Page 9
No, she's just being friendly because I'm helping her. Because she's new in town and doesn't know anyone else. Once her car is fixed and she's settled, she'll find her own circle. The young professionals who work at the lumber company offices. The teachers at the elementary school. People her own age without war memories etched into their bones.
It's better this way. My life is uncomplicated. Predictable. Safe.
The way I like it.
I immerse myself in the disassembly, losing track of time as I always do when working on a particularly challenging job. By the time I come up for air, it's past noon and my stomach is growling in protest.
Usually, I'd just ignore it until closing time, but today I find myself locking up the shop and heading to Lou's Diner.
Hours later
The afternoon crawls by. I finish stripping down Lucy's engine to better assess the damage and call in the parts order to my supplier in Oakridge. Dave at the parts warehouse promises to expedite it, but we both know "expedite" in these rural areas still means at least two days.
I don't see Lucy at lunch. Not that I was looking for her. I just happened to stop by Lou's Diner around noon, and she wasn'tthere. Lou mentioned she'd been by earlier to arrange for his nephew's Subaru, but she'd already left to explore the town on foot.
It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. I have work to do.
But as I close up shop at seven, I find myself irritated, checking my watch more often than necessary. I'm annoyed that I didn't see her and even more annoyed at myself for being annoyed about it. This isn't high school. I'm not some kid with a crush.
I'm flipping the sign to "Closed" when headlights sweep across the front of the shop. A faded blue Subaru pulls into the lot—Lou's nephew's car. Lucy steps out, waving when she sees me in the doorway.
"Hey," she calls. "I can come back tomorrow if—"
"It's fine," I say, pushing the door open again. "Just finished up."
She approaches, looking different than she did this morning. Less polished somehow, more relaxed. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she's wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt. There's a smudge of what looks like ice cream on her sleeve.
"I got the car," she says unnecessarily, gesturing to the Subaru. "Lou was incredibly nice about it. Wouldn't even let me leave a deposit."
I nod. "Lou's a good guy. Town wouldn't function without him."
"I stopped by the diner for lunch, but you weren't there." She says this casually, but something in her tone makes me look at her more closely. Was she looking for me?
"Had work to do," I respond, lying and jerking my head toward her Corolla. "Your car's more of a mess than I initially thought."
Her face falls. "Worse than you said this morning?"
"No, same diagnosis. Just time-consuming work." I hesitate, then add, "Still looking at Thursday for the parts, Friday for completion if all goes well."
She nods, accepting this news with a small sigh. "Well, at least I have wheels now. And I spent the day walking around town, getting to know the place. Everyone's been so friendly."
Of course they have. Cedar Falls loves fresh blood—especially when it comes in the form of a pretty young woman with a sunny smile. I can already imagine how the town's single men will be lining up once word gets around.
The thought makes me inexplicably irritated.
"I was hoping to get my things from the car?" Lucy continues, oblivious to my inner thoughts. "If that's okay?"
"Right," I say, shaking off my strange mood. "Let me unlock the bay doors."
I lead her into the garage where her Corolla sits, hood still up, parts spread on a nearby workbench. Lucy approaches her car cautiously, as if it might bite her.
"Wow," she says, peering at the engine. "You weren't kidding about taking things apart."
"Have to, to get to the alternator on this model." I move to the trunk of her car. "Your stuff is all still here."
She joins me, and we survey the packed trunk and backseat together. There's more than I realized last night—boxes, bags, a few small pieces of furniture disassembled and wrapped in moving blankets.
"I can probably do multiple trips," she says doubtfully, eyeing the small Subaru.
It's better this way. My life is uncomplicated. Predictable. Safe.
The way I like it.
I immerse myself in the disassembly, losing track of time as I always do when working on a particularly challenging job. By the time I come up for air, it's past noon and my stomach is growling in protest.
Usually, I'd just ignore it until closing time, but today I find myself locking up the shop and heading to Lou's Diner.
Hours later
The afternoon crawls by. I finish stripping down Lucy's engine to better assess the damage and call in the parts order to my supplier in Oakridge. Dave at the parts warehouse promises to expedite it, but we both know "expedite" in these rural areas still means at least two days.
I don't see Lucy at lunch. Not that I was looking for her. I just happened to stop by Lou's Diner around noon, and she wasn'tthere. Lou mentioned she'd been by earlier to arrange for his nephew's Subaru, but she'd already left to explore the town on foot.
It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. I have work to do.
But as I close up shop at seven, I find myself irritated, checking my watch more often than necessary. I'm annoyed that I didn't see her and even more annoyed at myself for being annoyed about it. This isn't high school. I'm not some kid with a crush.
I'm flipping the sign to "Closed" when headlights sweep across the front of the shop. A faded blue Subaru pulls into the lot—Lou's nephew's car. Lucy steps out, waving when she sees me in the doorway.
"Hey," she calls. "I can come back tomorrow if—"
"It's fine," I say, pushing the door open again. "Just finished up."
She approaches, looking different than she did this morning. Less polished somehow, more relaxed. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she's wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt. There's a smudge of what looks like ice cream on her sleeve.
"I got the car," she says unnecessarily, gesturing to the Subaru. "Lou was incredibly nice about it. Wouldn't even let me leave a deposit."
I nod. "Lou's a good guy. Town wouldn't function without him."
"I stopped by the diner for lunch, but you weren't there." She says this casually, but something in her tone makes me look at her more closely. Was she looking for me?
"Had work to do," I respond, lying and jerking my head toward her Corolla. "Your car's more of a mess than I initially thought."
Her face falls. "Worse than you said this morning?"
"No, same diagnosis. Just time-consuming work." I hesitate, then add, "Still looking at Thursday for the parts, Friday for completion if all goes well."
She nods, accepting this news with a small sigh. "Well, at least I have wheels now. And I spent the day walking around town, getting to know the place. Everyone's been so friendly."
Of course they have. Cedar Falls loves fresh blood—especially when it comes in the form of a pretty young woman with a sunny smile. I can already imagine how the town's single men will be lining up once word gets around.
The thought makes me inexplicably irritated.
"I was hoping to get my things from the car?" Lucy continues, oblivious to my inner thoughts. "If that's okay?"
"Right," I say, shaking off my strange mood. "Let me unlock the bay doors."
I lead her into the garage where her Corolla sits, hood still up, parts spread on a nearby workbench. Lucy approaches her car cautiously, as if it might bite her.
"Wow," she says, peering at the engine. "You weren't kidding about taking things apart."
"Have to, to get to the alternator on this model." I move to the trunk of her car. "Your stuff is all still here."
She joins me, and we survey the packed trunk and backseat together. There's more than I realized last night—boxes, bags, a few small pieces of furniture disassembled and wrapped in moving blankets.
"I can probably do multiple trips," she says doubtfully, eyeing the small Subaru.