drive it. “Can I still take you up on that driving lesson?”
“I thought you'd never ask. Scoot over.”
CHAPTER TWO
T HE NEXT DAY , AFTER he did the farm chores, Grandpa came inside and made a pot of coffee and poured them each a cup. Dee sat at the table and wondered how her parents were. They'd be at sea all day today. She watched Grandpa skim some of the thick layer off the top of the milk and stir it into his coffee. She realized it must be fresh cream and wondered how it tasted - not enough to try it though. It was peaceful and surprisingly nice in the sunlit kitchen. Dee couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed a quiet moment with her mom.
After a while Grandpa said, “Sitting here like this reminds me an awful lot of your grandma. You look like her, you know. I can show you some pictures of her in high school when you get back. If you'd like.”
Dee realized that this was a big deal to him and she felt a real pang of conscience about leaving. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay for a few days. She'd think about it. But she was still going to check out the bus terminal and make sure she was right about the price for a ticket to Maryland.
Dee nodded, and changed the subject, “So do you think I can get the truck down to the road without stalling it?”
“Not a chance,” he responded, and Dee laughed because she had no doubt he was right.
The lane was rutted and the old truck bounced along until she finally came to the main road, if you could call it that. With the windows down and music blaring from the radio (even if it was country music), Dee had the road to herself and felt free in a way she hadn't felt for months.
Up ahead she saw a figure in the distance. As she got closer the figure put out his thumb for a ride and Dee hesitated. It was a guy, and he didn't seem old or threatening. He was carrying an enormous backpack that looked heavy. She probably shouldn't give him a ride though; her mom would hate it. And with that thought, Dee slowed then pulled to a stop alongside the hitchhiker.
The young man rested his tanned forearms on the passenger side door and leaned partway in through the window. He wasn't as old as she'd thought. Maybe a year or two older than she was, so about seventeen. Long eyelashes framed dark eyes, and the stubbly shadow of a beard darkened his chin. His gaze was amused as he asked, “Didn't your parents teach you not to pick up strange guys on deserted highways?”
Dee's retort came easily to her lips, “Why do you think I stopped?”
“Oh, a rebel – a girl after my own heart.”
She hated being judged so quickly and accurately and it made her sharp, “Do you want a ride or not?”
In answer, the young man said, “I'm Mason,” and slung his backpack into the bed of the truck and got in beside her.
Dee started a silent chant in her head ( don't-stall-don't-stall-don't-stall ) and coolly tried to ease the truck into first gear.
“Dang it,” she cursed under her breath a moment later.
It took two more failed tries and a big lurch before the truck was on its way, and Dee could feel her cheeks blazing with heat. Why had she picked up this guy anyway?
“First time driving a stick?” He didn’t sound like he was laughing at her.
“No.” The engine made a terrible grinding sound as she tried to find third gear. It was useless. The gear shifter distinctly showed that you had to slide it to the right and forward to get into gear, but it refused to go.
“Easy now, third can be tricky.” Mason covered her hand with his large tan one. His hand was warm on hers and when she glanced at him in surprise she saw his eyes were friendly, not mocking. “The problem is you keep trying to put it in reverse. Instead, just go straight up towards the radio. See?”
The truck slid smoothly into third gear and he released her hand. Dee sighed with relief.
“Not your first time, eh?” A teasing tone had crept into his voice.
“If you don’t
“I thought you'd never ask. Scoot over.”
CHAPTER TWO
T HE NEXT DAY , AFTER he did the farm chores, Grandpa came inside and made a pot of coffee and poured them each a cup. Dee sat at the table and wondered how her parents were. They'd be at sea all day today. She watched Grandpa skim some of the thick layer off the top of the milk and stir it into his coffee. She realized it must be fresh cream and wondered how it tasted - not enough to try it though. It was peaceful and surprisingly nice in the sunlit kitchen. Dee couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed a quiet moment with her mom.
After a while Grandpa said, “Sitting here like this reminds me an awful lot of your grandma. You look like her, you know. I can show you some pictures of her in high school when you get back. If you'd like.”
Dee realized that this was a big deal to him and she felt a real pang of conscience about leaving. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay for a few days. She'd think about it. But she was still going to check out the bus terminal and make sure she was right about the price for a ticket to Maryland.
Dee nodded, and changed the subject, “So do you think I can get the truck down to the road without stalling it?”
“Not a chance,” he responded, and Dee laughed because she had no doubt he was right.
The lane was rutted and the old truck bounced along until she finally came to the main road, if you could call it that. With the windows down and music blaring from the radio (even if it was country music), Dee had the road to herself and felt free in a way she hadn't felt for months.
Up ahead she saw a figure in the distance. As she got closer the figure put out his thumb for a ride and Dee hesitated. It was a guy, and he didn't seem old or threatening. He was carrying an enormous backpack that looked heavy. She probably shouldn't give him a ride though; her mom would hate it. And with that thought, Dee slowed then pulled to a stop alongside the hitchhiker.
The young man rested his tanned forearms on the passenger side door and leaned partway in through the window. He wasn't as old as she'd thought. Maybe a year or two older than she was, so about seventeen. Long eyelashes framed dark eyes, and the stubbly shadow of a beard darkened his chin. His gaze was amused as he asked, “Didn't your parents teach you not to pick up strange guys on deserted highways?”
Dee's retort came easily to her lips, “Why do you think I stopped?”
“Oh, a rebel – a girl after my own heart.”
She hated being judged so quickly and accurately and it made her sharp, “Do you want a ride or not?”
In answer, the young man said, “I'm Mason,” and slung his backpack into the bed of the truck and got in beside her.
Dee started a silent chant in her head ( don't-stall-don't-stall-don't-stall ) and coolly tried to ease the truck into first gear.
“Dang it,” she cursed under her breath a moment later.
It took two more failed tries and a big lurch before the truck was on its way, and Dee could feel her cheeks blazing with heat. Why had she picked up this guy anyway?
“First time driving a stick?” He didn’t sound like he was laughing at her.
“No.” The engine made a terrible grinding sound as she tried to find third gear. It was useless. The gear shifter distinctly showed that you had to slide it to the right and forward to get into gear, but it refused to go.
“Easy now, third can be tricky.” Mason covered her hand with his large tan one. His hand was warm on hers and when she glanced at him in surprise she saw his eyes were friendly, not mocking. “The problem is you keep trying to put it in reverse. Instead, just go straight up towards the radio. See?”
The truck slid smoothly into third gear and he released her hand. Dee sighed with relief.
“Not your first time, eh?” A teasing tone had crept into his voice.
“If you don’t
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