Jackknife. William W. Johnstone
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off with her dates, McCabe and Terry had shared some good laughs at the way the boys’ eyes had widened while he was talking to them.
It was because of the two of them, the two most precious people in the world to him, that he had gone to work for MegaMart. As an independent trucker, he’d had to be on the road too much just to make a living. Terry and Ronnie had spent enough time alone while he was in the military. True, as a driver for MegaMart, he was still gone quite a bit, but at least his schedule wasn’t as erratic and he was usually able to get home several days each week. Sometimes he even managed to be home for four or five days in a row, like now.
He was in the living room of their house in River Oaks, one of Fort Worth’s older suburbs, with his feet up, the newspaper in his lap, and his eyelids getting heavy. It was Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. Ronnie was out of school today—when McCabe was a kid they had gotten Thanksgiving Day and the Friday after it off from school, but never Wednesday—but she and Terry had been busy all day on some sort of project that was due right after the holiday in Ronnie’s biology class. McCabe was willing to help out, but Terry was better at that sort of stuff. She’d been a teacher herself at one time, although at the elementary level, not high school biology.
McCabe gave up on trying to hold his drowsiness at bay and closed his eyes. They had been shut for only a few moments, though, when Ronnie came into the room and said, “Daddy, we’re going shopping on Friday. You wanna come with?”
McCabe tried not to grimace. Since when did kids who lived in Texas talk like streetwise New Yorkers? Of course, Ronnie had lived in lots of different places, on lots of different bases. It wasn’t like she’d been raised here in Texas. But McCabe, himself a Texan, born, bred, and forever, had heard kids who had lived here all their lives talking the same way.
It was because of all the TV and movies they watched and all the time they spent on the Internet, he supposed. American culture was blending together, with the distinctive pockets of how people in different parts of the country spoke and acted slowly fading away. That was good in its own way, he supposed, but regrettable, too. Like the seasons, the differences in people made for welcome changes.
He opened his eyes and repeated, “Shopping? On Friday? Black Friday? The busiest shopping day of the year?”
Ronnie nodded. “Yeah. We thought we’d go to the grand opening of that new UltraMegaMart.”
McCabe bit back a groan. He saw enough MegaMarts in his line of work. “You and your mother can go and have a great time,” he said. “I think I’ll pass.”
“You sure? It’s supposed to be the biggest MegaMart in the world. It’s as big as a mall all by itself.”
“If you’re trying to convince me, you’re going about it the wrong way,” McCabe said, but he grinned to take any sting out of the words. “Besides, I’ve seen the place. I know how big it is. I even delivered a truckload of stock there a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ronnie said with a grin of her own. “You work for MegaMart. I forgot.”
“Sure you did.”
Ronnie grew more serious. “I need some stuff for my project. You think they’ll have it?”
McCabe didn’t bother asking what sort of “stuff” she needed. If the world’s first UltraMegaMart lived up to all of its hype, it would have what Ronnie needed, whatever that might be.
“Don’t worry about that,” McCabe told her. “I’m sure you’ll find just what you’re looking for.”
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