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“No. It’s okay. I mean…” Her voice breaks a little. “It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek.” She seems genuinely worried about Scott.
And we’ve been talking in circles so much I don’t know if we’ve been referring to the trip or the bus or none of the above. And I can’t go on before I give her an abbreviated version of the thoughts swimming in my head. “Before I do, about London—” I stop short. Where do I even start? “I sincerely apologize for not letting you know in advance. Sebastian only gave me a few hours’ notice before takeoff, but that’s no excuse. I should have told you where I was going. I should have said goodbye and helped you with anything you needed beforehand—” Regret simmers in my chest.
“It’s okay.” She glances at the hood of the bus, and her face is vacant.
I know when to move on. Temporarily. There’s a storm underlining her words and no matter how much I try to focus on other things, I’m not going to be able to run from it forever.
I study the engine, but honestly, I can’t tell if things look right or wrong. “Can you start it up and we’ll go from there?” I ask.
“That’s the problem. The engine sounds like a dementor procreated with Metallica.”
I laugh, but she cringes before turning towards the ramp.
It only takes a few seconds after the key is turned in the ignition for my stomach to wrench. “Okay, you can turn it off,” I yell through the banging noise.
The mobile library is toast.
When I tell her I’m pretty sure it’s thrown a rod, her face grows white.
“I had a car in high school that threw a rod and I’ll never forget that ungodly sound.” I shudder at the memory. “I’m really sorry.” I tell her I can give her a ride to wherever she needs to go. She gives a hollow laugh and starts typing mercilessly on her phone.
“I can’t have a pajama day story time without the bus.”
I start to ask her how she can have story time in the cramped bus in the first place, but stop myself. Now is not the time for details. She interrupts my thoughts, and as per the usual, she knows what I was thinking. “We have it outside. I roll out the canopy and throw down some carpet squares. The kids love it.”
“Want to have it at the resort? I’m sure we can find a space for it.” I absolutely don’t want to do it in the library nook, though. There’s no room for carpet squares.
“Thanks, but it’s happening in less than an hour. And no one’s going to want to drive there from Fairhill.” She takes a deep breath and looks down at the keys in her hand. “I hate canceling, but…”
“It is a shame, especially because no one gets to see these nice pajamas.”
She shakes her head. Nope. She’s not feeling my compliments right now.
“Can you drive me back to the county offices so I can get my car?” she asks, smoothing her hands down her thighs.
“Now, wait just a minute. Story time in Fairhill has to happen, Soph.”
She throws a hand in the air in the direction of Scott. “You said yourself the bus is in bad shape.” I think eventually she’ll cry about this. But right now, she’s in the anger stage.
“No,” I say. “Not today, dementors and Metallica. Not today.”
I’m in full-on rescuer mode and it feels so good. Sophie watches as I make the phone calls, her hands wrapped around her middle and her face scrunched up. Within minutes, I’ve got a tow truck on its way. We grab the carpet squares and a few picture books about bedtime and teeth brushing and put them in the trunk of my car. The tow truck arrives, hooks up Scott, and we peel out before them. I’m not going to drive on the mountainous part of Lakeside Road behind their cautious snail’s pace.
On the drive, I manage to get her laughing about a song on the radio and about a memory of the time we dared each other to skip to Stella’s from the shake shop after we got off an early shift. Skipping all that way was no joke. We were sore for a week.
We’re only a couple of minutes late to story time, but we set up quickly. A few minutes after Sophie starts to read, the tow truck pulls the bus up, very slowly, and settles it a safe distance behind her. The kids are fascinated by the whole process.
When Sophie starts in on the next book, I see there’s one extra carpet square that I can claim—at a sufficiently uncreepy distance from the toddlers and their moms. I feel out of place because I’m in my disheveled clothes and not my pjs like everyone else. But thankfully, I’m not sitting so far that I can’t enjoy the straight masterpiece that is Sophie in her element.
She’s funny, with different voices for each character and the perfect number of dramatic pauses. My favorite thing is watching her eyes as she laughs with the kids—bright and joyful.
My second favorite thing? The way the moms and kids all come up to her when it’s over, giving her high fives and thanking her like she’s a celebrity. My chest burns at this.
Thanks for recognizing her brilliance, Fairhill.
After everyone leaves, we make arrangements with the tow truck driver and soon, he’s ready to tow Scott back to the county offices. On our drive back to Longdale in my car, she’s quiet for a few minutes while before speaking up. “Thank you, Oliver.” She swallows hard and blinks rapidly.
“I’m glad it worked out. Listen, Soph. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about the trip. I just want to say that, Sophie, I care about you. A lot. And not even telling you I was leaving was the wrong way to show you that.”
