“Yeah. We have a long history. You know. Family. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.” She tries to keep it generic, but she’s not sure she’s convinced him, from the way his eyes lock on hers.
“Well, I’m here for you if you want to unload it.”
“Thank you. And thanks again for Harry’s.”
“My pleasure. I had F-U-N, too. Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it. Ha-ha.”
Amber giggles. Flutters.
* * *
IN A FEW minutes the three of them sit around Joe’s desk in the main lobby as Joe passes out mismatched mugs of steaming black coffee.
“Smells amazing. I so need this,” says Amber. “And it’s nice to be the one served rather than serving.”
“How are things at Rosie’s?” asks Joe.
“Same as ever. Busy. Greasy.”
Joe passes her a plate with a selection of packaged cookies and snacks from the vending machine.
“Doughnuts were gone. So this is the best I can do.”
“I’m actually looking for work. Don’t tell Rosie. I just want something with a future.” Amber selects a package of vanilla crèmes. “Split it with you?” she asks Cody.
“Ah, I’m more of an Oreo man, myself,” he says taking his selection. “How’s the job market around here?”
“Dismal.”
“I’ll put the word out,” says Joe, tearing into some peanut butter sandwich crackers. “Hey, you wouldn’t consider part-time mechanic, would you?”
Amber laughs. “So I have to know. Is he any good?”
“We’ll see after the qualifying race,” says Joe.
“What’s that?”
“His come-back or go-home race,” jokes Joe.
“So there’s a lot riding on this, then?”
“Everything. Right, Cody?”
Amber can sense that underneath Joe’s humor is a great degree of seriousness.
“Why don’t you come see for yourself?” Cody tells her.
“Yeah, come on down to the racetrack. You can be the judge of his talent,” says Joe.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know what I’m looking at.”
“There’s not much to it.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re crashing,” jabs Joe. “If you can make it, I’d love to have you and Bree as our guests. You can sit by me. Best seats in the house.”
“Thanks, Joe. I’ll think about it and check my schedule.” Amber sips on her coffee, the warm and familiar flavor bringing comfort after her difficult day.
“So . . . you don’t know anything about racing stock cars? At all?” asks Cody.
“I’ve watched a few races on TV. Looks dangerous.”
“Have you ever driven a race car before?”
“Nope.” She licks the center cream out of her cookie.
“You ever want to?”
“Not really.” Amber shakes her head and sees Cody’s expression turn thoughtful. Her lips part in a small grin. “Why? What?”
chapter thirty-seven
Ease Up on the Clutch
CODY SECURES AMBER in the Firebird’s driver’s seat and secures her helmet. He then plunges into the passenger seat and straps in.
“There’s a headset and mouthpiece attached to this. Joe’ll be on the radio giving you the overall picture, and I’ll be guiding you from the passenger’s seat.”
“Why are there three pedals down there?” Amber asks.
“Wait. You don’t know how to drive a clutch?” He tries to form his next words. This could be a very long afternoon.
“Just joking,” Amber cracks. “Yes. I know how to drive a stick shift.”
“Whew. Okay.” See that, Joe. Her sense of humor is intact. She just needs someone to bring it out of her.
“So just how fast does this thing go?”
Cody sees she’s teasing again.
“Fast. But for now, we’re going to ease on out to the track. Ready?”
“Ready.”
Cody keeps a keen eye on her as she pulls out in first gear and then grips the wheel with her hands at nine and three. She pulls the car onto the frontstretch at a snail’s pace.
“That’s it. You got it. We can go a little faster. If you want.”
“You’ve probably never seen the track at this speed before, huh?”
Cody grins. “You’re probably right.”
“Did you even know your car could go this slow?” She laughs.
He loves the sound of her enjoying. Living.
“Good one, Amber. Don’t let him give you any flack.” Cody hears Joe’s voice through the headset.
“You’re both so hilarious. Okay, now try second,” says Cody.
“At least someone respects that heap of metal,” Joe calls out.
Amber shifts gears, grinding the gear just before she engages. She slacks off the clutch.
“Was that bad?”
Cody catches her wincing apologetically. “Like they say, ‘Grind it till you find it,’ ” he teases. “Just give it a little more gas when you let up.”
Amber tries again and they jerk forward, and the engine roars to life.
“Like that?”
“Just like that.” She has a sense for the power.
“Smooth transition, Amber,” says Joe. “Nice work. Maybe you can teach Cody a thing or two while you’re out there.”
Cody smirks at Joe as they pass him on the infield. He waves, smirking back.
“Okay, okay. I’ve got this,” says Amber with a quick glance at Joe. The car bobbles toward the inside wall.
“Hey, eyes on the track.”
“I tell him that all the time, Amber,” says Joe.
“Doing good?” asks Cody.
“Yup.” Amber nods, eyes never leaving the track.
“Okay, feel like you can shift up?”
“Yup. I can do it.” She slips the clutch into third gear. “Wow, much smoother.”
“Wait’ll you hit fourth.” Cody glances ahead as the pavement starts to move more quickly under them. “Okay, so just take it steady and get a feel for the track. We’ll go around once, and then on the second lap we’ll try to gain some speed.”
Amber nods. “Bet this is how you impress all the ladies.”
“You’re actually the first one I’ve ever let drive my car.”
“Uh-huh. And that’s what you tell each of us.”
Cody laughs. “Not true. Not true.”
Cody sees they’re exiting turn four.
“Okay, go ahead and give it a little more gas on the frontstretch here.”
Amber accelerates.
“Second lap. Looking good,” Joe’s voice announces.
“You’re doing great. Shift it into fourth, and we’ll really open her up.”
“You got it.” Amber steps on the clutch. Cody winces as she grinds the gear. Amber backs off. “It’s been a while.”
“It’s okay. Just hold the clutch down a little longer before you shift.”
Amber depresses the clutch pedal again. Cody can feel the shifter sliding into gear. “That’s it. Now ease up on the clutch and give it the pedal again.”
Amber presses the gas, and they head down the straightaway, gaining speed. But as they come into turn three, Amber gives it some power, and the rear end of the car fishtails out to the side.
“Oh no. What’d I do?” Amber jerks the wheel and overcompensates. The car starts to spin out of control as they exit turn four.
She’s white-knuckling the wheel. Rookie mistake.
“Ease off the wheel.” The car makes a wide doughnut. Amber goes wide-eyed. “Let up on the gas!”
“Ease off the wheel, Amber!” Joe instructs from the headset.
“Foot off the gas! No gas! No gas!”
“Grab the wheel, Cody!” Joe shouts at Cody.
Amber’s hands fly up. Cody reaches for the wheel. “Brake very, very gently.”
But Amber instinctively slams on the brakes. They start to spin toward the inside.
&n
bsp; Cody steers them just shy of the grassy infield, and they come to a halt.
Cody turns to look at Amber. Her face is ghost-white, and her wide-eyed look is locked over the hood.
Cody unlatches her chinstrap. “Breathe. Breathe.”
They can hear Joe’s anxious voice chirping through the microphone. “Are you kids okay? Hello? Amber? Cody?”
Cody ignores him for the moment. I’ve scared her right out of my life. I know it.
“Amber. Are you okay?”
Amber’s eyes soften as they meet Cody’s concerned look. She breaks into a huge smile.
“That. Was. Awesome!”
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
Cody bursts out laughing.
Joe’s panicked voice calls out again. “Hey! You kids okay?”
“We’re fine, Joe,” Amber says.
“Well, okay. Looks like you’ve got the same problem Cody has on that third turn.”
Cody laughs. “You ready to head back to the pits?”
“Can we go again?” she says.
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Yeah, let’s do it!”
Amber readjusts her chinstrap and starts the engine. She moves the gearshift into first when her phone rings from inside her jacket pocket.
“Sorry, I gotta take this.”
“No problem.”
Cody glances at her as she puts the car into neutral and fishes the phone from her pocket. This is a good day for Amber. She needs this.
“Hello?”
Cody watches as her carefree smile vanishes.
“She . . . what?”
chapter thirty-eight
Bree and the Bully
FIGHTING? REALLY, BREE?” Amber is livid as the minivan barrels down the tree-lined street from the school. Amber tries with difficulty to imagine the report she was given by the playground aide: Bree pinning Cole to the ground and giving him a fist-pounding to the chest.
After getting statements from both parties, the principal had thankfully shown Bree mercy because of Cole’s previous rap sheet. This was Bree’s first incident ever. There would be no suspension. However, there would be a formal apology and a restraining order on both kids. Bree and Cole were not allowed to be near each other in class or on the playground.
“Since when do you fight?”
“Cole started it!”
“Explain this to me. Every detail.”
“David and I were on the swings, and Cole came over. He started making fun of David’s stutter.”
“Okay. What exactly did he say?”
“He said, ‘How’s your little b-b-baby g-go-k-k-k-kart at S-s-s-Sunday Sch-ch-chool?”
“And what did David say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just took it. So I said, ‘Stop it. You’re not funny. You’re just jealous.’ And then David said, ‘It’s o-o-okay, B-B-Bree. Just ignore him.’ ”
“Has David been bothered by Cole before?”
“Yeah. Lots. So I told David that it’s not okay. And then Cole started mocking me.”
“And what did you do then?” Amber asks.
“He started getting in our faces. And I told him to leave us alone.”
“And he didn’t?”
“No. He said, ‘Ma-ma-ma-make me.’ He made me so mad, Mom!”
“And that’s when you tackled him?”
Bree turns and looks out the car window. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“Turn the other cheek. Walk away.” Amber feels confident in her answer. It’s what they learned in church.
“It doesn’t do any good to ignore him. He just keeps doing it. Cole bullies everyone,” Bree says. “He needed to be taught a lesson. Dad used to say some things are worth fighting for.”
“Aren’t you supposed to go find a teacher who can help you? Isn’t that what they teach you in school?” Amber is stumped. On some level, she knows Bree’s right. Darren would have been proud that Bree was protecting a friend, but instigating the physical fight was not acceptable.
“You shouldn’t use force or violence on someone unless they’ve attacked you first and you’re defending yourself,” Amber says, glancing in her rearview mirror and catching Bree making a face at the back of her mother’s head. “Excuse me? What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. You don’t make faces at me, young lady.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I saw you. So don’t you lie, either. What’s gotten into you, Breeanne Hill?” Amber glances back at Bree. She’s staring out the window with an indignant look that tells Amber this isn’t over yet.
“I miss Dad. He wouldn’t yell at me.”
“I’m not yelling!” Amber yells at her. She immediately regrets it.
They ride together in silence for a few blocks. Amber knows she needs to discipline Bree beyond the written apology, but what kind of punishment would be fitting? Sending her to her room? She’ll just read a book and play with her toys. Grounding her from seeing David? That hardly seems fair, since David was the victim here. Making her do extra chores? Having her write an essay about fighting and bullying? Until now, Bree never warranted stiff discipline, and Amber is totally unprepared to dish it out. What would Darren do?
“Where are we going?” Bree interrupts Amber’s thoughts.
“To Rosie’s.”
“For dumplings?”
“No, I have to work.”
“Aren’t you bringing me home first?”
“I don’t have a sitter. You’ll have to hang out for a while.”
“Can I stay at Grandma’s while you work?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said no.” Amber was not about to explain that the line of trust between her and Grandma had been officially crossed. “And when we get to the diner, you are going to sit quietly in your booth and do your homework. Got it?”
Amber checks her daughter’s response in the rearview mirror and detects the slight head tilt of attitude.
“I didn’t hear you,” Amber says.
“I got it.”
* * *
AN HOUR INTO the dinner shift, Amber ends up slammed with customers. She can barely keep up and her legs ache. Two more hours of this! She hears the front door ding. Another four customers enter. Another ding! A couple with a small child shuffle in. Ding! Amber can’t take the time to inventory as she spies a couple leaving one of her two-tops and rushes over to clear it. After wiping it down, she quickly puts down fresh silverware settings. When she turns to grab two more placemats, Mike Nelson slides into the spot.
“Welcome. How are you tonight?” Amber doesn’t wait for his answer as she dives behind the counter for a glass of water.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amber sees Bree’s pencil hit the table again and again as she grows restless over a homework sheet. The tap, tap, tap intensifies from Bree’s corner booth. Amber notices several customers glance over, clearly annoyed by the sound. Rosie notices, too, as she flies by with a tray of hot food and a disapproving look.
Amber sets a water glass and a menu in front of Mike. “I’ll be right back to take your order.” She doesn’t even give him a chance to respond before she’s hovering over her increasingly agitated daughter, who sucks down the last of her chocolate milk.
“What are you doing? Stop making that noise.”
“Mom. Can you help me with this? I can’t get it.”
“Honey, I can’t help you right now. Do the ones you can do, and we’ll work on the rest at home.” It’s late, near Bree’s bedtime. But Amber still has an hour on the clock.
“Can I get another chocolate milk?”
Rosie swings past, hearing the request. “The chocolate milk’s not free. And table eight is ready to order.”
“You can drink water,” Amber tells her daughter as she tries to ignore Rosie’s chiding. She moves to the table next to Bree and sweeps up a three-dollar tip.
Amber vents to herself. Seriously? That was a thirty-five-dollar meal. This isn’t even ten percent! Amber angrily stacks dirty plates and cups in her arms.
“I’m hungry,” Bree whines.
“When I get a break, I’ll bring you some chicken fingers.” Amber’s voice tenses as she swings around to give Bree a warning look, and an empty coffee cup wobbles on the top of the stack of dishes. Her eyes go wide as she watches it sail off the stack, nose-diving for the floor.
In the nick of time, a hand reaches out and catches it just before it lands. Amber can’t believe it.
“Oh my gosh. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” The hand presents Amber with the mug. Amber’s gaze moves to Mike Nelson’s calm face smiling back at her.
“Here,” he says, extending his hand.
“Thank you. Get you something to drink? Soda? Iced tea? Lemonade?”
“Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” Amber’s expression tightens. He wants to talk about Darren.
“I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Bring you some?”
“Ah, sure. That sounds good. But, if you have a minute later, I . . .”
“Hey, you go to our church, right?” Bree appears at her mother’s side and dives right into the conversation.
“Clarksville Community.”
“Yup. That’s my church, too.”
She excitedly points to something on Nelson’s jacket. “Hey! That’s my dad’s patch. Are you a Screaming Eagle?”
“Yes, I am. My name is Mike Nelson.” He offers her his hand, and she shakes it.
“I’m Bree Hill. Pleased to meet you.” Amber watches the pleasant interaction unfold, trapped between them.
“I actually knew your dad,” Nelson offers.
“You did? How?” Bree’s eyes go wide.
“Well, we were in the same unit together.” Amber continues to grow uncomfortable and afraid of what might come out of Nelson’s mouth. Especially around Bree.
“Bree, I don’t want you to bother this young man. Go finish your homework, please.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I heard a lot of stories about this little one.” Nelson smiles at Amber, letting her know there’s no need to worry. But she does.
“Do you have any stories about my dad?” Bree asks eagerly.
God Bless the Broken Road Page 15
