Page 32 of Burn For Me

This spot had a lot of potential. The image of Dr. Wallace hanging from the ceiling by his feet crossed my mind making me want to laugh out loud.

“Once you get to the back of the space, you’ll smile.” She pointed toward the door. “There is an office of sorts, but it’s air-conditioned. May take you a bit to get it going, but my Rupert loved to use this spot as his ‘man cave.”

She giggled, a forlorn grin gracing her lips.

“He’d putter around working on one project or another and then sit back there to cool off and have a beer.” She looked around, her eyes seeing memories that were only in her mind. “I miss those days.”

I could picture her younger. A spry woman in her twenties with a bright future ahead of her. “Dora, can I ask why you never talk about your family?”

She didn’t answer me. She just made her way over to the loan corn broom leaning against the wall. Picking it up, she began swatting down cobwebs and slowly headed over to the long workbench. I watched as she sat the broom aside and picked up something that was so coated in dirt I couldn’t make out what it was.

Dora slowly turned back toward me as she wiped off the item. Coming to a halt in front of me, she held out what I could now see was an old photograph. It was similar to the family photo I’d seen in the house, but this one was of a much older version of her daughter. She had a baby in her arms. Three generations all together.

“My daughter and I didn’t see eye to eye very much about anything. We were just two very different spirits. I loved my life here on the farm, and I guess I tried to push that on her a bit too much.”

She sighed and looked out the doors.

“But, we got along well enough until she got married. It’s a long story, but I didn’t approve of her choice for a husband. Guess it wasn’t my place to say, but….”

Dora paused, waving her hand in the air as her eyes filled up with tears.

“I won’t get into the whole story, but we both said a lot of things I regret. The last time I saw her was when my granddaughter turned seven. That was when my husband passed away, and she came to the funeral.” Dora pointed to the picture. “That’s my Anna and my husband Rupert when my granddaughter was first born.”

“She’s very pretty,” I said, not sure what she wanted me to say, but it was obvious she was sharing a painful memory, and I should say something.

“Yeah, she is. I wonder how my granddaughter is a lot these days.”

“Why don’t you call?”

Dora laughed. “You’d think it was that simple, wouldn’t you? Trust me, I’ve tried, but Anna refuses my calls, and I doubt my granddaughter would remember I exist. She would be twenty-three now.”

Dora grabbed my arm and gave me a hard stare.

“Don’t leave regret on the table, my boy. It’s a terrible thing to live with, but it’s worse to know your life is near the end and the weight is still hanging around your neck like an albatross.” With that, she walked away.

“The keys are behind the sun visor if the critters haven’t carried them away.”

One thing I definitely planned on not doing was leaving regret on the table. Jason was next to taste my wrath, and then I would find my final prize.

Turning, I marched out of the shed. I’d deal with the cleanup later. As I slipped the latch into place with a clink, I rested my hand against the door.

“Thank you, Adalyn,” I whispered.

Wiping my hands on the rag, I walked around to the driver’s door of the truck. It was the moment of truth. I had to either clean or replace every part on the 1959 Ford F-100 and had nothing left to repair at this point. Luckily, Rupert was a bit of a collector. He had extra parts for just about everything, and most had never been out of the package.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, I pushed the clutch to the floor and held my breath as I turned the key. There was a moment of hesitation, but the old truck growled loudly and then roared to life with a few pumps of the gas peddle.

“Yes! Good girl,” I yelled as I pressed my foot down harder on the gas. The truck rumbled as it shook slightly back and forth as the motor grumbled like an old bear rolling out of bed in the morning.

Hopping out, I released the hood and dropped the heavy weight into place before stepping back and looking at the classic truck. It was a true beauty. I’d grown to appreciate the classics living with the Giltberts.

Mr. Giltbert loved to take Asher and me to the car shows to see all the old cars and trucks. At first, I didn’t like it and thought it was boring, just another place for people to gawk at my face.

The man’s schedule ran like clockwork, and with the Giltberts giving us a place to live, I felt obligated to go. I can’t even remember when the obligation turned to excitement. Just one day, I found myself excited every Thursday for the farm chores to be done so we could all head to the traveling car show. He’d buy the two of us ice cream, and sometimes they’d hold truck pulls to show off the old muscle engines. The roar and the smell of the gas and leather was the only time I understood true joy.

“I see you got the old girl running?” Dora stepped up beside me and handed over a glass of lemonade.

“Thanks.” I gulped down the tall glass. The heat was oppressive this time of year. “She’s a beaut, and once I clean up the paint job, she’ll look as good as new.”