Hi Millie nothin’. Where were you?” Her heart raced, her face flamed and she was finding it hard to breathe. Calm down, she told herself. “Your son waited at the curb for you all morning.”
“I… forgot,” he said, so quietly she could barely hear. Charles always mumbled when he was lying.
Steaming, Millie’s knuckles turned white as she squeezed the phone as hard as she wanted to squeeze his neck. “You forgot. How noble of you. I’m sure Bobby would be so proud of his father to hear that.”
“Okay, okay. Lighten up, will you?" Charles sounded to Millie like a whining adolescent. “Would you please just tell him something came up at the office and I’ll make it up to him soon?”
“Hey c’mon, babe, we’re going to be late,” a female voice in the background called.
“Say hi to the slut for me,” Millie said bitterly.
“Yeah, well, you’ll be happy to know that didn’t work out. Listen, Millie, I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to Bobby. I promise.”
“You and your promises. But it’s nice you at least remembered his name.” There was silence. “You’re pathetic,” Millie said, her voice dripping with hatred and disgust.
“I don’t want to fight, Mill. Tell Bobby I’ll call him later.” The phone went dead.
Breathing hard, Millie reared back her arm with the impulse to smash the phone against the fireplace. Instead, she laid it on the coffee table and went upstairs to check on her son.
As it turned out, that was the first of Charles’s many broken promises. After the third, Bobby didn’t bother to pack his camping equipment. Nor did he show any emotion when Charles didn’t show. He simply went to his room without a word and stayed there all day. As fall turned to winter, the promise of a camping trip was swept away with the wind.
From then on, anytime Millie saw Charles’s name on the caller ID, she would let it ring. He never left a message. Millie wasn’t surprised when Charles left Bobby’s Christmas present on the doorstep with a note that he would call later. But it still hurt. She spent the day stewing in her loneliness while Bobby went sledding with his friends.
At the beginning of May, Millie surprised Bobby with plans for a camping trip. Hardly a nature girl, she nevertheless would endure any discomfort for her son. Unenthused at first, Bobby grew more excited as the time approached. Unlike his father, Millie had never made Bobby a promise she didn’t keep.
Charles sent money whenever he felt like it, and that wasn’t often. Lacking skills, Millie had searched for weeks before finally landing the cashier’s job at SuperMart. She soon learned that George McMillan was a hard taskmaster unless you were one of his favorites. He was known to find a reason to fire anyone who questioned his management policies. Then there was the ongoing rumor that George was stepping out on his wife. It was a standing joke in the break room. Just for giggles, some of the female employees would tease him just enough to let him think he had a chance. Kelsey, on the other hand, wasn’t fooling. She had her hooks into old George and led him around by the proverbial ring in his nose.
Now as McMillan stood over her breathing fire, Millie’s skin crawled. Never before had she refused to comply. An attractive woman at 35, she drew the line at McMillan’s advances, but always in a restrained and polite manner. Now, even as her heart pounded in her chest, she wasn’t going to budge. She needed this job. She was three months behind in the mortgage, the tires on the car were bald and the electric company was threatening to shut her off. Regardless, she would not let Bobby down.
“I can’t do it this weekend, Mr. McMillan,” she repeated. “I made a promise to Bobby.
“Just tell him you gotta work. He’ll get over it.”
“I’m sorry, but no.” Millie wondered if she looked as nervous as she felt, but her resolve didn’t waver.
McMillan twisted his face into a thuggish snarl and leaned so close to Millie she flinched. “If you’re not here at eight in the morning don’t brother coming back Monday.”
Tears formed in the corners of Millie’s eyes. “Please, Mr. McMillan. I need this job.”
“Then you’ll be here tomorrow morning. Not traipsing around the woods with your kid.”
“I can’t!” Millie shrieked, nearly making herself jump. Tears streamed down her crimson cheeks. She tried to compose herself. “I can work next Saturday or ‘til closing on Monday,” she murmured.
“Forget it. You’re fired. Leave the uniform in the locker.”
“B…but I bought this uniform.”
“Leave it or I’ll charge you with theft.” George gave her a smarmy grin.
“I have the receipt.”
McMillan was beginning to enjoy this. He’d never pegged little Millie for having such guts. He leered at her. “Take it off or I’ll take it off you.”
“You know what? Try. I’ll report you to the district office.”
McMillan skewed his lips into a repugnant sneer. “And I’ll have you arrested for stealing from the till. You think I can’t? Ask around and see how many times I’ve done it. Who’s gonna take care of your kid while you’re in the slammer? He’ll end up in foster care.”
“You’re ridiculous. Uh, can you say evidence?” Millie taunted, growing bolder with his every threat.
“Manager’s word against a lowly little dumb cashier’s? Evidence enough. Now take that thing off or I’ll rip it off.” He grabbed at the buttons on her bodice.
Backing away, Millie slapped his hand.
“Touch me and I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear me in the parking lot!” she shouted.
George dropped his hand and stood staring at her until she blinked. “You ain’t got nothin’ worth seeing anyway.” He leaned over her again. “I want you outta here in five minutes. And you better leave that dress or I’m calling the cops.” He whirled on his heel and was gone.
Flabbergasted and scared silly, Millie stared after him. She had just lost her only source of income. Charles was six months behind in child support. Millie knew taking him to court would do no good. When finalizing the divorce, the judge set the child support award for two years and told her not to ask for an increase any sooner.
With little left to lose other than her cheesy uniform, Millie cracked open the break room door and saw George at the front of the store. Taking a deep breath, she ran through the storeroom and burst through the rear door. The shrieking alarm overhead pierced her ears like a jackhammer. Running like a thief across the weed-strewn back lot, she made it to her car, fumbled with the lock, jumped in and jammed the key in the ignition. Unnerved, she floored the accelerator and let out a yelp when the car lurched forward. Whining in protest, the engine stalled. Tears blurred Millie’s vision as she turned the key. “Oh, please, not now.” The world was crashing down on her. Never in her life had she felt such fear.
The motor caught just as George pushed open the back door. Spotting her, he raised his fist and shouted, “I’m callin’ the cops!” Shifting into gear, Millie roared past him. Stopping at the entrance to the street, she looked in the rearview mirror. Even at this distance his beady, glowering eyes bored through her. She half expected him to come charging after her. Instead, he stepped back and pulled shut the door.
The police car pulled up behind her at the light on Jefferson. When it turned green, he turned on his light bar. Millie pulled to the side with her heart in her throat. The cop did a U-turn and turned on his siren. Millie gripped the wheel with her trembling hands and waited for her stomach to stop heaving, then drove the few blocks home. Thankful that Bobby was still in school, she turned the key in the front door and stepped into the foyer.
The house was deathly silent, gloomy as a tomb. Bobby’s camping pack lay by the back door, looking so forlorn it brought tears to Millie’s eyes. Burying her face in her hands, she cried. Her crying became sobs, her sobs turned to wails. How much more could she take? Another month and the bank would foreclose on the house. The car was falling apart. The electric bill with its accumulated late charges had chewed up most of her last paycheck. There was less than $20 in her checking account.
Swallowing her pride, Millie called Charles. In a voice as shrill as a fishwife’s, she recorded her message. “Charles, I’m out of money. If you don’t send at least a thousand immediately I’m taking you to court.” Ending the call with an uncharacteristic curse, she sat shaking her head. It was an empty threat, and Charles would know it. The law would do nothing. Even if they locked him up for nonsupport, he would just get further behind.
Over the next hour, Millie vacillated between hope and despair. She had to keep her promise. The only way she wouldn’t was if the cops hauled her off on George’s theft charge. She counted her cash. Just $50. The campground fee for two nights was 15, gas for the car 10. That left 25 for food and incidentals. The cloud seemed to lift. She would deal with everything Monday morning. This weekend she would focus on giving Bobby the best camping trip ever, one he’d remember the rest of his life.
It was almost noon. Bobby would be at lunch. If they left now they could be at the campground by one. Millie packed up the car and headed to the school. Bobby had just sat down across the table from his best friend, Justin, when he heard his name over the PA system. “Bobby Freeman, please report to the principal’s office.
“Uh oh, boy, you’re in trouble now,” Justin teased.
Bobby marched down the hall on wooden legs. Nobody went to the principal’s office unless they were in big trouble. Timidly, he knocked on the door. It opened and his mother stepped out, holding her finger to her lips. Looking back into the office, she said, “Thank you. I think we’ll just make his appointment.” Laying a hand Bobby’s shoulder, she propelled him down the hallway.
“What appointment, Mom?” Bobby asked as they walked to the car.
“Our appointment to go camping,” Millie answered with a coy grin.
“For real?” Opening the car door, Bobby spotted the camping equipment in the back seat. His face brightened, then fell. “What about the doctor’s note? They’ll ask me for one on Monday.”
“Let me worry about that. What do you say we start this adventure with some ice cream?” Before Charles’s departure, the family would visit the Dairy Queen at least once a week. This would be the first time in months that Millie and Bobby treated themselves to anything. Millie’s heart almost broke when he offered to help pay for his cone. He pulled the few coins from his pocket and held them out to her.
“No, honey, that’s all right,” she said, mentally calculating the bills in her purse. “This is my treat.” The car payment was due Tuesday. Millie would worry about it then. Bobby deserved this camping trip, and he was going to have it.
The ride to the camp ground was relaxing, the weather perfect. After finishing their cones, mother and son held a songfest, seeing who could sing the loudest. Bobby won hands down. Then he dozed off. Driving through the countryside, worry nagged at Millie. Would McMillan really stoop so low as to have her arrested? Could she get out of it just by showing the cops the receipt? If not and she landed in jail, Bobby would have to live with Charles, the father who cared more about the women he cheated with than he did his own son. Millie pushed the unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind. At the campground gate, she peeled a 10 and a five off her dwindling roll of bills.
The camping area consisted of a clearing large enough to accommodate 25 sites. Only three were occupied. They picked out a spot on the south side and started unloading the car.
Putting the rest of the camping gear aside, Millie took out the instructions for setting up the tent. They seemed straightforward enough. Laying out the tent, she placed the poles around its edges. The instructions advised that pitching the tent was a two-man job. Millie snickered when she read that. How difficult can it be? She tussled with it for 20 minutes, with Bobby doing his best to help. Just when she thought she had it, after struggling her way into its center the poles toppled and the tent collapsed on her.
“Would you like me to help?”
The voice sounded close. I must look like a blithering idiot, Millie thought. Flailing her way out from under the billowing canvas, she blinked at the handsome stranger. Mortified, she sloughed the thing off her back and let it fall to the ground.
“Not as easy as I thought,” she murmured, dropping her head to hide her flushed face from the staring, smiling man. He was slim, muscular and at least 6’2” with dark brown hair and twinkling brown eyes. She guessed him to be in his late 30’s.
He stooped to pick up one of the poles. "I can put it up for you. They do tend to be a bit tricky.”
Millie blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “That would be greatly appreciated. We’ll help.”
“My dad usually does it but he’s not here,” Bobby said sadly.
“Let me see what I can do.” The stranger picked up a second pole and fitted the two together. Millie watched in wonder as he singlehandedly erected the tent.
“There,” he said, “that should do it.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. ...”
“Eric. Eric Hicks. And you are?”
“Millie Freeman. This is my son, Bobby.” Eric shook Millie’s hand, then Bobby’s. Millie noticed his handshake was firm, yet gentle.
“Hey, Bobby, I have a boy around here somewhere,” Eric said. Scanning the campground, he called, “Benny, Ben! Come meet these folks.”
A boy about the same age as Bobby emerged from the forest. “Hey, Dad, there’s a chipmunk over there living in a hollow log,” Ben said, pointing to the way he came. He looked at Bobby. “Wanna go see it?”
“Can I, Mom?” Bobby said, turning pleading eyes on his mother.
“Okay. But don’t go too far. And be careful!” The words barely left Millie’s mouth before the boys were off and running.
“Don’t worry,” Eric told her. Ben knows these woods. Sometimes I think he spends more time here than at home.”
“Do you live close by, Mr. Hicks?”
“Eric, please. Yes. Just across the highway a little north of here.”
“That must be lovely. The only park we have in the city is a small one ten blocks from our home.”
“Yes, it is nice to have this practically in our back yard. Unfortunately, my work keeps me away more than I’d like. Well, Millie–may I call you Millie? If you need anything I’m right over there.” He pointed to a campsite about 50 feet away.
“Thanks again, Mr.–”
“Eric,” he corrected with a broad smile.
“Eric. Thank you again for putting up the tent,” Millie said, smiling shyly back at him.
Millie couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him while she set up camp. He was good-looking in a rugged kind of way. She tried to guess what type of job he had. With those muscles, he must do a lot of lifting. Warehouse? Construction? Eric was built for heavy lifting, all right, but not the kind Millie was thinking. Catching her looking at him, he smiled and waved. Self-consciously, Millie waved back, then ducked under the car’s open trunk lid, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
Having lain everything out on the ground, Millie looked for the camp stove. It had to be here. All the food she brought had to be heated. How could she have forgotten the camp stove? Depressed, she sat down on a log and hung her head. Why was all this happening to her? Everything was supposed to be perfect for Bobby. How could she hand him a can of cold beans? She rummaged through the picnic basket. She wanted to cry. No can opener, no spoons, no knife. Here she got herself fired just to do a good thing for Bobby, and instead they were in the middle of nowhere with nothing to eat. If it hadn’t been for Eric they’d be sleeping in the car. She wanted to kick herself.
Bobby was back, breathing hard from running. Millie had packed several cans of soda, but in her haste and with little money the thought of buying ice escaped her. Grabbing a root beer, Bobby called, “Hey, Mom, these are warm! Where’s the ice?”
“We’re roughing it, remember?” Millie said, forcing a smile.
Shaking his head, Bobby took a swig and grimaced as he swallowed it down. “Benny and me are going fishing after supper. If that’s okay.”
“We’ll see. Maybe Benny’s father and I will come along.”
The aroma of grilled meat permeated the campground. “Boy, that smells good,” Bobby said. “When are we going to fire up our grill? I’ll help.”
Frustrated and ashamed to admit her negligence, Millie avoided her son’s questioning look. “I think we’ll wait awhile.”
“Dad wants to know if you wanna come eat with us,” Benny hollered as he ran toward them. Catching his breath when he reached them, he added, “We have plenty of steaks. Dad works at a grocery store and gets stuff for cheap.”
Seated at the edge of the campfire with a plate loaded with grilled potatoes, corn on the cob and the biggest steak she ever saw, Millie said, “This is great, Eric. You’re a really good cook.”
“Thank you.”
“Mom works at a grocery store too,” Bobby piped up. “Ever heard of SuperMart?”
Ben opened his mouth. “Anybody want another steak?” Eric asked loudly, shooting a look at his son to keep quiet.“ I can stoke up these coals if you’re still hungry.” There were no takers. “Thanks,” Millie said. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Clean-up done, Millie and Eric sat on a log watching the boys play catch. Her mind wouldn’t stop nagging her. Ask him. Looking straight ahead, she forced out the words. “Any possibility your store is hiring?”
Eric thought for a moment. “You know, I think I did hear the boss say we could use another person. Mind if I ask what happened with your last job?”
Millie was reluctant to tell him, but once she started talking the story tumbled out. When she finished, she was embarrassed at how foolish she must look. “I’m sorry… I didn’t…I mean… sorry.”
“Don’t be. This George character sounds like a real jerk.”
Millie nodded. "Until the district manager comes around. Then he’s all sweetness and light.”
“Let’s see if the boys still want to go fishing. And listen, don’t worry, okay? I think I can get my boss to bring you on board.”
The camping trip turned out to be more fun than Millie imagined it could be. Eric insisted that she and Bobby join Ben and him for every meal. Although a bit tight-lipped about his life, Eric was a great conversationalist. Millie found him captivating and was very comfortable talking with him. He also was a good listener, a trait she’d seen in very few men.
On Sunday morning, they packed up early and returned home to attend services at their respective churches.
Monday morning, after sending Bobby off to school, Millie sat at the kitchen table going through the bills. She grew more tense and frightened as the words “due” and “past-due” jumped up at her from each one. Even if–-and that was a big IF–-Charles came up with the thousand, it wouldn’t be enough. The delinquent house payments would eat up most of it. Then there was the car. She needed two, possibly three thousand just to get her head above water. She could think of only one solution. Grabbing the phone book, Millie opened it to “Realtors”. She didn’t want to give up her home. She fell in love with it the first time she saw it. Bobby was only a few weeks old when they moved in. Millie spent weeks cleaning, painting and making it their own. She planted flowerbeds in front of the house and around the property’s perimeter, tending them lovingly throughout the spring and summer.
Pushing through her sadness, Millie selected an agent and picked up the phone. Just as she did, it rang. She didn’t recognize the number. Then she remembered Eric slipping her a piece of paper with his number. She dug it out of her purse and saw it was the same. Maybe he talked to his boss. Punching in the number, she waited nervously.
“Hi, Millie!” Eric said. Hearing his voice made Millie smile. “Hey, if you’re still interested, I may have a job for you.”
“Oh, I’m definitely interested. So, you spoke to your supervisor?”
“Yes. He thinks you’d be perfect for this job. Can you come down to SuperMart right away?”
“SuperMart!” Millie started tearing up. “No, Eric. I don’t think I can.”
“Trust me, Millie. Meet me at the Burger King across from the store.”
“I…” He hung up before she could refuse. Could she trust him? She barely knew him. She looked down at the Realtor’s ad. She would take the risk and trust him. Grabbing her purse, Millie drove the few blocks to the restaurant, wracking her brain along the way. How could Eric work at SuperMart? She knew all the employees there and she sure wouldn’t have missed him.
No sooner had she parked the car than Eric was standing at the driver’s side window. He wore a French cut suit, a red and white striped tie and a serious expression. Two men also wearing suits stood behind him. "Leave the car here,” Eric told her. "It’ll be all right. I’ve already spoken to the manager.”
He took off at a fast pace with the two men in tow. Lagging behind, Millie said loudly, “Wait, wait! You talked to the manager?”
Not breaking stride, Eric turned and walked backward as he answered, “Of the Burger King. So your car doesn’t get towed.” He whirled around, crossed the street and stopped to the left of the SuperMart entrance where he couldn’t be seen from inside. Breathing heavily, Millie caught up with them.
“Millie, I need you to do me a big favor. I want to go in and ask George McMillan for your paycheck.”
Millie looked at him quizzically. Who exactly are you? she wondered. But he was waiting for her response. “Eric, I can’t do that. When he fired me, he said if I came back here he would have me arrested for stealing.”
One of the men piped up. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Miss. There will be an arrest here today, but it won’t be you.”
“I’m sorry, Millie,” Eric said. “I was so focused on bringing McMillan down I forgot to introduce these gentlemen to you. Indicating the man in the gray suit, he introduced Detective Roy Moore. “And this is Ralph Boxsy, my district manager. You’ve probably seen him before.”
“See that van over there with the tinted windows?” Moore asked her, nodding toward a white Econoline parked in the corner of the lot. “It’s wired. With Mr. Hick’s permission, we bugged McMillan’s office last night.”
Millie looked at Eric. “Your district manager? You’re not just an employee at SuperMart, are you?”
“No. I own this chain and a few other companies. Millie, George McMillan has been embezzling for years. We estimate he’s taken over a million dollars.”
“We have some evidence, Millie. But if you can get him to admit he’s been stealing, we’ll have an airtight case against him,” Moore added.
Looking from one man to the next, Millie nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Moore spoke into his radio. “Stand by.”
McMillan was in his office with the door just enough ajar for Millie to glimpse him leaning over his desk as she approached. She pushed open the door and strode in. “I came for my check, George,” she said firmly.
He straightened up and gave her a leering once-over. “You got some nerve, girlie. Your crummy little check won’t even cover the cost of that dress you stole. I’ll have to make up the difference out of my pocket. Now get out of here.”
Taking a step forward, Millie closed the door and leaned against it. She knew her face was flushed; she could feel it burning. She prayed George couldn’t hear her heart pounding. They’re right outside listening, she told herself. She tried to swallow the baseball-sized lump in her throat. “I know what you’ve been doing.” Barely hearing the words herself, she cleared her throat and repeated them.
George leaned on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “Sweetheart, you got more guts than brains. Okay, what have I been doing?” He raised his eyebrows and stuck out his chin as if to say, come on, make it good.
“I know why the cash in the registers always comes up short.” Millie reached her hand behind and gripped the doorknob.
He took a step toward her.
“Really? And why is that, Princess?”
“Very simple, George. The cars you drive, the house you live in, the vacations you take. I think the police will be very interested in having a look at your bank statements.”
McMillan came at her, stopping just inches from her nose. Millie locked her knees and held onto the doorknob as the room swirled around her. She was sure she was going to faint.
“Now you listen to me. If you try that, you know what will happen? Nothing.” McMillan laughed in her face, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Not to me anyway. I’ll keep on stealing from these jerks like I have for the last ten years. And if they ever figure it out, which they won’t, you can read all about it in your prison cell.”
Millie turned the doorknob slowly. “They’ll believe me.”
“Yeah, sure they will after I plant a few marked bills in places you wouldn’t think to look. Oh, and I have a witness.” He picked up the phone. “Send Kelsey in here.”
“So Kelsey’s in on it. Big surprise.”
George laughed. “Oh, honey, with that moron running the head office I don’t need any help. Wanna know what my take has been so far?”
“A hundred thousand?” Millie’s dumb act worked splendidly. The blowhard braggadocio couldn’t resist impressing the poor little loser with the enormity of his exploits. Backing up, George sat on the edge of his desk, smiling and dangling his leg. He waited a few seconds, just to pump up the suspense. “Try two point three mil and change.” He threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Two million–”
Millie leapt aside as the door was thrown open. Moore stormed in, followed by Boxsy and several uniformed police officers. "George McMillan, you’re under arrest for embezzlement.”
Stunned, McMillan’s face drained of color as he pointed at Millie. “Wait a minute,” he sputtered. “She’s the thief! I caught her stealing from the register.” The officers spun him around and cuffed him. “Mr. Boxsy, Mr. Boxsy. C’mon. You know I’d never steal from you.”
“Nice try, Georgie boy,” Ralph Boxsy taunted as the blubbering crook was hustled out of the office. George caught sight of Eric standing just outside the doorway. Taking a recorder from his pocket, Eric flipped it on and played back George’s words as the officers frog-marched their suspect down the hall. Watching them pass through the aisles and out the door, the SuperMart employees cheered and applauded.
Stepping back into the office, Eric smiled at a pale-faced Millie leaning limply against the wall. “We did it,” he said. “You did it. You were great, Millie.”
Eric took her hand and led her to a chair. “I’m just glad it’s over,” she said in a near whisper.
“Well, now I need a manager. What do you say? Want the job?”
“Me?” Millie asked incredulously.
“I can’t think of anyone more qualified. By the way, the job comes with a five thousand dollar signing bonus. Interested?”
And that’s how Millie Freeman became manager of SuperMart. The position, however, was temporary. She soon went on to bigger and better things. Having chosen a lifelong career as Mrs. Eric Hicks, Millie has found fulfillment as wife, homemaker and full-time mom to Bobby and Ben.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
09/19/2022Fantastic story! I love stories about woman who pull them out the lows to succeed!
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Bernardo Mendes
11/16/2021Damm what an amazing story, Darrell! Extremely well written and engaging I couldn't stop reading it! Thank you
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Gail Moore
08/17/2021Fantastic, just as well they went on that camping trip. :-)
Good things come to she who waits :-)
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JD
08/16/2021This is one of my most favorite stories on Storystar! Thanks so much for sharing your stories with us, Darrell! :-)
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Darrell Case
08/16/2021JD
You humble me. I'm so glad you enjoyed the story. As I have said before thank you for a site to showcase our work. I know it is very difficult and unrewarding at times. So let me be one of many authors to say a hardy thank you.
Darrell
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Valerie Allen
10/11/2020Darrell ~ Nicely done! You captured the emotional aspect of the struggles of being a single parent and all that goes with it. Also, congratulations for being a part of the Anthology with your story, "Music of the Night."
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Darrell Case
10/11/2020Thank you. Millie faced what a lot of women face.. I'm glad you like Music of the Night. I love reading and writing Christmas stories.
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Kristin Dockar
10/11/2020I did enjoy this story. It held me throughout. Just loved the ending!
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Chris Larson
09/25/2020Well done! I was trying to capture what I enjoyed most about this story, and then I saw "JD's" comments (9/21/20), and realized he/she captured my sentiments perfect.
"That was about as perfect a story as I can imagine, and masterfully woven from beginning to end. It has sorrow and struggle, mystery and intrigue, betrayal and crime, and all ending in love, hope, and triumph. What could be more perfect? Thank you for sharing this beautiful and inspirational short story on Storystar, Darrell. I absolutely loved it! :-)"
I'm looking forward to reading -- and sharing-- more of your stories.
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Darrell Case
09/25/2020Thank you. I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
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JD
09/21/2020That was about as perfect a story as I can imagine, and masterfully woven from beginning to end. It has sorrow and struggle, mystery and intrigue, betrayal and crime, and all ending in love, hope, and triumph. What could be more perfect? Thank you for sharing this beautiful and inspirational short story on Storystar, Darrell. I absolutely loved it! :-)
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JD
09/21/2020Thank YOU for letting me showcase your writing, Darrell, and for sharing such showcase-worthy stories! :-)
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Darrell Case
09/21/2020Thank you. I'm really enjoying the anthology. Keep up the good work. Also thank you for letting me showcase my writing
COMMENTS (9)