Where San Francisco was foggy and cold, here is blue sky and hot. The biggest building is maybe the old farmhouse on Midway that has a third-story attic, and there’s more farm plots than people. The city council consists of people who never want change, and surrounding us are families who feel the same way.
Life is slower here. People don’t complain about the train that runs right through the town’s center, stopping traffic three times a day, and it’s not a surprise to see a tractor driving down the two-lane road, going five miles an hour.
“You’ll be surprised. Some things have changed, and actually, a few people we went to school with are making their mark on the town.”
“Oh boy,” I state sarcastically.
He shakes his head as he turns onto First Street. Roger’s Auto Body is on the right, and just the sight of it brings back a flood of memories. Mostly of a young Zack, leaning over the hood of a car, side by side with his father as he learned the family business.
Zack puts the truck in park. I sit still, staring ahead at his dad, who’s sitting on a stool, pointing to something under a truck that’s lifted above his head while talking to the person standing next to him. His arm movements are shaky, to say the least, while his other hand braces his body weight on a black cane. He’s thinner than he was, more frail-looking despite his once-robust size.
He’s still handsome though. Those light eyes he gave to his son are visible, even from this distance, and his hair is still full and wavy with a little salt spread into the pepper.
When I said memories were going to come back, they weren’t just the ones about Zack. Seeing Roger brings a pang of guilt I wasn’t prepared for.
When my parents passed, Roger took me under his wing, acting like my father. There were times I wondered if he liked me more than Zack. He said I was the daughter he always wished he’d had. He was there for me whenever I needed him, and as soon as I was declared an adult, I left.
“You coming?” Zack asks before getting out.
I nod, needing a moment to compose myself.
“I have to get in there. The day’s half over,” he says.
“What a way to start off this lovely reunion,” I mutter to myself as I climb out of the truck.
Roger turns when he hears the door shut. I notice Zack tilting his head in my direction, letting his dad get a good look at who just hopped out of the truck. When I close my own door and come into view, Roger squints, staring at me in shock like he’s seeing a ghost.
“Am I really seeing who’s in front of me?” he says, trying to stand.
I smile timidly as I quickly walk up to him, not wanting him to have to move. “Yes, sir. Please. Stay seated.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He stays in his seat and leans forward with his cane. “Come here and give me a hug.”
He opens his arms and holds them up about halfway as high as he probably should, in order to fully embrace me. I bend down into the hug and do the work of pulling us together for him.
“Where have you been, kid?” he asks as I let him go.
“Everywhere.” I smile. “I’m a flight attendant, so I’ve been all over.”
“Yet you couldn’t find your way back here?” He might not have full mobility of his body, but his vocal inflections are on point. And this one is letting me know he’s disappointed. “Sometimes, home is the hardest place to find the road back to.”
I look down for a moment, so he doesn’t see just how potent his words are. “I’m here now.”
Roger grabs my hand. It’s cold and soft. “Yes, you are.” When he turns to Zack, it’s with a laugh. “How come you didn’t tell me that’s why you were late? I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
He winks at me, and I chuckle at his blatant playfulness, setting my nerves at ease.
“Let’s just say, none of this was planned,” Zack says behind me.
When I glance at him, I see a wariness in his stance. For someone who wanted me to come home with him, he certainly is acting like he’s having second thoughts.
“So, you didn’t come back for him?” Roger asks me.
I turn to Zack for a way to answer.
“That’s a definite no,” Zack says, reaching for paperwork that’s sitting on the counter to see what they have in store. “But she’s stuck with me now for a few days because she can’t fly.”
“You can’t fly? What happened?” Roger asks with concern.
“Busted eardrum,” I explain.
“You need a sock,” Roger declares.
“Dad, no. She already saw a doctor,” Zack says with a huff.
Roger squeezes my hand. “Go to Bud’s and tell them you need salt heated in a sock.”
If this were San Francisco, I’d say that was a ridiculous request. But we’re in Dixon, and here, there is no such thing as crazy. If the mechanic from across the street asks for a sock with salt, they’ll heat it up in a jiffy.
“That place is still there?” I glance across the street and see it looks the same way it always has.
“Get some lunch while you’re there. Put it on my tab,” Roger insists.
“I can pay for my own lunch,” I say.
“Tell you what. Get some burgers for me and Zack while you’re there, and all will be forgotten,” he says with a wink.
I raise my brows at his words. All forgotten? If only it were that easy.
7
Zack
I watch Jolene walk away from the garage and wonder what this little trip down memory lane is going to do to her.
The entire ride home, I watched as her leg bounced and as she bit her nails. I always thought she felt like she was too good for this place. The way she’s acting now is like this place was too good for her.
That was never the case.
Jolene was a shining star, too bright for this dismal town. A place where everything closes at ten, and the speed limit is twenty-five.
Even as a young girl, she was ready for the fast life. Her dad used to sit her down at the dairy farm and have her milk cows with him. She couldn’t do a simple task without making a game out of it, like working the udders to the tune of her favorite song. She’d zip through her chores, so she could get on one of the horses and ride through the hills.
It used to drive her father crazy.
I’m smiling to myself as my dad walks up. His body moving slower than it ever has. When the day comes where he can’t walk at all will be the hardest. Roger Hunt loves his physical freedom.
“What’s the look for?” he asks me as he approaches. “A moment ago, you were laughing to yourself, and now, you’re looking like someone punched your puppy.”
I wave him off as I walk around the car that lines up to the paperwork in my hand and make sure the work was completed properly.
“You keep looking at me like you don’t have a gimp of your own,” Dad calls out.
I flip him the bird. “My limp gives me swagger.”
He comes over to me, doing a little dance with his shoulders that gets lost in the way his shoulders always seem like they’re dancing. “Swagger? If I knew that, I’d be careening around the bar scene, showing off my own moves.”