It takes us a while, but we eventually troubleshoot our way to the problem with Link’s car—the coils. A rather inexpensive fix compared to what it could have been, according to my old man.
And since we already have the thing in Pops’ garage, Pops offers to teach Link how to do a full tune-up. When Link gladly takes him up on the offer, I decide I like the guy a little more than I did. He's driving my daughter around in this car, and I want it to be safe. I'm glad he wants that, too. Score one for Link.
The tune-up ends up being more like a pop quiz for yours truly since Pops keeps asking me what comes next. Pops taught all of us boys how to tune up a car from the time Luke and I learned how to drive. He'd bring the younger boys in, too, all of us in our oil-stained coveralls feeling grown up, handling car parts, and getting our hands dirty, to mom’s chagrin.
The old garage, with its familiar sights and smells, always gives me that peaceful feeling of being home.
"Hand Link that wrench, will you, son?"
I do, and Link meets my eye with the hint of a smile. “Thanks. You know,” he says while loosening a lug nut, "Callie says you keep trying to talk her into getting her driver's license."
Oh, no, not this topic with someone from his generation.My chest gets tight as I say my piece. "In my day, kids couldn't wait to get their driver’s license.” Sure, I sound like the Grumpy Old Man from SNL, but I don’t care. “Heck,” I add, “my friends and I were counting down the days like it was Christmas."
Link chuckles as he continues to work, flicking his head to get his long bangs out of his eyes. "No doubt. I was the same way. I've been trying to talk her into it too."
My eyes widen. "You're kidding.” I’ll have to tell Ashley that. She’ll like hearing it. She has a soft spot for Link that I can’t quite figure out, but she has my feelings toward him softening, too, so that’s good. At least, it seems to be closing the gap between Callie and me.
I watch as Link works on the bolt. I'm getting used to the tattoos, although tattooing your hands used to be something even rebels avoided. Link has the letterskeep try’ninked across his knuckles in bold font. Sure, the trying abbreviation is a bit of a stretch, but at least it doesn’t saybash sklzlike the guy who sat next to me on a recent flight; what a dweeb.
"I'm surprised Callie’s putting her foot down with you, too,” I say.
"Yeah, I think she's just scared. I told her I'd let her drive my car around some empty parking lots so she can get used to the feel of it."
He glances up at me, flicking his hair once more. "She said you let her do that a few times when she was fourteen or so.”
I nod as I recall the incident. Maybe it's what makes her too scared to get behind the wheel now. She came very close to hitting a pole while backing up. When she went to pull forward away from the pole, she slipped into neutral instead ofdrive and revved the engine while it rolled forward; there was a slight decline away from the pole. She slammed on the brake, accidentally put it in reverse again, and ran into the pole after all. I hadn’t made a big deal of it or anything. In fact, I told her it was okay, accidents happen, and there was a learning curve—for both of us, apparently.
Still, she hasn’t gotten behind the wheel since, at least not to my knowledge. And just when I thought that Cam getting his license would give her a nudge, she used it to her advantage instead. Point in case—Cam is picking her up from work and bringing her out here for one of Ma’s famous barbeques. The whole family will be here, and so will Ashley and her kids.
Just thinking of Ashley causes a chain of physical reactions I have little control over. My pulse spikes, my chest gets warm, and my lower belly tightens with a sort of yearning that puts me right back into my youth.
We’re taking things slowly, which is both good and bad if I’m honest.
It's good because the last thing I want to do is rush things and mess them up. But it's bad because we're dancing around difficult topics that I fear could make or break things between us.
I tell myself that we’re taking things slow, and it's okay if we tackle it another time. But mostly, I avoid bringing it up because I’m scared she’ll say something I strongly disagree with, and it’ll set me off. The fact is, I've already owned my side of things.
Don't focus on that,I decide.Only it still eats at me. The intercom in the garage lets out a buzz before Ma’s voice comes through. "Collin, come grab some iced tea for the boys, will you? I made it fresh just for you guys."
Pops comes up alongside me and gives my shoulder a nudge. "Go get that, son, will ya? I’ll show Link how to change out the filter."
When I go inside, I must appear distracted because Ma asks what's on my mind. I stare at her for a blink; she always did have that motherly instinct. I bet Ashley has it, too. Dang, she's a good mom, and I like that.
"Just things with Ashley, I guess.” I give her the rundown about where we are. Things are good, really good, actually, but I have my concerns. I tell her how we’re avoiding conversations about how things went wrong in our past.
"I can see why you’re concerned about that," she says with a thoughtful nod, trailing fingers down the condensation along the pitcher. "You don't want to ignore history because it's best if we don't repeat it. History like that, anyway. Stay thoughtful, maybe prayerful too, that wouldn't hurt, and you’ll know when the time is right. Maybe she'll be the first one to bring it up. If she does, are you prepared with what you want to say?"
I shrug. “I feel like I already said everything I wanted to say after it all went down. If she didn't hear me then, who's to say she'll hear me out now?"
“Maybe you want to do more listening than speaking. It's why we’ve got two ears and just one mouth, right?" She shoots me a wink, and I nod, feeling like a kid in an entirely different way, getting advice from Ma. She's a great woman, and I admire the relationship she has with Pops.
“Maybe it's best that you don't have everything you want to say all planned out,” she decides. “If you did, you might not hear her out. Just stay open and willing to listen, and you’ll know what to say when the time comes." With that, Mom bustles around the butcher block to wrap her arms around me in a warm hug.
"Thanks, Ma,” I say. “That helps."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ashley
