Shona Jackson- The Complete Trilogy

by Vicky Jones

  “I brought Mrs. Clark’s truck in. It ain’t running so good.”

  Shona squinted in the glare of the morning sun as she looked up at him. Harry, sensing her discomfort, politely stepped into the path of the sunbeam. It was then that Shona saw his face properly. He looked to be in his late fifties. His face was a weather-beaten leathery-brown color, a testament to the amount of years he’d worked in the open air. His hands were bear-like, with a dent in the fingers of his right hand where a wrench had sat snugly all his working life.

  “Well now, you pull it into the back there and I’ll take a look at it. I know Mrs. Clark. She’ll be madder than a wet hen if she finds out any other guy but me has been fixing up her precious truck.” Harry nodded to Shona who then hopped back into the driver’s seat.

  “I think the fuel injectors could be clogged, maybe, or the head gasket could have blown?” Shona called back, leaning out of the window as she drove slowly into the garage.

  “Well now, you sure know your terminology. You worked on these things before?” he asked, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

  “Kinda. I used to fix tractor engines with my daddy back home in…” Shona stopped herself mid-sentence.

  “In?” Harry pressed casually as he walked round to the front of the truck to begin unbolting the hood.

  “Tennessee,” Shona lied, clearing her dry throat.

  “No kidding, really? Tennessee? I got a cousin out there. Lives up near the Stones River… in Rutherford. You know it?” Harry’s voice muffled intermittently as he raised his head up and down every few moments.

  “Um… yeah, I heard of it,” Shona lied again. She rubbed her hand along the back of her neck, feeling the sweat beads starting to drip down between her shoulder blades. Harry seemed well-meaning enough, but her stomach turned at the thought of any more of his probing questions.

  “Yeah, well, I got no clue why he wants to live there, so close to that old battlefield. Why he’d want a constant reminder of that loss is beyond me,” Harry continued.

  “I guess. So, about the truck?” Shona asked, nibbling her fingernail.

  “Well, I’d say you were pretty spot on with your diagnosis, so it’ll take a good few hours to fix up, I reckon. If you leave it with me, I can have it ready before we close up here. Come back, say, around four?” Harry replied.

  Shona looked at the little clock on the wall behind him. It was only just after ten, but with little choice she nodded and looked around her to see what she could possibly do for the next seven hours or so to pass the time.

  “Say, seeing as though you know a little bit about these things, why don’t you stick around and help? We might get this done a whole lot quicker with two of us on the case.” Harry’s steel-gray eyes lingered on Shona as he waited for her reply. With little option other than hanging around in the diner across the street and making a cup of coffee last all day, she nodded.

  At least I can stay out of sight, Shona thought. “OK. I don’t know that much but I learn pretty quick,” she said, picking up a spare wrench from the tool chest leaning against the wall.

  As Harry and Shona got to work on the truck’s engine, a loud holler rang out near the entrance to the garage.

  “Uncle Harry.”

  The young man approaching the two of them was wearing a white t-shirt and stained blue jeans, ripped at the knee. His fitted black leather jacket completed his homage to James Dean. Harry looked up, his bright face noticeably changing.

  “Frank. What are you doing here?” he replied, lowering his head.

  “Well, ain’t that nice. What’s eatin’ you?” Frank replied. “I just came over here to see how things are, there’s no need to be ugly.”

  His stormy face softened when he spotted Shona. “Oh, it’s you. I know you,” he began, his finger outstretched towards her.

  The color drained from Shona’s face.

  “Um… hang on, lemme think…” Frank clicked his fingers as he tried to recall. The wait was agony for Shona. “Oh yeah. You were with that old lady from outta town, outside the grocery store. She your grandma?” He pointed to the truck.

  “Um. Yeah,” Shona replied, scratching the back of her head.

  Harry’s eyes twitched, but whatever he was thinking at that moment, he chose to keep to himself. “Shona, why don’t you check over that engine, see if the problem’s what you think it is. I won’t be a minute.”

  Harry led Frank to the other side of the garage and took out his wallet. Shona noticed him pass over a small wad of bills, then Frank slapped him on the shoulder and sauntered off.

  Snapping her attention back to the truck, she continued to tinker away, searching for the problem.

  “Any luck?” he asked, returning to her side.

  “Definitely the head gasket. I think it’s had it, judging by all that white smoke.”

  Harry smiled at her, his strong hands resting on his hips. “Say, you’re not looking for a job, are you? I could use some fresh blood around here.”

  “A job? Here?” Shona asked, her heart pounding with uncertainty. If she could just keep her head down long enough to earn some decent money and get a new start, she could finally stop having to eat out of garbage cans and sleep on cardboard.

  “Yeah. Come in on Monday morning for a trial. You can meet the other guys too.” He looked over to the group of mechanics who were wailing along to the song playing on the radio and laughed. “They can’t carry a tune in a bucket, that’s for damn sure, but they’ll treat you right.”

  “Won’t they be surprised to find a girl working with them, Harry?” Shona asked. “I ain’t never found a place that would accept that. The most I ever got was a job out back cleaning tools.” She looked at Harry, immediately regretting bringing his attention to how strange a notion it was for a woman to be fixing trucks.

  Harry smiled. “If you ask me, any girl who knows a busted-up head gasket from the color smoke it blows out is good enough to earn a trial in my garage. The other guys here will be fine with it. They’re not jerks like you find in other places. I wouldn’t stand for it anyway. Marcie wouldn’t let me even if I did.” Harry smiled.

  “Um… OK then. Thanks,” Shona replied, shaking Harry’s huge hand.

  “Alright then. Well, let’s see about fixing this heap of junk so you can get it back to Mrs. Clark.” Harry walked over to the tool chest and picked up his trusty wrench, gripping its leather-wrapped handle. “You know, though, it’s strange. I don’t know Mrs. Clark that good, and I ain’t never heard of her having any family to speak of but, well… you said she’s your grandma, right?”

  “Yeah?” Shona chipped in, her fingers wrapped around a rubber tube as she loosened the metal collar around it. She stopped dead when she realized she’d told yet another lie to this man who’d shown her nothing but respect. Looking up as Harry’s questioning expression, she decided to come clean. “Well, Harry… Um… Well, she’s not actually my grandma. I’m just staying with her. That guy Frank just assumed and, well…” Shona shrugged, rolling the wrench through her fingers.

  “You know what, Shona? I appreciate your honesty. You’ll do just fine here,” Harry replied with a little wink.

  Dorothy stared at the clock on her kitchen wall. It was getting late, well past six, and Shona had been gone for over eight hours now.

  She feared the worst.

  Knowing that Wreckers closed at 5 p.m. on the dot on a Friday, she knew it was pointless calling. Casting another look over the small carriage clock on the mantelpiece, she trundled over to the telephone, her loose gray bun bobbling on the top of her head, to make the call she didn’t want to have to make.

  After dialing the number for the operator and asking for her connection, Dorothy peeled back the edge of the drapes by the window facing out onto the driveway.

  Still nothing.

  A gruff voice on the other end of the call answered after three short rings. “Hello, sheriff’s department. Hello? Hello?”

  The man’s voi
ce echoed as Dorothy held the receiver away from her ear after suddenly hearing a familiar rumble catch the breeze and filter through the thin, single pane window. Slamming down the phone, she shuffled over to the front door. Yanking it open, she saw her freshly washed and waxed blue truck pull up on the driveway.

  Shona flung open the truck door and jumped out, a huge grin of accomplishment draped over her oil-smudged face. “Sorry I’m so late, Mrs. Clark. It took longer than we thought to fix her up. You wouldn’t believe what we had to strip back to get at the problem. You’ll be as happy as a pig in mud when you see how good she runs now. We even gave it a wax and shine.”

  Dorothy watched Shona run her sleeve over the flecks of brake dust and sand that had built up on the front fender during her journey back.

  “Oh, and Harry said it would be an even thirty-two. I tried to give him the lot but he wouldn’t hear of it. So here’s your change.” Shona delved into the top pocket of her jacket and handed over three crisp dollar bills.

  “Well now… thank you.” Dorothy held the bills for a moment before handing them back to Shona, whose eyes widened with surprise.

  “Here, you keep this. For your trouble.” Dorothy nodded, not taking no for an answer. Shona reached over and took the bills.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” she replied.

  “So how was Harry?”

  “He’s fine. In fact…” Shona began, “he, um, he offered me a job.”

  Dorothy cocked her head to the side in surprise. “A job? At Wreckers? Doing what?”

  “Fixing trucks. Harry said he’d teach me. I mean, I know the basics and I learn quick so…”

  “Fixing trucks?” Dorothy repeated, openmouthed. “Well, I’ll be damned. I ain’t never heard of a girl doing that before. But I guess you’re not the average girl, now are you?” she chuckled. “Harry musta seen potential in you. Alright then...” Dorothy paused, holding the silence between her and Shona for what felt like an age. “I guess you’ll be looking for somewhere to stay for a while now then, won’t you?”

  Shona held her breath.

  “Well…” Dorothy continued, “I can help you look if you like? There are always rooms going cheap above the grocery store in town. It’s across the street from Wreckers so it’ll be nice and convenient.” She turned and headed back up to her porch steps.

  “Oh, but…” Shona began, leaning forward, then rocking back on her heels.

  “But what?” Dorothy turned to face her, then got the hint. “You wanna stay here? Why would you wanna do that? You got the whole of town to meet, girlie. You don’t wanna spend your time with a doddery old codger like me, do you?” It pained her to say it, knowing how nice it felt last night to have company in the house, but she, like Shona, also felt the fear of rejection. She hadn’t lived with anyone since her husband died over a decade ago.

  “I wouldn’t mind none, I like the peace and quiet around here. Well, apart from that dumb-ass rooster you got over there.” Shona grinned as she pointed to the chicken pen. “If it’s alright with you, I mean? I could help out, maybe do some repairs to those gutters up there? And I’d pay my way too, ma’am…” She stopped rambling when she saw the affection for her cross the old lady’s features.

  “I know, I know, you don’t-do-charity.” Dorothy chuckled, waving her hands. “Alright, you’ve sweet talked me into it. If you really wanna stay, you can stay.”

  The following Monday morning was Shona’s first day at work. It was just a trial day, but she had every intention to prove to Harry—and the other mechanics there—that a mistake hadn’t been made in trusting her.

  As she was walking over to the truck, Dorothy called after her. Slinging her satchel through the truck door window, she turned back to face the old lady who was standing on the porch steps leaning on her stick.

  “I need you to get me some groceries on your way home.” She motioned for Shona to follow her back inside the house.

  “How’s your leg doing?” Shona asked, spotting the old lady’s bandaged right knee.

  “Let’s just say I ain’t gonna win any ass-kicking contests right now, that’s for damn sure. Those stairs don’t help none either,” Dorothy replied. She reached up on to a shelf above the stove and pulled down a small metal canister. Tugging off the lid, she took out a few dollar bills and handed them to Shona. “Pick up some more cheese and bread too; I had the last of yours for lunch yesterday.”

  “No problem. You need anything else?”

  “I got a list here.” Dorothy reached into her pale green cardigan pocket and handed Shona the notepaper. “You should have enough, but if not, I’ll give you some more tomorrow.” She clamped the lid shut on the canister and reached up to put it back on the shelf. Struggling to balance on her one good leg, Dorothy yelped out in pain.

  “Here, let me help.” Shona jumped forward to steady the old lady on her feet.

  Dorothy felt Shona’s arms wrap themselves around her frail body and take the full weight of her as she wobbled. “Oh my, thank you, dear. I nearly fell on my ass then.” She looked Shona dead in the eye. “You’re a good girl. Now go, scoot. You’ll be late for work.” Slapping Shona on her back, she pushed her towards the door.

  “Are you sure you’ll be OK? I mean, I could call Harry…” Shona protested.

  “No, don’t you do that. I’ll be fine. Now skedaddle.”

  Shona nodded, still unsure as to whether to leave the old lady alone. She turned and headed back outside, fired up the truck and sped off down the driveway.

  “Well, hello again, ma’am,” Jonny greeted, sweeping his cap off his head as Shona pulled up in the parking lot.

  “Hi. Harry around?” she asked, jumping out of the truck.

  “Oh yeah, he’s just in the back. But he asked me to show you the ropes this mornin’, get you all settled in.”

  “Oh, OK,” Shona replied scanning the forecourt of Wreckers to get her bearings.

  “I didn’t really get the chance the other day to introduce myself properly. I’m Jonny. Jonny Pearson. That’s Earl over there on the creepers. Don’t let him get you talkin’ about the World Series last year, he’ll chew your ears off.”

  “Hey Pearson, I heard that,” Earl retorted, scratching the back of his bald head.

  “He’s a Yankees fan so he wasn’t too pleased about that result,” Jonny whispered to Shona.

  “I’ll be sure to avoid that subject then,” Shona replied, waving politely at Earl who slid underneath a truck, still muttering to himself.

  “That’s Kenny and Tom down in the pit,” Jonny said, pointing to two short, stocky black-haired men who seemed to be in deep conversation as they scrutinized the underside of a Buick. “And that’s Marcie over there by the office door.” Jonny pointed to the far corner of the garage, just behind the vehicle lift and tool chests. “She’s Harry’s wife.”

  Marcie, holding a coffee mug, smiled and waved back. She was in her late forties and wore cat-eye glasses and a black-and-white spotted hair tie bandana in her dark brown shoulder-length hair. Her maroon blouse, loose-fitting black pleated skirt and black pumps completed her casual but smart look.

  “What’s his story?” Shona nodded over to another man at the opposite corner of the garage whose face looked a little less friendly at her arrival.

  “Oh, him? Yeah, that’s Doug. Don’t take no notice of him, he’s still got a little shrapnel in that brain o’his from Iwo Jima. Harry took pity on him, gave him his old job back when he returned. Can’t keep his hands steady, though, much anymore.”

  Jonny waved over to Doug, who eyeballed Shona with suspicion. They both watched as Doug chewed slowly on some tobacco, then spat out a blob into a bucket next to him. “What do you say we go over and introduce you to him, break the ice?” Jonny winked.

  Turning away from the approaching figures of Jonny and Shona, Doug placed both hands on the edge of the tool chest in front of him and gritted his teeth.

  “Hey Doug, this is Shona…”

  “I know
who she is, I was at the briefing this mornin’, wasn’t I?” Doug replied sullenly. “What I don’t get is why Harry’s got some broad workin’ here. What does she know about trucks, huh?” Doug replied, not turning around.

  “Oh, c’mon now Doug, that ain’t no way to talk to a lady now, is it?” Jonny said. “Shona’s shown Harry she knows her stuff, so he’s agreed to do a trial for her. I think we should all give her a chance, yessir.”

  “Yeah? Well, there are enough guys comin’ home from their posts abroad that need jobs, so as far as I’m concerned she’s takin’ up one of ‘em.”

  Doug turned around and glared at Shona. He was in his early forties, with a face coated in days-old bumpy black stubble and a long, jagged scar running between his right eyebrow and his receding hairline.

  “Is that right, Doug?” Harry appeared behind Jonny and Shona. “Well, considering you’re one of ‘those guys’ who’ve benefited from a job here, I’d suggest you lay off the girl. I do the hiring around here.” He fixed his stare on Doug. “And the firing.”

  “Yes, boss,” Doug conceded, then picked up his wrench to start unbolting the hood of the car he was about to work on.

  With Jonny and Harry talking over the day’s delivery schedule, Shona looked back over to the struggling Doug, who couldn’t quite keep his grip on the wrench, so much so that it kept slipping off the bolt he was trying to loosen.

  “Here, try this one,” she said, passing Doug another wrench from the tool chest. It fit around the head of the bolt perfectly and sure enough the reassuring squeak of a loosening bolt filled the silence between them.

  “Don’t think this makes us friends,” Doug grunted under his breath.

  “I don’t,” Shona replied, then set off back to her own first job of the day.

  Chapter 4

  Shona had been working at Wreckers for almost two weeks and all was going well, with the exception of the occasional run-in with Doug who seemed content to grunt every time Shona was near. She’d even been allowed to fix up Dorothy’s truck when business was quiet, and these days it ran so smoothly that Harry barely even noticed it pull up behind him as he was unlocking the heavy wooden doors that Thursday morning.