Chapter 11
Ava
Eli must’ve known what he was doing, because now I couldn’t get my engine to shut off.
I gave up trying to sleep and tiptoed to the couch with my phone to search parts and labor costs for old trucks.
Oil filter, hoses, belts … a fan? Sweat trickled down my back, even with the AC pumping.
Condenser? Plugs? I squirmed as I tapped out “de-grease engine” in my notes.
That was normal, right? Everyone’s engine needed that?
The internet searches took forever to load. Still, I knew it would be more than I could afford.
I’m not gonna charge you.
Why? Why do all that for free? No one was that nice.
I rubbed my clean palm on my thigh, trying to erase the ghost of Eli’s touch. Terry’s hug had lingered, too. Maybe I was just deprived of physical touch for too long. Steven was hardly the affectionate type.
Yup, that must be it.
Sleep found me eventually, because I woke gasping for breath in a mold-infested trailer. Until the clean scent of lemon Windex hit my nose, and the streams of sunshine pulled me from my nightmare. Terry’s words lingered like an echo.
“The whole inside was covered in mold.”
I jumped up to check on Nina. She slept on clean sheets, occupying the mattress in perpendicular conquest, trailer walls all bright and spore-free.
Sounds and smells of Bill’s stable drifted in.
Just a day like any other. But the bad dream felt like an omen.
What happened to all the belongings I had stowed in the fifth-wheel Terry had to haul away?
I fished in my suitcase for a tank top and cutoffs, but the mundane task did little to calm a biting urgency.
“Mama?” Nina appeared over my shoulder in her red Elmo nightgown.
“Morning, Crackerjack. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Do you have to go potty?”
“No.”
One of these days, I’d stop making that a question. “Well, I think I’ll have some cereal.” And organize my thoughts.
I lured her to the dinette table with Fruit Loops. As I chewed my own, the crunch canceled all other sounds, and my brain fixated on the sad truth.
My old clothes, my boots, they were probably trashed, too. I shouldn’t have let Steven bully me into leaving so many boxes in there. Practically everything from my old life: stories scratched into leather and sewn in denim patches. Stupid, Ava. What had I been thinking?
I cleared my bowl to the sink. “Hey Crackerjack, when you’re done, let’s see who’s awake.”
We strode to the stable, but instead of Eli, we discovered a lanky kid in dark skinny jeans, a black hoodie, and orange Chucks, sporting lots of facial piercings.
Lots. Rings on eyebrows, studs on lips, a barbell at the bridge of his nose, gauges in his ears, and I’d hazard a guess there were more we couldn’t see.
With a jerk of his head, he sent long dark bangs flopping out of his eyes.
I couldn’t stop myself. “Did those hurt?”
Nina stared. “Mama, why he has that on his face?” His glare sent her hiding behind my leg.
Diffuse, Ava. “Cool kicks. I love the orange.”
More glaring.
I tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “Um, have you seen Eli?”
Instead of answering, he walked away.
Wow. Visions of me trying to single-parent a high-schooler danced around my head like drunk birds. I clasped Nina’s little hand. “Don’t ever grow up, okay?”
Eli answered the front door in another snug tee, jeans, and his worn brown baseball cap. Suddenly, I didn’t know where to put my hands.
Would it kill him to get a larger shirt? “Is my Chevy ready?”
“Well, good morning to you, too.” He flashed a bright smile.
“Right. Sorry. Good morning.”
“We sawed a robot!” Nina blurted.
He glanced at her, then at me. “A robot? Here?”
“I think she’s referring to the kid at the stables,” I said.
“Oh.” He laughed. “That’s Luke. You were at the barn? Did you wanna go for a ride?” His eagerness wooed me, and for a moment, I forgot why we were there. Jaws that chiseled should be illegal.
“N-no.” But as I said it, I remembered him mentioning he was shorthanded. And Ava Garcia was not a freeloader. “We were looking for you.”
His wattage went up, and he gripped the doorframe overhead, displaying a set of equally perfect triceps. “Oh, yeah?”
Guilt squeezed through me. Was Jason up there, watching me ogling another man’s arms? I forced my eyes to the row of colorful chairs lining the deck. “I, um, I didn’t forget our deal. I still plan to help with the horses. But I have somewhere I need to go this morning.”
“It’s all good. Luke wanted the hours, so you’re off the hook.”
“Oh.”
Eli’s eyes narrowed as he studied me. “You’re disappointed?”
Was I? “How else will I earn our keep? For the trailer, the food, and everything.” I waved a hand around to embody everything.
“Hmm.” As if in answer to a silent prayer, his arms came down and fell to his sides like a normal person. “I guess more is better, right?”
Unless it’s Marley’s muffins.
“How about you start tomorrow?” he said. “I’ll tell Luke you’re coming.”
I nodded. Great. Done. Moving on. “So, my truck?”
His smile turned mischievous. “Actually, this is perfect. I need to run out for a part, so I’ll take you.”
Which meant it wasn’t ready.
“No. That’s not necessary. I’ll just wait.” I didn’t want an audience for this errand. It might involve begging and crying over lost boxes. I’d put it off this long. What did a few more hours matter?
“Nonsense.” Eli grabbed his keys off the hook in the entryway, his long, sturdy legs strutting to his truck like a Levi’s ad. The kind that dropped panties worldwide.
How was this man single?
When he opened his driver’s door, he turned to catch me staring. “You getting in, or what?”
Fix your face, Ava!
Nina wrenched free from my grip to run after him. Thanks to the early heat, sweat slid down my back. Terry would have finished feeding and mucking, probably retreating to the air-conditioned office. Would he peruse Steven’s enticing offer as he sipped his second cup of coffee?
“Fine,” I said. “But only because this is time sensitive. And I need to stop at the bank on the way back.” Pressure built in my chest as I climbed into Eli’s passenger seat. I hated depending on others. In the end, people did what was best for them. Or they died.
I couldn’t decide what bothered me more–my stray thoughts, Terry’s reluctance to honor our deal, or the prospect of losing all my stuff. It was like I’d drew the Cinderella card in Candyland and got sent back to the beginning. I didn’t have the time or money to start again from scratch.
Eli pulled into the parking void and shut off his truck. Heat instantly chased out the cool air from the AC. Beyond the lot, Terry was resetting an arena post.
“Do your thing,” Eli said. “Nina and I will go explore. Right, Shorty?” He twisted to smile at my very agreeable toddler.
“O-okay, thanks.” My breath shook. I slid from the truck to approach the man who would either make or break my heart. I had no plan, just a rash impulse and the hopes the old go-getter me might show up.
Terry’s mustache curved up at the sides. “Two visits in one week! Maybe I should buy a lotto ticket.”
“You’ll see a lot more of me when you sell me the ranch.”
Instead of affirmation, he nodded to Eli’s truck. Nina giggled from atop Eli’s shoulders as they traipsed toward the barn.
“Thought that friend of yours got your truck running?” Terry said.
“Yeah. Well, apparently, my engine needed de-greasing.”
Terry’s head fell back, and he laughed so hard Jason probably heard it. After wiping a stray tear, he said, “He seems like a nice kid.”
“He is.” Maybe too nice. I couldn’t help wondering what he had to gain?
Silence descended. Terry’s hands settled on his hips as he regarded me, thick eyebrows pinching together. No banter this time. “Nothing but bones here, Hon.”
It did look a little … skeletal. “I like challenges. Remember that first family rodeo?” Everything went wrong.
He nodded with a wisp of a smile. “It’s a lot of work. All day, every day.”
“Good thing I don’t plan on doing it by myself.” I mimicked his stance.
A whistle sang from Terry’s teeth as he surveyed the faded expanse of broken gates, weedy walkways, and dried-out shrubs. But these were our dried-out shrubs. Each leaf was a part of mine and Jason’s story. Our dream. “I’m not afraid of a little sweat.”
“Tell ya what?” he said finally, and I was already nodding. “You give me something to look at. A plan of how you’re gonna make this all work.”
My eager agreement wobbled like a bobblehead. “I can do that.”
“By the end of the week?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I needed a business plan for the loan anyway.
“Okay, then.”
“Okay, then,” I repeated, relieved. That almost felt too easy. Now, for the other thing. My pulse thrummed faster. “Hey, while I’m here,” and faster. Why was this the harder question? “I had some boxes. In the trailer …” I knew the second my words were out. When his mustache drooped.
“I’m sorry, Hon.”
A fissure split through my chest. “It-it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“We had to toss all but one box.”
“There’s still one? Where is it?”
"Under your desk.” Terry must’ve seen the hope on my face. “Go.”
I raced to the office, startling Kip as I burst through the door.
“Is there a fire?” she asked.
“Hi, Kip. Sorry. I just–” I forced the rusty office chair back, and there, under the desk, just like Terry said, was one lonely cardboard box, its surface darkened but not overcome with mold.
Please, please, please.
Of everything I’d left behind, there was one item–an external extension of myself. Breath bated, I fell to my knees and pried back the brittle flaps. Somehow, this felt like the epicenter of my future. Would the old me be there? Could the past still be revived?
Euphoric tears pricked the backs of my eyes. Inside the box, vivid coral embroidery wove across leather like a treasure map. I pulled out my scuffed-up cowboy boots and hugged them to my chest.
“Oh, yeah.” Kip towered behind me. “Figured you’d want those back.”
My boots. My time machine to my favorite era. To my favorite me. They were way too expensive, and na?ve Ava knew not the wrath they would wreak on a wannabe-cowgirl’s feet. A rite of passage. A lesson that we all start at the beginning.
I heeled out of my sneakers and pulled them on. A custom fit, a fingerprint within the scarred leather. Scars that proved I’d survived. Grown stronger. Found my calling.
It was a sign.
No more artificial light, frigid summer climate control, and teetering towers of paperwork! This Mama would get her vitamin D the old-fashioned way.