Soulstruck by Natasha Sinel

Author:Natasha Sinel
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510731202
Publisher: Sky Pony Press
Published: 2018-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

I hear the crunch of tires on the shell driveway, and then there’s a knock at the front door.

“Anyone home? Naomi? Rachel? You there?”

Everyone leaves their doors open, especially on warm days—not many of the houses on the water, including ours, have air-conditioning. Even though I’ve lived here for three years, the city girl in me still feels strange with the door unlocked all the time. So I’m relieved when I see it’s just Donny Lash.

“Hi, Mr. Lash,” I say as I open the screen door for him.

“It’s Donny. Please. I can’t be Mr. Lash. I’m not ready for that. I may never be.”

He chuckles. He’s older than Mom, but he has a young face—ruddy from years of working out in the sun, a big belly that sticks out over his jeans.

“So, Naomi said you have a couple loads of junk you need me to take?”

“Yes, thank you so much. I’ll go open the garage door for you.”

After struggling to pull up the heavy garage door, I’m surprised to see the silver pickup in the driveway—the one I’d been hoping to buy from him. And climbing down from the driver’s side is Rafe Zamora, the man we saw at The Wicked Oyster last night. He smiles.

“Hi, Rachel,” he says.

“Hi,” I say, wondering why he’s here.

“I can get that door working for you,” he says. “It would only take a few minutes—I can come back another time with the right tools.”

Donny is at Mr. Zamora’s side now.

“My truck had a flat,” Donny says. “And since Mr. Zamora’s borrowing this one for a few weeks, he came to help me out. But don’t worry, I’m still saving this heap for you.”

“You can call me Rafe,” Mr. Zamora says. “No ‘mister’ for me either.”

I nod but I probably just won’t call either of them anything. I call Mom’s lightning-strike group members by their first names, but I’ve known them forever. Other adults, it feels too weird.

“I understand if you have to sell the truck to someone else,” I say. “I’m not even sure I’ll be able to buy it now that I’m spending my money on fixing up the garage.”

“No, no, it’s yours. And we’ll work out a payment plan. Take as long as you need. I don’t like seeing you out riding that old bike on these roads. You need some solid wheels. Give me about a month, then it’s yours. Now, show me what we’re taking off your hands today.”

I point out the stuff I’d sorted—the junk pile and the giveaway pile. They load it on the truck, Donny chatting and Rafe adding in uh-huh and no way at the appropriate times.

So many questions itch at me. If Rafe knew Mom back then, before I was born, then he must have known my father. I want to ask him what my mom was like back then, if he knew her before she was struck by lightning, about Carson, about my grandfather. But I know that now isn’t the right time. If he actually comes to fix the garage door, I’ll have another chance.

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