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Hope Between Us

By Christy LaShea

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Chapter One

Aimee McClain turned the ignition a second time as she pumped the gas pedal. “Not today, dagumit. Not today!”
Click. Click. Click.
“Momma, is dagumit what we call Tank now?” Seven-year-old Luke hopped up between the front seats. “You’ve said it a bunch today.”
“Luke.” Aimee turned her head toward her son and wagged a finger.
He shrank against the seat, his lower lip jutted out as if his favorite toy had been pulled away.
“Mommy shouldn’t say that word either. I’m sorry for saying it.” Aimee acknowledged and turned back to the predicament at hand, mumbling under her breath. Dagumit spilled out in a whisper, and, a few other choice words she hoped Luke couldn’t hear…
“What’s wrong, Momma?”
Steam burped from the hood. Not a good sign.
“Tank’s tired, I suppose.”
A horn blared from behind them. The rearview mirror reflected what looked like a hundred irate drivers.
What am I going to do? She smacked the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. This made three times in the last month her ’78 Grand Wagoneer, Tank, had stalled.
Aimee swiped her palm across her brow. The sun bored stinging rays through the windshield, and her taffeta gown tightened against her sweaty torso by the second, stealing her breath. She stared across the hood as her lack of options flipped like a boomerang through her thoughts: no jumper cables, no tools, and no help.
She glanced at her watch. As Maid of Honor, she should have been at the church forty-five minutes ago.
“Luke,” she said through gritted teeth. “Hang tight. Fasten your seat belt.” She flipped on the hazard lights, gripped the wheel, and glanced in her side mirror. Cars edged around her, drivers and passengers alike gawked as they passed. Not one Good Samaritan among them.
“Thought you got Tank fixed,” Luke settled himself in the back seat.
Stinging rays of sunlight burned her eyes. “Me, too.” Aimee swallowed the tight lump blocking her throat, and shifted the gear to neutral. “You’ve done this once before,” she whispered and straightened her spine. Maybe not in heels and a formal dress, but how much different could it be? “It can be accomplished.”
Exhaling, she opened the door, set one high-heeled foot on the pavement and lifted the other from the brake. Tank rolled back in protest. She held tight to the doorframe while her other hand gripped the steering wheel. Struggling to find her footing, Aimee braced her hands and feet, and gave the old SUV a hard shove.
A deep voice rumbled behind her. “Excuse me. What are you doing?”
Startled, her ankle wobbled as she turned around. “I’m trying to get out of traf—” Her eyes traveled up a mountain of muscle, a long, lean form of the man who towered above her. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes while his mouth tipped into a smirk.
She tilted her head as she narrowed her gaze. Now, what could he find so amusing at a time like this?
He stepped closer.
Heart pounding, her hold on Tank slackened. The cantankerous heap jerked backward to shove her into the man’s boulder-sized chest.
Her face smashed into his sternum, and suddenly, his arms were extended on either side of her shoulders, boxing her in. Time froze as she fought to push herself away, as humiliation washed over her like a cold shower, yet at the same time, his deep voice reassured her.
“I’ve got a hold on it.”
He had Tank. The vehicle wasn’t pushing into her anymore, but – oh dear Lord - her face remained against the soft cotton covering his chest, her hands flat against his beating heart as if his presence was an aphrodisiac, and she was paralyzed by him. She inhaled, as if taking her very first breath. She hadn’t been this close to a man in three years. Three long years since her cheek had rested against the strong breastbone of a person who had the power to make things right. Three years since she breathed in the male scent, an indescribable combination of strength and tenderness.
When the man spoke, his low voice vibrated against her cheek. “I think it’d be a good idea if you got behind the wheel, ma’am.”
She pushed away and slid her hands across her soft taffeta gown. Reality returned as the moment, whatever it was, slid away. Cars passed them on the left, horns echoed across the distance. She eyed his shirt, hoping her makeup hadn’t left an imprint on him. Swallowing, she lifted her eyes, wondering how long she had clung to this stranger. Her back rubbed the arm rest of the driver’s door. To her left, his hand braced Tank’s door and the other hand pressed against the roof.
He released the door long enough to flick his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Have we met?”
“No.” There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t place it.
He tilted his head as his gaze lingered.
“I guess I have a familiar face.” Her stomach tightened. Had he felt the same connection as she, or was that amusement in his eyes?
His gaze traced a line down the length of her Prom-style dress to the rhinestones on her stilettos that flirted and sparkled in the sun.
“Yep, the one time I dress up, my vehicle won’t cooperate.”
A smile lit his face. “Happens to me all the time.”
She chortled in spite of her predicament. “Can you move Tank all by yourself?”
“Tank?” He smirked. “Um, I think I’m a better bet than you, with all due respect.”
Her hand fisted against her hip. “Hey, I was doing fine before you showed up and scared me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You were going backwards.”
A sarcastic reply died on her lips as she took in his height and the wide expanse of his chest and shoulders. Two things Aimee hated more than anything; being embarrassed and being proved wrong. Maybe he could move Tank by himself but she wasn’t about to be dismissed by someone who was amused at her situation, who thinks he can take over like some superhero. Except he was right, she wasn’t making any progress. Heels weren’t ideal when moving a vehicle off the road.
“I have help.”
She glanced over his shoulder as an older version of her rescuer weaved through the stopped cars toward them. “Who’s this?”
“My father. Lucky for you, he’s an automotive expert.”
“Lucky for me,” she repeated. The dude that last serviced Tank at Red’s automotive claimed to be an expert, too.
Tall, dark and sarcastic shot her a grin. Straight white teeth shown beneath his mustache and his eyes crinkled. Once he had Tank in park, he headed toward the back. His T-shirt didn’t do much to hide his physique. His broad shoulders were ripped with muscle. Feverish perspiration plucked across her temples.
Luke popped out from the open window of the back seat. “Coach Garrett?”
The Hunk turned to face her son.
“Luke!” Dimples framed his wide smile. “Say, are you old enough to start as my pitcher this fall?”
Luke giggled. “No sir, I’m only going into second grade.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember now. Well, I guess I’ll have to wait on you to grow up a bit. Don’t go off and sign with some Major League team before you get to play on my team, okay?”
The Hunk winked at Aimee before turning back to Luke.
“I won’t, Coach.” Luke’s smile beamed as if his favorite superhero stood before him.
“You two know each other?” Aimee looked from her son to her rescuer. How did they have a friendship she knew nothing about?
He extended his hand. “I’m Seth Garrett.”
Seth Garrett. “Ah—” She stuttered. Of course he looked familiar! Shutting her eyes tight, she fought to ignore the shiver coursing from her shoulders to her toes.
Her stomach ached all of the sudden, but she swallowed hard and planted her hand in his. “A-A-Aimee McClain. I apologize for snapping at you. I appreciate your help.” The warmth of his palm set off bells of bliss.
Oh, God, no! No, she could not feel bliss. She should not even be in this man’s atmosphere.
“And I apologize for frightening you.” Though he’d let go of her hand, his gaze lingered a moment longer until the older man called his name. “Here’s my father. Would you mind getting behind the wheel?” He closed the door once she was seated as his gaze skidded back to her again. “I’ll tell you when to put her back in neutral.”
Within moments Tank sat on the road’s shoulder. Some people may have chunked the aging Jeep long ago, but it had been her mom’s and she couldn’t let the old clunker go.
Seth’s strong hands thumped the hood as he walked to the front of the vehicle.
“Luke, how do you know Coach Garrett?”
He wormed his way to the front seat. “Coach came to the Community Center to talk to us about playing baseball. He’s Point Peace High school’s coach but he used to play for the Stars. That’s a major league baseball team, Mom.”
“I’ve heard of them.” In fact, she had followed Seth Garrett’s career for a long time. Every high and low he experienced, she had followed by reading any newspaper article and social media post she could get her hands on. Seth also organized a popular race annually in honor of his best friend who died twelve years ago. Proceeds from the race went to an underprivileged youth program which helped kids play sports and get after school help with their school work. She should ask Seth to give her some pointers on the Bone Marrow Drive she was planning for Luke. Except how could she justify asking Seth Garrett for help when she was the one who destroyed his life twelve years ago?
“I’m old enough to play, Mom, he said so.”
She caressed his cheek. He may be old enough to play, but his health wouldn’t allow it. “I know you’re old enough, buddy. Someday you’ll get to play again.”
Nausea churned in her belly. How had she missed Seth Garrett’s appearance at her son’s day care and their budding friendship?
Hold it together. It’s been twelve years. He won’t know who I am.
Seth exchanged words with the older man before he trudged back to her window. His eyes remained steady on her as he neared her door.
She gripped the wheel until her fingers ached. This was not the time for confessions.
“Have you called a tow truck?”
She shook her head. “I-I don’t have a phone.”
“I can make the call.” He yanked his cell from his jeans pocket.
“Yes. Thank you.” She twisted her hands on the steering wheel until an awkward fleshy squeak erupted. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
His eyes crinkled when he smiled. “You’re no trouble.”
The older man now stood at the front of Tank. “Hey, Seth.” He pointed to the hood.
“Is it okay if my father and I take a look?”
“Sure.” She yanked the lever and the hood popped open. Aimee drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as Seth returned to his father’s side. The longer Seth stood in front of Tank, the more her stomach churned. No matter what her past and how it intersected with Seth’s, she couldn’t sit there like a lump while these kind strangers tried to start her car.
“Luke, stay put.” She took a deep breath and opened the driver’s door. Seth smiled as she approached. An older, attractive lady hustled out of Seth’s truck and came to stand beside Seth’s father.
Seth introduced her to his parents. Bonnie Garrett had salon styled silver hair and perfect makeup. She nodded politely at Aimee before touching her husband’s arm. “Tommy, you need to sit down. Seth can handle this.”
“Bonnie, I’m fine.” Seth’s father gritted his teeth. He was tall like Seth, had the same eyes and tanned skin. He wiped his forehead with his hanky and leaned under the hood. “I may be able to get it started.” Mr. Garrett wiggled wires and plugs hooked to the motor and battery.
“You could have a stroke in this heat.” Seth’s mother fanned herself with a folded magazine. “Remember what your cardiologist said—”
“Excuse me, dear.” Mr. Garrett interrupted his wife’s stream of excuses and turned to Aimee. “Miss, who serviced this last?”
“Red’s automotive.”
Mr. Garrett narrowed his eyes. “He did, did he?”
“Do you see something wrong?”
He glanced at her before focusing on the motor. “The plugs look old and worn out. Battery may need to be replaced. How often do you get this serviced?”
“I watch my mileage and take it every five thousand miles.”
“That’s good.” Mr. Garrett prodded and poked Tank’s motor a few more times, then closed the hood and wiped his hands with the handkerchief. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but this old boy needs a lot of work.”
Luke sprang out the passenger side window, propping his arms on the roof as he challenged Seth’s father. “You know a good mechanic, mister?”
Aimee couldn’t suppress her grin. That’s my boy.
Mr. Garrett strolled over to him. “To answer your question, young man, I do. I know two good mechanics, me and my son.”
Luke’s eyes widened. “Coach Garrett can fix cars?”
Seth smiled. “He taught me everything I know.”
Mr. Garrett winked at Aimee.
Luke grew quiet. He looked back at Seth’s father with a frown. “Car repairs take a lot of money, mister. We don’t have much of that.”
“Honey…” Mortified, Aimee shot her son the look. “I can handle this, thank you.”
Mr. Garrett turned to her. “Miss McClain, the mechanic you’re using charges an arm and two legs to do a tune up. It doesn’t look like the oil has been changed in a while.”
Aimee shook her head wondering what else that smiley mechanic hadn’t done.
“Regular maintenance is important.” Mr. Garrett wiped his forehead. “But it needs to be running before I can see what else may be wrong.”
“You reached that conclusion in just a few moments of looking at it?”
“Yes ma’am, but I’ve been working on engines since I was your son’s age.”
His confidence should have reassured her, yet she’d heard it all before. “So, you know what you’re doing?” Seth’s father gave a short chuckle as if she’d offended him. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I don’t know where else to take it. I can’t afford to replace it either.”
“I understand. If you’d like, Seth and I can give it a once over at no charge and I’ll give you an estimate for parts and labor.” He extended his hands in offering. “I’m retired. I can work on your car as needed to suit your situation.”
Mrs. Garrett stepped beside Seth. “Tom, the doctor told you to stay out of the shop for another full week.”
He turned to his wife with a scowl. “Dear, I know what that doctor said, and if I don’t get out of the house, I’ll go crazy. Now this won’t be strenuous, it’s a matter of troubleshooting. Besides, Seth will be there to help me with the heavy lifting.” He sent her a lopsided smile. “What d’ya say?”
Her gaze volleyed from one man to the other. If she let them fix her car, she’d be forced to see Seth again. She rubbed her fingertips across Tank’s chipped paint. Once, his frame stayed waxed and gleaming. She’d let the old wagon down too in the way she neglected caring for it. Tank had brought her family across the country when she was Luke’s age. There were good memories tied up in the big dumb vehicle. She wasn’t ready to let it go.
Seth smiled at her. He’d smiled at her a lot in this short amount of time. If she risked seeing him again, he could recognize her. She couldn’t let that happen. “I appreciate your offer Mr. Garrett, but I’d better take my vehicle back to the mechanic I used before and point out what you’ve said he didn’t do for the last service. I mean, I paid him to change the oil and the plugs.”
Frowning, Mr. Garrett nodded . “I understand, Ms. McClain.” He hitched his chin at her, as if he’d taken notice of her fancy dress for the first time. “Where’re you headed?”
“Hopewell Church. My cousin is getting married, and I’m late.”
“Your cousin is Sloan Miller?” Mrs. Garrett asked.
Aimee nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
Mrs. Garrett clasped her hands. “Belinda Miller does my hair.”
“Belinda’s my aunt. I’ll be cutting hair at her salon starting next week.”
“Belinda hasn’t stopped talking about how glad the family is that you’re home.” Mrs. Garrett’s attention moved from Luke back to Aimee.
Sensing the pity in Mrs. Garrett’s eyes, Aimee lowered her gaze. While she appreciated people’s sympathy, she loathed it. She’d returned home to start over, be self-sufficient. For too long, she experienced loss of loved ones only to find herself scraping the bottom to make ends meet. Aimee didn’t keep track of her failures on purpose, but her return home represented attempt number three to make life better for her and Luke. Sick of death and illness, she wouldn’t let anything stop her this time.
“We can drop you and Luke off at the church. We’ll be driving right by there.” Mrs. Garrett angled a look to Seth who nodded his agreement.
“That would mean so much,” Aimee replied and turned to Mr. Garrett. “Thank you for offering to fix my car.”
He balled up his handkerchief. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
Wringing her hands, she walked to the passenger door to gather her items. Towing Tank back to Red’s shop irked her. She didn’t want to face the touchy mechanic again. He always offered an exorbitant cost to repair her vehicle with a rub to her arm or shoulder. Eck. Her grandfather insisted she take the vehicle there, old ties with Red’s dad ran deep between the families. She tried to follow her granddad’s wishes since she was living rent free in one of his houses, but Red was a bully she’d always tried to avoid.
Mr. Garrett stood near the faded gold hood. By the look on his face he was amused at something else Luke was saying. Aimee shoved herself in the backseat, while Mrs. Garrett’s laugh tickled her heart. For just a moment she longed for a touch the happiness the Garrett’s possessed.
Perhaps she should allow Seth’s father to work on Tank. Grabbing her bags, she shoved Luke’s random items inside. With the task complete, she stepped back and surveyed the inside for anything else of value. She clutched her stomach as dread rose and threatened to buckle her. Yes, she needed a trustworthy mechanic, but the Garrett’s wouldn’t have offered if they knew the truth.

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