Take My Hand. Ruth Scofield
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didn’t come from a gym.
Alexis hadn’t noticed him sitting in the old black truck parked on the street—half the population of this country town owned trucks. She glanced that way, wondering where Cliff was. The boy leaned out the window, looking bored. He didn’t wave. She supposed he was still miffed with her.
“Yes. I suppose I’d better call someone. I don’t believe there’s a dealership in town for my car.”
“I know a little about mechanics.”
“Ah…yes. I suppose you do.” In her opinion, most men arrogantly assumed they knew about motors and that women had no clue.
“Don’t know if I can help. Small engines are my specialty.”
“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks flush. Of course he might know something about motors. She’d forgotten what his business was. “I hadn’t thought…”
“Let me take a look-see.”
“All right. That’s very kind of you.” On the playground adjoining the parking lot, Alexis heard the thump-thump of a basketball hitting the pavement. High school kids often used the grounds after school.
J.D. leaned past her, bending to the button inside her car and popping the hood. She stepped out of his way, murmuring, “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
A disembodied voice backed by static began to give out information: “North on old Chaney Road…they need an ambulance…”
Looking for the source, she spotted a two-way radio clipped to J.D.’s belt. He ignored it and didn’t respond.
“Are you on an emergency response team?” she asked idly. Home-grown resources were good to know, and she filed away the knowledge in her teacher’s mental file.
“Volunteer fireman. Not much need this past year, though, since Sunny Creek raised enough money to go with a couple of full-timers.”
She heard the slam of the truck door. Cliff ran over and leaned under the yawning hood. His dark hair in his eyes, he nudged closer and hitched himself higher, almost crawling into the engine.
“Move, Cliff,” J.D. muttered, though not unkindly.
Cliff’s attention didn’t last long. The boy soon wandered over to watch the ballplayers. Another youth streamed by on his skateboard, instantly engaging Cliff’s interest.
“Do you know what’s wrong?” Alexis asked. As old as the car was, the problem might be anything. She only prayed it wouldn’t cost an arm to have fixed.
“Um…there’s a break in the radiator hose.”
“Uh-oh. How hard is that to fix?”
“Can’t. You need a new one.”
“Can I get one tonight?”
“Probably not. Don’t worry about it. Cliff and I can run you home, and I’ll come by in the morning and put a new one on for you.”
He sounded competent and unexpectedly kind, but she wasn’t too sure if she should accept his offer. This was a small town. People noticed when a teacher didn’t arrive home in her own vehicle. They’d raise an eyebrow if a teacher became friends with a single father.
Yet she didn’t relish walking the nearly two miles to her apartment tonight.
“Well…” Alexis glanced toward the school building. She could always beg a ride with Mrs. Henderson, the principal. Her car was in the lot, so she was still there. Yet who knew when Lavinia would be ready to leave?
“Cliff!” J.D. called, seeming to take for granted that she had accepted his offer. “Let’s go.”
Though they could see him trailing after the skate-boarder, Cliff didn’t respond.
“Da— Um—” J.D. caught himself, giving her a rueful glance, letting her know she was the reason. Humor edged his mouth when he checked his language. “Drat, the boy. He ignores me all too often.” J.D. raised his voice. “Cliff!”
“It’s really kind of you to help, Mr. Sullivan, but I don’t want to put you out.” She wasn’t sure it was the thing to do—letting him know where she lived. Although, in this small town it wouldn’t take much detective work to find her—if someone really wanted to know. “You have your shop to get back to, I’m sure. And Cliff to take care of. Why don’t I just—”
But her thought was interrupted when Cliff finally headed toward them. J.D. jerked his chin toward the truck and gestured for her to move.
“Just hold on to your patience, Miss Richmond, and climb in.” J.D. held the truck door wide, handing Cliff onto the bench seat with ease. Then he held out a hand to her.
It would be ridiculous to refuse. Of course it would.
“We’ll have you home in no time,” he said. “Five minutes more away from my shop right now won’t make a difference. I’ll be open a little later anyway, since it’s Friday night.”
“Oh…um…” she muttered, contemplating the vehicle. The aged truck no longer had a step up. The only way she’d make it into that seat was to elevate her skirt high enough to give herself the mobility she needed to climb. But to refuse would be totally un-gracious.
“Thank you.” Throwing modesty to the winds, she hiked her purse to her shoulder, tossed her book bag before her, then lifted her skirt above her knees. She hadn’t a hand left to grab anything to pull herself up.
His hand slipped under her elbow as she stepped up to reach the truck floor. For half an instant, she felt his warm breath on her cheek. Then she was up on the black leather seat next to Cliff.
“I do appreciate it,” she said, turning just as his eyes lifted from her legs. His mouth softened as his gaze skittered away. She tugged her skirt back to her knees, feeling her cheeks flush like a teenager’s.
She hadn’t blushed in years.
“But if you don’t mind—” she gently cleared her throat “—let me out at Fifth and Dogwood, please. I’m expected at a friend’s house.”
That should do it. He needn’t know that she planned to spend her Friday evening with eighty-eight-year-old Mrs. Nelson.
He needn’t think she was flirting with him, either.
Chapter Three
Early the next morning, Alexis shoved her feet into her running shoes, tied the laces, then twisted her ponytail under a royal-blue baseball cap. Bending, she engaged in a few stretches. Walking the less than two miles to school wasn’t normally a problem. She’d done it several times last autumn, skipping through bright leaves while dreaming of her wedding plans. Plans that, over the winter, had fallen apart like a handful of dry sand tossed into the wind.
Lately she’d done no more than a desultory lunchtime stroll around the school playground. She had checked her personal disappointment at the door, hiding it behind bright smiles and teasing encouragement as she sauntered among the children. She drew the line at letting her negative emotions affect her school performance. Her kids needed all her positive energies.
Past time to put all that behind her, she mused, and to move on with her life. The physical exercise was good for her. She revved up her resolve. Last night’s half-mile walk home from Mrs. Nelson’s had been a snap.
It’s a good time to talk with You, Lord…. she prayed now.
Switching a few items from her purse to a fanny pack, she tossed her cell phone on her bedside table. No outside distractions today. No chattering children nor classroom demands.
Changing seasons always reminds me of Your design for our personal changes, Father. I’ve been lax in my devotions lately. Please forgive me and help me know which direction You want me to pursue