Trucker (The Good Guys #1)(21)

Despite my efforts to keep the laughter in, a giggle escape anyway and I tried to cover it with a cough.

"Yeah, it does look like it needs some work," I agreed. Not only was the  grass overgrown, but dandelions and weeds were scattered everywhere.

She guided me to a shed, which looked like it might not hold up for much  longer. White paint peeled off the rotted wooden siding, and the hinges  screeched as the door opened. Inside was an ancient-looking push mower.

"You know how to work this thing?" Beverly asked as she gave it a light kick with the toe of her pink house slippers.

I shrugged. "I can figure it out."

*

I couldn't figure it out.

There had been instructions on the mower at one time, but it was too faded and scratched up to make out the words. Not helpful.

I pulled at the cord for what had to be the twentieth time, putting all  my strength into it. This time it actually started to sputter to life  and I let out a triumphant shout.

Unfortunately, it didn't last more than a couple seconds before it died.  I let out a frustrated groan and wiped the sweat from my forehead. The  long, green blades tickled the back of my thighs when I sat down in the  grass, and I wondered what I should do next.                       
       
           



       

Maybe I should wave the white flag and admit defeat.

I picked an overgrown dandelion from amongst the weeds. Spinning it  between my fingers, I blew the fuzz into the breeze and made a wish.

It was a simple wish. Home and happiness. The two things I wanted most.

"Looks like you might need some help," a gravelly voice said behind me.

I turned to see an old man-probably in his eighties-standing on a  concrete patio in the backyard next door. He was wearing khaki pants  that were being held up by suspenders over a white button-up shirt. On  top of his head was a weathered-looking hat that said ‘Army'.

"Yeah. This thing is trying to kill me," I sighed dramatically as I pointed to the uncooperative piece of machinery.

He barked out a laugh. "It can be tricky. First thing you gotta do is check to make sure it's got gas in it."

Oh.

"Well, that would make sense," I said, feeling a bit dense for not thinking of something so obvious.

The man got down to his knees to unscrew the gas cap and he peered  inside. "Yep. Got gas," he confirmed and put the cap back on. "Next, you  gotta push this button here three times. It pumps the gas into the  lines so it can start."

He pointed to the button and I did what he said.

"Now," he said as he stood up, "gotta hold onto this lever, unless you  want the engine to stop. Then you pull the cord. And you gotta pull it  fast." He whipped his arm back, mimicking the motion.

I grabbed the lever and brought it down to the handle with one hand,  while I reached for the cord with the other. Pulling as hard as I could,  I yanked on the cord and the mower roared to life.

I squealed as it lurched forward and I had no choice but to hang on and  walk along with it. The man was laughing so loud I could hear it over  the noise of the mower.

"Thank you!" I yelled back at him as I continued to stumble forward.

Once I got going, it really wasn't that hard. The worst part was the  heat. Earlier, I had put my hair up in a messy bun and I was glad to  have it off my neck and shoulders, which were dripping with sweat.

Beverly's yard wasn't huge, so my job was done in about twenty minutes.  After I was finished, I was putting the mower back in the shed when the  man from next door came back over.

"Not bad, little lady, not bad," he said as he stuck out his hand. "Name's Ernie."

I wiped my hand on my shorts before returning the handshake. "Angel."

"Any chance you're looking for more yards to mow?" he asked.

"Yeah, definitely," I said, excited at the possibility of getting more work. More work meant more money.

"My yard's bigger, but I've got a riding mower," he boasted, hitching his thumbs under his suspenders. "When are you free?"

"Um, right now?"

"You're hired!" he exclaimed, and his smile was contagious.

"I'll just go let Beverly know I'm done and then I'll be right over," I told him.

"I won't expect you for at least half an hour." He started back towards  his house. "Beverly loves company. She's probably got lemonade and  cookies set out already."

Funny thing was, Ernie was right. Well, he was right about the lemonade.  Not so much the cookies, but he was close. Sitting on a fancy plate in  the middle of Beverly's kitchen table were a bunch of unwrapped  Twinkies.

The inside of her house smelled like an interesting combination of  Bengay and cupcakes, and all the rooms looked like they hadn't been  redecorated since the '70s. She showed me to the bathroom so I could  wash my hands and I was amused by the fact that everything was pink-the  walls, sink, toilet, and carpet.

In the kitchen, her appliances were an avocado green and the walls were plastered with wallpaper full of bright orange flowers.

"So, how did you end up in Tolson?" Beverly asked as we sat down at the table for our snack.

"I'm just sort of passing through. I'm going to California to see my  mom," I explained. "Travis, Karen's son, is letting me stay with him for  a few weeks."

"Ah, yes," she hummed. "That boy is one fine piece of ass."

Shocked by her brash statement, I inhaled some of the lemonade I was drinking and started coughing violently.

She continued speaking, completely ignoring my inability to breathe  properly. "Now, don't get your panties in a twist. I'm not gonna try to  take your man. He's too young for me anyhow."

I switched between coughing and laughing while I tried to clear my airway.

After getting myself under control, Beverly and I chatted for a while.  She told me she'd been a widow for fifteen years and she had three sons,  all who lived in different parts of the country. She also had five  adult grandchildren.                       
       
           



       

"They keep telling me I need to get a cell phone so I can FaceTime. I  don't even know what that is. Some days, I can't even figure out how the  hell to work my own damn television!" She laughed, shaking her head.  "As long as they call me once a week and come home every Christmas, I'm  happy."

She paid me thirty dollars-which was more than I thought I'd get-and I told her I'd mow for her next Monday as well.

"Thank you for the lemonade and Twinkies," I said, slipping the money into my back pocket.

"Any time. And I mean that. I don't get many visitors," she told me as  we stood on her front porch. "I'd love it if you came by more. I'm  always here."

Although she smiled, I could see something behind her eyes-not quite  sadness, but something else. I understood that look because I had it,  too. It was loneliness.

"I'd love to come back," I said, and her face brightened. "Most of my  days are free. Travis works at the shop during the week, and I don't  have many friends in town." I shrugged.

"Well, you have at least one now," she beamed.

*

After mowing Ernie's yard, I could fully appreciate the luxury of a  riding mower. Not only was it much easier to start, but the grass was  cut in no time. With the breeze, I didn't even break a sweat.

Ernie was waiting for me on the back patio with a bottle of water when I  finished. A large oak tree shaded the area, and I was grateful to be  out of the hot sun.

I greedily gulped at the cold water until it was almost gone.

"Thank you for the water," I said, remembering my manners. "And thanks  for taking a chance on someone who's obviously a hazard around heavy  machinery."

He laughed. "Ah, you did just fine. I'm just glad you didn't mow over my marigolds."

As we sat we made light conversation about the weather, and he mentioned  how well the fields were doing this summer-not something I knew a lot  about, but apparently that was great for the local farmers.

He didn't ask me what my story was, and I had to admit it was  refreshing. He didn't care about where I came from or how I got here. He  just seemed grateful for the company.

But that didn't mean I wasn't a bit curious about him. I couldn't stop  myself from asking a few questions about his life, even though I knew I  was being nosy.

"So do you have any kids?" I asked.

"Nope, no kids. Never married either," he stated.

"Why not?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Way to pry into the man's business, Angel.

"I had a high school sweetheart once. She was the prettiest thing this  town ever saw," he said with a distant look on his face. "But I messed  it up."

Now I was completely enthralled with his history. My butt scooted to the edge of the plastic lawn chair. "What happened?"