One Day in Apple Grove(7)

“How soon can you fix it?”

“You planning on telling your dad?”

“Later.”

“If you put it off,” Bob began, “he’s bound to hear before you tell him. Are you sure you want to wait?”

Cait shook her head. “No. I’m not sure, but it’s hard because I know how much this truck means to him.”

“Means a lot to the town. People have come to associate that truck with the reputation your great-great-grandfather began and your father, and now you girls are continuing,” he reminded her. “It’s not just transportation.”

“I know.” She blinked back tears. She felt awful, but she’d make it right.

“Why don’t you call your dad now?” Bob patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll go look up the paint codes to see if I have to order any of them.”

Cait nodded, mumbling, “He didn’t let Meg drive the truck until a couple years ago. The only reason I’m driving it now is because she’s been working so few hours.”

“You’ll feel better after you tell him.”

Cait knew he was right. And as much as she wanted to tell her father in person, she also didn’t want him hearing the news from someone else. Like Grace. Steeling her nerves, she dialed her father.

“Hey, Pop, it’s Cait.” Before he could start in with the twenty questions about how the jobs were going, she said, “I have bad news.”

“You didn’t get hurt on the job, did you?”

“No…I didn’t—”

Before she could tell him what happened, his voice took on a frantic edge, “Is it Grace or Meg?”

“No—it’s the F1…”

The silence on the other end of the line was starting to unnerve her and just when she thought she would crack, her father asked, “Is it totaled then?”

“What? No! The passenger door is badly scratched…down to the metal. I’m out at Bob’s Gas and Gears and he’s looking up the paint codes.”

She heard him sigh and braced herself for the inquisition. “How did it happen? Where were you when you got hit?”

“If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll tell you.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear before falling silent.

“I was running late and had to pick something up at the shop. I tried to pull a U-ey on Main, but kinda ran out of road.”

“Let me get this straight. You pulled an illegal turn in the middle of Main Street while driving the F1 with our name in gold letters on the side?”

Clearing her throat, she answered, “Yes.”

“Didn’t you realize that the turning radius on that truck isn’t the same as the compact car you usually drive?” He paused, then asked, “Did you hit the tree by our shop?”

Caitlin looked over at Bob, who had stopped writing when her father’s voice started to increase in volume. The older man motioned for her to continue. Knowing there was no way Bob would stop eavesdropping on her conversation, she sighed and answered her dad’s questions. “I didn’t exactly hit the tree…I grazed it.”

“No dents?”

“Nope!” Bob answered for Caitlin.

“And you’re all right?” her father asked again.

“Yes, Pop.”

“We’ll talk later. Put Bob on.”

She handed her phone to her father’s friend and walked over to the edge of the road, staring out at the field across from Bob’s shop. She heard the distinctive song from the other side of the road and smiled as her love of nature distracted her while she waited for Bob to end the call. A trio of red-winged blackbirds sang as they perched on the fence by the small pond in the middle of the farmer’s field. They were males; their scarlet wing bars were puffed up as they sang. “Must be trying to attract a few females.”

The deep rumble of Bob’s voice had her looking over her shoulder at the F1. She had made a huge mistake that could have ended badly. Desperately trying not to think of another car, another accident that ended with her mother lying in a hospital bed, she wrapped her arms around her waist, determined to focus on the trill of songbirds and the cloudless spring sky. She succeeded until Bob called her name.

She drew in a deep breath and turned around. She hoped the repair wouldn’t cut too deeply into her savings, but had no idea how much it would cost to special order paint. Maybe they wouldn’t have to repaint the whole door, but what she knew about removing paint would fill a thimble.

“Your dad agreed it would be best to fix it right away. Can’t take a chance that the metal will rust.”

Before she could ask if she was supposed to walk to Mr. Weatherbee’s farm, Bob added, “Grace is coming to pick you up. Your dad said you could drop her at the shop and drive the car until the truck’s finished.”