Something of a Storm (All in Good Time Book 1)

by St. James, Brooke

  "That's right," I said. I made a gesture toward the beat-up car I'd been driving for the last few years. "It's staying here. I don't think it would make it all the way down there, and besides, you don't really need a car in a big city like that."

  "Well, your aunt and I are really proud of you for going out on your own like this," Uncle Rick said. He glanced down with an expression that seemed sad or guilty or maybe a bit of both. "I know it hasn't been easy on you with the way your mom is, and I just wanted you to know that we're proud of you and we think you're doing the right thing. Rita said you're real good at stained glass—she said she thought you'd be able to make a living at it."

  "I sure hope so," I said smiling. "But Starbucks or Piggly Wiggly will have to do for a while since I'll just be apprenticing at first."

  My Uncle sighed as if he was thinking about what to say. "I know it's been hard on you with your mom and everything, and I'm sorry we weren't able to help you girls out more over the years—" he paused and rubbed his whiskers. "It's just that your mom, well, she started to take advantage and we had to create a little distance—"

  "I know, Uncle Rick, It's okay. You don't have to explain."

  He sighed again. "Well, Rita told us that you didn't have a car or a cell phone, and your aunt and I wanted to see what we could do to help you out getting started." He gestured at the truck they had driven. "It's about eight years old, but it's only been driven around town and we've always had it serviced. I don't think you'd have any trouble taking it to California, and it should be a good vehicle for you as long as you have the oil changed regularly and everything."

  I glanced at the truck, but didn't know what to say.

  "We're planning on paying the insurance on it for a year," he added before I could respond. "After that, if you decide you don't need a vehicle in a big city, or don't want it for whatever reason, you can just sell it. You should be able to get at least a couple thousand out of it."

  I stared at them, wondering if I was hearing them right. My aunt pointed to the truck. "That logo's just a magnet," she said as if that was something I was worrying about. "It comes right off."

  I smiled stiffly, but mostly just because I was shocked. Never in a million years did I dream they'd give me a truck. This changed everything.

  "Do you want it?" my uncle asked, taking in my speechlessness.

  "Oh, yeah, definitely—I mean if you're sure."

  "We're sure," he said. "We didn't want you girls going all the way down there with no way to get around. It's not much to look at, but it's a good truck."

  I glanced at it. It was a single-cab white pick-up with a flat bed. They'd already removed most of the toolboxes that ran along the sides, leaving a completely flat bed with an oversized silver toolbox right at the back of the cab. If the flatbed and toolbox weren't sign enough, there were five small yellow lights positioned on top of the cab making it even more obvious that it was a work truck.

  He was absolutely right, it was nothing to look at, but hey, it was a dependable truck, and like he said, if I couldn't afford the insurance after a year, I could just sell it.

  I was still staring at the truck when I heard my aunt say, "There's a cell phone in the box. It's a basic phone and a basic plan. There's paperwork inside explaining the limits, but as long as you don't go over or anything, we're planning on carrying that for a year as well. Justin already programmed our numbers into it just in case you need anything."

  I regarded them shyly. "I don't know what to say besides thank you. Thank you so much."

  They promised to drop off the truck later that evening, but said they'd just leave it in the driveway with the keys in the glove box and wouldn't knock or come in or anything. I thanked them again and promised that I wouldn't get in a wreck or go over the limits with the phone.

  I opened the box on the way home and, along with the phone and the paperwork about the calling plan, there was a short but heartfelt letter from Aunt Barb and three hundred dollars in cash marked "gas money".

  Chapter 4

  My mom was fit to be tied when I told her Uncle Rick and Aunt Barb were giving me one of their company trucks. I'd say she was irate, but that's too mild a word to explain what she was. Granted, she was still hungover and well on her way to being drunk again, but she went into a crazy rage when I told her the news screaming things like, "Why's he gonna give you a truck when he won't do nothing for me?" only with profanity interjected every other word. These types of expletives went on for at least a full hour, after I got home—so I secretly called Aunt Barb and Uncle Rick to tell them maybe we should meet up at a neutral ground rather than have them take a chance at coming to the house.

  We agreed on the parking lot of Callahan's at 2pm the following day. I figured that would be an ideal time to meet Tara to sell her my car, so I called her and told her the time and place.

  Lexi was trilled about the truck. I told her with the added space the toolbox provided we'd be able to bring more than twice the stuff than we originally planned, and she went on and on about how she'd get to take all her clothes and shoes and even the lava lamp now. Her excitement only served to enrage my mother even more, and eventually, Lexi got the picture that maybe she should put a sock in it. She and I both did our best to avoid our mother for the remainder of the evening.

  The following afternoon, I met Tara and Uncle Rick at the hardware store to make the vehicle switch. Uncle Rick was driving the company truck, and my cousin, Justin, pulled up right behind him in their SUV. I couldn't help but notice that they'd taken off the logo magnets.

  Justin and Uncle Rick both gave me a hug and wished me well, and within a minute, were both in the SUV headed home.

  I was standing there with the keys to the truck in my hand watching them drive away when Tara and her dad pulled into the parking lot. This transaction took longer than the first, but not by much. Tara handed me eight hundred dollars in cash and I gave her the keys and the title. She and her dad made a little small talk about the girls' graduation and our travel plans, but we were done in less than five minutes.

  The cab of that truck seemed huge compared to the front of my tiny little hatchback. I stared at it for several seconds before I climbed into the driver's seat. The long bench seat stretched from one side of the cab to the other. It seemed to go on forever, and I smiled to myself as I imagined ten people sitting comfortably side by side. Okay, so maybe it could fit three, but it seemed really big, even as I climbed up there and sat down.

  My feet didn't come close to reaching the pedals, and I glanced around nervously hoping there was someway to adjust the seat. It only took me a minute to figure things out. I repositioned the seat and the rearview mirror, and before you know it, I was on the road.

  Uncle Rick had classic rock programed on the radio. It was a beautiful day, and I rolled down the windows and turned up the song that was playing. I didn't know the lyrics, but it was a familiar tune by Credence Clearwater Revival or someone who sounded a lot like them. The truck ran like a dream, and I couldn't contain a smile as I drove home in it.

  It was a good thing we had plans to leave first thing the following morning, because I don't believe my mother could have handled looking at that truck a moment longer. She was extremely emotional about it all evening saying over and over again how messed up it was that her brother could give her daughter something but not her.

  Lexi and I did our best to ignore her. We spent the evening packing. I didn't think we had so many things we'd be interested in taking with us, but once we started packing, I realized I had underestimated our belongings. The toolbox was completely packed and we put as many things in the cab as we could without making it impossible to sit down or see out of the windows.

  There was a mound of things stacked between us by the time we were done, and we laughed at ourselves for ever thinking we could pack everything we wanted to bring into a duffle bag to bring on the Greyhound.

  Lexi was laughing about it before we went to bed that evening, an
d my mom got so enraged that she slapped her across the face. It was something she'd done to both of us on occasion, but it hurt that it happened to Lexi the night before we left. I didn't want that to be the last encounter she had with our mom before we took off, but since Mom went to bed not long afterward, it seemed that's the way it was going to work out.

  We had plans to hit the road no later than 9am, and even though Mom knew that, we assumed she wouldn't be awake to see us off. It surprised us both when we went into the living room at 8:30 and saw our mother sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee.

  Lexi was following me down the hall, and we shared a surprised expression when I glanced back at her.

  "I didn't think you'd be up," I said looking back at Mom. I used a quiet but cheerful tone, hoping to put everything behind us. She let out a scoff and glared at us through narrowed eyes. She looked especially rough. "You think I slept?" she asked sarcastically. She stared at us with the same angry expression she'd been wearing the last two days. "Do you actually think I can sleep when my only family in the whole world is deserting me?" Her expression was wild-eyed, almost murderous. "You girls must think you're hot stuff heading down to California and leaving your poor mother here to die!"

  "We're not leaving you here to die, Mom," I said calmly.

  Her eyes widened even further—it seemed as though they might just pop right out of her head. "Well did either of you ever ask if I wanted to go with you?"

  Lexi and I both stared at her for a few seconds. Lexi inched closer to me, and I could tell she was scared.

  "No." I said quietly.

  "Well why not Delaney?" She stood and pointed an angry finger straight at me. "Why are you leaving your mother here to die?" she yelled desperately.

  "You're not going to die mom." I said quietly.

  She was between us and the door, and I wondered how we'd ever get out of there with her in this condition. I decided to try to be direct and honest. I spoke in a calm, measured tone as if she was a bomb that was about to explode, which she was.

  "Mom, we've had these plans for months. It's not like we're just randomly picking up and taking off. Kids leave home all the time—it's what happens when you grow up. Lexi and I are going to California for a while. It doesn't mean we'll never be back, and it certainly doesn't mean you're going to die here without us."

  She was quiet for a few seconds, and I wondered if she might just say something reasonable when she opened her mouth again. "You know I depend on you, Laney. You know you girls are all I have." She was speaking in a calm tone for that part, but then her eyes widened and she pointed that aggressive finger at me again. "You are leaving me here to die and you know it Delaney Rockwell. If I die when you go, my blood is on your hands. I just want you to know that."

  "You're going to be fine, Mom." I said trying, for Lexi's sake to remain calm.

  Our mom put her face in her hands and let out a long, defeated sigh. Silence filled the room for several long seconds. She sighed again before saying, "Five hundred."

  "What?" I asked, having no idea what she was talking about.

  "You heard me." She pointed her finger at the table and hit it a few times with a thump, thump, thump. "I know you have money stashed away in that little purse of yours." She hit her finger on the table again. "You probably have at least a thousand dollars in there."

  "And you're asking me for five hundred of it?" I asked in disbelief.

  She glared at me. "I think it's the least you can do since you're leaving me!" she screamed.

  "Just give it to her," Lexi whispered at my back. She nudged me forward.

  I dug in my wallet without pulling it out of my purse. I knew the hundred dollar bills were stacked in the back, so without even looking, I counted them out. I almost pulled three or four of them out instead of five and told her she could make do with less than she was requesting, but without much deliberation, I made the decision to go ahead and give her what she was asking for. I pulled five bills out of my wallet and placed them on the table in front of her.

  She stared up at me for a few heartbeats. "You can leave now," she finally said.

  Lexi and I walked out without another word.

  "She didn't mean any of that," I said after I started the truck and was backing out of the driveway.

  "I'm worried about her," Lexi said. "What if she does die?"

  "She's not going to die," I assured her. "She was just trying to make us feel bad so we'd stay."

  "I wish she wasn't so mean," Lexi said sadly. "I hate her."

  "You don't hate her," I said. "It's okay to hate how she acts—that just means you'll never act like that, but you shouldn't hate her." I paused. "Hating someone ultimately hurts you in the long run. You can't hold on to stuff like that." I paused again thinking of what else, if anything I could say to defend our mom or make Lexi feel better. "We'll give her some time to cool off, and I'm sure when we call to check on her, she'll have forgotten all about being upset."

  She thought about that for a minute. "I can't believe she made you give her that money," she said.

  "I can."

  "How much do you have left?" she asked.

  I had exactly five thousand dollars, but I didn't share numbers with Lexi because I knew she'd think that was a ton of money and would get grand notions about how we'd spend it. "Enough," was all I said.

  She thought about that answer, and I could tell she wanted me to tell her exactly how much, but she didn't ask.

  "Do you think we should have asked her to come with us?" she asked instead.

  There was no traffic on the street, so I took a second to take my eyes off the road and glance at Lexi with a sardonic expression. She smiled as if she understood the silent answer to her question, then she let out a sigh. We were both quiet for a long minute.

  "It's crazy that Uncle Rick gave you this truck," was the next thing she said. She reached out to pat the dash. "It's really nice."

  And from then on, neither of us brought up the subject of our mother again. We listened to music, and talked about everything under the sun, especially boys. She was utterly boy-crazy and loved to talk about every aspect of guys and what they could be thinking about or doing at any given moment.

  I told her stories about Zack Callahan and how cool and hot he was. There was no way I'd ever in a million-zillion years end up with Zack, but she loved hearing about "my crush" and I was happy to elaborate on it for her entertainment.

  She told me about her plans to turn eighteen in a couple of months and then go to a bunch of eighteen and over concerts in San Francisco where she'd meet a musician in a rock band and fall in love.

  It made me extremely nervous to think about her going to bars and getting into trouble trying to meet guys, but rather than discourage her plans, I went along with them, saying maybe she could marry the lead singer and I'd hook up with the drummer or something. I would probably end up playing mother hen and giving her a really hard time about going out once we got to San Francisco, but for now, I thought it best to humor her. Then, she changed her mind and said she thought she'd like to meet and marry one of the San Francisco 49ers football players, which made me feel slightly better.

  We spent the whole trip either talking about guys or looking at the map. The phone my aunt and uncle got me wasn't a smart phone, so Lexi and I relied on a paper atlas for directions. She checked it constantly and said it seemed like we were making good time. We only got out of the truck for a few minutes each time we stopped—we'd gas up and stretch our legs for a minute and then get right back on the road. If Lexi's calculations were correct, she thought we'd be rolling into San Francisco at around 9:30 or 10.

  We were a couple hours north of our destination when Lexi saw a sign for a diner.

  "Oh snap, Laney, look at that chicken fried steak," she said.

  I glanced at the billboard. "I hardly believe it'll look that good in person."

  "What if it does?" she asked. "The place is called Bubba's, it's gotta be good." She
patted her stomach. "Come on, I'm starving."

  "Do you really want to sit down and eat somewhere? We only have a couple hours to go. I thought we'd just get some fast food since we're so close."

  "Come on, let's do it," she said. "Please! It's getting dark and we've been stuck in this truck all day. That chicken fried steak's calling my name and I know my girl Rocky could use a cup of coffee to finish the trip."

  Chapter 5

  Of course I caved and pulled off the interstate to eat at Bubba's. It was attached to a truck stop, and I was almost certain the food wouldn't taste half as good as advertised on the sign, but Lexi was tickled pink at the idea of eating a plate-sized portion of chicken fried steak. I didn't have the heart to deny her.

  It was busy in there, but we saw two open spots at the bar, and we walked in that direction. Lexi drew more than a few glances from young men sitting at tables and booths as we walked by. She was a beautiful girl, and didn't hesitate to play it up. She always had makeup on and wore flattering, fashion forward clothes.

  She had on a short, flared skirt with a low-cut t-shirt that said, "Sassy Pants". Her blonde hair fell on her shoulders like honey colored silk. Her wrists and neck was adorned with cheap but cool, colorful jewelry and she topped the whole outfit off with a pair of high-top Chuck Taylors.

  I, on the other hand, had on a pair of ripped jeans, and an old grey t-shirt from a fundraiser we did at Callahan's. My hair, which was somewhere between wavy and curly, could never be classified as silky and was currently up in a ponytail.

  Lexi strapped her small purse to the back of the barstool as we sat down.

  "Keep it on," I whispered.

  "Keep what on?" she asked, shooting me a curious expression.

  "Your purse. Keep it strapped to you so no one walks by and takes if off the back of your chair."

  She laughed a little and rolled her eyes at me, but without argument took the bag from the barstool and strapped it across her body. Mine was sitting in my lap, and since it contained all the money I had in the world, that's right where it was staying.