How did she do that? How did she flip through my pages with such ease?
“Henry,” I called, unwilling to look away from Phoebe, still scanning her body for signs of injury. “Come here, we’re going home.”
“Home?” Big Bob laughed.
I turned around, and saw that he’d finally managed to make it to his feet. Good for him.
“Yeah, Bob, we’re going home.” My hands balled in fists at my side. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“I didn’t give you permission to do that,” he replied, satisfied with his power move.
Well, that was about enough of that bullshit.
“There ain’t any other mechanics in town. Even if there were, I’d still be the best. I’m smarter and work harder than any old scruff you could pick up off the road. So don’t threaten my job, because I know you can’t afford to fire me. And you just touched my—” I hesitated, then continued, “my guest, so I’m going to go tend to her wounds and try to forget just what an awful man you are.”
Big Bob snarled, but he knew he was licked. There wasn’t a better mechanic for, oh, probably one hundred miles. I was integral to his whole business.
I didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, I lifted Henry up and he wrapped himself like a monkey around my body and I took Phoebe’s hand. It was warm but dry. Together, we walked to the truck. I placed Henry in the booster seat, then opened Phoebe’s door.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, turning to me and blushing a little, “I can take care of myself.”
“I have no doubt. But you shouldn’t have to.”
She smiled and scooted inside the truck.
As I walked to the driver’s side and realized that my heart was still racing from the confrontation, I made a decision.
“Henry,” I said, clambering in and placing my hands on the wheel, “I’m dropping you off with Miss Keller.”
“Okey-dokey.”
I knew he wouldn’t put up a fight about this. It seemed like what had happened had already been forgotten by Henry. His sunny disposition had won and he was ready for the next adventure.
Much to my chagrin, that woman fed Henry whatever he liked, including a bottomless supply of hot chocolate. He’d come home with a sugar high that night, I was certain, but it’d be worth it — I didn’t want my son to see me angry, to see me out of control.
And as my hands gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles going white, I knew that the anger was a-comin’.
Miss Keller lived atop the diner she ran, a five-booth number with one fry cook and no waitresses. They made a decent ham scramble and the coffee was so thick you could barely stick a stirrer in it. The diner also didn’t have a name, because the locals just knew it as Keller’s. I wondered absently how she filed her taxes, then quickly realized that it was probable she didn’t file at all.
In no short time, we were off the main road, coming to a halt in front of the diner. Through the window, I could see Miss Keller leaning against the banquette and fluffing up her curls.
“Okay, Henry, let’s go.”
I lifted him out of the truck and walked him inside the diner.
Miss Keller threw down her crossword puzzle and cried, “Oh my stars, do I get to spend the day with little Henry?”
I nodded, and gave her the universal expression of beleaguered parents everywhere. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Mind? I’d love to.”
She took Henry from my arms, then eyed me up and down. “You taking a half day, Carter?”
I shrugged, dodging the question. “Sorta. I appreciate it, Miss Keller.”
She didn’t ask anything else. Best thing about Rough and Ready was that no one inquired too much. We all knew that our neighbors lived in these abandoned parts for a reason, and it was in your best interest not to get to the bottom of said reason. You wouldn’t find anything good down there.
“Pick him up whenever,” she called, as I strode to the door. “Take your time. Henry and I are gonna have a bang-up day.”
In moments, I was back in the cab of the truck after taking out the booster seat and giving it to Miss Keller in case she needed it for Henry.
“What was that about?” Phoebe asked. She didn’t abide to Rough and Ready’s unofficial ‘ask no questions’ rule.
“Just droppin’ Henry off.”
“Why?”
I took a deep breath then faced Phoebe, our eyes locking. “Because my son shouldn’t have to see me this upset.”
She nodded. She understood. Then, placing a hand atop mine, she whispered, “Let’s drive.”
CHAPTER 15
Phoebe
THE WIND whistled through the barely cracked windows as Carter pushed the truck to eighty, ninety, hundred.
“Slow down.”
“I-I just have to get out — I have to — no.”
Carter’s words were broken, his brows furrowed. I could see his cheek muscles working hard, clenching and unclenching, as he tried to control his temper.