In The Absence Of Light (27 page)

“Okay, fine maybe a little.”

“Good to know what they say isn’t true.”

I’d never learn. “And what’s that?”

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

I gave him my best go-to-hell look, and he laughed.

He gazed through the windshield up at the trees before dragging his attention back to me. “Okay, what’s first?”

“You’re still wearing the helmet.”

“Very observant of you, Grant.”

“Why are you still wearing it?”

“In case we wreck.”

“Wait, I thought…” I scrubbed my hand over my mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare, would you?”

“Nope. Gonna have to get your own.”

I huffed. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be.” He patted the steering wheel. “Ready when you are.”

“You sure you want to learn to drive?”

He flopped back in the seat. “Do you really have to insult me by asking me?”

“Point taken.” I gestured at the dash. “Let’s start there. P means park, which is where you are now. D, drive, and R is reverse.”

“What about the D2 and D3.”

“Ignore those for right now.”

“But what if I need them?”

“Hopefully, I’ll be driving.” I pointed to the pedals on the floorboard. “Right is the gas. The one to the left of it is the brake.”

“I can’t tell right from left.”

I’d forgotten. “Okay then. The skinny rectangle is the brake. The square one is the gas.”

Morgan shook his head. “Technically they’re both rectangles.”

“What?”

“The pedals. Two sides one length, the other two a different length. Squares are even all four sides.”

“Are you messing with me again?”

“You should have learned this in kindergarten. Or didn’t they have kindergarten when dinosaurs roamed the earth?”

I glared.

“Maybe you should have studied those cave paintings harder.”

“You know it’s gonna be real hard for you to learn how to drive if you don’t have a truck to borrow.”

He flicked one hand and held up his free one in defense.

“Okay, back to the rectangles.” I pointed. “The right… never mind. Take off a flip-flop.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions. Just take one off.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

Morgan did. “Now what?”

I checked to see which one he’d taken off. “Okay, your bare foot is responsible for that pedal.” I pointed to the gas. “Your flip-flop is responsible for the other one.”

Morgan grinned. “You’re getting good at this, Grant. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t push your luck.” I tapped his right knee. “Bare foot makes the truck move. Flip-flop makes it stop. Just make sure you don’t push the pedals at the same time.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

I made a face. “You ask too many questions.”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Yes, I do. You can’t go with the brake on; it just revs the engine and wastes gas. Satisfied?”

“Yup.”

“Now put your flip-flop foot on its pedal and push down.”

He did.

“Move the gear shift until the red line moves from the P to the R.”

“And R is reverse, right?”

“Yes.”

Morgan shifted the truck into reverse.

“Now ease off the brake, I mean flip-flop.”

The truck crawled backward.

“Now, when you’re far enough back, step on the brake again.” The edge of the woods came closer. “Good. Just a little more.” We went another few feet. “Okay, stop.” The truck kept going. “Brake Morgan.”

“Which one’s the brake?”

“Left, I mean, flip-flop.” The truck jerked to a stop. I slammed my hand against the dash to keep from getting thrown around.

“You’re not a very good copilot, Grant.”

“You’re not a very good pilot.”

“That’s because I don’t know how to drive.” Morgan flexed his hand on the steering wheel.

I counted to ten before saying anything. “Now you need to put the truck in drive and make a right… I mean bare foot.” The truck shot forward. “Stop, Morgan. Stop. Flip-flop.” It jerked to a stop hard enough to dump me into the floorboard and crack my head on the dash.

“Fuck.” I struggled to get back into the seat.

“Should have brought a helmet.”

“If I’d known you were going to try to kill me, I would have.”

“You’re the one who said bare foot.”

“I meant direction.”

“We didn’t discuss direction, just flip-flops and bare feet.”

I touched the side of my head. It wasn’t bleeding. Considering how bad it hurt it should have. “Okay, direction.” I pointed at the passenger window. “Right will be passenger side.” I pointed to the other way. “Left will be driver’s side. Clear enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s back up again.”

He did and managed to stop right on cue.

“Good. Now, passenger side.”

Morgan turned the steering wheel.

“Ease off the flip-flop.”

The truck crawled down the driveway.

“When do I get to use barefoot?”

“Let’s wait till we're actually on the road.”

“At this rate, it will only take a week.”

“It will not.”

“A day at least.”

“Morgan.”

“Oh look, we were just outmaneuvered by a leaf.”

“Okay fine, but just a—”

Gravel shot up into the wheel well and the truck slid sideways. Then before I could blink, we were heading across the pasture in front of Morgan’s house.

“Brake.” The frontend dipped into a rut and the force tossed me close to the ceiling. “For God’s sake, flip-flop, flip-flop.”

The pickup cut ruts in the wet ground, spun halfway around on the grass before coming to a halt.

Somehow I’d wound up with my ass on the floorboard again and my legs on the seat. I glared at Morgan. The flush in his cheeks glowed against his pale skin.

He swallowed several times. “Well, at least it went better than last time.”

“Jesus, how could that have been better? You almost killed us.”

“I didn’t catch the truck on fire.” He fluttered his hand next to his temple. “Or drive into the pond.”

“Where the hell is a pond?”

He pointed. “Through the fence and down the hill.”

“Fucking hell, Morgan.”

“Told you I couldn’t drive.”

I struggled back into the seat and put the truck in park before he could take us on another go-round.

“Guess I should cross driving off my list, huh?” He laid his forehead on the steering wheel.

“Depends on how long you want to live.”

He laughed, then scrubbed his face. A tic in his shoulder knocked his hand against the bike helmet. “I suppose you want to call it quits.”

The defeat in Morgan’s expression broke something inside me. Here was a man who defied all odds, lived by himself, worked, created beautiful art. A complex mind stumped by some of the simplest tasks.

If he could, he would keep trying until there was only absolute failure or success.

How many people could say that?

I took a breath. “Go ahead and flip-flop.”

Morgan jerked his head up.

I nodded. “C’mon, flip-flop, then reverse. Turn to the passenger side and head for the road.”

Morgan did as instructed, easing into reverse, then turning the truck around.

“Easy on the bare foot.”

“Kinda hard to judge.” He changed gears.

“Feather light.”

The truck ambled across the field toward the road. Then the pickup made the slow climb up the gully to the shoulder.

“Cut it tight, passenger window.”

He did.

“Now straighten it out.” The bumpy ride over rough ground turned into the smooth glide of asphalt.

“I can’t believe this.” Morgan rocked in his seat. “I’m driving.”

“You are, but let’s keep it below fifteen miles per hour.”

“I’m driving, Grant.” He laughed. “Holy shit, I’m driving. I could hug you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d have to let go of the wheel.”

“Okay, later then.”

His dopy smile was contagious. “I’ll hold you to that.”

********

I had no idea teaching someone to drive could work up such an appetite. 'Course, it could have been the near death experience had made my body desperate for one more taste of food before it lost the chance.

“I think I’ll take your advice.”

“What advice?” Morgan picked up the box of bottles and tray full of mail.

“Get some seat belts put in the truck.”

He laughed. “So when’s my next lesson?”

“As soon as I get those seat belts.”

“You should get Jenny to order you some. Her parts guy is pretty quick. Not sure how long it will take to find some to fit this model.”

“I’m not even sure if they ever made any to fit this model.”

“If they don’t, she can rig 'em.” He grinned. “You might have me back in the driver’s seat in the next two weeks.”

I’d call Jenny, but I’d ask her to take her time. I wasn’t sure I was ready for another near death experience. Although, the smile, the joy, the pride Morgan exhaled because he’d managed to circle the block made my head fill up with the most wonderful feelings. I think for the first time I understood why some people got hooked on drugs after just one use. ‘Cause I was hooked on Morgan.

Okay, maybe I would ask her to hurry. And if by some chance she couldn’t pull off a miracle, there was always Alabama Chrome.

Duct tape.

I followed Morgan inside. He sat the box by the back door and emptied the tray into the garbage.

“Aren’t you going to open those?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t have thrown them away.” He got out the bread. “You want chicken salad or a ham sandwich?”

“Chicken salad is good.”

He nodded. “One or two?”

“Just one.” My stomach disagreed. “Better make that two.”  He’d already gotten out the extra slices of bread and laid them on the plate. As I passed by the garbage can, I glanced down. Keller and Associates was on the return address on every visible label.

“Reading other people’s mail is rude.”

“Sorry.” I walked over. “Want some help?”

“You can get the chicken salad out of the fridge. Green bowl. Top shelf.”

I did. “What if it’s important?”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know? You haven’t opened them.” There had to be close to a dozen. “How long have you been avoiding those letters?”

“Obviously, not long enough. They’re supposed to send them back after ten days.”

“Want me to get the drinks?”

He nodded.

“Tea?”

“Sure.”

I got the glasses. Morgan made quick work of our sandwiches. He cut them into squares and put them on plates. I followed him back to the table with our drinks.

I handed him his tea, and he put my sandwich on the table. “Why don’t you want to open them?”

Morgan flicked thoughts while he picked the crust off one square and ate it.

I drank my tea.

He ate the square.

I propped my elbow on the table.

“There’s no need for me to.” He snapped his fingers. “I already know what they say because it’s always the same.”

“And what do they say?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His shoulder jerked hard enough make him slosh his tea. I started to get up and grab a towel. “I got it.” He went back in the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels.

“You know you can—” My cell phone rang. I checked the number. It was Price.  “Can you excuse me? I need to take this.”

Morgan nodded, and I went out front.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kessler. I got your message.”

“Since when did I become Mr. Kessler to you?”

She laughed. It was a thick hearty sound belonging to a man not a woman of eloquent beauty. “I figured since I haven’t heard from you in a while, that we’d gone from good acquaintance to strict business associates.”

I leaned against the post. “You haven’t heard from me because I haven’t been in need of your services.”

“Until now.” There was a bit of a chill to her tone.

“It’s nothing serious. Retired life is working out better than I hoped.”