Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cordelia
My heart is pounding, and I can’t concentrate on anything. The call from Brennon yesterday haunted me like a ghost all through the night, and it’s followed me into work today.
Can we meet?
The knifing sensation is back. This time, it’s like a hammer drill, relentlessly plunging into my chest.
I don’t want to see him.
But not seeing him will only prove that the humiliation is still fresh. Won’t avoiding him make me seem more pathetic?
I carelessly push the drill into the metal gears and hear a voice shriek, “Cordelia, be careful!”
The warning comes just in time before the drill burrows into the gear and sends up sparks. I yelp and drop the bit just in time. The metal makes a clanging sound as it hits the grassy ground and shatters.
April strides briskly to me, her face red. “Cordelia, when you’re using tools like this, you have to pay attention. People are forgiving, but machines don’t offer second chances.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“Being sorry won’t mean much if you’ve lost a hand or an eye. Safety is the first lesson when learning auto repair! Didn’t you learn that in trade school?”
I dip my head, feeling chastised.
“Hey, relax. She’s okay,” Rebel says, joining us.
“I’ll be more careful next time,” I promise April.
The mechanic blows out a breath, plants her hands on her hips, and turns away. After a beat, she returns her attention to me. “I’m sorry. When I saw that drill closing in on you, my mind went to the worst-case scenario.”
I nod.
“I…” As April’s shoulders unwind, she starts to look sheepish. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”
I shake my head.
Awkwardly, April opens her mouth and then changes her mind about whatever she was going to say. After another shaky exhale, she points to the car she was working on. “I’ll be over there.”
I chew on my bottom lip and watch my usually even-tempered boss cross the lawn.
Rebel pats my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s my fault.” I stare at the oil-stained grass.
Rebel nudges me with her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. This isn’t about you.”
“What’s it about?”
“Back when April was in technical college, she befriended a sweet guy from another small town. He was hasty, and he got careless around a tool like this one.” Rebel nods to the machine. “And it cost him dearly.”
I shudder at the thought of how much pain that trainee must have been in and how much it must have hurt April to see her friend injured.
Rebel looks over at April with a sad smile. “I bet she hadn’t remembered that until she saw you just now.”
“It must have been very traumatic for her,” I say, thinking of how April had been red and shaking when she tore into me.
Rebel sighs. “Funny how, even after a wound is healed, it may still hurt to the touch.”
Something deep inside me twists in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Why don’t you work on something else, and I’ll fix this gear.” Rebel picks up the broken pieces and shoos me away.
Still feeling awful about stirring up bad memories for April, I return to the car I’m working on and force myself to focus.
The ladies invite me out for lunch, and as usual, I decline.
“I can stay back and eat with you,” April says, a little hesitantly.
“I prefer eating alone. I get to work more that way.”
April flinches, and I wonder if she thinks I’m brushing her off because she scolded me earlier.
Silence lingers for a beat too long.
I’m not sure how to clear up that misunderstanding, and she doesn’t seem entirely comfortable about this tension either, so the both of us avoid eye contact.
After lunch, April and Rebel return to the outdoor garage. I’m in the middle of diagnosing what I believe is a bad crank-shaft sensor. However, I notice that April stops by my bay, so I look up from my scanning tool.
“Renthrow called. Gordie’s stopping by to interview us for her booklet.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” April bobs her head.
I wait for more, and when she doesn’t say anything else, I prod, “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” April says.
I blink rapidly. It’s so awkward I can’t breathe. “Okay.”
“Okay.” April turns on her heels.
I watch her take two steps away. “April…”
April whirls around. “Delia, I’m sorry—”
“…I’m sorry,” I say at the same time.
As our words overlap, we both abruptly shut our mouths.
April laughs.
I snort.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier,” April says.
“You were just trying to protect me from getting hurt.”
“Still…I could have been calmer.”
“We were in a high-pressure situation that required a high-pressure response. Being gentle and quiet wouldn’t have kept that drill from stabbing me.”
April makes a motion with her fingers, almost like she’s spinning something.
“May tells me that I can be prickly with people. I know I can come across as too serious, especially when it comes to cars, but I love working with you, and I’m really inspired by how seriously you take the trade.
You may be new to the profession, but I see you having a long career ahead of you. ”
Inside, a warm ball of fire glows. As a Davenport, I’ve received a ton of compliments from people who want something from me or my family. But I’ve worked so hard at becoming a decent mechanic, and I really, really want to be good at fixing cars. April’s words mean the world to me.
“Thank you.”
Now that the air is cleared, I feel less weight on my shoulders, and I return to work on the vehicle with gusto.
Perhaps a little too much gusto.
As I’m putting the wiring back together, I lose a screw and go digging for it. My hand scrapes against a sharp edge, and I hiss in pain. Blood drips down my fingers to the grass.
With a sigh, I wipe the blood against my overalls and keep pushing. I’m so close to fixing the problem, and I don’t want to stop now.
“Delia!” A familiar voice chirps.
Gordie skips under the tent, her brown eyes sparkling. She’s in pigtails and jeans. Her green T-shirt matches the color of the grass all along the acreage.
“Hi, Gordie,” I say, excitement creeping into my voice. I’m still trying to figure out why I feel so at ease around this little girl when other children still make me uncomfortable.
“I’m here for my school project,” Gordie says, holding out a sparkly Hello Kitty pencil and matching Hello Kitty book.
“That’s great.” I reach out to pinch her cherub cheeks and then realize that my hand is stained with dirt, engine oil, and a little blood.
Quickly pulling my hand behind my back, I grin at her. “How was school today?”
As Gordie prattles about her science class planting beans in cotton, I make eye contact with Renthrow. His gaze is strong and steady on me, and my stomach flutters.
“Gordie, ask the ladies your questions, and don’t take too much of their time. Remember, they’re doing us a favor, but they have a lot of cars to fix.”
“It’s no problem at all,” Rebel says, sashaying over in her pink jumpsuit. She points at Renthrow behind his back and wiggles her eyebrows.
April hollers from across the bay, “Take your time, Renthrow! Delia’s not busy!”
“Hey!” I plant my hands on my hips, giving my bosses the stink-eye.
When I glance at Renthrow again, his eyebrows have pulled taut, and he’s glaring daggers at something on me. I look in the direction of his stare and realize that my gash is bleeding again.
I whip my hand behind my back.
But it’s too late.
Renthrow charges over, reminding me of a bull seeing red. In a blink, he’s beside me and, when he reaches for my hand, I expect him to grab it and yank.
However, he cradles my fingers with the gentlest of embraces and scrutinizes my hand.
Feeling self-conscious, I try to pull my hand away. “I’m—”
He doesn’t even let me finish. In a strong, authoritative voice, he says, “Gordie, get Daddy a rag from that bin we passed by.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Gordie says like an obedient little soldier.
Rebel, drawn by the shift in the air, draws closer and sees my gash. She gasps, “Cordelia, when did you get hurt?”
“It’s nothing.”
Rebel’s gasp pulls April away from her car.
I glare at the top of Renthrow’s thick head of hair. “You’re embarrassing me,” I hiss.
“If you don’t want to be embarrassed, don’t hurt yourself,” he lectures.
Gordie runs back to me and hands her daddy the rag. Her eyes locked on the blood on my hand, she whimpers, “Does it hurt, Delia?”
“It doesn’t,” I assure her.
April winces when she sees my hand. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“It’s just a scrape.”
Renthrow pats the rag a little too close to the cut, and I wince. He notices, and I quickly look away.
Sure, it hurts a little. For some reason, with all their eyes on me, the cut is starting to throb now. But April already took me to task for not being careful earlier. This cut is a sign that I didn’t heed her words, that I was irresponsible, that I’m not as great a mechanic as she thinks I am.
My pride stings worse than the cut right now. I have to be tough like them. Smart like them. In control like them. April and Rebel have gotten scraped and bruised plenty of times, and I’ve never seen them make a fuss about it.
Renthrow cleans the blood with the rag, and then he asks firmly, “Where’d you get this?”
“I went looking for a screw and scraped it on something sharp.” I jut my chin toward the car I was working on. “I barely even felt it.”
“You might need a tetanus shot, Cordelia.”
My eyes double in size. “A tet—no, I don’t.”
“We should take you to the hospital. Just in case.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Rebel agrees.
“What?” I sputter. “No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. And I’m working right now. The customer needs their car back today.”
April steps forward. “Don’t worry about the car. I’ll finish up for you. It doesn’t hurt to get checked out.”
More protests rise to my lips, but before they can escape, Renthrow places one hand on my back, the other under my knees, and I’m suddenly airborne.
“Gordie, pumpkin, open the car door for Miss Delia. We’re taking her to the hospital.”
“Okay, Daddy!” Gordie says, stopping just short of offering a salute.
And, just like that, I’m kidnapped by a six-foot hockey player and a little girl in Hello Kitty slippers.