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He pushed the gate open for me. “Well, you’d better come in and have something to drink.”
He led me to the garage instead of the house—fitting for a guy who had worked on cars all his life. And anyway, it was no ordinary garage. The interior was all finished and gleaming, with a sealed concrete floor, an overhead track for lifting car parts, and high-end LED lighting. A black vintage refrigerator stood beside a massive tool chest, and he cracked it open to let me have my pick of his glass soda stash.
“Thanks.” I gestured to his hot rod, a red Ford Coupe with a scoop on the front and chrome sparkling from every corner. “I haven’t seen that in a long time. You used to drive it in all the parades.”
He shrugged. “Haven’t felt much like it lately. I’ve got the back end torn apart right now for new shocks.”
“Oh?” I sipped my coke and walked around the car. “How long will that take?”
Jed scratched his chin. “Another six years at the rate I’m going.”
I glanced over at him. “Do you want some help?”
He pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Well… why not? I’m not doing anything important this afternoon. You’re not too busy?”
“Not at the moment.” I set my bottle on the work table. “Where do we start?”
I’d never been much good when it came to fixing cars. That was Luke’s department, with his tricked-out truck and his insatiable desire to add extra horsepower to everything, even our lawn tractor. But I was good at one thing; handing over tools.
Jed Thompkins was under the car, twisting away at his wrench and occasionally asking about our cows or the prices of hay or whatever else came to his mind. Once in a while, he’d stick his hand out and ask for a different tool, but I never did actually touch the car. For a long time I was feeling pretty useless.
And then it dawned on me; he didn’t need help with the car. He could have wrapped this up by himself in an hour if he’d wanted to. He just needed someone to talk to while he worked, and I was a good listener.
“That should about do it for this side. All I need is…” The dolly scooted farther under the car. “Will you hand me that 7/16”? And the 1/2” too.”
I scraped up the requested socket wrenches and placed them in his hand. He grunted a thank you, and I heard the ratcheting sounds of him twisting the nuts in place.
“Jess is bound to be pleased,” he said at length. “She’s been after me to finish this thing for months. Keeps trying to drag me out here to work on it. Not that I didn’t want to get it finished, but…” His voice trailed off.
I squatted down so I could see his face better. “She likes helping you with it, doesn’t she?”
He grunted again. “She does, but I don’t like to see her wasting her life under a car. There are better ways for her to spend her time.”
I narrowed my eyes.That was it. Jed Thompkins wasn’t aimless and depressed. He was keeping away from his hobby to give his daughter a push into doing something else.
“Like what?” I asked, trying not to sound like my life hung on his answer.
“Anything but work. Something with people to talk to.” He rolled out from under the car, and I reached down to give him a hand up off his dolly. “Thanks.”
“You know,” I mused, “I told Cody and Morgan I’d volunteer at the therapy program this winter. She ran my background check already, and I’m all set, but other than today’s party, I haven’t had much time yet. I mean to get over there more.”
“See? Something like that. Good for the soul, doing something to help someone else. And you never know.” He winked. “You must just meet someone special in the process.”
He knew. Saintly bovines,he knew.
Well, what if he did? It wasn’t like I was expected to be blind, and if I was reading him correctly, he didn’t seem to care if I was interested in his daughter. Maybe he was even encouraging me. I swallowed the great knot in my throat. If I was going to make something of this, there was no time like the present to start.
“You might be right. I was thinking about heading over there this week. Cody says that right now, they’re the most short-handed on Tuesdays and Thursdays, starting from about two o’clock.”
Jed Thompkins broke into a slow smile and clapped me on the shoulder. “You do that, son. You never know. Might just be the best thing you ever did. Cold one for the road?”
I couldn’t help grinning at him. Oh, yes, he knew, and he was on my side. “Much obliged, sir.”
Chapter 9
Dusty
Ihoppedintheside-by-side and drove out to the road so I could pounce on the mailbox as soon as the little white truck drove away. Today should be the day!
