AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s not fair,” I grumble, bending over beside him and bracing my elbows on the radiator. “You, Ronnie, and Evan are always out here doing the real work while he just sits around on his fat ass in the air conditioning.”
“Hey!” Dad cuts a warning look my way. “Watch your language. You’re talking like a mechanic, not a writer.”
“Whatever.” I stick my hands in next to his and prod at the crankshaft pulley. “So far, I’ve spent more time under the hood with you than I have interviewing people, so maybe I should enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Not a chance.” He stands up again, wiping his hands on a rag. “Listen, how about you run home and celebrate with your friends? I’ll meet you after, and we’ll get something to eat.”
“I like the way you say ‘friends’ plural. Brooke can wait. I’d rather be here with you, anyhow.”
“Yeah?” His face softens, and in the lines around his eyes, I see all the years of work he’s put in to make sure I didn’t have to spend my life scratching for survival like he has.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Besides, if I help you out, we might finish this thing up sooner.” Focusing hard on the engine block, I adopt the no-nonsense tone that always wins big in the garage. “The sooner we get this thing back to Janet Craig, the sooner we can have dinner.”
“Goddamnit.” Dad sighs with a laugh, hooking his thumbs through his belt and shaking his head at the concrete pad. “You’re something else, Abby. You know that?”
We catch eyes, and it’s clear he’s got more going on in his heart than he’ll ever be able to say.
In the end, he settles for, “I’m proud of you. This is great news.”
“Thanks.” For a second, we just stand, smiling at each other, and it’s funny to think how much I’ve grown to look like him. While mine are a shade lighter, I’ve definitely inherited his amber-colored eyes and the little crooked edge to my smile. My golden hair far outshines his dirty blonde, but it’s clear from the pictures I’ve seen that I inherited that and my slender jaw from my mother.
I wish I had gotten to know her, and I almost ask about her for the billionth time, but instead, I sniff and turn back on the motor. “So, what’s the problem here anyway?”
“This lady’s been driving with a bad tensioner for who knows how long? It’s screwed with the power steering pump, and I’m checking the alternator too.”
“So, basically the whole system?”
“Yup.” He nods. “If you want to pull off the alternator, I’ll get the power steering situated.”
“Done.”
We work side by side, neither of us really talking, but not really needing to. So much of my childhood has been spent like this, I should have asked Mr. Williams to put me on the payroll.
It’s not exactly the way most girls in Brightwood grew up, but then, I’m not most girls. If I’d wanted to be bitter about it, I could have blamed my grease-stained clothes or our lower middle-class station for how ill-suited I was to fit in among my peers, but the truth was I didn’t really want to.
Dad had worked like a dog his whole life just to create the life we had, and I was in no way going to be anything other than grateful for it. He wasn’t the kind of guy who bought me dresses, and I would have just gotten them all scuffed up anyway.
Besides, my life was about to change in a massive way. In a year’s time, there was a very good chance I wouldn’t have black etched in around my fingernails.
* * *
“How about that?” Leaning back on his side of the booth, Dad stretches like he could keel over and fall asleep right there in the diner. Then, balling up his paper towel, he tosses it onto his empty plate. “Best chicken fried steak in the county.”
“It’s the only thing you ever order,” I tease him, but he just gives a contented shrug.
“The only thing worth getting. But—” He leans forward and gives me a sly grin. “You feel like a slice of pie? It’s a celebration, after all.”
“I’m good,” I say, scooting away what’s left of my Reuben sandwich. “This place always leaves me stuffed.”
“Suit yourself.” Turning his head to gaze out the window, Dad suddenly gets this faraway look on his face, and I can tell he’s working on something.
“Dad?”
“Yeah,” he replies without turning back to me.
“What’s up?”
“Oh…” He heaves a deep breath and rolls forward to fold his arms and rest his elbows on the table. “I’ve been working on something for you. As soon as you got your acceptance letter to Danver, I reached out to your mom’s sister down in Houston.”
