Chapter 5
NORA
“WHAT?” I blink in confusion at the man standing in front of me wearing a blue button-up work shirt with black oil stains all over it, and a patch with ‘Ryder’ embroidered in pretty cursive.
His baseball hat is on backwards, short wisps of black hair curling out from under it, and his tall, lean frame shifts to one oily, boot-covered foot.
He hesitates for half a second, his own confusion shining through his eyes.
It was a simple question, he’s probably wondering if the English language is an issue for me.
“Can I get your keys so I can see what’s wrong with your car?” He says it just a little slower this time.
I’m so confused. This man just showed up out of nowhere claiming to have my car. After I was dropped off last night, I was so exhausted, I went right to bed after I got checked in. “But I haven’t called anyone to get it yet.”
He shrugs his shoulders and hangs his hands on his hips. “Someone did; it’s at my shop, and I need to take a look under the hood to see what’s wrong.”
We’re standing in the foyer of the cute little bed-and-breakfast Kinley and her cranky brother, Tucker, dropped me off at last night. It’s charming. It was obviously one of the larger, more affluent homes in town at one time, but the owner has done a good job converting it.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I’m not ready to just hand over my keys yet. This is crazy. “Who? Don’t you take note of who calls you to pick up a broken-down car? And how did you know I was here?”
He lifts his hands out in front of him and exaggerates a shoulder shrug, lifting his shoulders to his ears, his eroding patience sarcastically sends his eyebrows nearly to his hairline.
“I didn’t take the call, I’m just doing what I was told, lady.
You want me to take it back to the side of the road? ”
The only people who know I’m here, who can connect me with my car I left on the side of the road, are the two who brought me here.
Would they have called to have it picked up?
I don’t know whether I should be concerned.
My gut is telling me it was just a friendly gesture, but my brain wants to know who, what, when, why, and where.
The conditioned Nervous Nelly side of me needs to have all the dots connected ahead of time.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to accept a friendly gesture in the spirit it was given again. The part of me that used to give people the benefit of the doubt locked herself in a room with double locks a long time ago.
So… trust him, give this stranger my keys, and cross my fingers that I’m not making a mistake.
Or stand here and refuse help while I look at the world through my jaded lens.
The look of irritation on Ryder’s face says I have about three seconds before he leaves and takes my car back to the shoulder of the road.
“No.” I sigh as I look at him. “No, please don’t take it back. Let me get my keys.”
Walking back up the creaky wooden steps, which are covered with a long, pretty carpet runner with carpet rods bolted into place, I try to reason with the voice in my head that keeps telling me not to trust him.
It pisses me off that it has become a habit to second-guess every person and every situation.
This guy doesn’t even know me. There’s no reason for him to be a threat to me, unless he plans to give me the shaft with the expense of the repairs. But that’s just the nature of most mechanics. That’s normal everyday life. If only normal, everyday life were all I have to worry about.
Stepping into my room, I pick up my bag to find my keys.
The theme of the room is country-chic cornflower blue.
The antique wooden bed is fluffy and comfy, and the cream-colored area rug on the dark hardwood under the bed matches the comforter.
There are three large bay windows with a comfy bench that look out over the town on one side of the room.
In the daylight, the old, weathered buildings crowd together to line the main street, their charm and history obvious. The early morning sun makes everything look orange, and the dew lying on everything is sparkling in the lazy morning rays.
The poor guy that my conditioned, jumpy side has turned into the devil in disguise is waiting for me on the front wrap-around porch, his back to me and his hands in his pockets as he leans his shoulder against the front porch post.
When the screen door squeaks as it opens, he turns and looks at me, his hand out to take my keys. A large tow-truck is sitting in the gravel parking area with the large hooks and pulleys on the back. On the door it says ‘Ryder’s Towing’.
Holding my keys in my hand, I look back at him. “Are you the business owner?”
It’s small, but a huff of impatience lifts his chest, and he slides his hands in his pockets. “I am.”
“You just said you’re doing what you were told.”
He squeezes his temples and slides his fingers across his forehead while mumbling something about no good deed going unpunished.
“Yeah, that’s right, lady. My names on the truck, but my wife takes the calls, and I do what she tells me to do.
” With a deep breath, he meets my eyes again.
“Look, I’ve got three cars in my garage, and another waiting to be towed this morning; are you gonna give me the keys, or aren’t ya? ”
My car has been my lifeline for the last six months, and handing over the keys feels like giving away my parachute before jumping out of a plane. I remind myself that it’s not running anyway, my lifeline needs to be fixed to be of any use to me, and I hand over my keys.
As he tucks them into his pocket, he asks, “Can I get your number? I’ll call you with the damage.”
“I don’t have a cell phone, can you call here?” I lift my thumb and point over my shoulder to the B I didn’t plan for it. No, shaking my head, I remind myself that car trouble is just bad luck and that it happens to everybody all the time. I can handle this. I will handle this.
Later that afternoon, I’m up in my room, sitting on the bed editing a few chapters of a manuscript, when a light tap on the door interrupts my flow. As usual, my heart beats faster, and I hesitate. Without moving, I call to the door, “Yes?”
Allison’s perky voice travels through the door. “You have a phone call, Ms. Abernathy. It’s Ryder from the garage.”
“Be right there.” I push my laptop away and swing my legs over the edge of the bed to slide my feet into my house shoes before I go downstairs.
“Seventy-five hundred?” I almost yell into the phone.
“Well, that’s if I can get most of the parts second-hand. This issue in that particular model SUV is fairly common, and most people just get a new car instead of paying to have it fixed. But if I have to order new parts, it could go up.”
It must be nice to have the option of just buying a new car. My only option is to get mine fixed. A slight headache is tapping behind my temples, and I slide my finger up the bridge of my nose to my forehead, pressing against the pressure.
Anxiety is creeping up my spine, and the urge to keep moving is making my head itch.
My meager savings are almost that amount, but I need that money.
Without it, I won’t have a place to sleep at night or a means to eat.
I like to keep a cushion for emergencies.
Yes, this is a sort of emergency, but a low-level emergency.
If I spend all of my money at once, I won’t have anything for a high-level emergency.
“You there?” His voice breaks through the thoughts crashing over each other in my mind.
“Oh, yes. How long would repairs take?” My nerves are making my stomach sick, and the question comes out just above a whisper.
“Depending on how quick I can get the parts, and I have to work it in with the other cars that were in the shop before yours, maybe a month. Could be a little longer.”
A month!
The nausea in my stomach works its way up my throat, and I swallow down the bile. Taking a deep breath to calm down, all I can say is, “Okay.”
“I’ll keep in touch. Have a nice night.” He hangs up before I can ask any more questions.
A month?
If I look on the bright side, I think of my life as one long vacation. I get to a town and spend a few weeks looking around, see another part of the world that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise, and then I’m on my way. But a full month? Or maybe even longer? It makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Setting the handheld phone back on the check-in desk, I feel numb. I don’t know how long I’ve stood there when I hear Allison’s voice. “Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Her Oklahoma accent draws out some words a little.
Turning to her, I take another deep breath and try to wipe the dazed look off my face. “It’s going to take a month or longer to fix my car.”
“Well, that’s alright, honey, the room is yours as long as you need it.”
With a huff and a forced smile, I say, “Well, paying for the room will be no problem, it’s paying the seven-thousand-dollar price tag to have my car fixed that’s making me want to vomit.”
She whistles low between her teeth, like a guy, and shakes her head. “Damn, girl, not to be crude, but that fucking sucks.”
“How am I going to pay for that?” I’m not really talking to her, the question just kind of escapes with my incredulous sigh.
She shrugs her shoulder, her eyes shining like she just thought of the best idea ever. “Maybe you could get a part-time job while you’re waiting.”
That would involve showing ID and starting a digital trail. Can’t do that. Pasting a fake smile of gratitude on my face, I look at her. “Good idea. Thanks.”