The Ridge by John Rector

Author:John Rector [Rector, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503943933
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2017-04-24T18:30:00+00:00

18

She followed the man across the parking lot to her car. When they got there, he asked her to pop the hood.

She did.

The man braced it open with the prop. Then he stepped back, waving away heat and smoke.

“Try to start it.”

Megan slid the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine made a short, cracking sound.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

She got out and walked around to the front of the car. “It’s been making a noise for a while. What do you think?”

The man took the red rag from his pocket, leaned over the engine and reached in, wiping away dirt and oil. He didn’t say anything at first. Then he frowned and stepped back. “Do you have another way home?”

The tone of his voice was resigned, and a dull weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

“This car, I hope.”

“’Fraid not,” he said. “How about someone you can call? Is there anyone who can pick you up and take you back to the Ridge?”

“How do you know I’m from Willow Ridge?”

The man looked at her for a long moment, and Megan saw a smile in his eyes. “Lucky guess?”

She decided to let it go.

“I’m not going back there,” she said. “I’m on my way to Chicago.”

“By yourself?”

Megan frowned. “You see anyone else in the car?”

The second the words were out, she regretted them. This man was her only chance of getting her car fixed, and the last thing she needed to do was start a fight with him over a woman’s ability to drive across the country alone.

If it meant getting her car fixed and getting back on the road, she was willing to put up with almost anything, even small-minded, small-town opinions.

Except, he didn’t seem to care.

“Hate to tell you, but this car isn’t going to Chicago. It’s not even going back to the Ridge unless you know someone with a tow truck.”

“You can’t fix it?”

“Not a chance,” he said. “The engine’s seized.”

“And that’s bad?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s bad.”

Megan folded her arms over her chest and looked out at the park across the street, the ash trees swaying in the distance.

She wasn’t ready to give up.

“How about a bus?”

“A what?”

“A bus,” she said. “Is there a bus station in town? Can I buy a ticket to Chicago?”

He shook his head. “There are no buses.”

“There has to be something,” she said. “How do people get anywhere around here?”

The man slipped the rag back into his pocket. Then he reached up, closed the hood, and motioned toward the garage. “If you’d like, you can use the phone to call for a ride. Best I can do.”

“What about the car?”

“We can push it around back, maybe salvage it for parts.” He looked down at it, resting his hands on his hips. “Nothing else I can do.”

“Parts?” She laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. “It can’t be that bad. What about a new engine, or replacing what’s broken? Can’t you order whatever it is you need to fix it?”

He shook his head. “Miss, this is an old car.

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